Noah Could Never

by Simon James Green

  “Lovely lad he was, told me my flange was buggered and my nuts needed tightening…”

  The crowd laughed. It seemed there was always a market for smutty innuendo, even in sophisticated, cultured London. Noah mouthed along to the punchline, knowing damn well what was coming:

  “I said, you can tighten my nuts any time, darlin’!”

  Harry had his hand on Noah’s back. “Bambi’s doing OK!”

  “Against all odds,” Noah agreed.

  “This plumber, he takes one look at my flange and shakes his head. ‘I’m gonna need a really long screw,’ he says. ‘Darlin’, you might just be in luck,’ I tell him…”

  Through the crowd, Noah spied the back of a toned lad, strapped up with shot glasses and bottles, and quite naked expect for some tight, white underpants and some silver trainer boots, handing out shots of some sort of alcohol. Why queue at the bar when the bar can come to you? How very perfect.

  The lad turned around.

  Those abs looked familiar…

  Noah’s jaw fell open.

  Oh my good God…

  “I said, I like my coffee how I like my men – hot, strong and full of cream. He said, ‘If you add steamy and instant to that, we might just be compatible…’”

  “Noah? Bro?”

  Noah shook himself back to reality as Josh came up to them. “Josh?”

  “You’ve discovered my little secret, then!” Josh said, actually looking a tiny bit sheepish for the first time in his life.

  Noah swallowed and did his best to look totally cool about this. Josh Lewis. In a gay club! “Josh, my goodness. You’re a member of the LGBTQ plus community? Er… Congratulations!”

  Josh held his hand up. “Hold up there, Noah. Hold your horses. I just work here. Freelance basis. I’m a tequila shot boy.”

  “Oh. But…”

  “Yeah, got chatting to Bambi one night down the Red Lion – she put the wheels in motion, and here I am. Guess how much I can make a night?”

  “Fifty pounds?” Noah shrugged.

  Josh laughed. “Higher.”

  “Seventy?”

  “Four hundred quid a night. Four hundred! Just for pouring out some shots. The pink pound is where it’s at, man.”

  Harry looked impressed. “Can you get us jobs too?” he laughed.

  “You shouldn’t even be in here, little dudes. Too young!” Josh put his finger to his lips. “But I’ll keep quiet if you guys do.”

  “Right.” Noah nodded, doing his level best to keep his eyeline totally on Josh’s face and not anything lower down.

  “Jess is on at me the whole time, man. Baby this, baby that. This place is my escape. My fun time. Plus, it pays me good dollar. These days, you gotta di-ver-si-fy! You gotta have fingers in so many pies to make some coin.” Josh whipped two shot glasses out of his holster and poured a couple of shots. “Truth is, being a PT at the gym doesn’t cut it, cash-wise. And Jess’s dad, he is rinsing me for money to support the kid.” Josh shook his head. “Most of what I bank from the protein-shake business goes on to Jess, but she don’t know about my little sideline.” Josh winked and handed Noah and Harry a shot each. “Here you go, my good dudes! Drinks on me tonight, as many as you like – on the condition we keep this between ourselves. I don’t need Jess and her parents finding out.”

  Noah eyed up the shot glasses. “Um, is this—”

  “On three!” Josh shouted, sprinkling salt on Noah’s hand. “ONE, TWO…”

  “Josh, you’ve spilled something on my hand! What is this?” Noah said.

  “It’s salt. Lick it, neck the shot, then bite into the lemon I’ll have ready for you,” Josh grinned.

  “That’s A LOT OF THINGS to do in quick succession!” Noah said. “Why’s it so complicated?”

  “Why’s life so complicated?” Josh replied, which was a good point.

  What the hell, Noah thought. This was London. The music was loud, the lights bright, the atmosphere electric. He licked the salt, raised the shot glass to his lips, threw the liquid down his throat and—

  BLEEEUUUGGHHHHHHGAAHHHH!

  …spat it straight out on to the floor. “OH MY ACTUAL GOD I THINK MINE HAD BLEACH IN IT!” Noah squealed.

  “Duuuude!” Josh said, handing Noah a lemon wedge. “Bite down on this!”

  “GAAAHH!” Noah said, recoiling from the sour taste as he crumpled over in agony. “WHY? WHHHYY?!”

