by Geoff Smith
'Such nice hair,' she said. 'You really shouldn't wear this stupid hat you know. You look like a coconut.'
He took the beanie and pulled it back onto his head.
'Thanks, Soph,' he said.
And Sophie wrapped her arm around his waist and the four of them walked down to the shore and they looked out to sea where the tankers and freighters were hazy in the mist.
'Why do they wait here, the ships I mean?' Sophie asked.
'I don't know,' said Bart. 'Maybe they don't have anywhere else to go.'
Connor dumped his holdall on the ground. He was holding a pair of red and white swimming shorts.
'Here!' he said and he threw them at Bart.
'Oh man! You have got to be joking!' said Noah.
And Connor pulled out a second pair and he threw those at Noah. Connor himself was already stripping off, removing his shoes and pulling off his jeans, navy swimmers underneath.
'It's the fucking seaside guys! Come on!'
'It's also November,' said Noah.
But Connor wasn't listening. He pulled towels out of the bag and passed them to the boys. He held out some scrunched up fabric to Sophie.
'I've got like some shorts and like a t-shirt if you want them.'
'You do know how cold it is?' Sophie said. 'It's going to be freezing.'
'We're on the beach. And I'm going in, whether you guys do or not. So come on! It'll look awesome online, man. Come on. Just do it.'
Noah and Bart eyed each other nervously.
Connor was already naked except for his swimmers. He put his arms wide and held out his phone and snapped a selfie.
'Who's gonna take the pics then?'
Connor held the phone out to Bart. Feeling the dare, Bart refused the phone, stuffing his hat in his pocket and throwing his coat to the ground. Top, shoes, socks, jeans. He pulled off his boxers and pulled on the red and white swimmers.
'All right, I'm in!'
And then Sophie said, 'Okay boys, who's going to hold up a towel!'
Noah stepped in and held out his towel, and Connor passed her the shorts, and Sophie pulled off her jeans and pants and slipped the shorts on. She pulled off her top but kept on the bra.
'Let's go,'she said.
And she ran to the sea.
Connor thrust the phone at Noah, and he and Bart gave chase, following Sophie to the water, their pale skins stark against the green and the grey.
The beach was shallow and the cold water slapped at their feet. Connor, powered past Sophie into the deeper water. He was the first to launch himself, belly-flopping in the waist-deep water. Sophie and Bart jumped in too. And the three of them emerged, swearing at the cold.
Bart looked round at Sophie. Her skin was white with cold and her brown curls were black and straightened with water. Then she saw him staring. Her eyes were a greyish brown. For a moment she stared back and their gazes locked. Then she splashed him and she screamed and she threw herself back into the waves.
Noah joined them in the water, holding the phone, the water lapping around his crotch. He was shivering visibly.
Connor shouted, 'Shit, Noah! That's seven hundred quids worth of phone you got there!'
'Pictures were no good, bro,' he said, his shivering clearly visible. 'Too far away. Jump in the water now, and I'll shoot that. Ready guys? 3... 2... 1...'
The three of them jumped and splashed and Noah captured it on camera then held the phone out in front of Connor.
He said, 'There. Now if I'm going to freeze my knackers off, you're bloody well going to take some pictures of me doing it. Jesus bro!'
And he leapt into the air between Bart and Sophie and spread his arms wide and crashed into the water between them.
'Did you get me?' he said.
25
Multiple headlights arced across the tarmac. Sophie leaned in through the open passenger door.
'Come on Bart. Let's have some fun together.'
Connor put a hand on her shoulder.
'Leave him to it, Soph. Boy's got work to do. You'll be in soon, right Bart?'
'Yeah, yeah,' Bart said. 'I will be. You guys know me, right. I love a good gig.'
'Mr. Muso - not!' Noah grinned. 'So what's on the Bart Crowe playlist right now, bro?'
Connor clipped Noah on the back of the head and Bart took out his wallet and he passed Connor a fifty.
'First round's on me then, guys.'
Connor took the money and winked.
Bart watched his friends cross the car park to The Ramsgate Music Hall, Connor whispering in Sophie's ear. Sophie turned back, and she looked sad, even at this distance.
