Oh my God. No. This was how it happened! This was how people got sucked into a vortex of criminality after just one simple mistake!
But, Noah considered, if it were between prison and Jack being pushed down a stairwell, well—
“Look!” Harry said, tugging at Noah’s arm and pointing at the Harry Potter signage at the front of the Palace Theatre as the matinee crowd spilled over the street. “Aw, we should have tried to get tickets.”
“Next time,” Noah said, as they pushed through the teeming crowd and up Shaftsbury Avenue. Assuming I’m not in a youth offenders’ institution.
His feet ached; it was taking years to get to the club, but truthfully, Noah didn’t mind. Up ahead, on the right-hand side of the street, Noah could see theatre after theatre, all with signs illuminated by hundreds of little bulbs, twinkling, enticing you in. To his left, Chinese lanterns were hung across the side streets, heralding the start of Chinatown, and as they swung a right into Soho, so many little boutiques and cafés and shops, selling so many weird and obscure things, Noah had to wonder how they turned a profit. One place had tubes of colourful, bubbling liquid in the window – apparently it was some sort of tea. Another sold crisps. Just crisps. Albeit in very fancy boxes with dips, but still.
“Finally, the UK has some life!” Pierre said as two guys walked by, holding hands, with no one staring at them.
Pierre was right, and Noah didn’t feel like defending Little Fobbing right now. He felt a million miles away from there. Here, he felt lost in the swirling mass, anonymous amongst the thousands; you could disappear here, do what you liked, and no one would know and no one would care.
They stopped outside a shop on Old Compton Street, and Noah turned to look in through the window, coming face-to-face with the sizeable crotch of a male mannequin, trussed up in leather straps with metal studs. “Oh, my!” Noah muttered, feeling his cheeks flush. Oh God. Was this the standard garb for gay guys now?
“Hot,” Pierre whispered in Noah’s ear as he peered over his shoulder.
“Huh,” Noah said. “Impractical, you mean. What if you require lavatory facilities? You’d need a pair of secateurs and a hacksaw to get that lot off.”
“Listen,” Pierre sighed. “After that thing with Harry this afternoon, I think it best that I don’t stay in the same room as you tonight. I will get my own room. I give you some space. Plus…” Pierre gave Noah a little wink. “We’re going to the club tonight, and I’m hoping to maybe get lucky, right?”
This might have been the outcome Noah had been hoping for, but since he couldn’t even get a boner any more, it all seemed rather academic now. “Oh right,” Noah said. “Um … have you the money for that?”
“I put it on my dad’s Amex.” Pierre shrugged.
Noah blew out a breath. His dad’s Amex! Very nice too! “Well, if you’re sure.”
“Too good a chance to waste, Noah, huh?” Pierre grinned.
Noah gave a weak smile. He had a definite feeling his chance tonight would end up being very much wasted.
“Right, girls!” Bambi hollered. Noah supposed she was talking to them. It seemed that once they’d entered Soho, Bambi had become even more camp and ridiculous – gaining power like a droid returning to its mother ship to recharge. “Here’s some flyers for you all,” she said, shoving a pile into each of their hands. “Bambi’s off to do a sound check, so she’s relying on you to get the punters in. Be at the club by eight and I’ll let you in the back entrance – oo-er!”
“We won’t let you down, Bambi,” Harry smiled.
“Thanks, girls!”
“We’re boys,” Noah told her.
But she had already swept off into the crowd. Noah sighed, glanced at the flyers and screwed his face up. “Really?” he muttered, reading down the leaflet and tutting. “Sloppy. Thirty gsm paper stock? This just won’t do.”
“Shall we crack on?” Harry said.
Noah whipped a pen out of his small leather satchel. “Make a start,” Noah said. “I’m just going to correct a few copy errors for them – feel like I should earn my keep, and they’ll be grateful for this.”
“Okaaay,” Harry said. He sighed and looked at Pierre. “Come on, then.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“You forgive me?” Pierre said.
“Yes, I forgive you.”
Pierre smiled and bounced into the road, which was so full of people no cars could get down it anyway. “Come and receive a flyer, boys!” Pierre called out.
