‘We’ve had a lot to drink today, that last one sent me bandy!’ Nick confessed as he swallowed down an unappreciated burp escaping his overworked system; then they burst into a fit of laughter over nothing in particular.
‘Shall we get another?’ she slurred.
‘We can’t can we?’ he hiccupped.
‘Why the heck not?’ she struggled to say.
‘Because I can’t feel my cheeks!’ and he dabbed at his face, resulting in another bout of painful laughing. ‘Alright then, sod it! Let’s get a third!’ and he spun in his chair to shout at a waitress serving another table, ‘Oi! Garçon… two more, s’il vous plait!’
It was the first time Konrad had ever done anything risky and all his nerves were confidently buzzing. He strode into the lift and hit the ground-floor button with a casual flick of the wrist. While the doors closed he imagined himself approaching Anna like a triumphant warrior returning from battle and claiming her virtue as just prize. He was still smiling like a pubescent boy in the lingerie section of a department store when the doors jolted open and a surreal figure stood in front of him. His brief high spiralled into confusion – he’d never met this woman before but instantly recognised her. She joined him in the lift and positioned herself in the far corner with head down and baseball cap lowered. Konrad obliged in the mutual frostiness and pressed the ground-floor button, the doors closed and the lift jerked into action; shaking as it descended. They squeezed the little plastic ball in their hands and relaxed, glowing from their naughty achievement, and suddenly jumped at the piercing screech of twisting metal and violent shaking. The lift jolted to an abrupt stop, knocking them off balance, followed by darkness and brilliant silence; the emergency lighting flickered on as the ringing in their ears faded and they looked at each other for the first time – with pure fear in their eyes. Their instincts told them they were hanging by a thread, literally, and they clutched the sides of the elevator in desperate hope of keeping everything suspended in one piece. As their heavy-breathing dissipated all they could feel was stillness; they looked at each other again, somehow calling for the other to take action and elevate them from the scary situation. They thought the same thing at the same time; try the buttons. Nothing. It remained motionless and all outside eerily quiet. They searched their minds for the next step; call for help! The woman found clarity among the doubts stupefying her mind like a dazzling lightshow and spoke up.
‘Hi. Erm. Looks like we’re stuck. Do you mind if I borrow your phone?’ she said through a wry grimace; Konrad’s heart sank. He hung his head, sobbing slightly while mumbling profanity to himself. The woman was surprised by his odd reaction, ‘Only I’ve come out without mine.’ she elaborated, gesturing empty pockets to reinforce the point.
Konrad took out his phone and showed her its lifeless screen, ‘It’s dead. I was going to ask you the same thing.’
A large tattooed man in his mid-thirties turned to the grey dealer at the lift, ‘Think it’s out of order.’ he said hammering at the call button.
‘Probably.’ the dealer replied, ‘Always happen. Use the stairs.’ and he gestured further down the hallway and disappeared inside the apartment. He entered the living room and shouted to his young shaggy friend, bagging powder in front of a set of scales, ‘She was famous person before?’
‘Yeh man! She’s the one headlining the concert tonight!’
‘She good?’
‘Nah, she’s more for the kids!’ he joked and turned to his laptop, ‘Wanna hear?’ He put Corsica Coleman’s latest album into the playlist.
‘Not bad.’ The grey dealer said, bopping to the generic opener. The doorbell rang and he went to answer, ‘More loud.’ he called back to his colleague and jigged down the hall.
‘So that means?’
‘That’s right.’
She glowered like a frightened animal, ‘All what you just said?’
‘Yes.’
‘About us being screwed?’
‘I’m afraid so.’
‘Oh my god!’ she screamed, ‘We’re utterly screwed!’ and she gripped her cheeks and paced the small area like a demented chicken. ‘What are we gonna do?’ she said, eventually daring to look her elevator occupant in the eye.