Behind the wheel, Bart scanned the cars as they passed, looking for Zack Richards and the dark-grey Smart. Francesca would be inside already of course. Setting up, doing vocal exercises, whatever it was that singers did. Scales? Arpeggios? Two cars passed. Two cars more. He imagined seeing Francesca again, and Lola. The cars were passing more frequently. Small cars, young people all around him, drifting by in twos and threes, sometimes more. Groups of young men shoving each other, or strutting with staged poise.
The dark metallic Brabus was there.
Zack Richards driving, on his phone. No-one else in the car. Bart's heart raced. Panicked he laid across the passenger seat. He checked the time on his phone. Maybe five minutes would see him safe.
And he laid there, waiting.
And then the window banged. He twisted around and looked up. Three faces at the window. None of them friendly.
'WAARGH!' A lad in a tight tee and a short jacket banged the window again, grimacing like an angry chimp, his mates laughing.
'Ah look at him, man! He's got a shiner!' said one of them.
'Let us do the other one. Matching pair mate?' the one at the back said.
And the boys banged the window and they rocked the Mini and they left, laughing.
When Bart got out, he had a twitch in his cheek. He took a shoulder bag out from the boot. A small group of lads were still huddled outside the venue, smoking, a joint or something, and Bart held his hands up to his own mouth, as if trying light a non-existent joint himself.
He found the Smart was nestled three rows up, and he stood behind it and checked the app on his phone. All looked good. He kneeled and removed a small metal box from his bag. It was the size of a matchbox only matt-black and plastic. And laying down, and using the flashlight, he clamped the device to the bottom of Zack's fuel tank. It clunked and it held, tight as a barnacle.
*
The support act were in full swing when Bart walked in. Trendy electro-pop, accessible and quirky.
A strong hand clapped him on the back of the shoulder.
'Mate! You're here! Sit down, man. I'm watching the stuff.'
They sat, and before long Connor was showing him a million new things on his phone. Cool places, funny vids, funny stories, the whole school soap opera. Bart nodded and laughed in the right places and scoured the crowd for familiar faces. Sophie and Noah were up near the front. And then through the forest of arms and legs he saw Zack Richards, red jeans and a billowing black and white shirt. A couple of other lads with him at the table, big guys, fashionable, but conservative. And a girl with strong tanned legs and blonde hair and a pale-blue dress.
Lola Golden.
'You know I basically think you're mad.'
'What?'
'You mate,' Connor said. 'You're mental! All this P.I. stuff. You are proper mad mate! Mental as shit! I mean - I work my socks off at school. You do know that, right?'
'Everyone knows it.'
'And do you know why I do that. I mean, have you actually ever thought about it?'
He hadn't.
'It's so I can keep up with the likes of you, mate!' Connor said. 'I have to work that hard. You - you can just bloody do it.'
'I do work hard, Connor.'
'Yeah, yeah, I know - but not like me. I mean, I work fucking hard at school. Like really fucking hard. But for me, it's worth it. Because I'm
going to make it. But you mate, you're just chucking it all away. You do know that, right?'
'Yeah,' Bart said. 'I know it.'
Lola and Zack were nodding and swaying and watching the band, Zack leaning over for Lola to talk in his ear.
'Is that him?' said Connor. 'That guy you're looking at? With the blonde hair and the shirt? Is that the one you're after?'
'That's him,' Bart nodded.
Connor craned his neck to get a better look.
'I like his girlfriend,' Connor said.
'Yeah,' Bart said. 'So do I.'
The support act walked offstage to mild applause and half-hearted whoops and were replaced by the road crew, doing that mysterious things with cables and plugs and the mystical pressing of floors. Zack bounded up onto the low stage and disappeared into the wings as Noah and Sophie came back. They were sweating and out of breath and grinning like musical theatre performers. Bart left them at the table with Connor, and he walked forward to watch the road crew. He swigged back the dregs of his orange juice and lemonade, watching, taking mental note of the makes of the amps and the mixer. One of the roadies saw him watching and gave Bart the thumbs up, enjoying his moment of fame.
