Sylvie kept her gaze on Sebastian and put her hand on my elbow. I glanced towards the door, wondering if there was a general exodus, and saw the large man veering in our direction, rolling like a sailor who’d lost his sea legs. Sylvie’s eyes were still fixed on the stage.
'Wait for the money shot.'
'Do I have to?' Sebastian leant forward, grabbing his trousers by the waistline, then there was a ripping sound, the Velcro seams gave and he was standing before us in a pair of pink and black lacy panties, suspenders and stockings. 'It’s a fucking freak show.'
'Don’t worry, William. No fucking involved.'
Sylvie’s laugh halted abruptly. I felt a pressure at my back. The fat man’s hands were resting against my chair as he leaned in towards Sylvie.
'Hey Suze.' His breath stank of beer, smoke, strong spices and belly rot. 'Long time eh?'
Sylvie looked up at him, her eyes panicked but her voice free of all recognition.
'You’re mistaken.'
The man smiled apologetically at me, drink making his grin lopsided, his other hand resting on Sylvie’s chair now. He smoothed it across her back, gracing me with a wink.
'Maybe you could spare her for a while. Fifteen minutes,' the grin flashed again.
'Probably less.'
'She’s told you pal, you’ve got her mixed up with someone else.'
The fat man raised his hands.
'Hey, no mistake, I never forget a face,' he smiled, 'or a mouth, or a cute ass, or a…'
I got to my feet, pushing his hand from the back of my chair. Up on stage Sebastian raised his arms ready to conduct the audience in the chorus, grinning against the sadness of it all, swaying stiffly like a human metronome.
'The lady’s told you, she’s not interested.'
'Hey — if she tells me to go I’ll go.' The fat man’s grin was moist, his broad face smooth and pink like a slab of boiled ham. 'There’s enough to go round, first or second, I don’t care, you take your pick.' He laughed. 'You take your prick, then take your pick.'
Sylvie said, 'When was the last time you saw your prick, you fat fuck?', just as I shoved the heel of my hand into the centre of his barrel chest. It wasn’t a hard push, but the man was drunk. He staggered backwards, jarring against the table behind us, spilling drinks in a smash of ice and glass undercut by the sudden protests of the drinkers. It looked like he was going to hit the ground, but the fat man’s rolling gait had taught him his centre of gravity and he regained his balance, pitching like a skittle that refuses to go down. The grin was back now, broader than before. Up on stage Sebastian faltered. The man shrugged his shoulders, palms raised upwards to show there was no problem. I righted my fallen chair and he turned back to me, his voice hurt.
'Why fight about a whore? She’s anyone’s for the asking.'
'Not yours.'
He shrugged.
'Enjoy her. She’s a good fuck, for a whore.'
Sylvie sloshed her wine in his face. The fat man shook his head like a Labrador shaking itself free of water after a swim. He put his face close to Sylvie’s and spoke in English for my benefit. 'You best watch out, Sweetheart, word is your boyfriend’s in debt to the wrong men, and my guess is it’s you who’ll have to pay.'
He put a hand on her breast and squeezed.
When I thought about it later I wasn’t sure whether my anger was sparked by the squeeze or because the man had referred to Dix as Sylvie’s boyfriend. But at that moment there were no coherent thoughts in my head, just the blinding red of rage.
I hit him a punch that connected with his jaw and a bolt of pain shot up through my knuckles. The room boomed as Sebastian dropped the mike. I grabbed my injured right hand in my left and the fat man made to get me in a hug. Sylvie started throwing glasses.
One skated across the stage. Its rumbling progress was picked up by Sebastian’s abandoned mike and blasted across the room. The second flew towards the fat man. He ducked, but too slowly to avoid a glancing blow; beer splashed into his eyes and his big hands flew towards them. Sebastian clambered from the stage. Everything seemed to slow except Sylvie. She kept on moving, grabbing her bag and coat, pushing me towards the door.
'Forget it!'
We staggered towards the exit, no one making any move to stop us, except for Sebastian, who was off the stage now, his progress hampered by the patrons. I looked behind me and saw him leap a table, more threatening than a man in women’s underwear should be.
We clattered up the basement steps and out into the street. I followed Sylvie blindly, chasing the sound of her heels until at last I realised there was no one behind us and stopped, leaning forward, hands on knees, taking deep gasps of the night air, wondering if I would ever breathe normally again. Sylvie heard the echo of my footsteps fail. She turned and laughed, then resumed her siren flight, her heels ringing against the pavement. I took a deep draught of air and ran on, realising I was no longer fleeing Sebastian. Sylvie darted away from the main drag, down a darkened alleyway and I followed, caught in the chase.
For a second I thought I’d gone the wrong way. The lane looked deserted. Then Sylvie laughed again and I saw her, hidden in the shelter of a goods entrance. Her smile shone out from the darkness and the fat man’s words flashed through my mind. Her voice was low and teasing.
'You fought for my honour, William.'
