She couldn't imagine spending much longer in this place. She looked at people laughing and talking, at couples obviously forming, and it reminded her how empty her love life had been since Joel. Not that it had been that full-on then. Joel had been impulsive and spontaneous, physically affectionate. She pushed the word needy from her mind; that wasn't fair. He loved to drop by unannounced. She disliked this habit so much that she would sometimes drop to the floor when the doorbell sounded, spending the next two hours in the dark so her caller wouldn't know she was home. Even when he'd phone from his mobile in the lobby Jill would maintain the ruse. It was the principle – she needed time to prepare herself for visitors.
Joel, twenty-eight, a scientist from the University of New South Wales, had never really left college. He admitted that he loved the lifestyle and was happy to combine lecturing with his marine environment research projects. When a floater had washed up on a beach in Wollongong, Jill had travelled to the university to seek an expert opinion on the body's rate of decay, trying to better place the time of death. He asked her out, in front of her uniformed partner, within ten minutes of her being in his office, and although she shot him down in her best cop voice, she'd been impressed by his audacity. When he called her office the next day and offered his services – more advice on the body, to take her scuba diving, to cook her a lobster dinner – she'd surprised herself by accepting the latter.
She'd agreed to meet him at the uni; running late she had rushed to find the lecture hall he'd nominated. When she finally located the building, she entered and, amused, realised he'd timed their meeting so that she'd catch him finishing a lecture. By that time the students were filing raucously out and she stood at the back of the hall to wait. She watched Joel at the lectern, surrounded by five students who'd stayed behind to ask questions. All female. He seemed to answer their questions distractedly, his eyes darting around the large hall. Jill slipped a little further behind a pillar at the back of the room. When Joel finally noticed her, she watched his face light up. Following a couple of words to the students, he bounded up the tiered theatre and was by her side in moments. The resentful stares of the girls down the front followed them from the building.
Joel had tried to make Jill go out more: movies, parties, art exhibitions, dancing, bungee jumping, shopping. He was endlessly enthusiastic about events happening in Sydney. He was puzzled when he finally figured out that Jill was uncomfortable in crowds and small group situations alike, and that she was perhaps most uncomfortable when they were alone. He grew quietly impatient with Jill's difficulties with intimacy and touching, and was easily hurt, taking personally her silent withdrawals at night. Joel had wanted to discuss their relationship endlessly, try couples' counselling, commit to one another by moving in together. And he was silently jealous of Scotty. After six months, Jill had told Joel that she was no longer interested in a relationship. Watching Joel's heart break had wrenched at her own. Until the numbness kicked in again, of course. Walking through the bar in search of the toilets, Jill caught sight of her mini-skirted profile in an amber-tinted full-length mirror. She laughed at the thought of Cassie's face if she ran into her now. Her sister was also always telling her to get out more.
'How can you be that happy when you haven't met me yet?' A man in his late twenties who'd bravely gelled his thinning blonde hair into a faux-hawk stood smiling in her path.
'I'm just thinking about my lover,' she spoke loudly over the music, while gesturing to one of the leather-clad bikies playing pool nearby. She laughed again as the man turned away immediately, hurrying back to his friends.
After leaving the bathroom, Jill walked through the narrow alcove furthest from the bar. The corridor was quieter than the rest of the club, and seemed to be some sort of service access. A couple of busy staff members rushed by her on their way to the kitchen, and she leaned back against a fire hose mounted on the wall to let them past. She had made up her mind to at least go and check out the 'youth club' Honey had mentioned. Walking purposefully, and determined to get Honey to accompany her now she'd gone to all this trouble, she stepped out of the quiet corridor and straight into a leather-jacketed chest. The bikie from the tables outside pushed her back into the dark corridor.
'What's a rat-fuck cop doing here?' He walked her backwards; she couldn't coordinate her feet. Adrenalin pumping, she struggled to regain some control over her movements, looked for a way around him. He filled the corridor, twice her size, and before she could recover her footing, he pushed her into the wall. Pinned by the man-mountain, Jill's back crushed into something sharp behind her. He leaned in over her, dwarfing her completely.
She felt the familiar wave of panic when the breaths she took didn't seem to be deep enough; she couldn't get enough air. She struggled to position herself so that she could breathe, but just by leaning into her, this man had immobilised her arms and body.
'You know, you sent four of my brothers to gaol, you bitch.' Exhaled bourbon fumes filled her nose and mouth.
Her throat closed and she couldn't swallow. Dark spots danced in her vision. Keep it together, she thought. Do not have a panic attack in front of this pig. The thought of crying and gasping for air in front of him forced her to slow the panic.
She was trying again to manoeuvre for surer footing, when the bikie suddenly moved his arm backwards. She felt his body tensing and, too late, realised what was about to happen. She tried to clench her stomach muscles, prepare herself. His huge fist smashed into her gut. The pain exploded in her stomach and her back, where whatever pushed into her had jammed hard into her spine. She would have dropped immediately but his weight kept her pinned there. She coughed, tasted blood on her lips.
'You. Dumb. Fuckin'. Slut.' His lips skimmed hers as he breathed into her face. 'There's probably fifty of us in this place right now, and we sent word out that you're here for a good time. I'm gonna carry you out of here like you're wasted, and when you wake up you'll be in our clubhouse. You're gonna love how we party.'
Just one blow had rendered Jill faint, but she knew that staying alert was her only hope. She'd rather die here than leave this place with him. She felt his weight shift as he moved his arm back again and, terrified, Jill was sure she wouldn't be conscious following the next blow – with her back pressed into the wall, her internal organs would absorb the full force of his punch. She had to get out of there. She tried to scream, but even she couldn't hear the moan she just managed. When his fist slammed into her stomach again, through the white-hot pain she felt ribs fracture.
Jill's body buckled under the force of the next blow, but this time she felt no pain. She couldn't hear his voice either; it was replaced by a muffled sobbing sound that she did not recognise as her own. But with the pain and fear gone, Jill knew what to do. She closed her eyes and listened to her enemy. She heard his intake of breath as he prepared to pull his arm backwards to hit her again. She waited. One beat. Two. And with all the force she had, when his body was most open, ready to strike, she slammed her knee upwards into his crotch, full force. As his pupils were still dilating in agony, she struck the same place again, her knee moving before his hands could reach for his broken balls. He swayed, half-turned, and smacked face-first to the ground, his body filling the tight corridor.
Bent double, Jill sucked in air, her vision blacking in and out. The pain in her ribs threatened to return and she knew she had to get out of that place. Think! She could not walk back into the club. They'd be waiting for her.
Straight ahead lay the front door, but she'd have to traverse the dance floor to reach it, and she didn't feel up to getting past a drunken executive, let alone an angry biker or two. To her right were the toilets. She looked down the corridor and saw light spilling underneath double doors. The kitchen. There'd be a back route out of there. There was always a fire exit in a kitchen. There'd be a phone, staff, people to help her.