Rev Girl (9 page)

The interior of Players was dark and stank of alcohol, with a large staircase parting the cavernous room in two. Beneath the stairs was a small bar thronged with patrons, and another, larger bar ran the length of the far wall. This main bar was backlit by rows of bright lights and a pink neon sign with the club's name, also thronged with a crowd waiting to be served. The entire floor area had been given over to a dance floor, which was already crowded.

As Clover led the way through the dancers, catching glimpses of faces highlighted by the strobe lights, she got a pretty clear picture as to why she'd heard people refer to nightclubs as ‘meat markets'.

Ah,
Clover thought, as a guy in a tight shirt ground up to her, then spotted Dallas, and ground away, quickly.
So, this is
a meat market.
The dance floor was packed with couples making out. Groups of young girls dressed in skin-tight spandex bandage dresses not flattering in every case and towering heels, gyrated against each other, eyeing up greasy guys who looked a little too old for them and were clearly undressing them with their eyes.

It was a mixed crowd in the club. Plenty of young guys, in collared shirts and jeans most of them halfway to being drunk already cruised the floor, looking for a fight or a girl to proposition, doing their best to look super cool. Clover was astonished to see the number of ‘cougars' women in what she assumed were their thirties and forties, dressed in the same spandex as the girls, hiding behind masks of thick foundation and eye shadow. Suddenly Leslie's beige, conservative wardrobe didn't seem so bad.

Sera, who was looking as tiny and bleached-blonde as ever, was obviously feeling right at home. She kissed Chris, and took off for the dance floor, where she was welcomed by a group of girls she seemed to know. In no time, Sera's little ass was in the air, twerking her best Miley Cyrus impression.

Clover's mouth fell open, but she snapped it shut when someone placed a hand on her arm. She spun around.

‘Hey, Clover,' said Dee Harding, the very one who'd nearly kicked her butt at Clover's first ever party, just a few months ago. Dee moved in close, to be heard over the loud dance music, and Clover's body tensed. ‘Cool club,' Dee said, squeezing her arm. ‘Come get a drink with us later?'

Clover opened her mouth to say sure, but shut it again. The corners of Dee's mouth twitched up into what Clover would swear was a smile.

‘All good?' Dallas asked, slipping a hand around her waist.

‘Yeah,' Clover said. ‘I think it is.' She needed a drink to celebrate. And another one. And another after that. Before she knew it she was knocking back shots.

★

Clover pulled her knees up to her chest, her skin scraping against rough flannel sheets. This wasn't good. The sheets on her bed were smooth.

The headache hit her dead on. Like being high-sided and smacked into the ground, without a helmet. When she finally opened her eyes, images of the nightclub sloshed round her brain, and her stomach heaved.

When Clover finally accepted that she wasn't going to wake up where she wanted to be: clear-headed in her own bed, she sat up groggily. Then fell back down, pulled the blanket up to her chin she was naked from the waist up.

She peeked under the blanket.
Thank God.
Her black thong was still in place. She fell back against the strange, flat pillow and closed her eyes. Her head was in the process of birthing an alien.

‘Clover?'

She froze.

‘You here?'

She looked over, slowly, keeping her eyes half-shut so she could close them quickly if she didn't like what she saw.

Dallas was rubbing his eyes.

She watched him for a moment.

He rolled over, his arm smacking her in the face. She pushed it off and sat up, grabbing her courage with both hands. Once she asked the question, there would be no going back. She had to find out what she'd done.

Her voice was shaky, ‘What did we do?'

But before he could reply, she remembered her parents. Her curfew. She was gripped by a sickening fear and the realisation that her new punishment was going to make two months being grounded seem like a slap on the wrist. ‘No forget it. No time!' She went into overdrive, frantically digging around in the duvet for her shirt and something to cover her bottom. She spotted her black top and pulled it on quickly.

‘Clover where you goin?' His voice was still slurred.

