Some Like it Hot

by Amanda Brobyn

  Kath lifted the handset from the carpet, pressing a key to see who had called last. She redialled the unrecognisable number of the last caller.

  “James?”

  Kath knew the voice. It sounded just like Elizabeth and she wanted nothing more than to slam the telephone down. But she knew she couldn’t.

  “It’s Kath actually.”

  “Kath, it’s Sandra . . . I’m so glad you called back. I’ve been worried sick about our James. How is he?”

  Kath watched as James forced himself up. He shuffled to the kitchen like an old man. She heard the flick of the kettle as it was switched on. It chugged immediately, hissing angrily in the background.

  “How is he now or how has he been for the past twenty-odd years?”

  “It’s been a long time . . . I know that.”

  “What’s going on, Sandra?”

  “I’m sorry, Kath, I really am so very very sorry . . . but . . . it appears . . . erm, Mum has banned James from her funeral. I’m so sorry, Kath, it’s as much a suprise to us as it is to you. . . but he still wants to go . . . only we have to abide by her wishes.” She hesitated. “Do you understand?”

  The same rage which devoured her twenty-five years ago erupted, spilling deadly lava through her veins.

  “Understand?“ Kath could neither see nor hear anything. “That bitch that you call a mother has banned her own son from her funeral and you want me to understand? I’ll tell you what I understand . . . I understand that she gave up her only son on account of me, sacrificing seeing our beautiful sons . . . her grandchildren . . . stopping you and Rebecca from seeing your own brother.” Kath failed to see Jason’s reflection through the porch glass. He was listening to every word. “Our kids have grown up with no cousins, wondering what the bloody hell they have done wrong and why they’re different from their other friends. They had a grandmother who never saw them . . . we’ve had no family to support us for twenty-five years and that poor man who is . . .” her voice broke, “who is practically . . . an angel from heaven . . . has now been banned from paying his final respects and putting closure on that evil witch. The only thing I understand, Sandra, is that I want to dance on her fucking grave!”

  Jason felt it was safer to remain at the other side of the door but he knew that his parents needed him. As he left the confinements of the porch, he watched his father walk from the kitchen where he stopped, shoulder to shoulder with him, both of them watching as Kath slammed down the phone so hard that it smashed, sending pieces of grey plastic flying through the air.

  James’ face had hardened and Kath knew she had said too much but she’d held it in for so long that she’d taken the final blow and what was done was done. She couldn’t take it back.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, the realisation of her venom stinging the air. “I didn’t mean to say those things, Jim . . . I was . . . am so angry. I still cannot for the life of me understand how you can go and pay your respects to someone you didn’t respect when she was alive.”

  Kath was furious and, much as she tried to hold back her views, right now it was impossible. She was fuelled and ready for a fight. Just not with her husband. She was fighting for him, for his acceptance by the rest of his family and for him to see that he should not go where he clearly was not wanted. She loved him too much to stand back and watch him make a fool out of himself.

  “That’s my mother, Kath. You shouldn’t talk about her like that – it’s not fair.”

  “How can you be so bloody sentimental, Jim? Stop and look at what she’s done to you . . .” Kath laughed a hard, bitter laugh. “You know what, Jim? She’s dead and she’s still doing it to you. Let it go. It’s over now!”

  She brushed past him, taking the stairs two by two. Kath had never known herself to be so insensitive, certainly not concerning such a delicate subject. But she failed to see his point. The woman was dead and yet she still had that hold on him. That noose wrapped tightly around his neck. It was time for them all to let go.

  Downstairs Jason flung his arms around his father, squeezing him tightly. He had never felt such a need to hold him until the moment he heard the breaking news spill from his mother’s lips through the frosted-glass panes.

  Jason released his embrace.

  “They’re dropping the charges, Dad. I thought you and Mum might like to know.”

  James could do nothing but nod. He could find no pleasure, no hope and not an iota of mirth in any part of his body.

  Jason saw as clear as day the emptiness which had excavated his father as his spirit died before his young eyes.