‘In light of not being able to communicate with the outside world…’ Konrad began calmly, ‘I seriously suggest screaming our lungs out!’ and he unleashed an almighty howl from the depths of his lungs; unfortunately at the same time the shaggy dealer had honoured his friend’s request and cranked up Corsica Coleman’s Glitzee! album to maximum volume. The trapped pair hollered admirably for a full fifteen minutes but rather ironically their demented efforts were drowned out by the very music one of them had recently recorded.
‘How many?’ Nick said surprised.
‘Shut up! It’s different for women.’ Lucy defended.
‘So how do you get by?’
‘I hug trees mainly.’ she said innocently, circling the public bench he was sat on, nestled in the far corner of the large plaza under an old overhanging tree. She touched its leaves with her outstretched fingertips as Nick took a sip on his takeaway mojito.
‘Trees? And that works for you?’ he said admiring the stars beaming behind a creamy moonlit sky.
‘Well, yeh. A few stiff drinks before always helps!’
‘But what do you get out of it?’ he asked, confused but curious.
‘Well, they’re lovely are trees.’ she slurred and went to the base of the ageing tree occupying the corner of the plaza like a botanical wizard; she gave it a hearty hug, ‘That’s nice that is!’
‘Again… what do you get out of it?’
‘It’s energy isn’t it?’ she answered weakly.
‘Is it?’
‘Yeh! Everything is, isn’t it?’ she said puzzling herself and got caught in a mental loop. ‘Anyway, just try it!’ she beckoned Nick to the trunk.
‘Don’t be daft.’ he protested feebly and Lucy seized upon his hesitancy and grabbed his hand.
‘Come on.’ she hauled him to his drunken feet; he clenched the plastic cup trying to find balance and splattered mojito on his shoe. ‘Give it a good cuddle!’ she said as he got on one knee to wipe his shoe with his sleeve and spilled the rest of the drink on the floor.
‘Fine.’ he submitted and tentatively placed his arms around the broad trunk. Maybe it was the stirring night sky, maybe it was the excessive alcohol, maybe it was Lucy – possibly all three – but Nick thought he felt something. A glow, a vibration, a surge of energy, he wasn’t sure; but all evening electricity had been jumping between them and he’d been so caught in its pull that he hadn’t noticed until this moment. He looked around the plaza – from the row of trees obscuring the main road to the bars at the far side encircling a playground by the beach – and noticed how everything seemed more vivid: the colours of the floodlit trees, people chatting on terraces, children tiring themselves in the play area – everything. He could hear and feel the waves dissolve into the dark shoreline across the plaza as if his feet were in the water. He was utterly moved.
‘So?’ she pressed but Nick didn’t answer, he turned with a hazy grin and continued along the row of trees, hugging each trunk as he went. He arrived at the final tree situated outside a bar and slumped down at a table overlooking the beach and plaza.
‘I need a drink!’ he called to Lucy, still following his trail, and ordered dos cervezas from the passing waiter.
‘We shut now.’ he replied curtly.
‘Only one!’ Nick fired back with a glint in his eye. The waiter knew better than to argue with an Englishman in need of a drink at closing time and disappeared inside to pour two partially-filled beers, which he slammed on the table in double-quick time; he then marched off to eject a group attempting to sit at a recently-vacated table.
Lucy hugged the tree outside the bar and sat next to Nick, ‘That last tree’s got kind of a sexy vibe!’ she said as she edged her seat closer, ‘Or that could just be me right now!’ she ad
ded suggestively.
‘Who? Betsy?’
‘Betsy?’
‘Yeh.’
‘You’ve given the trees names?’
‘Most of them.’
‘Really?’ she said surprised, ‘What makes Betsy a girl?’
‘Her name for one thing!’
‘Oh, come on!’
‘I don’t know; she just feels female.’
‘Fair enough. What about the first tree we visited?’
‘Ah, he’s a feller!’
‘Is he now? And what do we call him?’
‘Albert.’
‘Albert?’
‘He seems kind of an old-timer, Albert’s a good traditional name.’ he said and she took his hand, smiling as she tenderly brushed back his hair.
