New Year’s Eve
Auckland
I hadn’t been out for a while. There were four of us. Bill was the president of a motorcycle gang. His friend Rangi was a big Māori guy. They’d done time together. Kelly was Bill’s girlfriend, as of that week. She was very young and thin, with a face like an avatar. We were an unusual group. I was a bankrupt lawyer.
We loaded up on Peruvian coke and Long Island Iced Teas and headed downtown. Rangi was so drunk he was sick in the back of the car. With a compassion born of doing a lag together, Bill cleaned him up and found him a fresh shirt.
Downtown was pumping. We went to a small club in an old art deco building by the waterfront. Security waved us through. A bored girl took the money and sent us downstairs.
The club was packed. The carpet was wet with booze. The music was loud enough to make the room feel smaller. At the bar I noticed a tall blonde in a white dress. Everyone was young. Not as altered as we were. That made it feel oddly even.
We took some couches at the back. I went looking for the toilet and saw two guys holding each other by the throat. I turned around and went back the way I’d come. In another life I’d seen what bottles did to faces.
When I sat down a couple had joined us. She was tall, Jewish-looking, beautiful. He was shorter, forgettable. He had his hands on her. She let him. Her eyes were elsewhere. I tried not to watch.
The music kept going.
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