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We get more than a few curious stares at our getups. I’ve got half a mind to back out, but Freya grabs my hand, giggling. I find her enthusiasm contagious.
As we make our way down the High Street, I can’t help but wonder what Callum will say if he finds out about this outing. About my involvement in this crazy, undercover mission. But for now, I trust Freya to keep me safe and on track.
As we approach the dance club, I take a deep breath and follow Freya. The music is throbbing, the lights are flashing, and I feel like a fish out of water. However, Freya seems to know exactly what she's doing, leading me through the crowd to the bar where we order drinks.
She hands me a fruity pink one. I take a sip, wincing at the strength of the liquor. The smell of alcohol and sweat assaults my nose, and I feel like I'm in a different world.
Pulling me along, our hands clasped, Freya pushes through the crowd and I find myself on the dance floor before long. Surrounded by bodies swaying, moving, and gyrating, I can't help but feel a strange sense of liberation. The music drowns out any thoughts of Callum or our mission, and for a moment, I forget who I am and where I'm meant to be. I let myself get lost in the rhythm, my body moving like never before.
Freya eyes the crowd. Her gaze stops at the entrance, and suddenly, she bursts into deep belly laughter. “Och! God! There they are! They’ve come undercover as well. God bless ‘em.”
I look to where she points, taking in the group of women in wigs and glasses and brightly colored dresses.
I can’t help but laugh alongside her. "We all look so ridiculous," I say, still giggling. "I can’t believe they came undercover."
"Those are my workmates from the law firm, alright," Freya replies, her laughter subsiding. She claps her hands together, excitement gleaming in her eyes. "Let's go and join them! This is gonna be a night to remember!"
We push through the crowded dance floor, clinging to our drinks for dear life. As careful as I am, I fear I lose half my drink as we’re bumped about.
Freya was right; the women from the law firm are in on the mission, too, wearing a variety of costumes and wigs. They wave and cheer as we approach, their faces alight, mirroring our expressions.
"Hey, honey!" one of them calls out. "Come and join us!"
As we weave through the sea of bodies, I lose sight of Freya. My heart beats harder as I try to push past two large men in black leather coats who suddenly stand in my way.
They both take me in, the larger one saying, “Fancy a drink?”
Sweat dots my hairline where the wig sits, heavy and hot. “Umm…no thanks, I’m looking for my friends.”
The men exchange glances, their eyes narrowing as they block my path. The music thumps in the background, drowning out any other noise. I can feel my heart racing, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach.
The smaller man leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Are you sure about that, sweetheart? We could show you a real good time.”
My pulse quickens as I try to step back, but the crowd around us is relentless, pressing in from all sides. Panic begins to bubble up inside me, a cold sweat breaking out on my skin.
Just as I feel the grip of fear tightening around my chest, a familiar voice cuts through the chaos. “Hey, hands off, mate!”
I see Freya pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes blazing with determination. She stands beside me, a protective force field in human form.
The men size her up, clearly unimpressed by her slender frame and towering heels.
Then she puts her hands on her hips, going to work.
“Stalking is a crime under Scottish law and is an offense against the Criminal Justice and Licensing Act of 2010, Section 39. Scottish law defines stalking as a 'course of conduct' crime, that is, two or more incidents that make a person feel fear and alarm. You blokes have one strike. Let’s not make it two.”
The men glance curiously at one another, but before they can answer, Freya grabs my hand and pulls me away, her laughter leading me to her group.
We find a spot at the edge of the dance floor and start swaying to the music. She introduces me to each woman, and I try to keep up, remembering their names, but with them all in wigs, the dim light, and flashing colors, I highly doubt I’ll ever be able to identify them in the real world.
Still, they’re lovely, and growing up close to my female cousins and the other girls on the island, I easily fall into chatter and laughter with the group. After all, girls just want to have fun?—
As I’m having the thought, Cindy Lauper begins to belt out the words to the song over the speaker. The women squeal, pulling me in closer as we dance and sing along with the words.
And we get to the lines:
My father yells, "Whatchu gonna do with your life?"
Oh daddy dear, you know yer still number one
