The Bad Girls' Club (14 page)

I woke up the next morning in the middle of Satoshi’s bed with Satoshi’s arm over my chest and Tom’s leg wrapped around me. I had to get out of there. What if they woke up and I had to talk them? What could I say? After that debauchery, I couldn’t imagine making small talk over toast and coffee.

As I lifted
Satoshi’s arm off me, he gave a little snore. I stopped for a minute; his arm suspended in midair, and listened to him snoring. He was dead to the world, so I sat his arm down on his stomach then I slid my leg out from under Tom’s. I wiggled down to the foot of the bed to avoid clambering over either of them and waking them up. That would be worst – if one of them woke with me straddling them, looking like I was ready for round two. Well, round sixteen more like it. I didn’t even want to think about that.

I tiptoed into the lounge room. Most of my clothes were still in a bundle in the middle of the floor.

I’d dressed and put on one of my stockings and a boot when I realised I couldn’t find the other stocking. I hobbled around in one stocking and one boot trying not to make too much noise. I looked under the coffee table and behind the cushions on the couch. I limped into the dining area, grinning to myself when I saw the purple tie still attached to the back of the chair.

Then I heard a grunting from the bedroom. One of them was awake. I quickly tugged the boot onto my stockingless foot. It was worth sacrificing some expensive hosiery to get out of there.

I looked at my phone, wondering if it was worth ringing a cab, then realised then I’d have to wait around. And I didn’t know the address. Damn. I left, closing the door quietly behind me.

As I ran down the stairs, I realised I
’d been totally rude. I stopped and fumbled through my bag, grabbing a pen and an old shopping receipt.
Thanks for last night
, I scribbled, and then signed my name and a smiley face. I ran back up and slipped it under the door.

Luckily, it was easy to flag down a cab. I got in and gave him my address. The cab driver looked me up and down – the tousled hair, the smeared makeup, the leather skirt, the missing stocking.

‘Looks like you had a good night,’ he said, his tongue flicking over his meaty lips.

I pulled my jacket tighter around me and leaned against the door, giving him a grunt in reply. Then my phone rang. I fished in my bag for it. Oh, I hoped it wasn
’t Beth or Imogen. What was I going to tell them? We might be the Bad Girls’ Club but I didn’t want them to think I was some kind of tawdry slut.

‘
Are you going to answer that or what?’ said the cabbie.

As I pulled my phone out, I realised it was even worse.

Craig.

I knocked on the door then stepped back to wait. No one was going to answer. I
’d told Imogen we shouldn’t have bothered with this fool idea.

‘
I can’t see anyone,’ whispered Imogen.

Oh my God, she
’d cupped her eyes with her hand and was peering through the coloured glass at the side of the door. I grabbed the back of her t-shirt and pulled her away.

‘
Imogen! You can’t do that. What if someone saw you?’

‘
Hey, I just said, I couldn’t see anyone.’

‘
Yeah, but you didn’t know that before you looked.’

‘
Like I told you, I reckon Juliette’s hiding out. Something’s going on.’

Imogen had a whole swag of conspiracy theories about Juliette
’s non-appearance at this week’s meeting. Personally, I thought it was likely to be something a bit more mundane than alien abduction or a weirdo brainwashing cult, but Imogen was very keen on playing Nancy Drew. She’d have had us both on some kind of stealth, fact-finding mission if she had her way. I must say though, it was odd that Juliette hadn’t contacted us or even answered her phone. I’d been relieved to leave the pub, though. Without Juliette there, it just felt a bit close, sitting in the booth with Imogen.

I paced the length of the verandah while we waited. Juliette lived in a standard brick house with a garden at the front. Ivy and jasmine grew up over the verandah railings and somebody sure liked geraniums; the verandah was covered in pots of them.

I looked back and Imogen was peering through the glass again.

‘
Imogen,’ I hissed and waved for her to get away.

‘
Shhh, I hear footsteps,’ she said.

The door opened and a short woman stood in front of us. She must have been Juliette
’s mother. You could see traces of Juliette in her eyes, the way they crinkled when she smiled. She was one of those timid women, the kind that wears clip-on earrings and face powder.

‘
Mrs Mackenzie, can Juliette come out to play?’ Imogen asked, laughing loudly.

I stepped up and smiled, trying to present a picture of sanity. Juliette
’s mother smiled back and her face crinkled even more.

