Exposure by Talitha Stevenson Page A

chairs. The small act of violence had changed the room into a store of weapons.
    To Luke, it seemed that the whole scene had spun out from the girl on the table, that she had effortlessly choreographed everyone around her. An entire bar full of people. He would have liked to make this observation to his friend James, but James laughed at him for the grandiose things he said about girls. James thought girls were for sex and men were for friendship, and it amazed Luke how many women his friend had to brush off.
    Arianne got off the table. Now that he no longer had an opportunity to introduce himself to her, Luke felt invisible and drifted over towards her with the litde crowd of people who had been near the bar. They stood less than a metre away. People were using the word 'ambulance'. He heard the girl say, 'Oh, for fuck's sake, why do you
do
this shit, Dan?'
    She was tall, about five eleven, so the large man—Dan—did not tower over her in her high heels. Somehow she managed to look impressed while she put her boot back on; she kept her eyes fixed on Dan's while she pulled it into place. She had an accent, too—it might have been French.
    'Really, why are you such a total wanker?'
    'Why? Because that's what you fucking
turn people into
,' Dan said.
    Luke remembered that exchange—often. He remembered the unexpected pulse of anxiety across the girl's face and the instant softening of her manner. 'Hey, come on,' she said. 'I'm wasted. Let's stop fighting, baby. I want to go home. Let's go to your place, shall we?'
    Luke was astonished by her voice. In a matter of seconds it had gone from searing anger to honeyed fragility. He couldn't help imagining that such range might have other applications.
    All of the others in the little crowd were trying to catch sight of Andy, but Luke just watched the girl. They were separated by less than a metre—but there was no reason in the world for her to notice him. She put her hand on Dan's face. 'Oh, Daniel, you
hurt
him. What have you gone and done now?' she said. The big man slumped for her like a circus elephant. Then she turned to Andy, who was being comforted by the other girls from the banquette. His nose was bleeding and he was sitting on the floor. She leant down to him: 'Andy, honey, are you badly hurt?'
    Following her, Dan shook Andy's knee back and forth in a vigorous, playful way. 'Hey, look, I'm sorry, man,' he said. 'I totally lost it there.' Then he raised his arm to give Andy a genial slap on the shoulder.
    Arianne caught his wrist. 'Dan's
sorry
,' she said. 'He's very sorry and he's a
total wanker.
I will call you tomorrow, Andy. We
will
speak about this, sweetie. Don't worry.'
    She made it sound as though this unforgivable act would not go unrecorded. And then she looked around for her handbag and left—with the perpetrator.
    This was not so much a sense of justice as one of composition.
    Luke walked back to the bar and picked up his drink. He felt as though he had been dancing right by the speakers for hours but, of course, he was not deafened and it was not sound that had affected him. His mind was reverberating with longing, as if it was a bell, struck by lust. Behind a vacant stare, his imagination laboured shamelessly. James was speaking about something, but all Luke could picture was the girl stopping, as she just might have done, half-way up the stairs to the exit. The boyfriend went on up to wait for her outside while she ran back down to the loo. Before she got to the doorway on to the corridor, she caught Luke's eye. A nod: yes, you.
    He was not used to playing this submissive role, because he could get any girl he wanted, you could ask any of his friends, but he found it strangely sexy—in thought, anyway, where it was secret.
    By the time he got out into the corridor, where it was cool and dark and muffled, the very long girl was hitching up her very short skirt. There was a store cupboard with a lock and she slammed the door behind