Page 5 of Rafferty's Rules
‘Stop! You stop that!’The girl with a hint of Adam’s apple.
‘Leave her, love. She might be a bit warm.’The greaseball.
‘I’ll buzz for Noah!’Candy.
‘Do you want my friend’s number, too? He might give you a few pointers for escorting.’Karma, trying to sort me out with a job this time.
Shortly after, the not-so-friendly neighbourhood Samoan bursts into the room like he’s a body double for The Rock. Which he could well be, were it not for the fact he doesn’t have so much a six-pack as a keg.
‘You lot,’ he growls, ‘get the fuck out.’
‘But I have an appointment,’ the greaseball complains.
‘Then you should’ve thought about that before bringing her in.’ He hooks a meaty thumb in the direction of the brunette.
‘I’ve seen couples in ’ere before.’ The greaseball’s attempt at standing his ground is purely for effect; he’s already on his way to the door when the security guard responds.
‘But you an’ her aren’t no couple. You,’ he grunts in my direction. ‘If you aren’t fucking, you aren’t stayin’.’
‘No worries.’ I hold my hands up in a placating motion. Apart from no longer having the desire to investigate Joe’s whereabouts, I also happen to know these Islander boys can really pack a punch. But worse than that would be the tongue thrashing my old mum would deliver if I turn up to Byron’s wedding with so much as a shaving cut marring this pretty face. I make my way warily toward the door, stopping in front of the half-undressed girl. This is no place for her.
‘I’ll just be taking this with me, all right?’
The bouncer nods his wary assent as I dip, wrap my arms around her knees, and bring her torso over one shoulder, fireman style.
‘This would work much better if you weren’t playing grab arse.’
‘Sorry.’ She giggles, squeezing both cheeks. ‘But it’s easier to avoid temptation than resist it.’
Outside, it’s stopped raining, though the hiss of tyres on the road points to it having pissed down while I’ve been inside. In a pool of yellowing streetlight, I bend forward, bringing my drunken librarian’s feet to the footpath. Wrapping an arm around her small shoulders, I steady her swaying form, tightening it on instinct as the door swings open again. The security dude’s unimpressed face appears as he thrusts a shovel-sized hand my way, holding the cutie’s cash and belongings.Or most of them, anyway.
‘Now, piss off from the doorway. You’ll frighten off the punters.’
The door bangs decisively closed.
‘I think that’s our cue.’ Looking down into her upturned face, I stiffen with surprise as she slides her hand around the back of my waist. That is, my back stiffens, but if she keeps looking up at me like that, my back won’t be the only thing that’s stiff. Though I might be kidding myself here, I’m so tired I feel like I’d have difficulty raising more than an eyebrow tonight. Myto-dolist tonight consists of three things right now, I realise.
Take her home.
Take myself home.
Sleep until Byron’s wedding.
‘Where you from, sweetheart?’ With my hand still wrapped around her shoulder, I try to shove her belongings back in her purse.
‘ ’Murica!’ She burps, then giggles, clapping her hand over pretty bow-shaped lips. She’s got the face of a doll, and I don’t mean the blow-up kind. A pretty mouth, a smidge of a nose, and round, deep brown eyes. A face like hers would look at home sitting on an old lady’s shelf, wearing an elaborate feathered hat or a mop cap.
‘America? That’s some Uber fare home.’ This time, her hand muffles her drunken giggle. ‘What’s your name?’
‘You’re pretty.’
‘That’s a funny name.’
‘You are, you know,’ she insists earnestly.
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘What?’ This time, her giggle comes with the explosion of that one incredulous word.
