The doors of the glass elevator slide open and I take a lurid peach martini from a tuxedoed waiter holding a tray. I think I get this place now. The ride up had revealed that most of the floors were bare – random pieces of old furniture, scuffed floors and walls covered in mouldy, peeling paint. Someone has had the idea of turning the top floor into a luxurious hedonist’s dream – the transparent walls of the lift exist solely to show the guests what was there before, to make them feel elite. It’s an artwork, of sorts, and I try to be impressed, but as I glance around the space, taking in the types of people that are in here, drinking, laughing, sizing each other up, I have a feeling that most of them probably don’t really get it.
I take a sip of my drink, then walk across to a high, glass bar. The whole frontage is completely see-through, highlighting the bare legs of the staff serving on the other side. Above the bar level, they are in crisp white shirts and black bow ties; underneath, their toned, hairfree legs are on full display beneath their skimpy white underpants. I feel a wave of disgust at this, and try hard not to look beneath the counter, but at their faces and their torsos, at their expert hands holding diamante-encrusted cocktail shakers, high-pouring into rows of different-shaped glasses.
A man in an open-necked cream linen shirt, artfully half tucked into dark, perfectly fitted jeans, walks towards me, a look of interest and intrigue on his face as he runs a hand through his floppy blond hair.
Here we go, I think, and drain the rest of my drink. There are pros and cons of dressing to fit your environment and, sadly, this is one of the cons. On another night I might’ve been interested in him, but tonight there’s only one man for me. I turn away from the approaching man and scan the room for Sam, but I can’t see him. I’m not worried. Not yet. I don’t think he will have left while the party is in full swing, and judging by the layout, I expect there are some hidden nooks and crannies for me to explore.
‘Well, good evening,’ the blond man drawls. He is not German, but I can’t place his accent yet.
‘Hello,’ I say, making sure to look him in the eye. ‘Nice party.’
He smirks. ‘Glad you approve.’ He holds out a hand, which is strangely formal in this setting, but I take it anyway and try to hide my confusion. ‘Sorry,’ he says, stepping back again, that smirk still firmly fixed on his face, ‘I’m not sure we’ve met?’
‘Oh.’ I give him a brief, girlish giggle, sure that this is what he wants. ‘A friend invited me … I think he’s already here.’
He laughs. ‘Did he now? Funny, it was specific on the invites that this was not a plus-one situation, but as you’re here…’ He pauses, looks me up and down. ‘I’m not going to turn away a pretty girl.’
I don’t like the way he’s looking at me now, and in my peripheral vision I spot a couple of extremely glammed-up girls in the shortest, tightest dresses I’ve ever seen – perfect cleavage spilling over the top, and endless legs on expensive heels below. One of them widens her eyes, and the other gives the tiniest of headshakes, and I realise that I may have made a huge mistake.
‘Perhaps I should go?’ I lay my empty glass on the bar and turn away, but he grabs my upper arm, a little tighter than I’d like, and spins me back to face him.
He leans in close, pulling me in as if in an embrace, and whispers forcefully into my ear. ‘This is my party, little girl, and you’ll stay now that you’re here.’ Then he lets go of me and does an air kiss on each side, saying, ‘So amazing to see you again, Alyssa.’ And then he turns away and heads off towards a cluster of people who are grouped around the far end of the bar, whooping and chattering at the bar staff as if they are performing monkeys.
Shaken, I wait for a moment more, then head towards the lift, but, as I do, I spot him – at the far end of the room, heading through a door that I’m sure I hadn’t noticed before. Time seems to stand still for a moment, as I watch him disappear through the gap, the door swinging back into place – fake bookshelf and all. If I wasn’t rattled by my encounter with the horrible blond, I would be rolling my eyes at the cheesiness of this hidden door set-up, but right now, all I want to do is stay invisible for long enough to find the right time to go through it and confront the man who has been haunting my dreams since we parted ways almost three weeks ago.
I take another of the peach drinks from a tray and walk slowly around the edge of the room, taking it all in. The women are very beautiful, but most of them are incredibly drunk – draped in pairs over far less attractive men. Then I spot the two girls from earlier, as they glide in unison towards a table in the corner, where one man sits, a bucket in front of him with a bottle of champagne, three glasses on the table next to it. They sit down on either side of him, and then they lean in and kiss his cheeks, as coordinated as synchronised swimmers – and that’s when I realise that the women aren’t ‘guests’, they are employees. ‘Alyssa’ is who the arrogant host has decided I will be for the night.