‘Home,' she said. ‘I was supposed to be home last night remember?' She looked around Dallas's room. The clock on his table said 6.41am
.
Just a few million hours past curfew!

‘Oh, right, shit.' Dallas groaned as he sat up and brought his feet to the floor. ‘I'll drive you.'

‘That'd be good, 'cos I certainly don't feel like walking.' She stumbled around the side of the bed, still in search of her pants, and her foot fell on something wet and sticky. ‘Holy SHIT! Dallas!'

‘Hey, keep your voice down.'

Clover lifted her leg slowly, staring transfixed at the long piece of limp rubber attached to the sole of her foot. She yelped and kicked and it flicked into the air, over the bed, past Dallas, and hit the back of the door with a muffled
thwack
.

They both stood, motionless, watching as the condom slid down the door.

‘Oh … my … God,' she said, and fell sideways onto the bed, her head in her hands. ‘Tell me that's left over from a jerk off session, or something?'

He sat down beside her and crossed his legs. He was naked, too. His face was serious, but at ease. The complete opposite of her own feelings she'd never been so angry, and disappointed with herself. And full of shame, a hundred pounds of it, weighing her down. She felt as dirty as the floor of the club she'd thought she was enjoying last night.

‘Answer me!' she yelled.

‘Keep it down. Let's not wake Dad.'

‘Like that matters now!'

‘My memory's not the best this morning, either, alright. But, I can assure you, I haven't seen any other girls.'

A tear escaped. She shook her head. ‘I didn't want it to be like this. Not, like this
.
'

Dallas slipped an arm around her shoulders and wiped her tears away. ‘Don't cry, there's nothing to be upset about. You're my girlfriend and it happened, it must have happened, but hey, we were headed this way, weren't we?' He smiled at her. ‘At least we know we used protection.'

She shoved his arm off. ‘This is no joke.'

‘Yeah,' he said, blinking. ‘I know. My head's killing me too. Now I remember why I don't usually drink!'

She glared at him, waiting for his brain to catch up with the gravity of the situation.

‘Your first time. Clover, I'm sorry, hey.'

‘Yeah,' she said with a shake of her head. ‘So am I.'

She got up quickly and hurried for the door, in the process kicking Dallas's shirt aside and uncovering her pants. She struggled into them and reached for the door handle. Dallas was there before she could open the door. He grabbed her around the waist.

‘Wait.'

‘Why? So we can talk about the fact we did it last night, huh? About the fact I just lost my virginity when I was too wasted to even remember it? Yeah, sounds like an awesome conversation.' She flipped from his arms, but he was too quick.

He grabbed her by the wrists, and pulled her into a hug. Only when she stopped struggling and relaxed in his arms did he let her go enough to see into her face. ‘Clover?'

She hung her head, couldn't meet his eyes. ‘Dallas … we gotta go, I'm so dead meat.' She was supposed to be at home, getting ready for her biggest racing season yet.

She doubted she would ever be allowed out of the house again, once Leslie got her hands on her, let alone on her dirt bike. And Ernie; the thought of him made her feel sick, of the look on his face when she came home like this. Or what punishment he'd come up with. She might as well forget about bikes altogether.

‘I love you,' Dallas said.

She hesitated, before pulling from his grasp. ‘I'm sorry, but I need to go home. Now. This girl's as good as dead.'

Clover spotted Ernie through the darkness as Dallas drove slowly down her driveway. Her father was holding an axe high above his head, cutting firewood out the side of the house.

‘Better drop me here,' she said quietly, motioning with her hand to the offshoot of the driveway that led to the garage. ‘I need to talk to Dad.'

‘You don't want me to come?'

‘What you've got a death wish?'

‘I would.'

‘Thank you. But there's no need for both of us to get chopped to bits.'

He hesitated. ‘Fine. But, apologise to them for me. And tell them I'll come round later … if I'm allowed.'

