The big man with the small head dropped the weights he was holding and looked pointedly at Noah.
Noah swallowed. “I should never have come here. Goodbye, Josh. You will never see me again.”
Noah turned and headed back through to reception.
“Hold up!” Josh called, following him out. “I did not have Noah Grimes down for a quitter!” he said, just as Noah reached the main exit.
Noah stopped but didn’t turn around. He was not a quitter. He was a survivor, as tenacious and dedicated as Jessica Fletcher on a murder case.
But Noah guessed that Mrs Fletcher never had to do a burpee, and it was worth noting that she ended up fine; elderly gentlemen were constantly courting her.
“Come on, mate,” Josh cooed, edging towards a small table. “Come and sit down for a minute at least.”
Noah weighed it up for a moment, then turned and joined him at the table. Josh reached into his rucksack and pulled out a large plastic sports beaker containing what looked like milkshake.
“Look, maybe you need a little extra help,” Josh said, pushing the drink towards him.
Noah looked up with wide eyes. “Is this drugs?!” he said. “I’m not taking steroids!”
“Protein shake,” Josh explained. “It’s just a nice, big hit of protein.”
“To help build muscle?”
“Precisely. Now, what about the rest of your diet? What’s for dinner tonight, for example?”
Noah pursed his lips. “Hmm, well, it depends – maybe a pan-fried duck breast, potato rosti, with a port and plum jus.” One could always hope, after all.
“No. Grilled chicken breast and cottage cheese.”
“Well, that sounds … a bit plain.”
“Food is your fuel. It’s not about whether it tastes good. Try some of the shake.”
Noah indicated the sucky lid. “Have you…”
“I’ve not had any,” Josh smiled. “The lid’s clean.”
Noah nodded and took a sip of the protein shake, screwing his face up as he swallowed. “Horrible,” he muttered.
“Get it down you.”
“How much of this do I have to drink?”
“The whole thing. Three times a day. It’ll help bulk you up a bit. You up for it?”
“I don’t know. Is this… How much is this?”
Josh leaned in and lowered his voice. “Well, now, here’s the great thing. I’ve just become one of the sales reps for this protein shake and I’m making good money. Great money. I’m shifting fifty tubs of this baby a week, and that number’s only gonna go up. I can let you have a tub for free, Noah. Normal price: thirty quid.”
“Really?”
“Really.” Josh shrugged. “I’m rolling in it, thanks to this little sideline. Shame, really; there’s so much demand I can’t actually service all the customers who want it. If you know anyone who’s looking to make a bit of extra cash, push ’em my way, won’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Noah nodded. “So, er, what does it entail exactly?”
Josh shifted in a little closer. “OK, so, it’s so easy. The deal is, I recruit just two sales reps, who get their stock from me.”
“And those reps sell it door to door?”
“Well, they can. Or they can then recruit two sales reps each as well. Let’s say, just for the sake of argument, you, Noah, you became my rep.”
“OK, this is just an example, but OK,” Noah said.
“So, you recruit two more sales reps, who get their stock from you, and you get your stock from me. And so it goes on. Your reps recruit two more reps each, and the chain fans out like a … well, like a pyramid, I guess.”
Noah nodded. He wasn’t sure if Josh was deliberately trying to con him (quite possible), or whether Josh was just stupid (also possible), but this was quite obviously a pyramid scheme. As such, two outcomes were inevitable: (1) the business would eventually collapse because they always did, once there were insufficient people at the bottom to service those higher up; (2) various participants in the scheme would end up in prison for fraud.
“Know anyone who might be interested?” Josh said.
Noah sat back in the chair, stretched and yawned. “Sounds illegal to me, Josh.”
Josh tutted. “What you chatting about?”
“Josh, it’s a pyramid scheme. Google it! Google ‘pyramid scheme’ and see if you recognize the business structure.”
“Yeah?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah, Josh. You need to knock this on the head.”
“Well, guess what, dude?” Josh smiled. “I already Googled it. And what this company is, is multilevel network marketing. Sure, there’s a pyramid structure, but it’s all above board and totally legal.”
