* * *
After my workout in the gym I walk home. There’s no sign of my dad, and the sandwiches I made for him are still sitting there untouched on the arm of his chair. What the fuck is this, Invasion of the fucking Body Snatchers or something?
“Dad?” I yell. “Are you in?”
No answer. Fuck it, I doubt he’ll have gone far.
I make myself something to eat and go upstairs. I tip half a bottle of Matey into the grimy bath and turn the taps on, then head toward my bedroom to find something to wear for the piss-up with Shaz tonight. I’m walking across the landing when I hear a croaky voice coming from my dad’s bedroom.
“Is that you Abigail?”
I pop my head round his door and see him lying in bed with the covers pulled up under his chin. His eyes are all red and puffy, I wish he’d remember to take his fucking antihistamines. Maybe if he didn’t suffer so much with his allergies he wouldn’t be in such a fucking bad mood all the time.
“Are you okay, dad?”
“No.”
“Why, what’s wrong with you?” I ask.
“Don’t know. Everything.”
He rolls over to face the wall, and curls himself up into a ball. I can see him shaking under the covers, maybe he’s got the flu or something. I ask if he needs anything, but he doesn’t reply so I close the door and leave him to it.
8
It takes a few Pernods before Shaz gets out of her massive fucking sulk with me and starts to mellow out. We’re in the Black Swan, and being a Friday night it’s pretty busy in here. I down my fifth Guinness of the night and elbow my way through the crush around the bar. Fuck knows why people have to stand there drinking all night, they should move out of the way when they’ve been served. It’s just fucking ignorant if you ask me.
“Watch out,” someone yells when he doesn’t get out of my way quick enough and spills some of his beer down his shirt. I turn and glare at him, he soon gets the message and looks away.
I get myself two pints of Guinness, and three Pernods for Shaz. That should keep us going until closing time, and it’ll save me having to go back to the bar later. I pour all the Pernods into one glass, then take a swig out of both pints of Guinness so I can stick my thumb and forefinger into the glasses to make them easier to carry. I make my way back to our table near the jukebox.
There’s a guy leaning against the jukebox talking to Shaz. Him and his mate have been eyeing us up since we got here, so it’s a surprise he’s taken so long to make his move. If it were me I would’ve told him to fuck off, the last thing I want on a girl’s night out is some bloke drooling over me, but Shaz doesn’t seem to mind the attention. I slam the drinks down on the table and sit down.
“Hi,” the bloke says, grinning at me.
I shrug and reach for my Guinness. “All right,” I say.
“Me and Tony over there, we were wondering if we could join you?”
“Yeah, sure,” Shaz says. I give her a quick look, she smiles and winks at me.
The bloke beckons this Tony over and he sits down opposite me, grinning like he’s just won the fucking Lottery or something. The other one sits next to Shaz and says his name is Greg. Shaz fingers his forearm and smiles at him. I sip my Guinness while Tony prattles on about football. My eyes glaze over. No wonder he’s fucking single, yeah? He stops talking and looks at me. He’s probably expecting some sort of answer, but I stopped listening ages ago.
“Dunno,” I say with a shrug. Don’t fucking care either, whatever it was.
“Really? What about Wazzell then, you think he’ll recover in time for the qualifier?”
I shake my head and drain one of my pints of Guinness. “I’m off to the bog, you coming Shaz?”
Shaz nods and struggles to her feet with the help of the table. Squeezing past Greg she stumbles and falls into his lap. He grabs hold of her to stop her from falling to the floor and she puts her arms around his neck to steady herself. She says something to him that makes his face go red, then uses his shoulders to push herself back onto her feet and follows me to the toilet.
“What the fuck did you invite those two losers over for?” I ask once we’re inside.
Shaz stands by the mirror, fussing with her hair and pouting at her reflection like one of those fucking movie stars in front of a press photographer. “Thought they might have been a laugh. Anyway, it’s not their personality I’m after.”
“I’m not screwing around any more, I’ve got Dave now.”