  From somewhere Noah heard Josh say, “I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t wanna get you dudes too drunk, they’ll boot you out.” Ha. There was small danger of that. This stuff was so toxic, it was impossible to keep down. Noah stared hard at the floor, hoping the focus would cause the wave of nausea to pass. In the background, Bambi was still prattling on … something about a hammer-action screwdriver and lubricating a driveshaft…

  Noah straightened himself up. Kitten Face Boy was back and talking in Harry’s ear. He couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  Kitten Face glanced over at Noah.

  Noah gave him a brief smile.

  Kitten Face didn’t return the smile, just went back to talking to Harry.

  Kitten Face was an absolute dick. Noah crossed his arms and tried to watch Bambi, whilst keeping Haz and Kitten Face in his field of vision. What sort of boy walks around looking like a Snapchat filter, anyway?

  Harry nodded, turned away and stepped back over to Noah. “Jeez.”

  “What did he want?” Noah asked.

  “Wanted to know if we were together.”

  “What did you say?”

  “What do you think I said?”

  Noah looked straight into Harry’s eyes. “Yes?”

  Harry smiled. “You are SUCH an idiot. Of course I said yes.” Harry glanced over his shoulder, where Kitten Face was still hovering. “He’s not giving up, though. I think we need to show him what’s what.”

  Noah’s eyes widened. “Challenge him to a duel?”

  A smile spread across Harry’s lips. “Or, maybe … just this?” Harry leaned forward and kissed Noah gently. “What do you think?” he murmured.

  Noah instinctively stiffened … a kiss, a public place, other people, what if … except no one cared. No one was looking or saying anything or … here they were, just two boys kissing, and it was the most normal thing in the world. Noah gave Harry a kiss back. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” Noah said as Harry reached his hands around into Noah’s back pockets and pulled their bodies into each other. Noah didn’t care about Kitten Face any more. He didn’t even know if Kitten Face had bothered to stick around and see this. It didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to matter, lost in the stage smoke and lights of the club. It was another world. Complete escape. And that felt so good. Harry pressed into him, and Noah pressed back. Breathless.

  Hard.

  Finally! Thank God! Oh YES! Noah could barely wait to get Harry back to the hotel room and whack on his Spa Reflections playlist—

  “YOU CAN RUN, BUT YOU CAN’T HIDE, SUGAPOPS!”

  A gasp went up from the crowd as Noah broke away and all eyes focused on the stage. Bambi looked on, mouth open, clearly aghast, as a tall drag queen, dressed in a mermaid-style outfit, complete with fish tail and seaweed hair, emerged through the dry ice, held aloft by four greased-up muscle boys wearing tiny silver pants. They paraded her around the stage like Cleopatra, before placing her gently down in the centre.

  “Mi-Chelle Sea Shells!” Bambi finally spluttered.

  “You’d better believe it!” Mi-Chelle snarled, gesturing as two other drag queens entered behind her, who were dressed in multilayered outfits of garish colours. “Of course you know Milly-Feuille and Cherry Macaroon? The Patisserie Sisters!”

  “What’s this about?” Bambi said, weirdly dropping Bambi’s voice and sounding like Mick.

  The crowd were agog, enjoying what they assumed was part of the show. But when Bambi’s voice became Mick’s, Noah knew better. “Something’s up,” he said to Harry.

  Mi-Chelle threw
her head back and laughed theatrically. “Oh, honey! This was only ever about getting what was rightfully mine! You wouldn’t play ball, so I had to set up a little sting operation!”

  Murmurs of interest from the crowd, who now appeared to sense this was an unusual choice of sketch for some drag queens in a gay club.

  “Oh, no, it’s a trap,” Noah muttered.

  “YES!” Mi-Chelle shouted, “I got my friends the Patisserie Sisters to offer you the gig here, knowing you would do all the leg work, flyering, filling the place, sexy go-go boys.” Mi-Chelle lowered her voice. “He’s quite a find, hun, I’ve made him a very enticing offer to stay on.”

  “Traitors!” Bambi snarled. “You tricked me!”

  “The Patisserie Sisters have been friends of mine for years – didn’t you know?” Mi-Chelle sneered, her dark blue lipstick accentuating the curl of her lips into an evil smile. “And with the takings from tonight, I’ll finally get my share of what’s rightfully mine – the van!”

  “My van!” Bambi shouted. “It was me who made the extortionate hire purchase payments when you’d spent all your money on Botox and that failed nose job!”