  He turned to go, planting a jovial thump on James’ back. There was no reaction.

  As Jason took long strides into the outside world where life for everyone else continued as normal, he muttered to himself, “She’ll pay for this.”

  “What the fuck did you tell him for, Helena? The guy was a loser from the start and yet you tell him the biggest secret of my life!”

  Helena started to cry. When Nathan threatened her with texts warning of his potential outburst, it had never crossed her mind that he would actually carry them out. Nathan was spineless. He lacked courage and the conviction to be bold or daring. He certainly didn’t fit the bill of graffiti artist and all round slanderer. But it had to be him. He had practically confessed before he’d even done it.

  “I only told him, Soph, I swear. But I never told him anything else . . . ever . . . I swear on my life, Sophie. We were drunk one night and I let slip about your wedding. I tried to tell him I’d made a mistake but he was having none of it. He badgered me for weeks afterwards until I came clean about it. It wasn’t my fault. He bullied it out of me like only he could.”

  Sophie switched sofas and parked herself next to Helena. Yes, she’d had the shock of her life and she had felt herself and her pride stripped to its core until the physical effects took hold and she felt numb, but it wasn’t really Helena’s fault and she had to accept this. It was his fault. Ricky’s. Not Nathan’s.

  “Okay, okay.” Sophie rubbed her back as she continued to cry.

  "I've ruined everything for you, haven't I?" said Helena.

  Sophie handed her a tissue. “No, you haven’t. Don’t think that. Thankfully only three of us have seen it, I think. Oh and that wanker of an ex-boyfriend of yours but I think we might have got away with it.” Sophie stared out of the glass doors into the clear blue skies dotted with a splattering of white cloud. “But I need to come clean to the girls. Don’t you think? Here’s me preaching to everyone about sharing our innermost secrets with the club and yet I’ve been keeping the biggest secret of my life for heaven only knows how long.”

  Sophie leaned against Helena, hugging her tightly.

  “Well, no more, Hel. It’s time to face the music and it may well be a good thing that’s happened. It’s forced me into dealing with it.”

  Helena nodded. She had confessed to Sophie, shown her the threatening texts from Nathan and yet somehow she was fast becoming the hero in this unusual set of events. Sophie was a true friend forgiving her so soon.

  Karl took the stairs two at a time, keeping his hands away from the filthy, greasy handrail which was nothing short of contaminated. The once-white communal walls were scuffed with careless scores and the paint had flaked off where the damp, high walls joined the ceiling. The ancient carpet stank of urine and Karl lifted the rolled neck of his John Smedley jumper above his nose and mouth to keep out the germs.

  He knocked on the door.

  As the door was pulled back Karl let rip with a right hook which smashed against Nathan’s nose. A crunch echoed and blood splurted from each nostril.

  Nathan shrieked, clutching his nose as the blood leaked through his clenched fists. But he could not retaliate, the pain was too immense.

  Karl grabbed the collars of Nathan’s unironed shirt, ignoring the blood which dripped on his own immaculate hands.

  “Try it again and I swear I will kill you.” He released his grip, wiping the
blood with a tissue pulled from the pocket of his faded jeans. “Understand?”

  Nathan nodded. His eyes spoke fear of the man who stood before him. “I think you broke my nose,” he said, muffled.

  Karl smiled a warm, charming smile. “And next time it will be both of your legs I break if you pull a stunt like that again.”

  As he sped down the grotty stairwell, Karl grinned to himself.

  Nathan would never tell. He was too spineless. Plus there were no witnesses so it was Nathan’s word against his. Karl had never struck a man in his life and he didn’t intend to again, but this needed to be done. From what he had heard about Nathan, he was a man on whom subtleties were wasted, useless with his self-absorbed nature.

  Nathan Breem needed a man to sort him out. He had bullied women his whole life, it appeared, and Karl had waited for Nathan to strike him back – only he didn’t – but he guessed if he were a girl things might well have been different.

