SEMILA LEANG, December 2021, 17.24

Semila gently slapped John's cheek a couple of times as Samantha watched, shaking her head. 'Right, that's it for tonight. I'm thirsty.' She looked over at Samantha with a twinkle in her eye. 'Any Pubs nearby?'

Samantha drove and Semila talked about her job and how she would help John come out of the 'locked in syndrome' he seemed to have. The sweet night lights and city streets intoxicated Sem's heightened senses. It was always like this when she got to come here as a human. The first few days were the best, and she had to take advantage of it before the buzz faded into normalcy. 'Here!' she shouted.

Samantha slammed on the breaks. 'Jesus!'

'Where?' said Sem, frowning out the window.

Samantha put her head on the steering wheel. 'No, I meant there was no need to shout like that.'

'Oh. Well,' Semila said and shrugged, 'this one looked nice.' The car's door creaked when she pushed it open and put her feet on solid English pavement for the first time in what, forty years? With a deep intake of breath, she slammed the door and grinned at the flashing sign above the bar. This was going to be amazing!

Semila smoothed her hands down the knee length skirt she'd chosen because it made her legs look more muscular and toned, and adjusted her bra with both hands. White shirts were always good for bars, 'cause if the beer spilled on her top, it'd only look sexier. Her heels tapped on the pavement, and Samantha followed behind her.

The place had a small dark entrance, and there was a dingy, dirty staircase just inside the doorway. Flashes of different colours came from below along with a booming rhythm that vibrated on the stairway's handrail. Oh yes. Semila licked her lips and checked that Samantha was still behind her. The girl looked nervous, terrified even, as if she'd just seen a ghost. Well, someone had to show her the real world, and who better than an angel?

'Come on Sammy,' she said and clopped down the stairs eagerly.

When Semila pushed open the double doors separating her from a night of pleasure and wild fun, a wave of booming sound washed over her and put goose bumps on her arms. The boom boom had her heart racing, her nerves tingling. The lights that strobed over the room looked beyond real. Red, Blue, Orange, Green, Purple, White. For a few seconds she stared up at those lights as if they were manna from heaven and relished the thumping of a human heart in her chest. When she glanced over her shoulder for Samantha, she found her gaping like a terrified monkey at a prostitute who stood smoking a cigarette next to the doorway.

The prostitute had a blank expression and stared Samantha down without even a flinch, tapping ash off her cigarette and taking another drag.

'What?' she said, and Semila realised she was a he with a rather gruff voice. The shock on Sam's slack face was the calm before the storm. The girl was rather naïve.

'Come on,' Semila said grabbing her by the shoulder and pulling her away. Transgender prostitutes were for another day. First a lesson in drinking and dancing.

'Isn't this place perfect,' Semila said, smiling at Samantha.

Samantha shook her head. 'Perfect for what? Getting killed?' A few unsavoury characters stood lurking in doorways. Unruly men slammed bottles of beer and other alcoholic drinks down or kept guzzling at them without a second glance at the ladies. Must've been a major shock for innocent Sammy's system.

'You'll be alright angel, trust me.' Semila smiled and watched her magic working. The girl relaxed a bit. A man right behind Samantha glared at her ass with an avaricious lick of his lips and took a sip of some or other lager, his one squint eye watching the bartender. 'Fuck off,' she growled at him over Sam's head. The man looked away quick and stuffed a hand in his pocket.

'Who- who is that?' A tremble went through Samantha's body, which Semila could feel with her hand still on the girl's shoulder. More magic would fix that.

'It's alright,' she purred with a honey sweet voice. 'I sorted him. You're safe with me.' Well, it was true enough.

It worked and Samantha's body relaxed under Sem's hand. Fuck she was good.

'Let's have a drink to calm your nerves eh?' With both hands on Sammy's shoulders, Semila steered her to the bar. The bartender was a chubby fella with cheeks that warbled as he scrubbed at the bar's surface with a ragged cloth. A bar's counter was sticky no matter how you rubbed at it, at least a good bar's counter was, and this was a good bar. The man's cleaning must have been more a habit, or an excuse not to talk to people, than actual cleaning.

Proving this point were a number of sticky spots that clung to Sem's skin when she leaned on the bar and whistled. When the bartender looked up she threw him a dazzling smile and bore in on him with her God sent eyes. They always did the trick. As quick as a stab, the bartender's scowl warped into a lusty grin, yellowed teeth, pockmarked cheeks, wrinkles at his small grey blue eyes, and the biggest feature, a colossal grey and black beard more suited to a Sea Captain than a bartender.