“Dave, Dave, Dave,” Shaz says with a sneer. “That’s all I hear from you these days. Oh, isn’t Dave simply wonderful? Isn’t Dave the best thing that’s ever happened to me? It’s fucking boring.”
“Fuck off, I don’t say things like that.”
“Yeah well, give it time and you soon will be. Anyway, I’ve got other plans for those two.”
Ah, I get it. It’s not the contents of their trousers she’s after, it’s the contents of their wallets. I should have guessed. I go into one of the cubicles for a piss, leaving the door open so I can talk to Shaz at the same time.
“I doubt they’ve got much on them worth having,” I say.
“Yeah well, we can always take them to a cash-point.”
“What, and then they just hand over all their money? Doesn’t seem very likely.”
I finish my piss and wipe myself down with a wad of toilet paper wrapped around my fingers.
“Trust me,” Shaz says. “Once they hear about the party we’re going to they’ll be begging to hand it over.”
“What party?” I ask, pulling up my knickers.
Shaz laughs. “There isn’t one, but they don’t need to know that do they?”
“So what’s the plan?”
“Just follow my lead,” she says, and heads for the door.
I wash my hands and follow her out. By the time I get back to our table Shaz is necking with that Greg bloke. The other one looks at me like he’s expecting the same, but fuck that.
“Listen,” I say, “um…” It takes me a while to remember his name. “… Tony, me and Shaz are going to a party later if you fancy it?”
Tony’s eyes light up and he grins at me. “Sure, that sounds great.”
I down my last pint of Guinness in three gulps, and belch in his face. “Well come on then,” I say, grinning at his shocked expression. “Oi Shaz, are we off to this fucking party then or what? You can stick your tongue down his throat when we get there.”
* * *
Outside, Shaz and Greg sway down the road, arms around each other’s waists. Tony puts his arm around my shoulder but it seems forced, like he’s a bit embarrassed and not sure what to do.
“Where’s the party?” he says.
“Dunno, it’s a mate of Shaz. Oi Shaz, where’s the party at?”
“Just down here,” Shaz says, leading us toward the bank on the main road. “Hey, you know what would be really fucking cool? If we all scored some fucking coke first. What do you reckon Abby?”
I play along, knowing where this is headed. “Yeah, sounds great.”
Tony grins at the idea, but Greg doesn’t look too happy. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, what if the police caught us with drugs? I’d lose my job and everything,” he whines.
Shaz turns to Greg and gives his crotch a gentle squeeze. “You ever fucked someone when you’re coked up? It’s the best ever.”
You know what they say about men always thinking with their dicks? I reckon it must be fucking true because Greg soon changes his mind.
“How much money have you guys got?” Shaz asks. “I know where I can score some coke, but we’ll need to pool our money to get enough to last us the whole night.”
“Um, not much,” Tony says. “How much would you need?”
“Couple hundred should do it.”
“I don’t have anywhere near that much,” Tony says. He turns to Greg. “How much have you got?”
“Um, about thirty quid?”
“That’s not eno
ugh,” Shaz says. “That’s a shame. I was looking forward to a good shag tonight. Oh well, might as well call it a night then. No point going to the party without any coke.”
“No, wait,” Greg says. “I could get some money from that cash machine over there, I got paid today.”
Shaz smiles and gives him a hug. “Well let’s go then, lover.” She takes him by the hand and leads him to the cash machine.
His hands shake when he puts his card in the machine and types in the pin number. Probably because Shaz is rubbing her hand up and down his crotch while he does it, just in case he might change his mind. When the screen asks how much he wants to withdraw Shaz leans in and prods the £200 selection. Greg’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything when Shaz taps the ‘yes’ to confirm the amount. The machine spits out a wad of money and Shaz grabs it, folds it in half and stuffs it into her pocket. She winks at me.
“Well come on then, what are we waiting for?” she says. “Let’s get fucking coked up and get down to that party.”
