"I've got a black magic woman,
got me so blind I can't see..."
She dug out the slip the man running the cloakroom had handed her, an irritated expression crossing her face. "Come on, I think people are meeting up at Rev's tonight anyway." She pulled out her phone and checked to make sure, but by this time I had wondered off in the direction of the bar. "Lily? Hey, hold on a sec!"
I paid for my vodka and coke while she ran to catch up with me, darting through the ever-moving crowds. Smiling at her, I pulled the dark liquid into my mouth through a straw. "Take it easy. I'm being social, aren't I?"
Amy sighed. "Well, you're wearing clothes, at least." Amy grumbled, pulling out a five pound note. "Hell, I know it was a rough break-up, but jeez, Lily!" Leaning over the bar, she pushed strands of her long black hair out of her face and called over the bartender. While she waited for her order, she looked over again. "Alright, one drink but can please go to Rev's afterwards?" she almost begged. "Even Bec's gonna be there - weren't you like, best friends in school?"
"Yeah.." I paused, suddenly pensive. "I thought she moved to Wales, though? Like for her filmmaking shit?"
"Seems she's moved back. What I heard, at least."
While I thought, I drank a little more. Amy was momentarily distracted, taking and paying for a drink. It was a clear, fizzing liquid that I assumed was white rum and lemonade. I'd seen some of Bec's shorts on a Vimeo channel she'd been running for years. Damn girl was good at it, too. Now that I thought of it, that channel had been quiet for several months. "How come?" I asked. Bec had told me nothing of this impending return in her texts.
"Fuck knows. Ask her when we get there." Amy drank a generous amount of her mixer, her face still sour. She kept her back against the bar, eyes fixed on the door.
"Yeah, you got your spell on me baby,
turning my heart into stone..."
"I plan to." I replied, frowning. I cast my eyes over the dancefloor. For once it was quiet on those multicoloured panels. Most were huddled in booths, all caught up in their conversations, grinning and laughing. One or two argued. The few who were on the dancefloor attempted to move rhythmically to the music, but I don't know - maybe it's harder to dance to the blues.