Noah shook his head and seated himself at a small table outside a café, pen in hand, and set to work on the leaflet, his corrections in brackets:
Jason Fuchs Presents (That’s really your surname, is it? OK, cool.)
GAY BOYZ (The plural of boy should be spelt with an “s” – is this deliberate? If so, WHY?)
Soho’s BEST LGBT night! (Says who? Could this fall foul of advertising standards?)
DJ Ham (Maybe drop the meat reference and go for something more edgy, like “DJ Cool” or “DJ Ace”?) drops SINFUL BEATZ! (See note about re: plural usage – also, how can a “beat” be “sinful”? Bit confusing. Maybe phrase it like “DJ Cool plays brill tunes” or something?)
HOSTED BY THE GAY-LARIOUS BAMBI SUGAPOPS! (OK, so “gay-larious” obviously isn’t a real word. Seems too close to “garrulous”? I would just scrap this bit tbh, and maybe just put “A ‘ funny’ drag queen will be here too”, with quotes around the word “funny” because you don’t want to raise people’s hopes.)
He would give this directly to the club’s promoter when they arrived later. This might be London, and it might all be very hip, but they’d forgotten about the one thing that was always en vogue: good grammar.
Noah stood up. Right, then. He took a deep breath. If you were going to do a job, you should do it properly, with enthusiasm and passion.
“ROLL UP! ROLL UP!” Noah shouted. “COME AND GET A FLYER FOR A BIG GAY DISCO!”
For once, nobody mocked him. A couple of guys laughed, but in a kind sort of way, and came to get a flyer. Nobody pointed at him or made a snide little comment to their mate. It was like Noah was amongst friends.
“How old are you?” said a guy, maybe in his late twenties, who came up to him.
“Sixteen, sir.”
The guy sucked in a breath. “Jailbait.”
“I’m just a boy from the country, sir,” Noah said, batting his eyelashes and handing the man a flyer. “And it is prison, just FYI, not jail, for we are not in America.”
The guy ruffled Noah’s hair. “Cute.” And he gave Noah a hug before slipping back off into the crowd.
Two older guys, who looked so identical they could be twins, both with beards and leather jackets, came over to him and took a flyer. “Is this tonight?” Man with Beard One asked.
“Yes, indeed!” Noah grinned. “A drag queen will be there. Have you seen a drag queen before?”
Man with Beard Two chuckled. “You ever seen a drag queen, Jim?”
Jim screwed his face up. “Ah, I’m trying to remember…”
“OK, sorry, I get it,” Noah said.
Jim smiled warmly at him. “Don’t ever change.”
“What do you mean?” Noah said.
“Just that. You’re sweet.”
And they clasped hands and went on their way. “Might see you later!” Jim called back as another guy walked by, pointed at Noah and said, “I LOVE GUYS IN GLASSES!”
“Mild astigmatism,” Noah confided.
“Sexy!” he shouted, walking on.
Noah shrugged. Maybe the guy was drunk. Or high. Maybe both.
“You’re popular,” Harry commented, coming over.
“Everyone seems nice and friendly,” Noah agreed.
“Hugging various guys…”
Noah smiled. “Would you like a hug, Harry?”
“I was maybe feeling a bit jealous.” Harry shrugged.
“Come here then, Haz,” Noah said, wrapping his arms around Harry and pressin
g himself into him. He immediately recoiled. “Shit. Shit! Shit, shit, shit!”
“What is it?”
Noah flapped about, patting the empty inside pocket of his coat. “I’ve been pickpocketed! My wallet’s gone! Argh! It was that guy! That guy who hugged me! He must have made off with my wallet! Where is he?!”
Harry looked about as Noah spun this way and that, looking through the thick crowd. “I think he’s gone, Noah.”
“Oh God, think, think, what do I need to do? Cancel my library card! Who knows what that ruffian will do with it! What else?” Noah gasped. “My Superdrug loyalty card! Oh no! I’d built up at least two pounds fifty on there! Damn that cutpurse! Damn him and his wicked ways!” Noah pulled his mobile out and passed it to Harry. “Tell the library what’s happened and ask them to cancel my card. I need to find a police officer!”
He bungled the phone into Harry’s hands and looked about for anyone in the crowd in an appropriate uniform. Harry dutifully looked up the Little Fobbing Library website and pressed on the phone link.
