Inside the Bear's Cage by Christoffer Petersen

Author:Christoffer Petersen
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Aarluuk Press
Published: 2020-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

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Malik felt the beat of the nightclub through the soles of his shoes as he followed Tertu down the stairs to the Nuuk basement club called Atlantic Pride. The familiar pulse of excitement throbbed into his fingers as he grabbed the handrail, leaning into the wall as Tertu stopped to let a couple pass them on the stairs. Malik watched them grope and feel each other from one step to the next, only to shrink a little further into the wall as he realised he was looking at two young men. He frowned at Tertu, opened his mouth to say something, and then discovered he had nothing to say. The beat lost all familiarity and the hairs inside his nose twitched at the heady tang of sweat and inhibition, as he followed Tertu through the door at the bottom of the stairs and into the nightclub.

Tertu took Malik’s hand, at times guiding and then pulling him through the throng of young men and women on the dance floor. Suddenly Tertu’s wild look, with her pink hair and those black tusks jutting out of her face just below her bottom lip, didn’t seem so out of place. Malik stared each time they paused, darting his eyes from one face to the next. Tertu’s hand was rough around his, her skin – those banded tattoos – prickled the back of his hand. He felt her tug him once more, harder this time, and they emerged into a pocket of hot air between the dance floor and a row of booths along the far wall. Tertu pushed Malik onto an empty bench seat, all the way to the wall, and then slid onto the seat next to him. He felt the sweat beading above his lip and wiped it away. When a thin woman arrived at the booth with a handful of drinks, Malik reached for the glass she slid along the table towards him. He licked at his dry lips and lifted the glass to his mouth.

“Wait,” Tertu said. She pulled a small LED flashlight from the pocket of her tight-fitting jeans and twisted the end to release a cone of light. She twisted again to change the colour and examined Malik’s glass under a blue light, then her own and the glass belonging to the young woman who slumped onto the bench opposite Malik. She switched off the light and slid Malik’s glass into his hand.

“What was that about?” he said, pressing his mouth close to Tertu’s ear.

Tertu shrugged, sipping her drink as she turned her back to Malik.

“She’s checking it’s not spiked with something funky,” the young woman said. She tapped the side of her glass with circus nails blistered with gobs of glitter. “It’s that kind of place,” she said.

Malik thought he knew that kind of place, but beyond the familiar pulse and rhythm of the music, the crowd, the lights, even the drinks were strange to him. He took another sip, wondering if he was drinking flavoured gin or vodka.

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