No.
I turn away from the coordinated whores on my left and make my way across the room towards the secret door. No one has followed Sam up there, and I’m wondering if it’s out of bounds, or maybe there will be some sort of keypad, and I will end up getting caught and thrown out before I can get the one thing that I came here for. I glance around, trying to look casual, but also to make sure that no one is watching me. I recognise someone else. One of the German guys from the hotel in Bangkok. Of course – Sam wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for them. I wonder if they’ve offered him a job, or something. Or maybe this awful host has. Maybe that’s why he’s here. I don’t like to think of Sam mixed up in a place like this.
I worry for a moment that I won’t be able to locate the sensor to open the bookcase, but I needn’t have panicked. As I walk slowly past a line of five red books clumped together, purely for the colour of their spines, rather than their content, a small, green light blinks at the back of the shelf and I reach in, as if to take a book, and there is a small click, and then the door swings open. This time I don’t bother to glance behind me; I just hurry through and hope that no one has noticed me going inside.
As I walk slowly up the dark glass staircase, I take a deep breath, trying to calm the nerves that have had the cheek to make themselves known. I don’t know why I am nervous – it must be because I am so excited to be seeing Sam again; and partly because I’m scared that he won’t want to see me … and partly because I know I could be putting myself in danger. I have no idea what lies at the top of this staircase. This could be where people go for the ‘real’ show. One of those sex parties that you hear about and can scarcely believe actually happen.
But it’s too late now.
As I reach the top of the stairs, it becomes clear that I’m not entering another room. I’m going outside, onto a rooftop garden.
It’s dimly lit, with only fairy-light bulbs pinned around the sides of the walls, and a dark glass floor, like the stairs. The space seems to be empty, and at first I think that there is no one up here at all, and that Sam must’ve gone back down another way, but then I near noises. Soft snuffles and grunts, whispers and moans, and the rhythmic squeak of something moving against leather.
I blink, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the light, and then I see that there are some small glass cabins in the middle of the roof space. The doors are closed, but the glass walls are clearly not soundproof. Maybe that’s meant to add to the experience, knowing that whatever it is you are doing in your cabin, others are doing the same right beside you. Perhaps they can all see out of the glass, but I can’t see in. Part of me wants to run back down the stairs and out of this place – the feeling of it is all wrong, just like that party in Irkutsk. But something is drawing me to investigate further before I go. I have to assume that Sam is inside one of these cabins, and I don’t want to imagine what he is doing, or what is being done to him, but on the other hand, I feel a stirring deep inside, and I realise that the whole thing is turning me on.
I walk slowly past the cabins, trying not to make any sound, not letting my heels clip on the floor. There are more cabins at the back, but there are no doors on this side, so I can only assume that they are all linked, and I try to blink away further visions about what might be going on in there.
Then I see him.
He is standing on the far side of the roof space, leaning back against the wall. I see the silhouette of smoke curling above him against the inky sky. He sees me, and I see the flash of white teeth as he grins. He turns away, and then hoists himself up onto the wall. Sits.
‘Hello,’ he says. He tips his head towards the cabins. ‘Don’t bother to try and coerce me, darling. It’s not really my scene.’
I swallow. He doesn’t recognise me from here. I can make him out because I knew he was up here, and because I would recognise him with my eyes closed. But he can’t see me yet. Besides, I don’t really look much like I did the last time he saw me. And I’m out of context, he won’t be expecting to find me here at all. I smile to myself, pleased at the surprise.
‘I’m not here to coerce you,’ I say. ‘Not really my scene either. Thought you’d know that.’ I take a few steps closer, teasing it out.
He sounds amused. ‘Do I know you? I don’t think I saw you downstairs. Are you one of Hagan’s new girls?’
I shake my head. ‘I guess Hagan is the arrogant prick with the blond flick? I don’t think he likes me very much. I kind of blagged my way in.’