“Er, hello?” Harry said. “Um … I’m phoning on behalf of Noah Grimes… He, er … he’s had his wallet stolen, you see—”
“By a CUTPURSE!”
“Yes, by a cutpurse, and needs you to cancel his library card… Well, I think he’s worried someone might try to borrow books with it, you know?” Harry listened whilst the librarian spoke to him.
Noah jumped up wildly, trying to see over the crowd. But alas, there were no lawmen in sight.
“OK, that’s great,” Harry said at last. “Oh? Oh yes? Oh, OK… I’ll let him know… It’s called what?!” Harry looked aghast at Noah, who just held his hands out – what’s the matter?!
Harry handed Noah his phone back. “Everything fine?” Noah asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“You seem weird.”
“Nope.”
“Huh. Good. I haven’t been able to find a police officer.”
“Your book’s arrived.”
Noah nodded. “Right. What book?”
Harry swallowed. “The Joy of Gay Sex – Junior Edition.”
Noah blinked at him.
Harry looked back at him, open-mouthed.
“My mother!” Noah squealed. “She did this! It’s probably all part of her crazy attempt to be a ‘good parent’! The no-good CRONE! Argh! I promise you, Harry, I did not order that book from the library!”
“That’s fine,” Harry said.
“Arghhhh! It’s NOT FINE! DAMN HER! Arghhhh! MOTHER!” he screamed. “She actually thinks I want to have this discussion with her! She can’t find time to get herself a proper job but she can find time to make my life HELL on a regular basis!” He took Harry by the hands. “I have no interest in The Joy of Gay Sex,” he told him. “I do solemnly swear that to you.”
“No interest?” Harry smirked.
“Mmm … mm… I mean… Oh God…”
Harry hugged him and kissed him on the lips. “Let’s find a police officer – can you give a description?”
Noah was about to answer that, yes, of course he could, but his phone started ringing. “An unknown number!” Noah announced, holding it to his ear. “Noah Grimes speaking, who is this, please?”
“Grimes!” Ms O’Malley snarled down the phone. “It has come to my attention that you have fled Little Fobbing with two exchange students in what amounts to an unauthorized absence! Where are you?”
“Where?” Noah asked, his brain spinning. “We’re … we’re, no it’s fine, I’m sure the school would fully approve, because we’re actually just on a luxury weekend coach trip to ‘the enchanting Cotswolds’.”
There was a silence on the other end of the line. “Right,” she said, and hung up.
What did that mean? Did it mean she believed him?
“Noah?” Harry was looking at him expectantly.
“Hello, Harry, everything’s fine, no problems.”
“I’m not even going to ask,” Harry said.
Noah nodded. Was that a hint of irritation in Harry’s voice? A little feeling of exhaustion with the constant drama bubbling through? Oh God, was that what Harry thought of Noah? That he was high maintenance and annoying?
Maybe he was! And that certainly wasn’t on most people’s lists of “qualities to look for in a partner”.
Light and happy! He had to keep everything light and happy! After this whole diamonds escapade with his dad and Eric (that wasn’t even over yet), Noah’s pathetic insecurities, and now all the shit he had told Harry in the car park – who could blame Harry for just wanting a nice, normal life, with a nice, normal boyfriend, not a FREAK who always attracted DRAMA and CHAOS.
Light and happy. Light and happy.
“Haz, let’s get rid of the rest of these flyers, go back to the hotel, get our glad rags on, and head out for a lovely, relaxed evening in a gay club.”
Harry looked doubtful. “What about whoever was on the phone?”
‘Screw ’em.”
“And where’s Eva?”
“She’ll turn up!” Noah shrugged.
“The goose?”
“…will poop when the time is right.”
“And what about your stolen wallet?”
Noah released a breath. “The wallet’s gone to a new home – maybe a better home, who knows? Anyway, it’s just a thing, Haz. Things don’t matter – people do. The wallet may have gone, but you haven’t.”
He didn’t know quite where that had come from. He’d managed to dredge up some actually quite good words from deep within his brain somewhere. He hoped it wasn’t a popular social media meme that he’d just plagiarized – he didn’t want to seem insincere.
“That’s sweet,” Harry said, taking Noah’s hand.