‘I always knew you were lovely.’ she said staring into his eyes. Their hands tightened like coiling boa constrictors and their gaze intensified until all around faded to ash and they were in their own portal of space and time. She placed her head on his chest and squeezed his thigh; enveloping them in a tender electricity that any good poet could write volumes about. Not even the harrying waiter, sweeping around lingering clients and noisily stacking tables, could disturb their trance. The sweet sounds of Paolo Nutini resonated from inside the bar, a favourite of Nick’s, and he seized on the appreciated accompaniment by nuzzling Lucy’s neck until she raised her head from his chest; he put his lips close to hers and held as a pulsating energy built. While the music played in the background like a soundtrack for this exact moment their connection magnetized. They softly rubbed heads and asked each other a million questions until all telepathic reassuring seemed pointless and they could hold on no more. After countless ignored warnings from the tired waiter their lips touched and they submerged in their first kiss like an Olympic diver plunging sleekly into a pool. Reverberations may have been felt far into the solar system, they’d never know, but that was how it seemed. They separated and studied each other’s reaction; Lucy put her head into his chest and began to laugh.
‘I knew that third mojito was a mistake!’
He smiled, ‘Or not!’
‘Happy birthday, Nick.’ she said and grabbed his face to kiss him again.
‘Please!’ pleaded the waiter wearing a look of defeat, ‘I must close and go home.’ he put his hands together and begged them with the softest eyes he could muster, ‘Please!’
Nick and Lucy untangled limbs; ‘Of course.’ they said at the same time and paid with giggly grins. They staggered off arm in arm, allowing the spent waiter his right to put away the broom and go home to hug his fleecy pillow and/or loved one.
‘You know that I have to stay with you, I can’t go home now.’ she asserted as they walked the short distance to Nick’s hotel.
‘I know.’ he replied and gave her a knowing look; she tightened her grip on his arm. ‘I haven’t heard from Konrad so I presume he got lucky with his lookalike.’
‘Unlike us.’ she said, lovingly scanning every inch of his face, ‘No skinny Latin babe in front of you now!’
He swept back her auburn hair, ‘And no speccy mummy’s-boy in front of you either!’
‘I’m glad.’ she said and kissed him until the stars exploding behind his eyelids made him dizzy. Caught in the here and now Nick felt the universe align just for him; this was the feeling he’d been searching all this time and amazingly Lucy felt it too. Cynics would blame the mojitos, doubters would say it doesn’t exist but she knew what it was: Love. Unfortunately the man she’d fallen for was some time away from truly recognising the fact.
Chapter 10
Lift & Fall
Konrad sat in gloomy silence on the sticky floor of the confined elevator; muffled pop music filled the air from the drug den he’d only just visited. His lift companion regarded him as he twiddled with his lifeless phone, intentionally ignoring her.
‘What’s your name?’ she asked, tired of the tense hush.
‘Konrad.’
‘Hello Konrad.’ she said ploughing through the cold barrier between them, ‘I’m…’
‘I know who you are.’ he cut in, ‘Aren’t you supposed to be headlining a festival?’
‘Erm. Yeh.’ she answered uncertainly.
‘Oh, so there are people coming to get you?’ he asked leaning forwards with hopeful eyes. Corsica froze; she peered at him and nervously shook her head. His shoulders slumped, ‘You mean no one knows you’re here?’
‘I sneaked out.’ she admitted. ‘I’m supposed to be clean. I’m currently in re…’
‘I know!’ Konrad interrupted, slumping against the wall. ‘Fallen off the wagon have we?’ he added sarcastically.
She regarded the small package in her hand, ‘Not yet.’ Konrad scoffed and she stiffened, ‘Something funny?’ She drew another derisive snigger, ‘Do share.’ she pressed.
‘You lot make me laugh.’ he began after an internal discussion on whether to keep shtum or not, finally plumping for the latter, ‘You’re gifted the world on a plate simply because you’re good at shaking your arse in front of a camera then always throw it away!’
‘Sorry, have I done something to offend you?’
‘No.’
‘Sure? I know an attack when I hear one.’