“Fine,” Noah sighed. “Good luck with your pyramid.”
“Not about luck. It’s about networking and positivity. People buying the dream. And you could be part of the dream, Noah.”
Noah got up. “Just remember, some pyramids have secret chambers, Josh. And some of those secret chambers have curses.”
Josh screwed his face up. “I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
Noah put his hands on his hips. “I’m just saying … beware. Beware, Josh!” And he whisked away towards the exit, disappearing in a dramatic swirl of— “Um, the door won’t open.”
“You gotta press the green button.”
“Green … button…” Noah said, trying to locate it.
“On the side! Left-hand side!”
Noah found it and gave it a press. The door slid open. “Beware!” Noah said, disappearing into the late afternoon gloom.
CHAPTER
THREE
Noah hurried towards his house, the cold biting at his naked little legs, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw what was parked on the driveway: a bright pink Ford Transit van with the words “Girlz on tour” painted on the side and fake eyelashes attached to the headlights.
What fresh hell was this?
He slammed the front door behind him, walked through to the lounge and froze. “Bambi Sugapops!” he said, recognizing her immediately.
“Hiya, Noah!” she cooed, coquettishly.
Noah took a deep breath but couldn’t stop the rise of panic in his chest, couldn’t stop the flashback playing in his brain. His thirteenth birthday party. His hopeful, boyish face as his mother announced a “surprise”. The promise of bowling, or a trip to Pizza Hut … and then in she comes.
Bambi Sugapops. The morally bankrupt stripper with the terrifyingly massive breasts that couldn’t possibly have been the result of natural development. She had gyrated in close proximity to Noah’s tear-stained face (an image that had been captured on camera, uploaded and become impossible to get rid of), whilst his mother clapped and cheered and said things like, “You’re thirteen now, you’re supposed to love stuff like this!”
He didn’t sleep for five whole nights afterwards – something his mother, rather appallingly, put down to nocturnal activities connected with Bambi’s erotic extravaganza. But she couldn’t have been more wrong. It was because of the trauma.
“Who’s a big boy now, then?” Bambi purred, giving him a little wink from where she was sitting on the sofa. She was a tall woman, black, quite broad, with great poise and elegance. If only she’d shown a bit more of that three years ago!
“I’m going upstairs,” Noah said.
“Noah,” his mum said, “manners, please! Haven’t you got anything to say?”
Noah glanced at his mother, sitting on the sofa in her bright pink velour tracksuit which had “Gold Digga” written across the arse. She stared back at him and cocked her head in a way that Noah knew meant she was serious. He sighed and looked at Bambi. “Hi, Bambi,” he muttered. “Nice to see you.”
“Ooh, he’s got a voice almost like a man now!” she said, pouting her bright purple lips a little.
“What do you mean, almost?” Noah said.
“And I’ve heard all about your new BF,” Bambi continued.
“Always said you were gay, honey!” Bambi said. “Didn’t we always say, Lisa?”
“Well, with a mother like me!” his mum snorted.
“Ooh, she knew all the gays back in the day, hun!” Bambi added, like this was some sort of achievement.
Noah nodded and gave a tight little smile. “Well, that’s brilliant.”
“Everyone used to come to our shows. Talk of the town, we were!” Bambi adjusted her fringe, her whole scalp seeming to shift.
Odd.
“Ooh, my poor feet!” Bambi continued, kicking her heels off. “Right! I’ve gotta get out of this gear!” And she stood up, all six feet of her, and pulled her hair off, revealing a shaved head underneath.
Noah stared, unblinking.
That tall, elegant woman with poise was suddenly a man in a dress and some rather excessive make-up.
Oh good God.
The outfit … the mention of “shows” … the “gay scene”… Bambi Sugapops wasn’t a stripper; she was a drag queen.
“How’s things with you, Noah?” his mum was saying. “Tell us all about your day!”
