“Not if we give him a good show,” Shaz says with a wink.
“I’ve got my own place,” Steve chips in. “Won’t matter how much noise we make.”
Shaz looks him up and down and smiles. “Well why don’t the three of us go there then?”
* * *
We stay until closing time. It’s not like we’ve got a bus to catch or anything, like a lot of the others who had to fuck off at half-ten and leg it down to the bus station. Dave’s pretty pissed up, he’s swaying a bit when he stands up to go to the toilet, so it’s just as well he doesn’t need to drive very far. Shaz has got her arms around both the skinheads, one either side of her. All three are laughing and seem to be having a good time, so it seems a shame to break them up. But I need a piss, and there’s something I need to check with Shaz before Dave drops them all off on his way home.
“Shaz, are you coming to the bogs with me?”
“Nah, I’m okay,” Shaz says, shaking her head.
I stand up and lean across the table. “It’s important.”
She sighs, and looks up at me. Her shoulders shrug. “Okay boys, I’ll see you in a bit.” She disentangles herself from the two skinheads and stands up on wobbly feet. She leans on the table for support. Josh puts his hand up her skirt and feels her arse.
“Christ, she’s got no fucking knickers on,” he yells, overly loud.
Shaz turns and smiles at him, leans down for a kiss. Josh’s hand goes back up her skirt.
“In your own fucking time,” I say to Shaz.
“Yeah yeah, hold your fucking horses,” Shaz says. “We’re only having a fucking laugh.” Josh looks disappointed when she pulls away and squeezes past him.
“So what’s so important then?” Shaz asks when we’re in the ladies.
“What are you going to do to Steve and Josh?”
She laughs. “Well what do you think I’m going to do to them? Or rather, what do you think they’re going to do to me?”
“I mean after that. What are you going to do to them after you’ve had your fun?”
She shrugs. “Depends how good they are.”
“Look, Shaz, I like Dave. A lot. I don’t want you to hurt his mates.”
“Girl, you’re going fucking soft. Men are just walking cocks with wallets. Think of them as anything else and they’ll trample all over you. Is that what you want?”
“Dave’s not like that,” I say. Perhaps a little bit too quickly because Shaz laughs in my face. “Just don’t hurt them, yeah?”
“Relax, I wasn’t going to.”
“And don’t take their money either.”
She frowns. “Aw, you’re no fun anymore, you know that Abby?”
“Promise me, yeah?”
Shaz smiles and holds up two fingers. “Dib fucking dib. Dob fucking dob. Satisfied?”
I nod because that’s probably the best I’m likely to get from her. But if she does hurt them in any way I’ll never forgive her.
* * *
Outside in the car park there’s a police snatch-wagon with two ugly fuckers standing beside it in full riot gear. They glare at us through their visors as we leave the pub. Fucking bastards, haven’t they got anything better to do, like look for my mum? Dave spits on the ground when he sees them, I guess he doesn’t like the cunts much either. They watch us walk up to Dave’s car.
It takes Dave a while to fit his key into the lock, in the end he has to put a hand over one eye before he can hit the right spot. There’s a thunk and the door unlocks. Dave opens it, reaches in, and unlocks the other doors. Shaz gets in the back, sandwiched between the two skinheads. I walk around the front of the car, keeping a wary eye on the two police thugs, and get in the passenger side.
Dave manages to fit the keys into the ignition and the engine roars into life. He fumbles with the CD player while he revs the engine, and loud music blares out. I lean my elbow over the open window and tap on the side of the car with my fingers in time to the music. Yeah, it’s definitely starting to grow on me.
Dave leans forward and peers through the windscreen like an old man who’s lost his spectacles. The coppers are still watching us, but if they were going to say anything they would’ve done it by now. Dave puts the car in gear and we roll forward through the car park. We bounce over the kerb, onto the main road, and pull away. He drives very slowly, with one hand on the steering wheel, the other firmly clamped over his left eye. Even when we reach the winding country road that leads to our town he doesn’t go much above fifty, and slows right down for the bends instead of screeching through them like he did on the journey to Shefferham earlier tonight. And they say alcohol makes people bad drivers, yeah? If anything the booze has improved Dave’s driving skills no fucking end.
