She smiled and he wanted the smile to be for him.
In his mind he licked the blood red lips, tasting sugary alcopops and lip gloss.
Then the others joined in, cackling and crowing. His face flushed with anger.
‘Hey – we’re here – come on!’
The doors opened and the hen party spilled onto the underground platform, waving plastic pitchforks, spiked tails swaying, devil horns blinking red. Hanging back, he waited for the five bobbing heads to reach the escalator before he followed.
Three clubs later she was drunk and needing the toilet. He was waiting on the other side of the saloon doors. She turned a glassy surprised eye on him.
He smiled and handed her a drink.
‘Taking a last look before you become a married woman.’
She believed him. They chinked bottles.
‘To a long and happy marriage.’
She met his smile. ‘To a long and happy marriage.’
He watched her swallow three quarters of the bottle.
‘Wow,’ she said. ‘Now I do need a piss.’
She pushed open the toilet door, her knees already buckling, then fell, hard. The bottle smashed against a sink, exploding in a shower of rainbow glass.
Her heels began to drum the floor; her hands clawed the air. Foamy spittle bubbled out of her lips as they turned blue. Her eyes widened in terror. She tried desperately to draw air into her lungs, her chest heaving.
Now his smile was genuine. Served her right, the bitch.