He stared wildly between his mother and Bambi, not wanting to give away his rather late revelation. How had he been so utterly clueless and stupid? Keep a poker face, he told himself. He couldn’t show any weakness or surprise. Do not provoke the drag queen. “Nothing to report.” He swallowed and attempted a smile. “I’m going to go up to my room now. Where’s Dad?”
“He’s popped out to book a table at the Indian,” his mum said. “It’s date night tomorrow!”
Even in the midst of his hurricane of horrified emotions, Noah felt a flash of irritation and ground his teeth. His dad had been AWOL for years. Noah had even been allowed to think he was dead! As a kid, all he’d wished was for his dad to come home. But now he had, Noah realized that his memories of this man were all some fantasy, possibly based on films like Finding Nemo, where fathers were heroic and actually cared about their kids. Gah! He couldn’t believe he’d once hoped for his parents to get back together! Why couldn’t they be like the parents of people from school, desperately attending marriage counselling whilst shouting, calling each other selfish and then packing bags, storming out, and spending the night in a Travelodge in order to make some dramatic point? God, his life could never be normal, could it? “You do know that restaurants accept bookings via phone and the internet these days?”
“He wants to secure a good table.” His mum smiled. “And you know when your father turns the charm on, he usually gets his way! Silver-tongued!” She emitted a cheeky little giggle that made Noah feel sick.
“Brian’s always been good with his tongue, or so you say,” Bambi said, winking at Noah’s mum.
Noah was literally about to explode into actual vomit. Oh-my-God.
“Hush!” his mother giggled. “Not in front of Noah!”
Noah snorted. “Not in front” of him? It had been perfectly fine for Noah to witness all manner of terrible things (e.g., her kissing Josh) up until a couple of months ago. Now, with his dad back, his mother had become some sort of manic 1950s-style housewife: doing housework, baking, and making regular contributions to Mumsnet.
Bambi passed a weary hand over her cheek. “Ugh, I really gotta take this slap off.”
“Mick had to leave Stoke-on-Trent in a rush,” his mother said to Noah.
“Who?”
“Me, babes,” Bambi said. “Call me Mick. Unless I got me hair on, in which case, I’m Bambi.”
Noah nodded. “Fine.”
“Not gonna lie, honey, I literally had to run for my life from a rehearsal just four hours ago,” Mick continued. “A turf war’s broken out on the Stoke drag scene. I’ve had a bit of trouble with this tired old has-been, aka my former business partner…”
Noah zoned out as Mick rambled on. What would be for dinner?
“Ditched me and Polly Esther, she has, and joined forces with this bitch who showed up last month, fresh from some shitty season in Las Vegas, or so she claims!”
Should he do as Josh suggested and consume vast amounts of dreary protein?
“Of course, she wants me to pay her back for what she claims is ‘her share’ of our tour van, but screw that!”
…He just fancied a nice slice of Battenberg cake, truth be told…
“I won’t play ball, so now she’s trying to force me out! Trying to snaffle all of Bambi’s best clients. There’s been threats.”
“Threats? And you came here?” Noah said, his disinterest shifting quickly to alarm.
“Someone dropped something through my letter box,” Mick said, eyes full of meaning.
“A letter?” Noah said.
“Max Factor foundation. Everyone knows I wouldn’t touch that shit. It’s them basically saying, ‘You’re cheap! Worthless! A Max-Factor-wearing slag!’ That’s what they’re saying.”
Noah nodded. “Awful.”
Noah’s mum nodded, solemnly. “So Mick’s going to be kipping here for a bit, just while he gets himself together.”
The blood drained from Noah’s face. “But my French exchange student is coming! Tomorrow!”
“I’ll be fine on the sofa, babes. Mickey ain’t grand!”
Not grand, but he refers to himself in the third person! “Mum!”
“Noah, Mick is practically family!”
“Mum!” Noah hissed. “I’ve met this person once before, under circumstances no one would describe as family friendly.”
“You mean your birthday party?” Mick smiled. “Tears of joy rolling down your face, as I recall, hun!”
“They were tears of pain and humiliation!” Noah snapped. He turned to his mum. “I can’t have a drag queen on the sofa – what will our guest think?”