'You shouldn't be here.'
It was Lola. She was standing behind him.
He turned and he leaned against the stage.
'Well I'd paid for tickets and my friends are down so - I see you're with Zack.'
'You're eye looks awful.'
He smiled.
'Hey, I know I said you should see the other guy, but you literally are seeing the other guy.'
She frowned.
'What?'
'Oh come on, he must have told you about it.'
'Are you angry with me, Bart?'
'No. It's just a bit of a slap in the face. That's all.'
Her hand moved towards his, a gentle touch against his index finger.
'I do care about you Bart,' she said. 'But I care about Zack too. And I don't suppose you'll ever be over the moon about that but I can't turn that off. And I don't want to.'
'Your boyfriend's a dick.'
'Okay Bart. I think you've said enough. Trust. Or don't trust. Your choice. I'm going now. This is Zack's night, okay, so don't wreck it. That's all.'
He watched her strong legs under the hem of that blue dress and the white pumps on her feet.
When Bart walked back to his friends, Connor held out his fist and Bart pumped it.
'Ah mate!' he said. 'I definitely think she likes you. I'm getting the drinks in. Anyone?'
Sophie and Noah said what they wanted. Bart wasn't thirsty.
'Hang on,' Noah said. 'I'll come with you, bro.'
Sophie squeezed closer to Bart to let Noah out.
'You never mentioned a girlfriend,' she said. 'Who is she?'
'She's called Lola,' Bart said, 'and she's not my girlfriend. She's his.'
And Zack leaped down from the stage, bounding across the room and flopping back in his seat. Lola leaned over to kiss him, and Zack said something, making himself laugh. Bart couldn't see if Lola laughed too.
'And is that the boy you're - '
'Maybe -'
'The one who -'
He flinched as she touched his bruised eye.
'Yes. But he's no more a boy than I am.'
Then Zack looked over - he looked straight at them - and he bore his teeth in a sarcastic smile and he waved like a four year old.
'He looks like a prick,' Sophie said.
'He's a spoilt rich kid playing gangster -' Bart said. 'Thinks he's like The Godfather or something coz he sells a bit of weed and ket - you know who is dad is don't you?'
'No! Go on.'
'Mickey Richards. You know? Like Mickey Richards. The singer?'
'What him? Really? No way!' she laughed. 'Oh I'm sorry Bartie Boy, but that little prick just got a lot more interesting - he really is quite good-looking isn't he? Sort of exotic.'
'You're not funny.'
She poked him in the ribs and laughed.
'Serious,' she said, squirming as he poked her back. 'I do love a back-story.'
And he pushed her away with his elbow.
'Oi, oi,' said Connor as he placed the vodka and Coke in front of Sophie.
He and Noah sat opposite, Noah stacking the old plastic glasses inside each other.
On-stage, musicians were hanging guitars on their shoulders, testing headsets and checking displays, shuffling from foot to foot. And, sensing the show was about to start, the crowd pushed forward. Only Lola and Zack's table staying put, looking at each other, confirming strategy.
Connor and Noah got up.
Connor said, 'C'mon! This is what the ticket money's for, guys!' He banged on the table, seeing Bart looking across the room. 'Come on mate. Let those dicks be cool as they want. Fuck 'em. Let's go!'
The crowd was seven or eight deep as the band struck up a groove, a good crowd, big enough for a buzz, swaying as the Latin rhythms kicked in. Drums, bongos, bass, a trumpet blaring over the top, the audience moving and swaying and cheering until the groove calmed, soft chords, and the drum-beat alone. The musicians rocked gently. And Bart saw Zack and Lola and the two lads pushing down the flank to the corner of the stage.
The drums continued, alone, twenty, thirty seconds.
Tension building.
And then Francesca De Souza came on stage to a chorus of whoops and cheers, high-fiving Zack with her trailing hand as she passed him. She moved in a half strut, half dance to centre of the stage. Silver dress and ankle boots. Red hair worn up but tumbling down over one side of her face. She clapped her hands over her head, as the keyboard and trumpet players began to chant. And when the bass and guitar came back, Francesca sang, and the audience responded, washing the rhythm in applause.
