Free The Mirror World of Melody Black by Gavin Extence

conversation about my mood. I couldn’t handle that at the moment. I’d had too much vodka; it was fogging my mind and making me depressed. And the thought of getting in a taxi and going home made me feel even worse. Our flat was not a good flat to argue in, and it was not a good place for tense silences. It was too much of a pressure cooker. There was nowhere to stomp off to, nowhere to cool down.
    I needed to stay out for a bit. More specifically, what I really needed was that special clarity, that feeling of absolute tranquillity that only ecstasy can provide. This was the best solution I could see to our current situation. It would offer us a short cut to reconciliation, without the need for words or compromise or all those raw, dangerous emotions.
    Beck, however, was resistant – even though he must have been as fed up of arguing as I was.
    â€˜I don’t think it’s a good idea,’ he told me. ‘Not at the moment.’
    â€˜It’s a great idea. We need to have some fun, forget the past week. I can’t face the thought of going home right now, not like this.’
    â€˜We’ll still have to go home,’ Beck pointed out. ‘We’ll have to go home to get the stuff.’
    â€˜No, I have the stuff in my bag,’ I told him. We were calling it ‘the stuff’ because we were still in the street, and there was a certain amount of pedestrian traffic. Not that I thought anyone would care. Plus ‘stuff’ wasn’t exactly the Enigma Code.
    â€˜It’s in your bag?’ Beck repeated, after a small, faintly pointed hesitation.
    â€˜Well, you know . . . dinner with Daddy. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. I thought we might need it.’
    He still looked far from convinced.
    â€˜Listen,’ I said. ‘How about we just go and find somewhere to have a drink? A soft drink – I realize I’ve had quite enough alcohol.’
    This last was very true, but I also said it knowing it might placate him a bit. It was almost an apology.
    â€˜One drink?’ Beck asked.
    â€˜Yes. One drink. If you still want to go home after that, we’ll go home.’ We weren’t going home. ‘Either way, I think it will do us some good.’
    Beck weighed this proposition for a few moments. I could see the cogs turning. Going for a drink was obviously a more attractive proposition than going home in a huffy silence, but I still had to play this carefully, find the right balance of carrot and stick. I placed a hand on his arm and gave him a soft, tentative smile. Slightly manipulative, but never mind.
    â€˜Please? I just need to wind down. It’s been a really difficult evening for me.’
    A vacant taxi had finally emerged from around the corner. Beck looked at it for a moment, dropped his hand, and let it pass.
    â€˜One drink,’ he said.
    We found a club that was playing non-stop classic trance until 6 a.m. and stayed until it closed. When we got home, an hour later, we each had another pill, then had sex on the floor while listening to Blondie’s Greatest Hits . It was languorous, and meltingly soft.
    Halfway through, I started thinking about Marie Martin and began to giggle.
    â€˜What?’ Beck asked.
    â€˜Marie Martin thinks I’m pretty when I laugh.’
    â€˜You are pretty.’
    â€˜Prettier than her?’
    â€˜Yes. Much, much prettier.’
    â€˜Thank you.’
    â€˜It’s the truth.’
    â€˜I don’t think many men would agree.’
    â€˜No, I’m sure they wouldn’t. That doesn’t matter. You’re much more of a niche market – darker, quirkier.’
    â€˜Good. I want to be a niche market.’
    â€˜You are. They don’t come any nicher.’
    He ran his fingers through my hair. Debbie Harry was singing ‘Sunday Girl’.
    â€˜What about Debbie Harry? 1977 Debbie Harry. Am I prettier than her?’
    â€˜Of course. No competition.’
    I