  An “Ooooooh!” went up from the crowd, who were clearly loving this. Noah turned to Harry. “This is going to turn nasty. We have to get out of here. Fast.”

  “Where’s Polly Esther?” Bambi asked. “What have you done to her?”

  A sorry look washed over Mi-Chelle’s face. “You haven’t heard? Polly’s dead.”

  A stunned silence from the crowd and the stage. Clearly matters were more serious than Noah had imagined. Was this what the surveillance team were really concerned with? Bambi pulled her hair off. “Danny’s dead?”

  Mi-Chelle gave a contemptuous little snort and shook her head. “Polly’s dead. She won’t be performing any more – not after some of her tweets from five years ago mysteriously surfaced, where she’d made some deeply offensive comments about the gay clubs in Stoke, and all her bookings dried up. Danny’s fine. He’s having a couple of weeks in Lanzarote with his wife and kids to take stock of everything.”

  “We’ve all had beef with the clubs in Stoke, and you know it!” Mick said. “You dredged those tweets up deliberately!”

  “That’s slander, Mick,” Mi-Chelle purred, sashaying up to him. “And I’m a very litigious girl.” She gave Mick’s outfit an up-and-down glance. “Fuck me, you look terrible. Talk about ruining the magic.”

  Mick was right up in her face. “Go to hell, you vile little bitch!”

  Another “Oooooooh!” from the crowd.

  Mi-Chelle just laughed. “Oh, hun, you’re all tired old cock jokes and lame knob gags, like some low-rent panto dame!”

  “I give the punters what they want!” Mick countered.

  “Gurl, they don’t want your tired shit. They want, they need, hell they deserve some serious … ELEGANZA!” Mi-Chelle did a full three-sixty turn, sweeping her fish tail round with her, as a banging remix of Madonna’s “Vogue” started up, glitter guns fired into the crowd, and Mi-Chelle and the Patisserie Sisters began a highly choregraphed dance routine, ten backing dancers rushing on stage to join them. The crowd roared their approval, chanting “Mi-Chelle! Mi-Chelle!” before succumbing to the beat, throwing their hands in the air and losing themselves in the music.

  Bambi stood at the side, watching forlornly, and then stormed off into the wings as the audience whooped and cheered, enjoying this huge theatrical spectacle that, Noah had to admit, made Bambi’s stand-up routine feel lame and amateur in comparison.

  “Find Pierre and meet me out the back fire exit,” Noah said to Harry. “And be quick! Hell hath no fury like a drag queen scorned.”

  The back of the club couldn’t have been further away from the bright lights and glitz of the front. The ground was wet and muddy and it stank of piss. Industrial-sized wheelie bins overflowing with rubbish lined one wall, along with some fly-tipped wooden pallets and a mattress. And a handful of hard-faced waifs and strays stood against the brick wall, smoking and eyeing the new arrivals with disdain.

  Noah swallowed. “Right—”

  “Hallo, Noah!” Eva said, springing back from a lanky lad she appeared to be canoodling with.

  Noah pursed his lips, taking in the cigarette she was holding between her long fingers and the appalling state of the young man she was standing with. He was wearing a black Iron Maiden T-shirt and black skinny jeans – hardly a good sign!

  “What are you doing out here?” Noah demanded.

  Eva shrugged. “The real action always happens outside the club, Noah.” She smiled.

  Noah sighed. “Well, not tonight it didn’t.”

  “Cool,” Eva said. “I’m hanging with Pax –” she cocked her head towards the lanky boy “– and we’re going to a mate’s of his in Hackney, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Noah opened his mouth to protest “No, Eva” – just as he realized that arrangement would mean he and Harry would have the hotel room entirely to themselves! – “that’s a splendid idea! Simply splendid! I hear Hackney is very lovely. Please enjoy yourself with your equally tall friend.”

  Eva shrugged and Noah nodded enthusiastically, hoping to reiterate the point that Eva should very much stay out all night.

  Mick burst out through one of the fire exits, wig in hand, make-up still on, but now in very skinny jeans and an oversized jumper, pulling a wheely suitcase behind him. “We’re going back to the hotel!” he shouted at Noah, Harry and Pierre. “And first thing tomorrow, we’re getting the hell out of Slagsville!”

  “Mick—” Noah began.

  “I don’t wanna talk about it, Noah.”