We pull up outside a dilapidated-looking terrace house with six doorbells on the front door, and the two skinheads climb out of either side of the car. Shaz leans forward between the front seats and breathes Pernod fumes at me.
“See you Shaz. I’ll give you a ring tomorrow, yeah?”
I lean forward and shuffle myself around in my seat to face her. “Don’t forget what I said.”
She holds up two fingers and grins. “I won’t.” She leans back and shuffles herself out of the car. Her skirt rides up her legs, showing everything she’s got like a third-rate celebrity hoping to make the newspaper front pages. Josh reaches out to help her onto her feet while Steve takes out a key and opens the front door of the house.
“See you Dave, have fun,” Steve says, leaning into the car.
Dave grins and nods his farewell. “You too, mate.” He turns to me when Josh slams the car door behind him. “Right then, let’s get fucked off shall we?”
10
Dad’s in a massive fucking sulk when I go back home on Sunday night. It’s like he doesn’t want me to have a life of my own or something and he’s determined to make me suffer for every second of fun I might have. He’s sat in his chair in his pyjamas, watching TV when I get there. Probably been sitting there all fucking weekend, knowing him.
“Huh. You’re back then are you?” he says when I slump down on the settee. “I don’t know why you bother coming home, you might as well just leave like your mum did.”
Yeah well, I don’t know why I bother either, it’s not like I get any appreciation for everything I do for him. If it wasn’t for work tomorrow I would’ve stayed at Dave’s bedsit, fucking and listening to his skinhead music all day. But I’m not going to give dad the argument he obviously wants. It’s been a fucking brilliant weekend, and I don’t want anything to pull me down from the emotional high I’m on.
“I’m going to bed if you’re going to be like that,” I tell him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Dad scowls. “Yeah, that’s right. You go to bed and leave me on my own again. Like you’ve left me on my own all weekend, and you’ll be leaving me on my own again tomorrow. I don’t care any more, so just do what you want.”
Fine, I think, I’ll fucking do that then, you miserable old bastard, but I resist the urge to say it out loud. I’m not interested in playing his fucking mind games tonight.
* * *
Next morning I get up and make dad some sandwiches for while I’m at work. He’s still asleep, fuck knows what time he went to bed last night but I didn’t hear him clumping around like I usually do. I half expected him to be still sat there watching TV when I came downstairs, ready to start up his whinge-fest from where he left off last night.
I switch on the TV and tune into one of the music channels. It all seems really slow and boring after listening to Dave’s music all weekend, but it will have to do. I turn up the volume so I can hear it from the kitchen.
There’s not much in the fridge, so it looks like dad will have to settle for cheese sandwiches again today. I’ll do a shop after work, maybe I can sneak off early and get Sally to cover for me.
I’ve been watching some of Dave’s DVDs of the female fights on his computer, studying their moves and planning out what
I would’ve done if I was on the receiving end of them. Dave watched them with me but they made him randy after a while, so I had to fight him off and ended up missing a few bits. Still, I think I’ve got them all sussed out now. I don’t know which one I’ll be fighting, Dave says the bouts aren’t finalised until the day before and I won’t find out who it is until I get there on the night.
I’m just about to put dad’s cheese sandwiches on the arm of his chair when I hear him thumping down the stairs.
“You’re still here then?” he says, stating the fucking obvious. I can tell by the look on his face he’s still in a mood about me staying the weekend with Dave.
“I made you some breakfast,” I say. I smile and point at the sandwiches.
Dad storms across the room and swipes the plate onto the floor. “I don’t want any breakfast!” he yells.
“Fine,” I say. “Do without then.”
I kick off my slippers and get my boots from the hallway. I sit down on the settee and lace them up.
“And where do you think you’re going?” dad says, glaring at me from his armchair.
“I’m going to work.”
