Sannah was having a terrible night at the Metropol. Her misery about Saint, her unrequited love for him, drenched her. It was behind her eyelids, on her tongue, smeared all over her face. She could barely dance without crying.

The punters seemed to be able to sense that she was broken, giving her strange looks, rejection after rejection, no matter what she said or did. Those that did choose to take her to the purple booths had a touch of sadism about them, like they wanted their girls bruised and vulnerable. One waited till she leaned in close, whispered Dirty Exotic bitch in her ear. Another grabbed her breast, roughly, made her scream for the security guards.

I can't do this. Sannah ran down to the changing room in tears, without dressing, clutching her clothes to her. She was on the bench, bent over and sobbing, when Dierdra arrived. Dierdra crouched down, placed her hands on the bench on either side of her.

"You need to lock it up," she said, her voice gentle. "You're spilling all over, kin. You can't go on like that in a place like this. You gotta protect yourself."

Sannah nodded, her breath jagged.

"Is this about that guy?"

Sannah nodded again, her face soggy with tears.

"You gotta get over him." Deirdra took a tissue from her bag. "I don't know what's happened with you two, but this ain't what love looks like. Real love don't do this to you."

"It's not... He's not... I just don't know." Sannah's words came out in staccato bursts, struggling through her tears. "I know I shouldn't trust him. But he's been kind too. He let me stay at his house when I had nowhere to go."

Dierdra frowned. "Look, I don't know the guy, but I've known men. And it's not such a hardship having some sleek baby thing—now don't look at me like that, you and me know you're not twenty—nesting at your place. Do you think this guy's been helping you despite the fact that you're young and vulnerable? You think he can somehow see beyond that to your real self? You gotta ask why, Sannah. And if it's 'cos you're easy prey."

"No. But... he..." Sannah was crying, couldn't form the words.

"What's his past? You know how he been with other girls? They all broken up too?"

Sannah nodded miserably. "But if you knew, what he's been through–"

Dierdra shrugged dismissively. "So he's cranked up? So what? Pain explains cruelty but it don't justify it. It's not your place to save no-one, Sannah. You're cranked up too. Save yourself. You think it's easy for Faro, stuck at home, me doing this? You don't think he could use that as an excuse to drag me down, treat me like dag? He won't. That's love, Sannah. Doing right, no matter how much you can justify doing wrong."

Sannah nodded again, unable to speak, awash on a sea of misery. Dierdra was right. It made so much sense. She blinked hard, tried to pull herself together.

"Look." Dierdra put out a hand, rubbed Sannah's shoulder. "I've got a regular coming in tonight. He's an old drunk, got a thing for Exotic girls. Never wants a dance. Just drinks and moans about how much he hates his wife, goes on about some Exotic he's stuck on from his past, how he went against his family to be with her, like that makes him some kinda skitting saint, like I should be grateful. It's sad, really. He's dull as hell, but you can just sit there and zone out. Why don't I let you take him? It's good money, and it'll get you off the floor."

Sannah nodded, wiping her eyes. Sitting tucked away somewhere did sound better than having to approach people, take off all her clothes. "Thank you." Sannah looked up at Dierdra. "For everything. For being so good to me. I appreciate it. I want you to know."

Dierdra shrugged. "We've got enough problems in this dagpit, we don't need to make problems for each other." Sannah didn't know if by dagpit she meant the Metropol or the world.

Dierdra waited while Sannah fixed her face, then they made their way back up to the black light of the club. Sannah combed the room with her eyes as she followed Dierdra across the dancefloor, looking for the guy who'd assaulted her. She couldn't see him. For a moment she was struck by the fear that he would be the regular, and she'd have to sit with him.

Dierdra walked up to a balding guy sitting in a bucket chair, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Hey baby," she purred, her tone phoney. "I've got a friend I'd like you to meet. This is Clera."

"Clera?" The guy turned, and Sannah stepped back in horror. "Clera. Dear God. Clera. It's really you." He was slurring, his wet eyes fixed on her like she was a ghost.

Sannah shook her head, stepped back again, putting out a hand to keep him away. He stood up, his face crumpling. He was clearly drunk, and he looked old, really old. Way older than he should, after less than a year.