Mick put his hands on his hips. “When did you become such a little puritan?”
“I’m not,” Noah said. “I’m merely wishing to make a good impression.”
“Stop being a sourpuss, Noah,” his mum chimed in. “Lighten up!”
Noah glared at her, tight-lipped and wide-eyed.
His mum held her hand up. “My house, my rules. Besides, Mick’s already got a trial gig lined up in London next weekend, so things are already looking up. And in the meantime, I’m sure your French boy will love it. They’re all into that Moulin Rouge stuff over there.”
“Oh, that’s right, just stereotype an entire nation!” Noah hissed.
“Anyone mind if I use the bathroom for twenty minutes? If I don’t get this slap off, Bambi’s gonna have the face of a zombie.”
“Noah? Do you need a wee before Mick uses the bathroom?”
Noah smarted. “Mum! I’m not five!”
“OK, fine.” His mum shrugged.
“Yes, I do,” Noah conceded. “I’ll be two minutes.” He glanced over at Mick. “Right, well, I shall see you later,” Noah said, stomping through to the kitchen, grabbing a peach yoghurt from the fridge because he was sodding starving, and swiftly exiting again up the stairs.
“You bet, hun!” Mick shouted after him. “We’ve so much catching up to do! And I want to know all about your love life! Sounds like you’ve bagged yourself a right hunk. You go, gurl!”
“Fucking nutter,” Noah muttered to himself as he snapped his shorts back up, splashed some water over his hands and dried them on his bare legs. He paced across the landing and pushed his bedroom door open. “ARGH!”
“All right, Noah?” said Harry, looking up from Noah’s bed, where he was lying down, apparently having a snooze.
“How did you get in?”
“Your mum?” Harry said, sitting up against the pillows, rubbing his eyes, his blond hair sticking up in tufts. “Why are you in your PE kit?”
Noah blinked at him. “Look, I haven’t had an accident.”
“No,” Harry said. “Good.”
Noah nodded, tore the lid off his yoghurt and put it on his bedside table. Just act normal! he told himself. Harry must not
suspect you’ve visited a gym – it might draw your lack of muscle tone to his attention! “So, it’s a nice day. How are you? I’m fine,” Noah said, dipping his spoon in the pot.
“Why are you in your PE kit?”
Noah blew out a breath. “Mum … forgot to wash my clothes. I didn’t have any clothes. It’s winter, and I had to go out like this. Criminal. Heartless old witch.”
Noah followed Harry’s glance as he looked across at the pile of freshly laundered and neatly folded clothes on top of Noah’s chest of drawers. He took a breath, and then had another mouthful of yoghurt, because he really wasn’t sure what else to say about that. Noah turned back, to see the yoghurt lid on his bedside table had been licked clean. His eyes widened at a patently guilty Harry, who had a bit of yoghurt on his top lip. “Um … Harry? Have you just eaten my lid yoghurt?”
Harry stared at him for a moment. “I thought you didn’t want it.”
“Didn’t want it? Haz, everyone knows the lid yoghurt is the best bit of the whole yoghurt. I was saving it till last! It’s the creamiest part, why wouldn’t I want it?”
“Um,” Harry said. “Oh, right. Well … sorry?”
Noah considered him a moment. He supposed this was one of those times – you know, when you had to forgive the person you loved, because sometimes people you loved did silly things, but you had to say, “That’s fine, it’s OK, you ate my lid yoghurt but I will forgive you.”
“That’s fine, I will forgive you,” Noah said. “Although if you do it again I will literally commit some form of violence on you.”
“Ha ha!” Harry chuckled.
Noah wasn’t joking.
“Cool.” Harry patted the bit of bed next to him and smiled. “Come here, then.”
Noah put the yoghurt down, scooted over and plopped himself down next to Harry.
Harry put his hands on Noah’s hips, leaned in, and gave him a peck on the lips. A small act, but Harry, so close, so intimate, still made Noah catch his breath, even now, even after quite a bit of kissing over the last few weeks.
Noah Could Never Page 2