Underdawgs

Chapter 3

Perennial isn't a big night club or a particularly good one, but Kev knows a couple of bouncers there and they turn a blind eye to our underage presence so long as we don't cause any trouble.

      We get let in through a side entrance and stride down a short corridor, our pants stuffed with pills and booze, and come out onto the dance floor.

      Blackjack and I grab a seat at the bar while Kev, Spike and DJ go to the bathroom to drop. I feel good now, not only after the straight whiskey we skolled before coming in, but more comfortable and confident now I'm back with the guys.

      'So Mum reckons he'll be back in June ... but to be honest I dunno if I wanna see him like this...' Blackjack is telling me about his dad, a man he's met only four or five times, only a couple more than I have.

      'Yeah? What's he want this time?'

      'Who the hell knows.'

      I nod absentmindedly, watching Kev, Spike and DJ emerge from the bathroom, thinking about their different families, their varying degrees of broken homes.

      Out of anyone I reckon its DJ who has it the worst. Blackjack has his mum and at least I have Sarah. All DJ has is us.

      'Come on.' Blackjack stands up. 'There's a table over there with our names on it.'

      I look over and see a group of girls eyeing us from across the dance floor. They can't be much younger than we are, dressed to look older with make-up and clothes like something off the cover of a fashion magazine.

      Blackjack strides across the dance floor towards them and I get up and follow, trying not to be hit in the process by erratically dancing party-goers.

      As we approach the table, Blackjack whispers in my ear, 'I bags the blonde.'

      I shake my head in despair. He definitely has his type.

      Blackjack sits down next to the hottest girl in the group, a blonde with a big rack.

      'How's it going?' he asks her. 'You know you're really cute. It's just a pity you've got this whole stuck up vibe about you.'

      As the blonde riles I spot a brunette girl I think is cute and awkwardly sit down next to her. 'Hey,' I say, offering her my hand.

      I'm not the smoothest guy in town when it comes to girls. The truth is I'm a little shy, but with someone like Blackjack by my side I can hold my own. I let him take the lead as he goes about introducing us and breaking the ice.

      The usual drunken shit-talk begins and very quickly we are swapping stories and laughing our arses off at each other's misfortunes.

      'And I shit you not, he's butt-naked with a bottle full of whiskey in each hand screaming at the cops ...' Blackjack is telling them the story of Spike getting arrested the time he took one too many shrooms.

      I look across the table and realise Blackjack already has his arm around the blonde. God, he is quick.

      I'm pretty wasted, and the girl I'm with seems cool so I think 'fuck it' and turn to her.

      'You wanna hook up?'

      She nods, eyes darting to her friends for approval then smiles when she gets it. 'Yeah, I guess...'

      We both lean forwards, our lips touching, and away we go.

      We've all had our fair share of experience with girls, except maybe DJ who usually avoids talking to them. Normally girls like this – 'nice girls' – don't have time for us, but in a place like this, far from their normal routines of family, homework and mediocre social events, things are different.