  Sophie had been right about him all along. He was a loser and Karl could not for the life of him see how Helena, bright and intelligent, had stayed with him, shared a bed with him for so long.

  A lot had changed over the past month, Karl considered. Helena now had her own money, sharing a luxury flat with her best friend. Jude had a job which had seemingly revived her. Roni’s make-over had transformed not just her but her zest for life and Kath, well, her life was there for the taking. She wasn’t the bitter twisted woman lying rotting in a box.

  Roni dared to take a sideways glance at her reflection, willing a vision of hour-glass beauty to reflect back, but all she saw was an ageing woman. A once was, not an is in terms of her current physical state involving both face and body.

  How could it be then that Darren had kissed her? A young, athletic man who could undoubtedly take his pick of younger women with perfect bodies and pert breasts. Roni was sure he had returned her kiss out of sympathy in a brave attempt to remove the stupidity she had painted all over her face when she kissed his chin. But the fact of the matter remained. He had kissed her back. A long, hard kiss smack bang on her lips and in between them and she had kissed him right back too. Her lips, which had spilled many a cruel word to many a person, were quiet for no more than a few moments, but it was long enough to leave Roni wanting more.

  She had prepared herself for this week’s lesson. She had also learned a lesson and that was to arrange it before and not after the Curry Club event which was the highlight of her week – that was until Darren Ford came into her life – he had fast become her highlight. The perfect distraction for a woman on the verge of hormonal imbalance.

  Sophie arrived at work earlier than normal. She couldn’t sleep and, although she was exhausted, the noise in her head wouldn’t stop so she chose to extricate herself from the duvet, heading into work for the perfect distraction.

  Yesterday had been one of the worst days of her life. Her stomach had twisted and turned until she was physically ill and the back of her throat continued to burn each time she swallowed. She had not felt so bad since that day she lazily stretched out her hand to be met with a cold, empty pillow, followed by the touch of crisp paper carrying words which Sophie knew would change her life forever.

  Not only had she not forgiven him, she had not forgiven herself for the blinding love she carried for him and the blinkered stupidity at failing to notice the signs. Looking back, it all made sense. They fought over the hair-straighteners. He borrowed her clear mascara, and Sophie struggled to get a look-in when it came to the pokey bathroom they shared. Ricky was a clotheshorse. He was immaculately tailored, perfect in every way with manicured nails, bleached white teeth, blonde-tinted hair and a permanent out-of-a-bottle tan. In hindsight, they must have looked more like brother and sister than husband and wife – short-lived as it was.

  Sophie locked the salon door, leaving the keys in the inside lock, flinging her handbag on the steel counter of the reception desk.

  The salon was impeccable and Sophie knew that Karl must have stayed behind for hours last night bleaching the sinks, cleaning the brushes and polishing the glass mirrors until they shone so furiously they could have landed a fleet of jets. Her heart thawed a little as she thought of his concerned face and his warm hand stroking her back. She knew she was lucky to have him. More importantly, Sophie knew that he could be trusted not to leak her past failures into the present day.

  In the kitchen, she grabbed a cafetiere from the single white unit below the stainless-steel sink and scooped richly scented ground coffee into it. She added an extra scoop for good measure, in urgent need of a caffeine fix. As she rolled down the foil packaging, taping it down to keep in the freshness, she heard a loud bang.

  Sophie walked casually and unhurried to the front of the shop. She couldn’t rush today. Her body carried no fuel and her mind carried nothing other than what was in front of her that very second.

  Karl mouthed through the glass to her: “Your keys are in the door. I can’t get in, you eejit!”

  His muffled tones amused her and Sophie managed a smile as he continued to force his keys against hers in battle. It didn’t work. She’d tried it once before when Karl had left his keys stuck in the lock. Only that day, as she stood in the frozen temperatures banging away at the door and ringing the salon telephone, Karl was oblivious to all but Keane as his MP3 player belted in his ears. Sophie had not been a happy boss until lunch time.