Attractive, if not a bit decrepit, but hadn't she come for just that? This man wasn't perfect, in fact he was fallible and bloody pock marked, but he was fucking real, not some glowing angelic asshole who lorded it over everyone.

'How are you,' she said raising her voice above the boom.

The Bartender smiled and displayed those yellowed teeth to the world, God bless him.

'What can I do ye for, sweetie?' His eyes slipped to her cleavage and back, and maybe he thought she hadn't noticed, but she had. Nothing like some lust to liven up a dull evening.

'My friend here needs a drink,' she yelled and patted Sam's shoulder. The bartender's eyes met Samantha's, and she looked at Semila holding an arm over her chest. Poor little butterfly. Semila patted her cheek and looked back at the bartender with a lopsided smile. 'For the nerves, you know?'

The man's beard moved as he nodded.

'What you got?'

'Lovely lass like you s'probly after one a' them fancy drinks, eh?' The man's eyes travelled up and down her body. 'You wan' a bikini cocktail? Piña colada? Martini?' The man's smile stretched into his beard. 'Ye look like a martini kind 'a lass, edgy an' all.'

Semila smacked the bar with her palm. 'I'll have one of those for my friend here, and a Guinness for me, if you don't mind.'

The man's bushy brows raised in surprise.

'Been gone too long, and I miss the stuff.'

Glasses clinked, and the man went about mixing drinks as if it took him no thought at all, and maybe it didn't. Semila and Samantha sat themselves in two of the red barstools, and each chair creaked in turn.

'So ye been out 'a the country then?' the bartender asked, his hands busy but his eyes on Sem's face and bust.

'You could say that,' she said, looked at nervous Sammy, patted her knee, then added, 'just for work, but it's been a long long time since I had a proper draught.'

'Ahh, ye come to the right place then.' He patted one of the barrels behind him like it was his pet. 'Got the best drought there is right 'ere.'

This place was great, even after all these years. She knew she'd made the right choice. Not the choice of bar, the choice to leave the holy places and live in the shits with the humans. And fuck Anubis with his holier than thou attitude. Tonight she would get so drunk that the morning would be a surprise. And she was intent on taking innocent Samantha with her for the journey.

'Thanks.' Samantha took the martini slowly from the bartender and glanced nervously at Semila from the corner of her eye.

The bartender slid Semila's drink towards her, she grabbed it and took a big swig--head tilted up--all in one smooth, practised motion.

The bartender whistled. 'Impressive lassie, 'fraid you're gunna need t' tell me yer name now.' He looked around with his hands planted on the bar and leaned towards Sem. 'Can't be having people think I don't know a lass ooh drinks like that now, can I.'

'Much obliged,' Semila said, belched, and took another long swig of Guinness. From the corner of her eye she spotted a somewhat horrified and disgusted expression on Samantha's face, so she smiled mid-gulp, slammed the mug down again, and belched once more.

'This is a grand draught! I suppose you can have my name if I can have another glass.'

The bartender nodded, filled another deft and quick, and slid it to Semila who guzzled it down and swallowed the wave of giddiness that hit in its wake. 'Fuck that's great,' she said looking at her empty glass mug.

'Told ye, the best in all of England.' The bartender nodded, wiping his cloth over the bar habitually. 'Now, lass, what's your name.'

'I'm Semila Leang, and this is young Samantha Grimes.'

The bartender's bushy eyebrows raised. 'Grimes ey? You related to the young'un gone missing the other day?'

A slack faced horror crossed Samantha's face--so that was a yes. Shit, Sem'd forgotten to keep track of these things. Samantha slowly nodded and took her first big swallow of the martini.

'That's it,' Semila said and lightly patted Samantha's back. 'Take another, it'll help.'

Samantha glanced at Semila, nose in the triangular glass, took another dainty swallow, and scrunched her face up as the bitter liquid went down. Good effort for a starter, but Sem'd have to encourage her a bit more if she was going to teach her the way of things.

'Just drink the whole thing down,' she said, and watched Samantha expectantly.

Sam glanced at the bartender, then at Semila, then sighed and swung the glass, drinking till only the olive was left rolling against her lip. She frowned. 'Feels...' The frown turned into a mellow smile and half-lidded eyes. 'Good and warm,' she said.