‘
Imogen, how are you?’ she asked. Then she turned to me. ‘You must be Beth. I’ll just get Juliette.’

So, Juliette was home. Maybe Imogen wasn
’t so far wrong with her theories; something was going on. Mrs Mackenzie walked off down the hallway.

‘
What do you think is going on?’ I whispered to Imogen.

‘
Dunno. Do you think we should follow her?’

‘
She said she’d get Juliette. This is weird.’

‘
Told you she’d be here, didn’t I?’

I walked back down the verandah. It was starting to get cold and I wished Juliette would hurry up. What was taking her so long? I was just considering going back to the car to get my cardigan when I heard footsteps.

Mrs Mackenzie came to the door with Juliette behind her.

‘
Sorry. I shouldn’t have left you out here. Now, I just have to pop over next door. Juliette, invite your friends inside before they freeze to death.’

Juliette didn
’t even look at us. She just stood behind her mother, tapping the door frame with her foot and folding her arms like a recalcitrant school girl. She scowled after her mother as she walked down the path to the front gate.

‘
Come inside then,’ Juliette said and she walked back down the hallway. We followed her past photos of childhood Juliettes until we got to the kitchen at the back of the house.

The kitchen looked like someone had gone on an interior decorating spree sometime in the
‘70s; the lime green laminex and burnt orange canisters were almost cool in a retro kind of way. Bills and photos and magnets that said things like
God couldn’t be everywhere, that’s why he made mothers
covered the fridge, but other than that, it was spotless.

Juliette told us to sit at the table. Instead of sitting down herself, she buzzed around the kitchen, filling the kettle, rearranging things in the fridge, wiping the benches. She didn
’t look at us, didn’t talk to us, didn’t even act like we existed.

I looked at Imogen and she frowned at me. Someone had to say something.

‘Juliette…’

The kettle whistled.

‘Just a minute.’

Juliette filled the cups and sat them on the table; she went back and got a jug of milk and a bowl of sugar then she scurried back to the sink and picked up the dishcloth. I had no idea what she was scrubbing but she was going to wear a hole right through the bench top if she didn
’t stop.

Imogen sighed and got up out of her seat. She grabbed the dishcloth out of Juliette
’s hand and threw it in the sink.

‘
For fuck sake, come and sit down.’

Juliette skulked over to the table. She sat down but didn
’t look at either of us. Instead she stared at her hands, examining her nails.

‘
Why didn’t you come to the meeting?’ I asked. ‘Is something wrong?’

Juliette twisted a strand of hair around her finger.

‘I don’t feel well.’

‘
You should have called us.’

‘
You don’t look too sick to me,’ added Imogen.

Juliette kept twisting the strand of hair and didn
’t answer.

‘
Juliette,’ I said, and patted her arm.  ‘We can’t be the Bad Girls’ Club without you. Who ever heard of a club with just two people? Have we done something to upset you?’

‘
Yeah, come on Jules,’ said Imogen. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘
Nothing,’ she replied, still not looking up. ‘Why should something be wrong?’

I looked at Imogen for help but she shook her head. Something was definitely wrong but we couldn
’t force Juliette to talk. I stirred my coffee and, for a moment, the only sound in the kitchen was the ringing of my spoon against the coffee cup. Maybe if we changed the subject, got Juliette to relax, she’d tell us what was on her mind. For once, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Her silence was contagious. Imogen twirled her coffee spoon in her fingers and I kept tapping the table. Finally, Imogen clanged her spoon down on the table.

‘
What happened on Saturday night?’ asked Imogen. ‘We haven’t heard from you since then.’

Juliette flinched but didn
’t reply. Imogen must have been getting close to the truth.

Imogen grabbed her hands around the potted African violet on the middle of the table.

‘If some guy did something to you, just let me know.’ She plucked a leaf from the violet and squished it up tight. ‘I’ll kill him,’ she added, plucking another leaf. ‘I’ll get his balls and grind them with my heel until they are minced meat and only good for hamburgers.’

‘
It’s nothing,’ Juliette gasped, making a grab for the abused pot plant. ‘They didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to.’

‘
They?’ Imogen and I shrieked in unison. ‘Who are
they
?’

Juliette buried her face in her hands.

‘Tell us, Jules. It’s obviously got you worried,’ said Imogen, her voice full of concern.

Tell us, Jules, I thought, wanting to know all the gory details. This was going to be good.