“Mmm, yes,” Noah said. “Um, although actually, can you lend me, like, maybe twenty pounds? I need to get a couple of things from the shop.”
“What sort of things?”
“For tonight!” Noah winked.
Harry’s eyes widened. “Twenty pounds’ worth?”
“Special night, right?” Noah smiled, hoping to hell it would be.
Harry blew out a breath and handed Noah two tens. “Special night,” he agreed.
CHAPTER
FORTY
The bass vibrated through Noah’s very soul.
He’d only ever been to a school disco before, featuring six portable disco lights and what amounted to a Fisher-Price “My First MP3 Player” as a sound system. Mr Baxter usually DJ’d, and the food technology department provided non-alcoholic punch and a buffet of sausage rolls and sandwiches.
But this place, this place, was real big-boy stuff. Noah had never seen so many insanely beautiful people in one room, rammed together, and apparently having the most orgasmically epic time of their lives. He’d never seen an entire rig of moving lights like they had in this place – not outside of a theatre anyway. And the banks of speakers! Like it was huge gig at Wembley Stadium or something and the glitter balls and the confetti cannons and the—
“I go to bar and get us all drinks,” Pierre said. “My surprise!” He pushed his way through the sweaty crowd, looking like some sort of homosexual angel in his tight white jeans, tight white shirt and white trainers. It was all fun and games wearing all white, Noah considered, until someone spilled a Coke over you, or you accidentally sat in some ketchup. Noah’s combination of his black-and-white-striped top and black chinos might have had the accidental effect of making him look like a mime, but he could at least be assured the outfit would wear well.
Noah squinted through the stage smoke and shafts of coloured lights, aware that Harry was speaking words at him that were totally lost under the remix of ABBA’s “Dancing Queen”, which was currently being pumped out at ear-shattering volume. Of course, Harry had got his outfit totally right. Floral-print T-shirt, jeans and Converse – cool, fun, and … aww, he looked really cute, anyway.
“Right?!” Harry said, grinning at Noah.
“Right!”
Noah agreed, blinking back at him.
Harry laughed and stepped in towards Noah, putting his mouth close to Noah’s ear. His breath smelt minty. “You’ve no idea what I just said, have you?”
“Not entirely.”
“What?”
Noah placed his mouth against Harry’s warm little ear too. “NOT ENTIRELY, NO!”
“JUST SAYING, I’M FASCINATED TO SEE WHAT BAMBI’S ACT IS LIKE!”
“Oh! Huh, me too,” Noah said, watching as a boy not much older than them with cat whiskers painted on his face walked past and gave Harry a wink.
“BOYS AND GIRLS!” a voice over the PA system boomed over the track. “IT’S SOHO’S BEST LGBT NIGHT!”
Noah rolled his eyes. They really needed to heed his advice on false advertising claims.
“SO PLEASE WELCOME YOUR HOST, SHE’S GAY-LARIOUS…”
Noah shook his head.
“SHE’S DRAG-TASTIC!”
I mean, this was nonsense now…
“SHE’S HERE AND SHE’S QUEER…”
And she’s crap, but let’s not split hairs when we can embrace hyperbole instead…
“MS BAMBI SUGAPOPS!”
There was what Noah could only assume was an alcohol – and possibly drug-induced – frenzy of clapping and whooping as the stage lights swung on to Bambi, wearing a full-length, shimmering gold number, huge blonde wig, and the most extraordinary silver and bright purple eyeshadow, which contrasted spectacularly well with her rich, brown skin. She did a little turn around the stage to her entrance music, before striking a pose in the middle.
“Did you like my entrance?!” Bambi shouted into her microphone. “Ooh! I bet you did, naughty!”
Noah winced. Despite their differences at times, Noah felt a strange loyalty towards Bambi. He hoped her crass, provincial, out-of-date drag jokes weren’t going to bomb with the sophisticated London gay crowd.
“I had a plumber round to fix a leak in my bathroom the other day,” Bambi was saying, going right in with her routine.
Noah glanced over towards the bar, interested to know if there was any danger of a drink sometime soon. Apparently there wasn’t. Pierre was sucking the face off some indie-looking guy wearing a trilby. Huh. Pierre certainly didn’t waste any time.
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