“What about this mess you’ve made?”
I look at him, speechless, and shake my head. I stand up and head for the door. Fuck this, there’s no reasoning with him when he’s like this. I slam the door behind me.
* * *
“Can you step into my office please, Abby?” Cunty Blunty says as soon as I walk through the door.
Sally gives me a quick look, then turns away. She doesn’t smile like she usually does when I arrive at work. Something’s up, I can feel it. Fucking great, what have I done now? It’s not like I’m late again, there’s still a few more minutes before my shift is due to start.
I sigh, and walk toward the office at the back of the burger joint. Blunt’s standing there holding the door open for me. I give him a quizzical look and he gestures for me to enter. Inside there’s some fat bastard in a flash suit, probably an area manager or something. He stands up and looks at me.
“Hello Abby, remember me?”
I look at him and shrug. “Should I?”
He smiles, but there’s no warmth behind it. “Oh yes, I should say so.”
Blunt sits behind his desk and steeples his fingers on its surface. He stares at me and frowns. “Mr Green has made a serious allegation against you Abby, what do you have to say about it?”
“Well it would help if I knew what it was?”
“Oh come on,” the fat man says, “as if you don’t know.”
I look at him. He’s got one of those faces that you just want to punch, yeah? All smug and smarmy, like he owns the fucking world or something. He does look vaguely familiar, but fuck knows who he is.
“Mr Green says you stole some money from him,” Blunt says.
“As if,” I say, folding my arms.
“Oh yes you did,” the fat man says. “Outside The Zone two weeks ago, you and another girl.”
I sneer at him. So that’s where I’ve seen him before. “Oh yeah, you’re that fucking pervert who pays to have sex with young girls.”
His face goes red, looks like it’s about to explode. “You know full well that’s not what happened. You stole my money.”
“Did I fuck. You gave us your money so we wouldn’t report you to the police, you fucking nonce.”
“Now look here–”
“Okay Mr Green, I can handle it from here,” Blunt says. “So you admit you have this man’s money?”
I shrug.
“Of course she does,” the fatty says. “Now what are you going to do about it?”
Blunt stares at me and I stare back. He shakes his head and sighs, then leans back in his chair and looks at the fat cunt. “From what you’ve told me I think this is more a matter for the police.”
“No, there’s no need for that,” he says quickly.
I turn to face him and smile. “Oh, I wonder why not.”
“Just give me the money back and we’ll say no more about the matter. I can’t say fairer than that.”
“Fuck off, you fat pervert.”
“That’s enough, Abby,” Blunt says. “Wait outside, I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
I give fatty one last glare, then pull open the door. Sally nearly falls through it. She darts to one side and I walk out, slam the door behind me.
“Christ Abby,” Sally says, “what the fuck have you been doing now?”
“Nothing, he’s full of shit.”
We both put our ears to the door, but all I can hear is murmurs. Then the door opens and the fat man walks out, smiling to himself. He brushes past me and I resist the urge to kick him in the arse as he waddles away.
“Come in please Abby,” Blunt says from inside the office.
Sally taps me on the back. “Good luck.” I smile at her and walk into the office, close the door behind me.
Blunt gestures at a chair. “Sit down, Abby.”
“I’ll stand, thanks.”
If I’m going to get a bollocking I’d rather he had to do it looking up at me. Gives me more power, yeah? He looks up at me, nods his head slowly.
“Look, there’s no easy way to put this, so I’ll just come straight out with it. We need to make some efficiency savings, so I’m making you redundant. It’s nothing personal.”
“You what? You mean you’re sacking me over what that fucking pervert said?”
“No, no, the two matters are entirely separate. If Mr Green wants to pursue the matter with the police that’s his affair. Like I said, we need to make efficiency savings. I’ve thought long and hard about which one of you I was going to have to let go, it hasn’t been an easy decision at all.”
“Like fuck it hasn’t, you pompous prick. You’ve always had it in for me.”
Blunt frowns and clasps his hands together. “To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel you’re very well suited to the catering industry. Your attitude toward customers leaves a lot to be desired.”
