Page 11 of Little Miss Fortune

As if Zoolander’s wardrobe was raided.

Fuck yeah, I’m good.

A blonde girl wraps herself around him—like a snake around a mongoose. I wish them luck and follow my friends to the dance floor.

Leon beelines to the stage by the DJ. Judgement is one of the few clubs that allows everyone to dance on the stage, not just women. If you dance well enough, you get a free shot, which is easy for Leon, who took a twelve-week intense waacking course, so the crowd immediately shouts their support. That isn’t luck; that is pure skill.

Leon wins three shots instead of one, however, as all three shot girls were accidentally called over the staff radio. Now that is luck. He shares one with each of us, climbs off the stage, and sways side to side, like a retired general after a long battle, to the cheers and the applause of the club. That’s how I think Churchill danced.

The music tonight is excellent, with some old classics mixed in with new popular hits. The blonde girl is now dancing with a different man with a sharp fade. You go, girl. Huh, and I just remembered that mongooses (mongeese?) kill snakes, not the other way around.

As I contemplate the wonders and horrors of the natural world, I feel someone behind me, tall and very close. My hips are politely swaying, but I throw Sashka a quick glance with lifted eyebrows—a signal for her to check whether the man behind me looks like a weirdo—before I commit to the proper moves.

She touches the corner of her mouth with her middle finger. ‘Yummy’ is what she means. The man’s hands are of a respectable size and are now on my waist. Heat radiates off them in this already sweaty room, but I am not against him being so close. His breath tickles my neck, and I let his hands slide lower to my hips, bringing me even closer to him. I can’t tell whether it’s the heavy bass of the music or my own heart that’s pounding in my ears. I could make out with this stranger. God, how badly I want to, but I promised myself I wouldn’t. Not when I have had nothing bad happen to me today. It didn’t even rain! It always rains on my birthday.

I bite down on my desire. My two index fingers are up and are wobbling like two pillars in a seismic demonstration silently asking Sashka, ‘Do you want to swap?’

She dances with Leon for a second and then makes her way towards me. Leon brings me round to him in a spin. And just like that, the two of us became the ultimate wing people.

The flashing lights come on once again, illuminating the man who was behind me a moment ago, now dancing with Sashka.

It’s Toby Lewis. Of-fucking-course it’s him.

The moment I see him, he also sees me (even without his glasses), because the bright smile he greeted Sashka with, an ethereal tall blonde beauty, has fallen onto the sticky floor of the club.

‘Fuko?’ he shouts through the layers of synths and drums.

I am drunk, high, I have no bra on, and I’ve let my supervisor feel me up on my birthday. Here’s the bad thing I was waiting for.

‘Please don’t fire me,’ I shout back.

I don’t know whether Toby has that power or not, but I’m not taking any chances.

Leon must’ve figured out what happened, because he is hiding his laugh, swaying to the music, and joining some group he’s never met before. Sashka slowly realises by everyone’s reaction and steps away from the man.

‘Let me get you a drink,’ Is all Toby Lewis can say, his face is replaying moments from about twenty seconds ago.

We leave Leon on the dance floor, as he refuses to be a part of this train collision.

‘Order whatever you want, guys.’ Toby Lewis flashes his cards and then leans closer to me. ‘I am so sorry, Fuko. I didn’t know it was you.’

I just wave him away so that he doesn’t look into my dilated and lazy pupils. ‘No worries.’

Bad look, Fuko. Does he think I’m a stalker? Wait, what if he’s a stalker? Why was he in the mountains of rural Japan? If I want to keep my job, maybe I shouldn’t bring it up.

He tilts his head to the outdoor smoking area. It’s quieter there, easier to discuss the 101 no-nos of employment.

I grip Sashka’s arm. ‘Charm him.’

‘What?’

‘I do not know the company’s policy on recreational drug usage. Flirt with him. Get him distracted so he doesn’t see this.’ I point at my face.

‘You are being ridiculous. You look fine... But he is handsome,’ says Sashka, drinking her vodka cranberry through a thin black straw.

Hello. She fancies him. Perfect.

‘You dance well,’ Sashka begins her magic.