Now that’s not what I was expecting. I thought once we got the cash we’d just fucking leg it and leave the guys to work it out for themselves. But Shaz must have something else in mind because she drags Greg by the hand toward a back alley. I hope she’s not expecting me to shag that fucking Tony loser. Even if I didn’t have Dave there’s no way I’d want that boring prick bouncing on me.
Then I figure it out. It’s to get away from all the fucking cameras on the main road, yeah?
Tony hesitates at the entrance to the alley. He peers into the gloom, watching Shaz and Greg lead the way. He licks his lips, looks around nervously. I take him by the hand, it’s cold and clammy. I smile and lean in to whisper in his ear.
“I can’t wait to see your cock.”
That’s all the encouragement he needs to follow me into the alley. Men are so fucking easy to manipulate.
“My dealer’s just down here,” Shaz says. She turns to see how far into the alley me and Tony are, and stops to wait for us to catch up. “Just round this next corner, it’s not far now.”
We turn the corner and Shaz gently pushes Greg against the wall. “You know what would be really great?” she asks.
Greg grins at her and loops his arms around her waist, pulls her closer. “What?”
Shaz smiles back. “This.”
She brings her knee up into his bollocks, real quick. His eyes bulge and his face goes purple. He bends over and clutches his hands to his groin, makes this pathetic mewling sound. She kicks him in the knee and it buckles beneath him, sends him sprawling to the ground. She kicks him in the stomach, and most of the beer he’s drunk tonight flies out of his mouth.
Tony jumps like a startled flea and tries to pull away from me. I grip his hand tight, holding him in place, and turn toward him. There’s a look of sheer fucking terror on his face, and I can’t help feeling a bit sorry for him. Wrong place, wrong time, yeah? But I can’t lose face in front of Shaz, she already thinks I’m going fucking soft with Dave. I’ll just give him a slap and leave it at that. I spin him around and push him face first into the wall, wrench his arm up behind his back. I can feel his body trembling when I lean into him.
“You say anything about this and I’ll fucking kill you,” I say into his ear. His only answer is a whimper, so I twist the arm a bit higher up his back. “You got that?”
“Yes, yes,” he screams, way too fucking loud. Like he’s hoping whoever lives in the house at the other side of the wall will hear him and come to his rescue. Well that’s when I lose sympathy with him, yeah? I grab a handful of hair and yank his head away from the wall, then slam it back to shut him up. There’s a loud crack, and his body goes limp. I let him fall, but don’t bother sticking the boot in. I don’t bother with his wallet either, somehow it just doesn’t feel right. He’s just a working class bloke, probably as skint as me.
When I turn around Shaz is still kicking away at Greg, but I doubt he’s feeling anything because it looks like he’s unconscious too. There’s blood pooling around his head, fuck knows where it’s coming from but there’s a lot of it. Shaz always gets a bit carried away when she’s pissed up. One day she’ll end up fucking killing someone if she’s not careful.
“Shaz, that’s enough, yeah?”
Shaz can’t resist sticking the boot in one more time before she turns and grins at me. “Yeah, time to get fucked off.” She points at Tony. “Did you get the cunt’s wallet?”
I look away when I feel my face flush red. “Yeah, but it was empty.”
9
Saturday night and I’m standing in a tiny pub on the outskirts of Shefferham with a pint of Guinness in my hand, being jostled by a crowd of skinheads jumping around in front of me while these old geezers on the stage thrash the fuck out of their musical instruments.
I’m wearing an old pair of jeans of mine, and a brown check shirt Dave lent me that’s a couple of sizes too big. I blend in quite well with the other women here. Except for my hair, anyway. That’s a lot longer than the buzz-cuts they all have.
Shaz stands beside me with her hands over her ears, I don’t think she likes this type of music very much. She’s dolled up to the fucking nines and sticks out like a randy priest’s cock when an altar boy kneels before him. Her tits are threatening to fall out of a low-cut frilly top at any second, and she’s wearing a short yellow summer skirt. Fuck knows what sort of band she thought she was going to see, but she’d be more at home at a fucking boy-band concert than here. Mind you, she is getting plenty of admiring leers from all the skinheads, so maybe that’s the effect she was after all along.
