White lines

She scurried in every direction she could, weaving through the dancing clubbers. They`re sweat was thick and

sweet in the air, the occasional whistle of gratitude for the D.J cutting through the infectious beat; a glow stick

undulating in the hands of the circus- like performers. The gram of Columbian she had purchased from a single

mother, in Whalley range, was still rushing through her veins. An over zealous bloke in persuit. She wasn`t sure of

anything tonight. Well, not much. He`s a friend of katies` brother, down especially for her birthday celebrations.

Katie had never really spent much time with her younger sibling so she felt inviting him out for her 26th would be a

good idea. Katie had decided one of Manchesters` more exclusive clubs would be an appropriate choice. The girls

did have the panache, but her brother and his friends? They arrived at the apartment earlier in the evening, five of

them, all baggy pants and surfer shirts. The borrowed suit jackets and interview shoes a banal attempt to look more

`young professional` than `student scruff`. The security at `Ripleys` turned a blind eye to their lack of grace

tonight, being a Wednesday, but Treasa new that they wouldn`t stand a chance at any other time. Only the beautiful

were accepted then.
Despite her meandering through the dance floor, the incessant guy located her at the foot of the spiral staircase. He

had a glint in his eye and the bit between his teeth. Treasa suspected the glint was from the club scenes` party

essential, disco biscuits. As for the bit, she wasn`t sure.

He had the luck of a boyband member, she thought. A sweeping fringe coupled with Sunday school features and the

attire of choice for the trendy lad about town, a t-shirt two sizes too small. Boot string arms compulsary.

" I have a boyfriend, lad " Treasa exclaimed "Didn`t Katie tell you?"

" Katie said you were free and single, and even so, wheres your boyfriend tonight?. I wouldn`t leave a girl like you

alone for one minute!". The lad spoke with an assured self belief, moving in close and laying his hand on her

shoulder.

" Oh? So your the posessive type are you?". Treasa had become used of the unoriginal and occasionally pushy

advances the city boys offered her. She had hoped they would offer so much more.

" Er, no" he stuttered " I`m just pointing out how gorgeous you are, can I buy you a drink?"

She removed his hand confidently and tilted her glass for him to see. " I already have one. Look, I`m sorry but I`m

not interested. I like my men to have a little meat on their bones"

The student scowled and muttered something under his breath before slinking off in to the crowd. Treasa felt a tad

guilty for putting him down over his build as she wasn`t at all that superficial. If she wanted meat she would have

stayed in the village. She new that Katie would chastise her for being rude to the guests but she just wasn`t going to

get off with some guy to keep her happy.

From being a young girl she had stood out from the crowd, a fabulous example of beauty with seductive eyes` and

an elegance more befitting a Parisian model than a Wicklow farmers` daughter . Not that it did her any favours. The

other little girls smelt of manure and had pudgy features. They resented her for looking the way she did. Different.

At least thats how she remembered them. Unless her bitter feelings were clouding what she recalled of her class

mates. The odd time, though, a stray thought of her former life would pop in to her head. A warm memory, cutting

through the sometimes inpenetrable wall of bitterness. A little pleasure. Drinking stolen wine inside a hay-bale

stone henge under an infinite star canopy. The smell of the stables. The country boys,with their flushed, healthy

faces and large hands. All the same, it was nothing compared to being across the water. Manchester is where her

life is now and isn`t she better for it?

As she strode in to the toilets a woman with leathery skin and severe features stopped her. A ring heavy hand

gesticulated at a selection of popular perfume and hand cream. An ash-tray of pound coins and a twenty pence

piece sat at the front of the bottles. With her head down, Treasa made for the nearest unoccupied cubical.

"Christ Karen, go easy. A gram of that is for Steve. He` ll go fuccin schitzo if you cain it all" a voice from the

cubical down expressed an issue as Treasa locked her door.

She carefully unravelled the clingfilm to reveal a little mound of white powder. Her hand shook momentarilly until

she seized control of her nerves.She tipped the powder on to the back of the toilet and racked up two lines with her

Mastercard. A crisp twenty pound note rolled in to a pipe joined the equation and she proceeded to hoover the

smallest of the lines up her dainty nose. Always smallest first. A pause to feel the rush. Her eyes as wide and alert as

a wildcats now, a sudden feeling of clarity. She leant down to polish off the final and longest streak of energy when

a thumping on the door interupted her.

" Open the door please" The voice spoke with enough authority for Treasa to realise that it was no request being

made.

" Er....just a sec....er.....who is it?" She fumbled with the bag and clasped at the toilet seat, thrusting it up so she

could dispose of the cocaine. Her eager shaking made the powder disperse in the bowl like a white mist.

"Fuck"

The door

opened as she flushed the chain, the bouncer using his club issue toilet key.

"Come out here..This club has a zero tolerance policy on drug use."

" What do you mean?I was just having a wee". Treasas` offer of innocence was rather weak.

"Come with me" The doorman grabbed her bag from her hands and beckoned towards the door.She reluctantly

followed the man, passing the toilet attendant in the process. Despite her position she still considered the woman

and thought of how preposterous this world can be, having toilet attendants.The doorman led her to the right hand

side of the exit where a door marked private stood. He banged three times with a weighty, battle worn hand. Despite

the repetitive beat of the music, the occupant heard his rapping and opened the door.

" Mike, just grabbed this one in the ladies. Coke I`de say" the man spoke through the gap in the door to an

overweight, sweaty looking character, Treasa took him to be the manager.

"She supplying?"

"No,I doubt it. She said she was havin a wee but that `s obviously bollocks. I heard her snorting through the door

and she`s got eyes like piss holes in the snow"

"Come in here miss" The fat manager shouted out the ajar door." Sit down" He pointed at a plastic fold-away chair next to a tressle table. She sheepishly made her way to the seat and sat. The room smelt of sweat and coffee. A rack of CCTV cameras were on one side of the room, displaying grainy images like a hospitals ultra-sound and an outdated P.C in the corner. A `vitners magazine` calender the only colour on an otherwise barren wall.

"Whats your name, girl?" said the manager. He turned towards the bouncer before she could answer " Oh, I`ve got it from here George. Good stuff. Oh yeah... make sure the new lad brings in his badge tomorrow night. I dont want any heat from the busies over unregistered security"

"Yeah Mike. No problem. Will speak to him now" The bouncer left the room and closed the door. The music became suddenly fainter as he did. A heavy fire door keeping out sound as well. Despite having a head full of coke, Treasa registered the shiver down her back as not being drug related.

She suddenly thought of Declan back home and what he`d think. Her last e-mail had told him how great her life had become. She told of all the opportunities the city had opened up. The wonderful jobs on offer. Libraries, museums and football stadiums. The people. The men. She told him how she would find what she couldn`t find in the village. Belonging .She came to Manchester to live in a Victorian house in a leafy suburb and eat peasent food in over priced bistros`, not snort cocaine and get.........well, whatever this sweating bar manager was going to offer her.