He laughs, then flicks his cigarette over the wall, turning to watch it fall. ‘I’ve never heard of anyone crashing one of Hagan’s gatherings before. Most girls run a mile once they realise what goes on here.’
‘And what about you?’ I say, taking a few more steps closer. I can see his face now, and I long to put my hands on his cheeks and pull him towards me, to feel his soft lips on mine. ‘Do you like what goes on here?’
His face darkens. ‘Not really,’ he says, under his breath, ‘but I’m pretty close to getting a job with the firm, and from what I can gather, this stuff is compulsory. This is my third time, and I’ve always just snuck up here and hidden in the corner for a while. I don’t think anyone has realised that I don’t partake.’ He pauses, peers at me. ‘Are you sure I don’t know you? There’s something a bit familiar about you.’
I smile and walk further over, until I am only a short distance away from him. He can’t fail to recognise me now.
‘It’s me,’ I say, tipping my head to the side and giving him a coquettish smirk. ‘Violet.’
He looks confused for a moment. ‘I don’t know anyone called Violet…’
I take a step closer. ‘Ohhh, sorry,’ I say. ‘You didn’t know me as Violet, did you?’ I slap my forehead with the heel of my hand. ‘So silly. I got the new ID on the Khao San Road. I’d forgotten that was after you left me.’
‘Ronnie? That’s it, isn’t it?’ he says, shaking his head. ‘Jesus, is that you? You fucking mad bitch. Stefan and Pauli told me I should’ve called the police on you, but I was worried you’d end up in one of those crazy Thai prisons – and no one deserves that, not even you…’
It’s my turn to look confused. ‘You left me, Sam. We were happy … we were—’
‘We were nothing. You stalked me and tricked me into a one-night stand and then you fucking robbed me…’
‘You said we were going to travel together.’
He snorts. ‘Did I fuck! Bloody hell, wait until the guys hear that you’ve turned up. How did you even find me?’
The rage starts to bubble. ‘You’re such a fucking narcissist, Sam, checking in every place you go on Facebook. It’s not hard to keep track.’
‘And you’re a fucking fantasist! Jesus. Have you been keeping track on me since Bangkok?’
I take a step closer, giving him my best smile. I flick my hair back, then I smooth down my dress. I raise an eyebrow, saying, ‘Look at what you’re missing.’
He shakes his head. ‘What have you done to yourself? I barely recognise you. You know, I don’t think Hagan is going to like it much that you’ve crashed in here. He’ll try to put you to work. You should go.’
He shuffles back a bit on the wall, and I see from the look on his face that he’s not comfortable with me showing up like this. Fair enough; maybe I should’ve messaged him first to let him know – but then what would be the fun in that?
His look changes again, and I realise it’s not discomfort. It’s fear.
Good. I gave him a chance to be nice to me. I gave him a chance to want me.
‘Look … what do you want, Ronn—’
‘Violet. It’s Violet. You know what I want. I want to take everything.’ I pause, then lower my voice. ‘…Don’t I, Courtney?’
He shifts on the wall once more. ‘Who the fuck is Courtney?’
I smile at him. Courtney Love’s voice fills my head. The song – my namesake – keeps playing in my head, and I forget that only I can hear it.
He’s still looking at me with that mixture of fear, confusion and revulsion as I take a final step forwards and push him hard in the chest. It’s so quick, I don’t think he even remembers to scream. I lean over the wall and peer down, but it’s too far away for me to see what’s down there. Too far, even, for me to notice anything other than the heavy liquid slap as his body lands on the concrete.
It’s his own fault. If he’d even been slightly pleased to see me, he might’ve lived.
I was ready to front it out, walk back to the glass stairs and through the sleazy party, but I notice that further along there are a couple of steps up and over the wall, leading to the fire escape.
This has all been less satisfying than I’d hoped.
Ignoring the sounds of grunts and moans behind me, it’s clear that no one has noticed what just happened, so I take the opportunity and climb over the wall and onto the iron fire escape beneath. It’s a lot of floors, but I figure that no one’s going to be looking for me just yet.
I take my phone out of my bag and open up Facebook, clicking ‘unfollow’ on Sam’s profile, then I start to make my way down the stairs, barely noticing the descent because my body is so pumped full of adrenaline that I am both shaking and numb.