"Is it really you?" He was lurching towards her, tears in his eyes. "Dear God, I've missed you so. Dear God, I've dreamt this so many times. I swear I've thought of you every day. Did they let you out? I knew you didn't do it. I was so confused... Jayce made me... I'm sorry Clera. I'm so sorry."

"It's not Clera." Sannah stepped back again, her hands up, horror blacking everything from her mind. "Get away from me! Get away from me!"

She turned, stumbling, falling off her heels, and ran through the crowd, pushing warm bodies out of the way, fixed on the door to the changing rooms. She turned as she reached it, vomit in her throat, tears in her eyes.

Dierdra was bending over, waving frantically for the doorman. Their mum's ex boyfriend Laine was beneath her, sobbing, curled up on the floor.

***

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." Dierdra gently stroked Sannah's hair away from her face as she cried. Sannah hadn't told Dierdra who Laine was, she couldn't bear it. Just said she'd known him when she was a kid.

Two girls were in the corner of the changing room, looking over at them and whispering.

"Just get dressed and go home, back to ours, okay?" Dierdra said softly to Sannah. "Give me your fee, I'll deal with Carter."

Sannah nodded numbly and gave Dierdra a measly twenty digits, hand shaking.

"Get a taxi," Dierdra said. "You don't wanna be on the streets like this."

Dierdra led her out of the club by a back entrance and hailed a cab. Thank God Rade's not here tonight, Sannah thought. I couldn't handle it. She'd eat me alive.

Back at the flat, Faro opened the door the moment Sannah knocked, his face all grave concern. Dierdra had clearly emessaged him, warned him about Sannah's state.

"You need a glass of wine," Faro said, handing her one, already poured, pointing to the sofa. "Just try and relax."

Sannah curled up. The room was cosy, lit by low lamplight, and Faro was playing some soft, arrhythmic music she didn't recognise. Probably Exotic, she thought. I know so little about what should be my own culture.

She felt shellshocked, but desperately grateful to be in this snug little room, away from the Metropol. Seeing Laine had brought her walls crumbling down, made it impossible to pretend it was another girl, not her, working in that place.

"Thank you," she said to Faro as he refilled her wine. She meant it with every fibre of her body. She felt as light as gauze, like Dierdra and Faro were the only thing stopping her from blowing away.

"Zen, kin." He was quiet for a moment. "It's bad to see someone you know, in a place like that. It's better to keep it all separate from your real life."

Sannah just nodded, staring into her glass. She sat like that for a while, Faro pottering in the kitchen, occasionally refilling her glass. The more wine she drank, the further away she could push the image of Laine, curled on that black floor. She'd never thought of him as someone human, with regrets and desires. As someone to pity.

"So who's this man that's tearing you apart?" Faro said eventually, sitting on the arm of a chair, sipping from a glass of his own. Sannah thought for a moment he meant Laine, then realised he didn't.

"Saint," she said cautiously. "He–"

"His name is Saint?" Faro's voice was incredulous.

Sannah nodded. "Yeah, I know. Apparently his mum was really religious, or something."

"He Exotic, this Saint?"

Sannah thought of Saint's porcelain white skin, and the image of him pierced her heart. She shook her head. "Generic."

"That's off spec. Not many Generics spiritual," Faro mused. "More an Exotic thing. Your mum got religion?"

Sannah thought. "I dunno. Maybe. She used to say Grace to God before we ate but I never thought of it meaning anything. Sometimes she sang us this hymn, to get to sleep. I could never understand it, but it had the word God in it, for sure."

"How old were you when she was put away?"

"Sixteen," Sannah replied, curling her legs tighter beneath her.

"You got any other family?"

"No." Laine wasn't her family. "Mum came over with some uncle, when she was a kid. But we never met him."

"Some uncle." Faro's voice had an edge to it that Sannah didn't understand.

"And our dad—he was Generic—died when we were little. I don't even remember him, not really. After mum... we went in the security school."

"So you was in an academy before?"

Sannah nodded. "Goldmay, in Southend."

Faro lifted his shoulders. "I know it, kin. She done good, to get you in there. That's some digits. How she pay for that?"

Sannah furrowed her brow. She wasn't sure. Clera had never had a job. "I'm... I dunno. Her boyfriends must'a paid."