Song after song, and Francesca's London melodies gambolled over syncopated back-beats. Sophie took Bart by the hands and they danced. He tried to remember the Francesca he had met before, the Francesca ordering a Nando's, the Francesca at the club, then back at the flat and getting close. But somehow, watching her perform, she wasn't that brash and direct person at all. She was someone else. Someone more. Someone stronger, more powerful, somewhere out beyond herself.
She was incredible.
And Bart saw that Lola was dancing too, not with Zack exactly, but near him. Swaying subtle and slow. Zack was at the corner of the stage, his hand pulsing in front of his chest, the conductor of his own orchestra. Bart touched the swelling around his eye. He tried to remember Zack's fist impacting his face but the memory wasn't there. Nothing but a blurry visual and a dull ache. But he did remember the stinging, the sand in his mouth.
And his sense of injustice swelled.
Sophie was dancing with Noah now. The two of them getting all High School Musical, synchronised moves and cheesy smiles. On another night, it would have been funny. But tonight Bart wasn't laughing. He was moving across the dance-floor, slowly and deliberately, moving towards Zack Richards. There were shouts and shoves from the people he pushed past but he barely noticed most and ignored the rest. He'd got tunnel vision and at the end of the tunnel was Zack Richards.
And when Zack turned to face him, and he was shrugging and smiling and staging innocence.
The band began a calypso and Bart shoved Zack in the chest.
Zack looking about, encouraging others to notice.
Someone had grabbed Bart's wrist, pulling it back. Connor. But Bart yanked his arm free and he shoved Zack again.
'You're a fake! Two-faced posing fake!'
The band kept playing. There were voices over the music. Bart shoved Richards again, and still Richards did not fight back.
'Why don't you tell your girlfriend, Zack? Tell her! Tell her you're a cheater. Tell her you're a fake. Go on. Why don't you tell her?'
The music stopped. Francesca's voice on the P.A.
'Can we have some security at the front, please?'
And then voices were all around. Male voices. Some fem
ale ones too. They were angry. Shouting. Thick arms hooked under his elbows and pushed his head forwards. He was shoved him from behind and steered towards the exit.
A gravelly voice in his ear said, 'You don't do that round here, son. Out the door. Time to go home, son. Cool off a bit, okay.'
The bouncer's fist drove into the small of his back, and he fell, sprawled out on the street.
Sophie was shouting at the bouncer.
'Oh yes. That's really tough. You're a big tough guy aren't you? Well done. You must be like really proud of yourself.'
Bart rolled onto his back. And when he looked up Connor and Sophie were looking down, Connor's arm round Sophie. And Noah was kneeling beside him, brushing the hair from his face.
And Bart said, 'Do you think she'll do an encore?'
26
'I'm so sorry guys. You know, I think I'm going a bit psycho.'
A car drove past, thudding bass.
And Sophie said, 'God, Bart! All you had to do was enjoy the show. We all were! But you put yourself first, didn't you? Again! Sorry, I can't talk - so mad right now.'
Connor said, 'Soph. Now, we don't know the whole story, do we? But we're all mates, right? And mates stick together.' He put an arm round Bart's shoulder. And if you had to get that out of your system back there mate, then whatever man. And anyway, I thought it was pretty funny.'
Sophie threw up her hands, she shook her head and turned to look out across the marina.
Noah said, 'It's nice to get some fresh sea air though, right? I mean really, it actually is nice. I mean the harbour and all that, at night, isn't it?'
She ignored him.
Then Sophie said to no-one in particular, 'Let's go. I want to get back to the room.'
The pubs and bars were busy but not buzzing. So many of them that the town felt somehow sad. People spilled aimlessly out onto the streets as the four of them made their way back.
A large white van was parked out front. Young men loading gear into the back.
Noah and Sophie squeezed into the back seat of the Mini.
Bart said, 'I'm just going to have a nose around. Ten minutes. The stereo's got Bluetooth, so -'
