The Fall Read Online Free

girl, the blonde one from the queue coming in, saying loudly to her boyfriend that she wanted a mo-hi-to , saying it with an annoying accent. She’d a lovely dress on, all silk and lace, not like the cheap knock-offs Keisha could afford to buy. Some people got all the luck.
    The two other girls in the VIP bit were getting right on her tits, too. This ho with the ’fro, the tall pretty bitch in the silver dress, was flirting with Chris so blatantly, even touching his arm. He bought her a Bacardi Breezer, green colour, the twat. The other girl – shorter, skankier – had an over-relaxed ‘do’ and no self-respect, you could tell. When the owner of the club came out he squeezed the shorter girl’s arse, and gave Keisha a look-over. Probably thinking she could do with a boob job and a hair weave. She thought somehow this boss was pissed off with Chris being there, though he was all smiles. The two men pulled their chairs away from the girls, and talked, leaning in close. Anthony, they’d called the owner. The girls didn’t talk to her and the stupid shoes hurt, so Keisha was already in a pretty bad mood when the white guy from the queue came over shouting at Anthony about something. When it started getting loud she decided to go to the loo. Stay out of trouble, that was the way. She had to if she wanted Ruby back.
Charlotte
    The drug was definitely working by the time they got on the tube at Belsize Park. She giggled, clutching at the yellow pole in the carriage, wobbling on the Louboutin shoes he’d bought her for her birthday. They were so high, it was lucky she couldn’t feel her feet any more. ‘It’s working,’ she’d said, too loudly. ‘This must be why people do it.’
    ‘ Shh , you cokehead.’ He stroked the metallic blusher from her cheek and kissed her hard. Charlotte felt dizzy, his muscles solid against her. How long since he last kissed her this way? Everyone was watching. The carriage was packed with people struggling home, dead-eyed with exhaustion like Dan usually was on a Friday. The cocaine, the fright of earlier, the unexpected night out, it cast a glow over everything, transforming the trundling tube, littered with free papers, into something magical.
    Charlotte was feeling the effects even more now they were in the Kingston Town club. It had crept up like a fine mist over her brain, like one minute you felt the same, wondering what all the fuss was about, and then suddenly, pow! Your brain moved at light speed, and your voice was loud and fast; it was like you could do anything. Warp speed , she thought, reaching out for him, but although he was dancing close to her, the drug was making them all alone in the haze. The music was fast and loud, ringing with steel drums, and she thought about the honeymoon they’d be on soon, the warm sand under her feet, looking at him through the dark of the sea. She motioned to him, as if already underwater. ‘Just going . . . ladies’.’ She wasn’t sure he noticed.
    Charlotte stumbled to the toilets, feeling clumsier than ever. She hadn’t noticed it before, but this was a very black club, a mostly West Indian crowd. Probably that was why they called it Kingston Town. Maybe they thought she shouldn’t be here, with her blonde hair. Charlotte felt inside the first stab of bad feeling. Paranoia , she said to herself, running water over her hands. It was why she didn’t normally take drugs.
    There was no soap or paper towels – dirty and wet underfoot as the toilets were, there was an attendant. Christ, they made her feel awkward. The woman had probably hidden the soap so she could scrape up more wet coins for herself.
    ‘Fuck off,’ someone was saying. ‘I’m not paying to wash my bloody hands, you dirty cow. This is London, not fucking Nigeria or wherever you’ve come from.’
    Charlotte was about to be virtuously shocked by the racism, but as the face of the speaker wavered in and out, she saw the girl was black too, or at least half-black or