"She chose good men then. Make sure they looked after her girls."

Sannah looked down, uneasy. She didn't want to think about Laine now, or any of the others. About what they might have done for her. Her stomach rolled.

Faro was silent for a moment then changed the subject, leaning over to top up Sannah's glass. "You know what I think? You wanna stop seeing these Generic guys, always essentialising the foreign female. You don't know no other Exotics?"

Sannah shook her head. "We never really... My mum didn't..." My mum didn't like other Exotics. "I've never really known any other Exotics. I don't know why."

Faro pursed his lips, took another sip of wine. "Southend, Birchwood... Them's pretty Generic areas. Not many people like us. You're better off here." He gestured out of the window, to the neighbourhood beyond the glass. "People tend to congregate in one place. It makes it easier."

It makes it a ghetto, Sannah thought, then immediately felt guilty for thinking so. She felt a blush rise up her neck at her own prejudice. Off kilter.

"Wait." She hesitated. "One. I know one Exotic guy." She was thinking of the guy on the bus, that she'd met coming through this very neighbourhood. "Not very well, though."

"Yeah?" Faro looked interested. "How'd you meet him, then?"

"He helped me. After I got robbed. Gave me some money, helped me get home."

Faro whistled. "That sounds like a good guy." He looked at her pointedly. "You got this knight in shining armour's number?"

"No." Sannah's mind flashed back to that night, the bus stop, the yellow paper coloured by his flashing ring. "No—yes. I do."

"Well, Sannah, how's about you take my screen, you wipe your eyes, and you give the real saint a call?"

Faro flicked his screen out of his pocket and passed it to her in one smooth movement, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

"Call him, kin."

"I... I dunno," Sannah said.

"Just an emessage. What you got to lose?"

Sannah nodded, bit her lip. She didn't want to say no to Faro when he and Deirdra had been so good to her, when she was in their house. She desperately wanted to please him, and didn't want him to think she was prejudiced against Exotic guys.

Besides, the bus guy had helped her, and she didn't remember even saying thank you. Maybe she should do that now, make amends. It might wean me off Saint, too, she thought. Cure me from being a nyaff who goes skitting crazy just because we rubbed.

She took the screen, then fished in her bag by the side of the sofa. She eventually found the yellow paper folded between the pages of her book.

Bayim. She hadn't even remembered his name. She typed.

Hi Bayim, this is Sannah. We met on the bus. I was robbed and you helped me, don't know if you remember. I really appreciated your help, and just wanted to say thanks. Thanks.

She pressed send, looked up at Faro and shrugged.

It wasn't long before the screen buzzed.

Sannah. I sure do remember you. You got timing, kin. Needed something to cheer me up tonight, and the thought of you done just that. Hope you recovered from your incident. Zen to you, B

"Yeah?" Faro said. "He good?"

Sannah nodded, looking hesitantly at the message on the screen.

"You ask if he wanna meet up?" Faro raised his eyebrows, grinning.

"No. I..."

"It can't hurt nothing. Are you and this Saint official?"

Sannah shook her head, feeling the tears rise again.

"Then go for it, kin."

Do you want to meet up? So I can pay you back the bus fare? Sannah typed.

The answer came quickly. Bus fare? Forget it kin. Id love to meet up. But I'm going away soon, the day after tomorrow, and I wont be back for a while. Sorry, sister.

Sannah was about to type, ok, no problem, when she saw Faro leaning in, looking at the screen.

"Why don't you go see him tomorrow?" Faro said. "Take a night off from the Metropol. You don't wanna be in there when you're feeling like this. Spend the day with us, then go out tomorrow night. You can take my key, get back whenever you like, as long as you don't wake Stokeley. The guy's leaving, so there ain't no pressure. What you got to lose?"

The thought of not having to go to the Metropol, whatever the reason, was sorely tempting. I should say thank you, Sannah thought. And maybe I'll fall in love with him. Exorcise Saint.

Tomorrow? she typed.

There was a longer wait this time, and Sannah thought he might not answer, not without some relief.

Then, Sure. Where?

Faro suggested a nearby cafe, and they set a date for seven the next night. So that was it. Done. Sannah told herself this was a good idea.

She sipped her wine. The sensible thing.

Moving on.