She nodded, then paused, before reaching for the door handle. Was she still too mad to give him a kiss? A hug? Ernie was there, in the corner of her eye.

She smiled tightly and swung her door open.

‘Hey … ' He grabbed her arm. ‘Can I call ya later?'

She nodded and forced her best it's-all-okay smile, then slid slowly out of the truck, and closed the door gently behind her.

Ernie didn't look up, just swung the axe down hard into its cutting stump. The blade stuck deep into the wet wood. He wiped his brow with a gloved hand.

But before he could speak, Clover's ears closed up, in self-preservation, at the sound of her mother's frantic voice.

‘CLOVER!'

Leslie flapped into the light, from around the front of the house, half-tripping in the deep snow. She was wearing a pair of Ernie's old work boots, undone, and a housecoat. Her hair was wild, but not nearly as wild as her eyes.

‘Where have you been?' Leslie kept talking before Clover could answer. ‘You are in so much trouble, young lady!'

‘Hi, Mom.'

Leslie grabbed Clover by the arm and waved the cordless phone in her face. ‘I've been calling you for hours!' she screeched. ‘Didn't I buy you a cell phone? I thought you'd had an accident, or worse! I was about to call the police!'

‘I'm sorry!'

‘Sorry, my bum, miss! You are … You Ernie?'

Clover sighed and hung her head, then jumped back as Ernie's blade came frighteningly close to swiping her. He'd pulled it from the stump and swung it over his shoulder.

‘Go get changed,' Ernie said, and turned towards the house. ‘I already loaded your bike and gear bag.'

Clover's forehead wrinkled with confusion. ‘Dad?'

‘Go get dressed, Clover.'

‘Ernie! You have got to be kidding?' Leslie's arms flung into the air, sending the phone flying. ‘How could you possibly take her riding today, and why should you? Have you lost your mind?'

‘That's exactly what I'm doing,' Ernie said over his shoulder, as he made his way through the snow towards the ploughed driveway. Clover stumbled along behind him, not daring to look back at her mother. ‘Hurry up,' he said with a wave of his axe. ‘We're going riding. And we won't be home for dinner.'

Clover couldn't believe her luck. Not grounded. Going riding! She had no idea where the countryside was enveloped in snow. Even though she felt seriously ill, at least she was moving, not stuck at home, being yelled at by Leslie, or in solitary for life. The extra strength Advil she'd found in her gear bag was beginning to kick in and she hoped it would take with it all the reminders of last night … a dark night that was doing its best to seep in with all its heavy, gut-wrenching feelings of regret and disappointment in herself, threatening to make her spew.

It was still dark, but the little red lights on the back of the truck reflected off her bike and it stared back eagerly, keen for work after many months of hibernation.

A sliver of hope glinted within her.

Being back on her bike would feel so good.

But as they left the gravel road, and Ernie turned right at the ‘T'-intersection with the highway down into Silvertown, the sick feeling in her stomach began to rise. Ernie wasn't saying a word, just staring at the road, hardly blinking. Animosity radiated from him. Clover's chin dropped to her chest. She wished she had that invisibility cloak she'd heard Jasmine banging on about from that Harry Potter book.

Ernie didn't say a word all the way up to Highstone Lake, and only made a low, grunting sound, as if to clear his throat, as he swung the truck into the observation area on the right hand side of the road, looking out across the frozen water.

Ernie killed the engine and hopped out of the truck, the sound of his door slamming like the final nails being driven into her coffin. She didn't dare move, just watched him walk the few steps out to the railing and lean against it, hoping that his wrath might be lessened by the sight in front of him.

Clover remembered Highstone Lake as a place of beauty and serenity, a place she and Ernie used to visit, when they'd first moved from Canada. But today, the frozen water had lost its lustre. The mountain peaks all around looked black, the spruce trees even more so, like tiny arrows of death. The landscape was frozen and dark, with the Rockies surrounding them, in the dim morning light, somehow more jagged than normal.