'Now, who is it that's gone missing?' Semila directed the question at the bartender, just in case it happened to be someone closely related to Samantha.

'Another girl,' he said looking around the room as if to check who was listening. Semila tapped her empty mug and the bartender nodded and refilled it while he spoke. 'They're saying t'was the Collector, but forgive me lass, you been out 'a the country aint ye.'

'Yeah, who is he, and why are they so sure it was him?'

'Word is the coppers got some message or some such from the man, some 'a the fellas even sayin' it's a recording of the murder.'

Samantha went pale.

Oh shit.

'Murder?' Samantha whispered, her eyes glazing over.

'Get me another martini quick,' Semila said nodding toward the gin bottle on the shelves behind the bartender.

The man made to mix another, and spoke to another man sat drinking a bit further down the bar. Before long he handed Samantha the martini, but was gone again to the other side of the bar where three raucous men drank beer and shouted about something on the tele--football probably.

'Sam, are you alright?'

With one movement, Samantha gulped the entire martini down and cringed. 'Kelly is--was--my favourite little cousin,' she said staring at the bar's dinky surface holding the glass. 'They'd' --she swallowed and looked away-- 'we had hoped she was alive, but if what the bartender said was true...'

Semila couldn't see Sam's face, but her shoulders shook with a sob, and so Semila stretched out a furtive hand to comfort her. This was awkward territory, comforting a human, she hadn't done this since the day she'd been kicked out. With a hesitant pat on Sam's shoulder, she said, 'Things are going to be alright.' Why did people always say that? It was usually not true, but for some reason they said it anyway, her included. Well, what more was there to say?

Sammy sniffed, looked down, and wiped a tear from her cheek. 'Thanks.'

Fuck this shit, Semila was having another drink come hell or high water. She lifted a finger into the air, signalling to the rotund bartender that he should return and fill her drink, and she pulled out a roll of cash and slapped fifty pounds on the counter. Money was the best way to encourage the bartender to give you first option, and sure enough he was quick to return with a jolly smile and eyes that often wandered too low. A knowing smile spread on Semila's face, and her gold tooth gleamed lustily.

#

The night was a blur of bright lights, booming music, muscly strangers, sweaty dancing, laughter, and puking. Semila woke in a dim grimy room with the bartender's arm draped over her body. He was a raunchy one. She threw his heavy arm off, shuffled off the bed, and grabbed her pencil skirt from the floor. Where the hell was Samantha? 'Ohhh,' she groaned, a wave of nausea and throbbing pain overcoming her senses.

Maybe she'd get an energy drink on the way to John's. 'Sam?' she called, tripped over --or rather into-- a pile of dirty clothing, swung her arms out to balance, and stepped over it. She kicked an empty beer bottle out of the way and frowned when it spun only a few inches. Strange how she'd had no skirt on, but she still wore her heels. What the fuck had happened last night? She wrestled the skirt over her white knickers mid toddle.

'Sam!' she shouted and headed rounded a corner into a passage she had the sneaking suspicion led back to the bar. A groan came from ahead. Semila squinted at the bright morning light as she entered the bar and found Samantha draped over the counter, an empty beer in her hand. So at least the girl had learned more about the art of drinking. She smiled smugly. And walked in a mostly upright, mostly straight, mostly stable line to where Samantha lay groaning.

'Quite a night hey?' She fell into the barstool beside Samantha and put her cheek against the counter so they were eye to eye. Sammy's make up was smeared, but she smiled in that semi lucid way drunk people did. It lightened Semila's heart, and she couldn't help grinning too.

'Oh,' Sammy groaned again and lifted herself into a seated position. 'I feel...horrible...'

'It'll pass,' Semila said, getting up. 'Let's get out of here before the owner wakes up.'

'We can go to my place and clean up,' Samantha suggested. She looked Semila over and added, 'You look around my size, you can borrow something to wear.'

Semila nodded and swerved even though she tried with as much focus as she could muster not to. Samantha got up, stumbled, and kind of fell into Semila's shoulder. They supported each other and made their slow way up the steps that seemed so much more precarious in the morning than they had the night before. But it had been a great night.

P.S.

I'm thinking all y'all have had similar experiences, but on the off chance, is there anyone out there who has NEVER been drunk or clubbed through the night? I'd love to hear your stories!

© Steve Ford and Joy Cronjé 2018