“My day was fine. Friday’s are always good. Thought you had a day off?”

“Hah, I wish. That’s next Friday. Are you coming to the party tonight?”

Jake popped the top of another beer, as casually as he could.

“Sure. I mean, if that’s okay with you and Carl.”

She gave him a glorious smile. “It’s fine with me.”

Jake hoped she hadn’t noticed the way his face lit up at her smile. He watched her covertly as she moved about the room, getting herself some supper. When tired, she moved in a kind of languid, sensual sway, stretching her jaw occasionally in a slow, luxurious yawn. Jake gripped his slowly warming bottle of beer. He watched Veronica’s reflection in the twilight-smudged glass of the kitchen window, telling himself that he should leave the room and stop torturing himself.

What happened later that evening was horrible. There wasn’t another word for it. It was horrible. Part of the reason it was so horrible was that the whole early part of the evening, the entire time they were getting ready for the party; having drinks in the bar, walking towards the house listening to the music throbbing from the windows; in the whole of that time, Jake didn’t believe the three of them had ever been so easy with each other, so casually affectionate, so relaxed in each other’s company.

After he and Veronica had eaten their respective dinners, they opened a bottle of champagne. No real reason – it just felt as if it were the right thing to do. They’d clinked glasses and sipped, toasting each other in love and success. Jake was amused to see how she wrinkled her nose as she drank her glass of fizz.

Carl had come in about an hour later and found them flushed and a little giggly from the alcohol. He’d wasted no time in joining them and had set the scene for the rest of the night by immediately racking up several neat, snowy little lines on the back of a CD cover. Veronica had tutted but at his grin and shake of the head, she’d shrugged and taken the tightly rolled banknote that he’d held out to her. Jake had followed suit and felt the numbness in his throat through his entire hot shower.

They’d started off in Bar Twenty, rejecting the local Irish bar as being too rough for their attempt at Friday night sophistication.  The place was jumping but Carl’s quick and practised eye soon spotted a vacant two seats at the bar. Veronica, of course, got one of them and Carl and Jake alternated, swapping as their feet and backs began to ache from propping up the bar.

They drank cocktails, just for the hell of it, daring each other to try the most lurid concoctions on the menu. Because of the coke they’d had earlier, Jake didn’t feel drunk ‘til much later in the evening. He felt invincible then, packed into the crowd at Bar Twenty, feeling the warmth of Veronica’s thigh against his hip as they chatted and laughed and joshed each other. And amazingly, he didn’t once get tongue-tied and stammer – indeed, he seemed to be on top form for once, sending Carl and V into hiccupping fits of laughter again and again. Carl even mentioned it to him, once he’d finished coughing his Sex on the Beach across the bar.

“Did you take a funny pill today, or what, bro? You’re on fire.”

“I’m always this funny – it’s just you’re never listening.”

Carl punched him gently on the shoulder.

“You’re just trying to impress the lady.”

Jake laughed, hoping his voice hadn’t betrayed the sudden tremor. “Lay-dees.”

“Too bad, V,” said Carl. “Looks like you’re not enough for him.”

Jake laughed again, more shrilly. He was relieved to see Veronica laughing too, and shaking her golden head.

“You’ll spoilt for choice in here, Jake,” she said. “I feel quite outclassed.”

He made a too quick denial and she laughed again. He realised she was much drunker than he was. As Carl ordered another round of drinks, he wondered whether to mention the fact and almost as quickly, dismissed the thought. Veronica was a big girl – she could take care of herself. And if not, he was there to take care of her instead.

They slipped easily into another topic of conversation, the words running freely from their tongues. Veronica’s face was flushed; her eyes glittered under the dim lights of the bar. Carl looked more saturnine that usual, the sharp line of his jaw smudged with five o’clock shadow.

“Tell me about when you were little,” said V, slurring just a little. Jake thought it made her sound even sexier.

“Like what?” said Carl.

“Like anything. Like, what’s your first memory of Jake? Do you remember him being born? What was he like as a little boy? Did you used to have lots of fights?”

“Course we did.” Carl ruffled Jake’s hair in a patronising fashion and Jake cuffed his arm away in annoyance. “He was just a little, screaming girly wimp at school and I always had to jump in and stop him getting twatted by the bigger kids. It was so embarrassing.”

“Fuck off,” Jake said, half irritated, half amused. “I didn’t even answer to the same surname as you at school, I was so mortified that you were a blood relative.”

Veronica giggled. “Come on, I bet you were both really cute. I’ve seen those photos of you both, butter wouldn’t melt in your mouths.”

“Butter wouldn’t…” Carl left the sentence unfinished and they all sniggered.

After another round of drinks, they were keen for a change of venue but there was something they all had to do before they left. They squeezed into the one tiny cubicle in the men’s toilets, giggling and shushing each other. Jake was pressed so close to Veronica he could smell the heady orange tang of Cointreau on her breath. He fought against the impulse to lick her tongue with his own.

Carl had loads of coke, three grams worth in a smudged plastic bag. Jake bent low over the toilet seat, trying not to look at the urine-splashed floor. This is such a glamorous drug, he thought ironically, grimacing as the powder hit the mucus membranes high up in his nostrils. He straightened up, sniffing and pinching his nostrils together to kill the burn.

Veronica went next and Jake took the opportunity to gaze at the curve of her spine, at the way the fabric of her dress pulled taut about her hips. For a moment, he stared intently at the rounded contours of her buttocks, wondering what underwear she was wearing. Then Carl cleared his throat, just a little too loudly and too close to Jake’s ear and he looked away, feeling his face heat up.

“Where next?”

“What about that party?”

“Nah,” said Carl unexpectedly. “Let’s not bother. It’ll be full of City boys and I’ve had enough of that at work today. Let’s find some real dive and get down and dirty.”

Veronica giggled.

“Sounds good to me.”

They stood in the street outside the bar, pondering the possibilities. It was one of the very few warm nights of an English summer, warm enough for bare feet and shoulders, the merest hint of a breeze lifting hair and light clothing. All at once Jake felt invigorated by excitement, positively fizzing with it. He bounced a little on his toes. Suddenly, the realisation hit him - that he was young and fit and good looking, with money burning a hole in his pocket, his cool-as-fuck brother and a gorgeous girl standing beside him. It suddenly overtook him and it seemed that nothing, but nothing, could bring him down. He almost whooped aloud.

“Let’s walk,” he said, feeling the grin on his face but unable to control it.

“Where to?”

“Anywhere. Somewhere. There’s another bar up here…”

The three of them sauntered off down the road. There were people everywhere, walking, shouting, darting across the roads to the blaring horns of the cars that sped along the street. Jake walked behind Veronica, watching the swing of her hips, the swaying curtain of blonde hair above the curve of her waist. Carl had his hand resting on her hip and Jake watched his brother’s fingers, imagining what it must feel like to feel the flex of Veronica’s haunch beneath your palm, the warmth of the skin beneath the cloth beneath your hand.