  She turned the key, pulling back the door to let him in, feeling weak with the exertion but strong enough to force a smile upon the flawlessly pale skin of her right-hand man. His jet-black hair made it seem even paler.

  “What are you doing here, Karl?”

  Karl pulled his beanie further onto his head as he shivered. His dark-angled fringe was swept to one side just above his eye-line and razored ends stuck out from the bottom of the hat.

  “I work here.”

  The corners of Sophie’s mouth turned up.

  “I know that. I mean what are you doing here so early?”

  Karl winked at her, his grey eyes filled with smoky humour. “Well, I was woken up at some ungodly hour yesterday and it seems my body clock is firmly stuck in middle of the night mode. I’m no longer running in Greenwich Mean Time.”

  “Half past seven is hardly ungodly!”

  He whipped off the khaki army jacket which he had bought at the charity shop, fixing his black cardigan, pulling it over his black jeans. Black clothing was compulsory and Sophie had no issues concerning what her staff wore – within reason – as long as the colours were in sync, so black it was.

  As Karl altered his appearance in the round mirror of his own styling unit, he saw Sophie watching him. Her face carried a look of repulsion and he could read her thoughts through the repugnance of her disturbed expression. He absorbed her train of thought and Karl knew it was time to put her straight.

  He turned to her as she leaned against the reception counter like it was propping her up.

  It was.

  “Sophie. You know I’m not gay, don’t you?”

  Sophie snapped. “I don’t really care, Karl. It’s your business.”

  “But you do care, Sophie, because you’ve made so many references to my campness over the years, haven’t you? Not to mention digs concerning what you think are my sexual preferences . . . and it’s time I set the record straight.”

  Sophie jolted forward to leave. She didn’t want to listen but Karl paced forward, standing right in front of her, blocking the way to all roads but him. He took hold of her hand, capturing her mesmerising sea-blue eyes in his. Tired as she was, Sophie Kane was a vision of absolute beauty even without sleep and without makeup and Karl was one of the few who knew the virtues she kept hidden from sight. Inside she was kind to a fault, considerate and generous, yet she chose to mask her best attributes with attitudinal bravado.

  “Sophie, it all makes sense to me now. All those off-the-cuff remarks, the sly digs . . . your incessant one-night stands and your bizarre choice to use men
at your sexual disposal,” he told her quietly, noticing how she flinched at the emphasis of the word sexual. “Everything I have heard you say or do over the years has been nothing more than you trying to regain control because of what happened. It’s been you, Sophie Kane, versus the males of this world, fighting your very own anti-bloke crusade. Punishing them all for what happened to you.”

  Sophie pushed against Karl. She didn’t want to hear this, but he forced her to listen.

  “Stay, please. Hear me out.” He held her shoulders firmly. “It wasn’t your fault, Sophie. Of course it’s horrendous what happened, but you were both young and it was a long time ago. You need to write off the experience once and for all because all you’re doing is punishing yourself by not letting anyone else get close to you.”

  “Like you, you mean?” Sophie replied bitterly.

  Karl knew she would bite back and he expected it. “No, not like me, Sophie, like anyone. What happened to you must have been heartbreaking, but . . . but not every male hairdresser is gay.” Karl laughed at the absurdity of her logic, even though it made sense to him now that he knew of her past. “Okay, some of my friends are and I am happy to hang out the odd time and do the gay scene with them, but that’s because I’m their friend and I am in no position to judge them. Plus they do the straight scene with me, Soph.” He pulled her towards him, holding her tightly and she sank into his chest. “It’s give and take just like any other friendship . . . any other relationship . . . but I’m not gay . . . and I should know!” He laughed with frustration.

  Karl felt her feeble attempts to laugh back as her warm breath exhaled against his freshly shaved jawline. She would come around fast. He knew it. She was making amazing progress already. Sophie Kane always bounced back no matter what shit was thrown at her.

  “How come you haven’t had a girlfriend since I’ve known you then?”

  Karl hesitated, then said, “I guess I’m waiting for Ms Right to come along and sweep me off my feet.”