All Jayne could hear was the music.
A few hours had passed since she’d run out of Dan’s office, her thoughts whirling. She’d gone down the main street at first, not knowing where she was going, or why.
She was angry, and not just with Dan. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to surrender like that, as if she’d spent her life waiting for him. She was stronger than that. They weren’t a couple, and she’d hardly been celibate during their acquaintance.
But it had been different this time, because there’d been a look in his eyes she hadn’t seen before. Desire, emotion, need, hurt. It had drawn them both in, her defences relaxed for a moment, which had made his rejection of her feel like a punch in the stomach. Even when the moment had been right, she hadn’t been good enough.
It made her feel overlooked, trivial, just a bit part in his life.
The booze had gone down quickly. It had been angry drinking, and now she was swaying. She hadn’t eaten. It was midweek, and the town was quiet, but she’d found a club that catered for the crowd who never wanted to go home. The dance floor was empty but there was a group of men at one end of the bar.
Jayne felt the urge to obliterate the night, have one last big hurrah in Highford and make a new future in the morning. Fuck this town. Fuck her life. And fuck you, Dan Grant.
She was swaying to the music, halfway through another vodka, just losing herself in the steady drum-drum of whatever music was blasting out of the speakers. An eighties vibe, appealing to the middle-aged men by the bar. She knew they were watching her. Good. Let them.
Someone came up behind her. One of the men, moving his hips in time with hers, whiskey breath, edging closer. She thought she heard someone cheer from the bar.
She stayed with him. This was what she deserved, dancing with some old soak in the dregs of the midweek pub-life. Her life had taken her down this path. His chubby hands went to her waist. She wanted to tell him to get off, knee him in the balls and scream at him, but she didn’t. Instead, she joined in his rhythm as he swayed behind her. He smelled of stale cigarettes and sweat.
He pushed his rotund stomach against her back, the small prod of his arousal making her grit her teeth.
Perhaps she needed this. Sink right to the bottom so that her life could only get better. She closed her eyes. Could he satisfy a need? Could she use him like he wanted to use her? No, the revulsion in her stomach told her that she could never enjoy it. She let the music take over.
He kissed her ear. There was sweat on his lip. His lank hair brushed against her temple. She pushed back against him, to give him what he wanted. His hand crept up the front of her body, his fingers on her stomach, groping for her breast.
‘Jayne?’
She turned around. It was Dan. His shirt was undone, his tie loose, and his eyes had the unfocused look of a man who’d hit the booze as hard as she had. He came close so that she could hear him above the music. ‘I’ve been looking for you. Your flat. My flat. Every pub and club.’
She pushed the man away. ‘Good for you. What a hero. What do you want?’
‘Come home with me. Don’t stay here with him.’
The man straightened and puffed out his chest. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
As Jayne took a better look at him, she saw he was twice her age, with veins on his nose and a deep flush to his skin. ‘Don’t fight over me, boys.’
‘Don’t do it, Jayne.’ Dan’s voice was low and soft.
‘Do what?’
‘Try to prove how worthless you feel by letting this ape grind against you.’
The man stepped up to Dan, looking up. ‘Don’t call me an ape.’ His voice had got deeper. More of a growl.
Dan ignored him. ‘Jayne, come with me. I’m sorry.’
‘You don’t own me, Dan Grant.’ She jabbed his chest with her finger. ‘I can go where I want, and with whoever I want. And I’m not someone you can just pick up and drop whenever you feel like it.’
The man grinned. ‘That told you.’
‘Please Jayne, let’s talk about this.’
The man gripped Dan’s forearm. ‘You heard her.’
She swallowed back a tear. ‘Just go, Dan. Please.’
No one spoke for a few seconds. Jayne put her back to him. Eventually, the man said, ‘He’s gone now,’ and put his arm around her waist. He twirled her round so that she was facing him.
She looked beyond him, Dan was no longer there, so she buried her face into the man’s shoulder as he swayed against her, the music playing some old George Michael song. His hands went to her behind and pressed her against him, his arousal pushing harder, her own arms slack over his shoulders.
This was her life. Just make the night end quickly.