‘Look, it’s nothing personal.’ he said softening to her calm approach, ‘It’s just that you represent an aspect of modern culture I happen to abhor.’
‘I see.’ she said moving back slightly.
‘You and your talentless, self-obsessed mates promote nothing but shallow values and perpetuate the concept of elitism and greed. Quite simply, I have no respect for anyone that gets on because of marketability over ability.’ he said and folded his arms. The distant blare of Corsica’s album accompanied the tension filling the air; they fell silent and her face furrowed as she listened to a few lines from the glossily-produced floor-filler playing.
‘You think I’m not aware?’ she said solemnly.
‘Aware of what?’
‘You think I don’t know what I am and where I fit in?’
‘I don’t know, do you?’
She looked away, ‘Yes.’ she said to a small paragraph of obscene graffiti daubed on the wall behind Konrad, ‘I do.’
‘Young, rich and successful, right?’
Corsica tiled her head to the ceiling and laughed, ‘Yeh, yeh! Sure, that’s how it seems. The truth is a little different…’ she said with a knowing look, ‘In my world everything’s as delicate as smoke – and disappears just as quickly!’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I made it as a musician because I was pretty enough – but I’m not musical. I made it as a model because I was pretty enough – but I can’t do anything other than novelty campaigns. I made it as a TV judge because I was pretty enough – but who I am to advise people who actually have talent?’ she said anticipating Konrad’s agreement; he was stunned.
‘Well… exactly!’
‘I know what to expect when I’m not hot enough anymore – a simple camera change to the next pretty thing willing to shake her arse to their tune.’
‘That is the formula.’
‘But staying young and pert has already become a 24 hour slog while the knives will well and truly be out after my non-appearance tonight!’
‘Oh please, a small festival in Tenerife won’t matter – you’re the nation’s favourite! Don’t beat yourself up about it.’
‘Konrad, the bubble’s about to burst – I always knew it would – and it’s been lingering a while if I’m honest.’ Corsica half-heartedly tried the lift button again and let out a tired sigh, ‘I should be coming on stage now.’ she said numbly. ‘Right now my entire team’s going berserk and ten thousand people are waiting for me… and I’m stuck in a lift with you!’
‘Thanks a bunch!’ he said; Corsica tilted her head sympathetically.
‘It’s not your fault.’ she quickly clarified, ‘I’m the idiot. For some reason I decided to bring it all crashing down no
w – at this very moment – and when word gets out it’ll be just what they’re looking for to bring in the new blood I know they want. Konrad, the dismantling of Corsica Coleman begins tomorrow, trust me.’
‘Don’t be daft! You’re still very much in the game, don’t worry about that.’
‘What’s left for me to do?’ she asked wide-eyed, ‘My new solo career is about to crash, as everyone knew it would. Can you even hear that crap?’ she said gesturing to the current saccharine-sweet song playing from her album, ‘So tacky I wanna vomit.’
Konrad appeared flummoxed, ‘I don’t know what to say…’
‘My telly career is about to hit the rocks.’ she interjected, ‘Audiences are growing tired of all my exposure, and when popularity goes so do all the ad campaigns and endorsements.’
‘What happens then?’ he asked, intrigued by the rags-to-riches-to-rags life-plan already mapped out for herself.
‘Reality game shows for faded celebrities and crappy reunion tours with Zesty I imagine!’
‘Yeh, I guess.’ he agreed, surprised by her pragmatic sincerity.
‘But who am I to turn my nose up at guest spots and gigging small venues? Decent career for most and it’s not like I know how to do anything else.’
‘Steady money I imagine.’
‘Unless I do something different; use what influence I have to go in a different direction. Use skills I’m actually good at and do something meaningful…’
‘Any thoughts?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Go on then.’
‘I dunno…’ she answered with a grimace that was a borderline gurn. ‘No! Sorry, I really can’t. What about you?’ she asked niftily switching the conversation, ‘You sound like a man with principals. What are you passionate about?’
Double Ex: A Romantic Comedy about Lost Love & Lookalikes Page 9