  “OK, just, I’m sorry, OK? We all are,” Noah said. “You were … really good.”

  There was a loud cheer from inside the club, as the music changed to a dubstep remix of “Under the Sea”.

  Mick shook his head. “Not sure the crowd agrees with you.”

  Mick strode off down the alleyway, Pierre, Harry and Noah in tow. Where the alley met the street, Kitten Face was waiting. Noah saw Harry glance at him briefly, probably as surprised to see him there as Noah was, and give him a cursory nod. Noah had no intention of doing the same, but Kitten Face had other ideas, and grabbed Noah by the arm as he walked past.

  “He’s cute, your boyfriend,” Kitten Face said.

  “Yeah,” Noah agreed.

  “So why’s he with you?”

  Noah’s heart seemed to stop. London nightlife teemed all around him, but in strange, silent slow motion. He swallowed hard, mouth open, wondering why the hell anyone would be so mean to him. “Dunno,” Noah muttered, lowering his head.

  Kitten Face smirked and walked back towards the club, and Noah shuffled off along the pavement, wiping his eyes with his palms, hoping the others wouldn’t see.

  CHAPTER

  FORTY-ONE

  “Are you OK?” Harry said as he pushed their hotel bedroom door shut. “You seem quiet.”

  Noah nodded and gave a tight little smile, which was probably wholly unconvincing. Stupid, wasn’t it? All those guys who’d come up to him on Old Compton Street, taken a flyer and called him “cute” – and yet one unkind word from one person, and that’s all he could focus on.

  And it was probably all part of vile Kitten Face’s plan to somehow get with Harry, but even so, what he said felt true.

  Everyone in that club had been so ludicrously confident and attractive. Did Noah really think that Harry wouldn’t have noticed that too? And now they were going to have a night of bow chicka wah wah? Who was he kidding?

  “So! What do we have here?!” Harry grinned, opening the plastic carrier bag that Noah had dropped off earlier, after his Soho shopping spree. Noah didn’t mind Harry seeing what was inside – the one item he wanted to keep quiet about was safely hidden away in the bathroom anyway. Harry pulled out the scented candle and sniffed it. “Mmmm. Nice.”

  “Lavender and bergamot.” Noah swallowed. “Very sensual, just like it says on the label
.”

  “Very,” Harry agreed, pulling out a small gold box. “And what’s this?”

  “Chocolates,” Noah said. “In case we get hungry.”

  “They say chocolate is an aphrodisiac,” Harry said. “Did you know that?”

  “No, I did not know that,” Noah lied. “Very interesting.”

  Harry prised the lid of the box open and ate a chocolate. “Want one?” He offered Noah the box. “Feeling horny yet?”

  “HAHAHA!” Noah said, picking out a strawberry crème.

  Harry smirked, popped another chocolate in his mouth, and pulled a small plastic bottle from the bag. “Gosh, is this lu— noignoremeit’smassageLOTION. Hahaha! Massage lotion. That’s great!” Harry grinned at him.

  “What did you think it was?” Noah frowned.

  “Hm? What? Nothing,” Harry said, face all innocent. “OK, well, do you want me to give you one?”

  Noah blinked at him.

  “A massage?” Harry said.

  “Er, well…” This was all a bit quick for Noah’s liking. He wasn’t ready for this stage in proceedings yet. He’d hoped to have time to visit the en suite, freshen up. He hadn’t even put Spa Reflections on yet… But maybe it would be OK. There would be time in a bit.

  “Get ’em off, then, and lie face down on the bed,” Harry said.

  “Get … what exactly do you need me to take off?”

  “Your clothes.”

  “OK, but which ones? Like, how many of my clothes exactly? I need you to be really clear right now.”

  “Hey,” Harry said, stepping closer to Noah and taking his hands. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

  “I know.”

  “So just relax, because everything’s fine.”

  “OK.”

  “Have you had a massage before?”

  Noah shook his head.

  “OK, so it’s a nice thing. All you have to do, just take your top off, and your trousers, leave your boxers on if you like, and lie down on the bed. And I’ll give you a little massage.”

  Noah nodded, then flicked two of the light switches so the room plunged into a soft glow. Harry chuckled, and Noah pulled his trousers and socks off, then his top, throwing himself face down on the bed quickly, so Harry didn’t have too much time to see his pathetic excuse for a chest and abs.