Dave is somewhere near the front of the stage with Steve and Josh, right in the centre of the melee of flailing arms and legs. He tried to drag me there with him when the band first got on stage, but I don’t really want to get any closer to those massive fuck-off speakers than I am now. Even from here the music is so loud it makes my fucking head vibrate.
I never knew there were so many skinheads living around here until we pulled up in Dave’s car and saw them all milling around outside the pub. There must be some sort of revival thing going on, because until I met Dave and his mates the other week I don’t remember ever seeing any skinheads before. They’re all mostly my age too, so they must’ve picked it up from their parents or something because they wouldn’t have even been born the last time skinheads were popular. There’s a few old fuckers here as well, including the landlord from The Black Bull and a few of his regulars, but they’re all standing at the back, well away from the bustle of the crowd. One of them has a camcorder held above his head, filming the band as they play.
Someone from the crowd climbs on the stage and dives off headfirst into the audience. There’s a sudden surge backwards when everyone tries to avoid getting smacked in the face by his flailing hands, and my drink gets knocked by the person in front of me, spilling some of my precious Guinness down the back of his T-shirt. I yell at him and push him in the back and he stumbles forward, loses his balance and falls to his knees. Someone nearby helps him back up onto his feet and he charges into the crowd, grabs hold of a couple of other guys’ shoulders and leaps around with them as if nothing’s happened.
“This is the last one, you cunts,” the singer shouts, “so make the fucking most of it, right? Let’s fucking have it, come on, let’s go!”
“Thank fuck for that, they’re fucking horrible,” Shaz shouts in my ear, but before I can reply the music starts up again and everyone goes fucking mental. Even a couple of the oldies from The Black Bull rush into the heart of the crowd and throw themselves around.
I must admit, this type of music is starting to grow on me, so when Shaz tries to pull me toward the toilets I resist. After a few more tugs on my arm and shouted commands that I can’t hear she gives up and waits with me until the band finishes their set.
The crowd shout and scream for more, but there’s already someone unplugging everything so it looks like that’s it for the night. I drink the rest of my
Guinness and head toward the bar with Shaz before the inevitable rush when everyone else has the same idea.
I feel a sweaty arm slide around my neck from behind and I spin around with my fist raised, but it’s just Dave with his soppy grin. He’s got his shirt off, it’s tucked into the back of his jeans, and his face and chest are glistening with sweat. I breathe in his aroma and give him a quick kiss but he’ll need to dry himself off before he gets anything else.
Dave offers to pay for our drinks and orders a pint each for him and his two mates, and we look around for a table to sit at. The old guy with the camcorder is sitting at the next table, watching his footage on the camera’s built-in screen while his mates crowd around him, peering over his shoulder.
“Fucking smart or what?” Dave says.
My ears are ringing so loud I can hardly hear him. I stick my fingers in my ears and wiggle them about, try to clear the high-pitched whistling sound, but it doesn’t seem to make any difference.
“Yeah, they were really good,” Shaz says, grinning at Josh. He grins back and she slides her chair closer to him. Steve doesn’t look too happy about that, I think he’s had his eye on Shaz ever since she first got into Dave’s car with me.
Dave leans across the table and stares into my eyes. “What did you think of them, Abby?”
I nod. “Yeah, they were okay. A bit old though?”
“That’s cos they were original skins, weren’t they? They haven’t always been old.”
“I guess.”
“I’ve got mp3s of all their records at home, I’ll play them for you later if you like. Some of their later ones were a bit shite, they went all fucking heavy metal for some reason, but the early ones are fucking classics.”
“Are we having a party then?” Shaz asks, looking at Dave.
Dave smiles at her and shakes his head. “Me and Abby are, you and Josh will have to have yours somewhere else.”
“Fucking spoilsport,” she pouts, and sticks her tongue out. Dave laughs.
“You can come back to mine if you want,” Josh says. “But we’ll have to be quiet, my dad’ll kick you out if we wake him up.”
Punk and Skinhead Novels Box Set Page 24
