The Eyes of a Photographer

Chapter 5

Rose hated every moment of getting ready to go to the club with Martha.  Her roommate had been fussing over her for an hour, making her exchange her jeans for a skirt that was as short as Rose would allow, which happened to be just above knee length.  It was gold and borderline gaudy, and Rose tried not to be embarrassed about the tightness of the thing when she looked at herself in the mirror.  

A black, loose, off the shoulder top completed the look, and she felt a bit more comfortable.  That comfort was ripped away when Martha put her in black strappy shoes.  She protested, trying to insist that if she wore her converses they would think she was edgy and fun.  Martha simply rolled her eyes and shoved the shoes at Rose.

By the time she was all made up and looking rather good, if she did say so herself, she found herself getting a little more confident. 

Martha bit her tongue.  She wanted to tell Rose that that was probably the reason John had been so besotted with her.  He'd seen the beauty within her and had drawn it out with photographs.  

"Okay," Rose said, sighing heavily, "Let's go."

Martha grinned wildly, "Yeah, let's go."

She looked good, and she knew she did, but Rose was having trouble coping with it.  She tugged at her skirt nervously the whole time they sat in the taxi, and Martha watched her worriedly.  She wanted to say something to her friend, about just letting someone in, doing something stupid, running away with the photographer or letting him kiss her again.  She bit her tongue, though, knowing that Rose wouldn't take kindly to it, and she finally had gotten her to go with her to this club.

"It's been ages since I was even at a party, Martha," Rose said, "And you've class in the morning."

"I'm the Queen of hangover cures," Martha bragged, "Don't you worry your head about it.  Can get you one tomorrow too, if you get sloshed enough."

Rose rolled here eyes.  "I'm not gonna get sloshed, Martha."

Martha bit her tongue again.  It wouldn't do for Rose to know that that was the goal of the whole night.

They got to the club and Rose pretended not to be uncomfortable as she showed the bouncer her ID and walked into the club ahead of Martha.  The bass was already throbbing in her ears, vibrating through her chest and making her feel an unexpected thrill.  She wanted to dance, and drink, and do things that would make her forget the whole fiasco with John as soon as possible.

She managed to wait for Martha, though, before suggesting they get drinks to loosen up with.  Martha agreed with Rose, having a feeling that it would really be in Rose's best interest to get some alcohol in her system before they danced.  

"Scotch on the rocks, please," Rose said the second she put herself in a chair.  The bartender nodded curtly at her and immediately started mixing her drink.  He handed it to her in a timely fashion, and Rose found herself halfway done with it by the time Martha had received her drink.  

"Whoa, slow down there, mama," Martha said, eyeing up Rose's glass.

Rose shrugged, "Think I might need more, if I'm honest with you."

"Drink up, then, but pace yourself," Martha laughed.  She lifted her glass in a toast to the bartender.  "Cheers, mate."

The bartender grinned at her.  "Cheers, lady."

Three drinks later Martha and Rose decided it was time they went dancing, while they could still walk in their heels.  Rose had forgotten how much fun it was to just live in the moment like that.  She lifted her arms and gave herself over to the music, letting it pulse through her.  She closed her eyes, hearing Martha's tipsy giggling next to her.