Pistol

Chapter Two

Steph's eyes rolled back in her head as she threw the bobby pins onto the bathroom counter. Anyone would think that the amount of times a woman had to do her hair in her lifetime would automatically qualify for some sort of skill by this stage. But no, not Steph. Countless times she had done this exact style, but every time her hands fumbled like a ten year old girl with her first training bra.

Pent up frustration bubbled dangerously close to the surface, so she decided against a gazzilionth attempt, and headed for the kitchen. A cursory glance at the clock said she had twenty minutes until Cass arrived. She pulled a stemmed glass from the cupboard, and poured herself a cold wine from the fridge. What was she doing? Her heart lay in tatters somewhere next to the couch where she had argued with Dave the night before, and yet she was about to hit the clubs with her closest friend. You've finally gone insane.

Steph sipped at the refreshing drink, and quelled the doubt in her head. It's time I looked after number one, you know. She placed the glass down on the bench-top and stared at it. Had she drunk all that already? A sure sign she was seriously distracted. With a chuckle, and a shake of her head, she wandered back through her one bedroom unit to the bathroom, ready for battle. A tired, and disinterested face stared back at her from the mirror as she sighed, and grabbed the tail comb once more.

By the time her locks had been wrestled into some semblance of the style she tried to achieve, a knock at the door echoed through the sparsely furnished place.

"Coming," she called out.

Cass's voice carried back to where she stuck in the final bobby pin. "It's okay, I let myself in."

"Pervert. You wanted to catch me in the nude." She laughed, and then glanced to the reflection of Cass as she joined her in the room.

"Busted. You know my perversion too well. I may have to silence you."

"Try, wench." Steph grinned. "I have a million pins in here, and I only need one to take you out."

Cass laughed, and rested a hip on the shower door. "Seriously though, I love how you do your hair. I wish I could do victory curls."

"Dedication, babe. You've got to be happy to spend hours before the mirror, and end up with numb arms from them being over your head for so long."

Cass smiled, and reached out to tuck Steph's tag in. "If only you were as good at dressing yourself."

"Hey." She laughed. "I've gotta let you have something, right?"

"You're too kind," Cass drolled.

"Where are we going tonight, anyway?" Steph flicked her gaze to Cass briefly, and caught the sneaky grin.

"Nowhere Dave will be. I thought we could go over the south-side for a change."

"And get ourselves mugged?" Steph's eyes shot wide. "Are you serious?"

Cass dropped her shoulders, and shook her head. "We'll be fine, hon. As long as we stick to the well-lit, public areas, what could go wrong?"

She raised an eyebrow at the phrase which could tempt fate. Great, now we're jinxed.

"Anyway," Cass slapped her on the shoulder. "Have you got your shit together, or what? 'Coz I've got the taxi still outside for us."

Steph took a last look at her reflection, and drew her face into a mask of confidence. Her heart wanted to curl up on the couch with a snuggly blanket, and trashy late-night TV. But this would be good for her, right? Get back on the horse and all that?

She whipped through the unit to collect her bank card, and ID, then stuffed them into the side of her bra. She took hold of the doorway for balance as she shoved her feet into her trusty pumps. If she was about to do a marathon effort on her feet, then damn it all if she wouldn't do it in comfort. Besides, who the hell at a club paid that much attention to other people's shoes?