“Fuck you,” I yell, and turn to leave. “I’ll take you to a fucking tribunal for this, you can’t just sack me over what some cunt says I did in my own time.”
“Like I said Abby, the two matters are entirely separate. But I take it you don’t keep up with the news?” I turn back and he smiles at me in that smug bastard way of his. “By all means take it to a tribunal, but they’ll only tell you employers have a lot more flexibility in ridding themselves of unwanted staff these days.”
* * *
I’m still fuming when I walk into the goth shop. The lights are dim, the walls and ceiling are painted black, and there’s some weird, wailing music playing. It’s the first time I’ve ever been in here, so I don’t know which of the five ghouls staring at me work here and which ones are just customers. I glance at the freaky clothes hanging on rails along the wall and wonder what sort of person would want to wear them.
I walk around the shop and find what I’m looking for near the counter, on top of a glass cabinet filled with assorted drugs paraphernalia. Stash tins, packets of massive Rizlas, big glass bongs with multi-coloured tubes coming out of them, things like that. There’s a sign on the cabinet saying For decorative use only, not to be used for illegal purposes. Yeah, right.
It’s the studded wristbands on top I’m interested in. I spin the rotary display, looking for one that’s a decent size. They’re mostly just a thin leather strip with one line of conical studs, neither use nor ornament. There’s one with spiked studs that catches my eye. The spikes are quite long, and look like they would do some serious damage if you wrapped it around your knuckles. Probably a bit too much damage though, yeah? I don’t want to fucking maim anyone.
I pick up a large wristband with seven rows of pyramid studs and try it on. It’s a bit fiddly to get the straps fastened with one hand, but I manage it in the end and flex my arm to try it out for size. The leather’s a bit stiff with it being new, and it feels weird, but I’m sure I’ll get used to that in time.
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I lift up my arm to inspect the price tag dangling from a bit of string tied to the buckle. Fuck me, how much? I was hoping to buy two, but it looks like I’ll have to make do with one. I take it to the counter, and a young ghoul blinks at me before taking up a position by the till. His face and hair are pure white, like someone’s dipped him head-first in a tin of emulsion paint, and he’s wearing black lipstick. I get a sudden urge to punch him in the face, but I somehow manage to resist it.
“You want me to put it in a bag for you?” he says.
“Nah, I’ll wear it now.”
He picks up a pair of scissors and snips off the price tag, puts it in a black box next to the till. I pay him his extortionate amount of money and leave the shop.
I wonder if dad’s still in a mood while I make my way to the supermarket. He probably is, but if I get him some cans of Special Brew I’m sure he’ll cheer up after he drinks them. Either that or fall asleep in front of the TV, which is just as good for me. Fuck knows how he’ll react when I tell him I lost my job.
I collect a shopping trolley from outside the supermarket and push it through the door toward the drinks aisle. One of the wheels is wonky, it squeaks and pulls the trolley to one side. It takes a while to get the hang of pushing it in a straight line, I need to push it at a slight angle to compensate for the fucked up steering.
I pick up a four-pack of Special Brew and drop them into the trolley. Hopefully that will be enough because I blew most of my spare money on the wristband and I still need to re-stock the fridge.
I reach into a big coffin freezer for a bag of frozen chips. Dad likes the curly ones best, but there’s not many left and I need to bend right over to reach one of the few remaining bags at the bottom of the freezer.
“Hello Abigail.”
The voice makes me jump, and I nearly lose my balance and topple into the freezer. I push myself upright and spin around, grinning like a little kid.
“Mum!”
She’s smiling too, but the man who’s with her isn’t. I look at him and he looks away quickly and pretends to find something interesting among the tins of soup on the shelf opposite. He’s wearing a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows, and matching trousers. He looks like someone out of one of those fucking Country Life magazines for posh cunts, someone who likes to shoot small animals for fun, and I take an instant dislike to him.
Punk and Skinhead Novels Box Set Page 25