Juliette paced the kitchen as she told the story. I didn’t dare look at Imogen. I was speechless. Juliette had actually gone home with not one but two guys. And I’d thought Imogen’s alien abduction theory was outlandish. Two cute guys by the sounds of it. Why does stuff like that never happen to me? I’m hot. I go out all the time looking sexy and available and never, not once, have I had two guys try to pick me up.

‘
You mean, it was the first –’

Juliette turned back to the sink.
‘Craig’s the only guy I’ve ever been with. We started going out at uni and, well, he just isn’t… he doesn’t… I dunno. I just haven’t, OK.’

‘
You’d never what?’ Damn, had I missed something?

‘
She’s never come before. Pay attention.’

‘
You are kidding me. Not even on your own? Or you know, sitting on the washing machine during the spin cycle or…’ I saw Imogen smirking and shut up. ‘So what did you do next?’

‘
Well, they wanted me to take control, but I’m not so good at that kind of thing. So I…’

‘
Come on. You can’t leave the story there.’

‘
I guess I got a bit carried away.’

‘
Yeah?’

‘
It’s embarrassing.’

‘
Come on, Jules, you can tell us.’

‘
Well I kinda… I tied them up and spanked them.’

‘
Spanked? My God.’

‘
What’s wrong with that?’ asked Imogen.

‘
Well it’s a bit kinky,’ I replied.

‘
Just because you haven’t done something, doesn’t make it kinky, you know. Lots of people –’

Juliette slammed her hand on the table.
‘Do you want me to confess or not?’

We both nodded and shut up.

‘There isn’t much else to say anyway,’ she said, the fight gone again. ‘I didn’t really spank them so much, just a few slaps on the bum. Then it was back to the bedroom. We did things I didn’t even know were possible.’

She slumped on the back of the chair as though the energy had been drained from her body.

‘You think I’m a slut, don’t you?’ She looked from me to Imogen. ‘You’d better go.’ At that, she straightened up and walked to the door.

‘
Sit back down, Juliette,’ I said. ‘I’m surprised you can walk after that anyway.’

‘
Don’t tease her, Beth,’ said Imogen. She turned to Juliette. ‘Damn girl, I’m proud of you. I can’t believe you did that. Well done.’

Juliette finally looked at us, a glimmer of relief in her eyes.

‘You don’t think I’m horrible?’

‘
As if,’ I replied. ‘I’m jealous. It’s every woman’s dream.’

She perked up a bit, even attempted a wonky smile.

‘Yeah, Juliette. You should be Queen of the Bad Girls’ Club instead of hiding away.’

As Juliette relaxed, we got more of the details out of her but I had a feeling she wasn
’t telling us everything.

‘
So, were they hot, Juliette?’

‘
Oh yeah. They were nice.’

‘
Nice isn’t exactly hot. What did they look like – blonde or brunette? Muscular or lean?’

‘
Cut or uncut?’ added Imogen. Trust her to ask that.

‘
They were just regular guys. Nothing special.’

‘
Well, you must know something about them? What did they do for a living? You did talk beforehand, I assume.’

‘
Of course we talked. They work in offices. Not really interesting. So, Beth, it’s your dare next.’ She turned to Imogen. ‘Have you thought of anything?’

‘
I was hoping you’d have something planned,’ she said. ‘I haven’t thought of a thing.’

‘
Neither have I,’ said Juliette. ‘I’ve been a bit worried. Sorry.’

I smiled at her. Poor thing. She really had been terrified about telling us.

‘Well, you do have that new vibrator, Beth,’ said Imogen. ‘Maybe you could use that for this dare.’

‘
Yeah,’ said Juliette. ‘At work.’

I couldn
’t believe she’d even joke about something like that.

‘
Funny one. Now think of my real dare.’

‘
That’s it,’ said Imogen. ‘I think that’s a good dare.’

Juliette nodded.

‘No.’

‘
What do you mean, no?’ Imogen suddenly sat up and glared at me.

‘
I’m not doing it. I threw it out anyway.’

‘
Sure you did. You can’t just “not do it”,’ she said, glaring at me.

‘
Yes I can.’ I folded my arms. They could say what they liked. I wasn’t even going to discuss it.

‘
No you can’t. I did my dares. Jules did hers. She didn’t just do them. She exceeded expectations.’

Juliette giggled.

‘Well, I’m not. Look, this is all fun and a good laugh but I’m not getting it mixed up with work. That’s just not going to happen.’

‘
Don’t be a spoilsport.’