Watching You, Watching Me (Back-2-Back, Book 2)

by Chloe Rayban

  ‘Come on up. I’ve found something better up here.’

  ‘I’ll be right with you,’ said Brillo.

  You know, this place is really something,’ said Brillo, pacing around my room taking the whole thing in. You got the entire house to yourself?’

  ‘Only temporarily, while it’s being fixed up. Then my folks are moving up.’

  He took the can of Coke and cracked off the ringpull. I’d kind of thought we’d share it, but in one long succession of gulps, he drained it dry.

  ‘Did you want some?’ he asked, catching my expression.

  ‘Bit late to ask.’

  ‘Mate — you should’ve said.’

  He continued walking round, checking out the other room like a prospective buyer. Then he went down a flight of stairs, had a snoop in the two first floor rooms, came back looking as if he was going to put in an offer on the place.

  ‘Know what? You should have a house-warming. Bit of a party to settle you in.’

  It wasn’t a bad idea actually. I mean, a house in this condition couldn’t get much worse.

  ‘Maybe. I’ll think about it.’

  He was lighting up another cigarette.

  ‘If you’re going to smoke that, just lean out of the window — OK?’

  ‘Sensitive type, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m the one who’s got to sleep in here.’

  ‘Hey … Your neighbours are getting interested. Get a load of the twitching nets.’

  I followed his gaze. He was looking into the house opposite. The Babe’s house.

  ‘Cept there aren’t any nets,’ I pointed out.

  ‘There’s like ‘mental’ nets though. Look, there are three of them staring now. Guess, that’s what you call a Neighbourhood Watch.’ He waved his bottle at them.

  I suddenly realised what they were staring at. It was a Smirnoff vodka bottle — and there was nothing to imply it was water inside.

  Brillo followed my gaze and snorted with laughter. Then he really started camping it up. He was lolling out of the window looking totally drunk and shouting things at people going down the street. Pretty hilarious things.

  Then he leaned back in. ‘Here, hold this mate,’ he said, passing me the bottle. He rolled another fag but made it really fat and bulky this time. Then he lit it, dragged on it and passed it to me like a spliff.

  ‘Look, cut it out,’ I said passing it back, trying to be serious for a moment.

  ‘Oh, fair do’s — give the folks a show,’ said Brillo.

  ‘That’s enough. I’m the one who has to live in this street, remember.’

  ‘OK, OK, just hold on for the finale. You stand there ready to catch me man.’

  He prepared to fall backwards, as if in a drunken stupor. I couldn’t take any more. My sides were positively aching. ‘No please … No more …’

  ‘Come on! I’m trusting you.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  I caught him all the same.

  Chapter Six

  So I had a mate, a protector — a friend of a kind. But being a friend of Brillo’s had unforeseen consequences.

  Take the party for instance. Once the idea had lodged in Brillo’s brain, it became a fact. It was no longer ‘if’ we were having a party but ‘when’ we were having it. And once he’d decided we were having it, ‘when’ became ‘the sooner the better’, in fact ‘this Saturday mate’ and ‘I’ve already started asking people, so you can’t change your mind now.’

  People were coming up to me in the corridors — people I’d never set eyes on before and slapping me on the back saying ‘Yo’ and ‘Cheers mate’ and thanking me for inviting them. I mean hundreds of people — like the whole college.

  I complained to Brillo. ‘This party idea of yours is getting out of hand.’

  He was totally unrepentant. ‘Look what it’s done for your cred, man. You’re cool rating’s up like ten percent.’

  ‘Huh!’ I said.

  I only invited one person myself — Zalia. I caught up with her in The Savoy. She was sitting on her own in her usual place by the window. She was wearing a worn leather biker jacket and her lipstick was different today. The darker lipstick made her look ultra-cool, and she had dark red nail varnish as well — her nails were pretty long.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  ‘You just have.’

  ‘You doing anything Saturday night?’

  ‘Thought we were going out Friday — what is this — marriage?’ She looked me straight in the eyes.

  ‘No … I’m giving a party, that’s all.’

  ‘Oh, it’s your party. Thought it was Brillo’s.’

  ‘It’s at my place.’

  ‘Might check it out then.’ She sounded pretty offhand about it. ‘Mind if I bring some friends along?’

  ‘No. Fine. You do that,’ I said matching her tone.

  I didn’t know where I stood with this girl. One minute she was ultra-friendly — all over me. Next she was cool as ice, like she was doing me a big favour even talking to me.

  ‘Are we still on for Friday?’ I half hoped she’d changed her mind.

  ‘Sure, why? I want to see that film. Don’t you?’

  ‘Yep … Sounds like a good movie. I’ll see you, then. Sure you don’t want me to pick you up from your place?’ I was kind of interested, as a matter of fact, to see where she was coming from.

  She shook her head. ‘Better to meet here.’

  ‘Anything you say.’

  One thing that was hanging me up about the party was Will. I mean I didn’t particularly want Brillo to invite him, but not inviting him was kind of even more awkward. Like we were making a point of leaving him out. He didn’t actually say anything. But if body language was anything to go by, he was feeling pretty sore.

  It all came to a head when the two of us happened to coincide in the locker area — alone.

  I looked across at him and kind of half-nodded. Predictably he totally ignored me. So I just opened my locker and concentrated on finding the file notes I was after.

  Then suddenly my locker door was wrenched back and he was standing over me, practically breaking the door off its hinges.

  ‘Look mate. If you know what’s good for you — don’t try being funny — OK?’

  ‘Come again?’

  I suddenly realised he must have sussed the ‘Dredge’ scam.

  ‘You heard,’ he said. ‘Just keep your head down, OK?’

  ‘This low enough for you?’ I was leaning down looking into my locker anyway.

  He put a hand down on the back of my neck, holding me down. I had to strain against it to stop getting crushed into my books.

  ‘Yeah.’

  I waited. He was a pretty puny sort of guy actually. Even really worked up like this, I knew I could overpower him — easily. I relaxed a bit to give him a false sense of security. Then I took a deep breath and threw him off with a force that thrust him back against the cabinets opposite. The blow practically winded him. Guess I should have left it at that. But I was enjoying the feeling of being in control.

  ‘So what was it you wanted to discuss?’ I asked, guarding the exit so that he was trapped between the lockers.

  ‘Nothin’,’ he gasped.

  ‘Good, ‘cos I haven’t anything to say to you.’

  Will made a supreme effort to catch his breath. Then he straightened up. ‘Good, ‘cos we don’t want you around.’

  ‘Who’s the “we” — apart from you?’

  ‘Me ‘n Zalia.’

  That’s not the impression I got from her.’

  ‘What you trying to say?’

  I reckoned I should come straight out with it and tell the guy. Zalia had made it pretty clear. He was on to a loser.

  ‘She told me it was all over between you two …’ I said.

  ‘Liar,’ he said. He practically spat the word in my face. Then he slammed his locker door with an unnerving crash.

  ‘If I see you anywhere near her …’ he said threateningly. />
  ‘Look mate — why don’t you ask her what’s going on?’

  Will was standing glaring at me, looked as if he was about to take a swipe at me. With a deliberate gesture I stood aside to let him pass. He strode off down the corridor making the maximum noise.

  I watched him thoughtfully. What the hell was going on?

  I was walking back to class still trying to get my mind round this one when I bumped into Dom.

  He took one look at my face.

  ‘Hey, what’s up man?’

  ‘Been on a collision course with someone.’

  ‘Yeah? Who?’

  ‘Will.’

  ‘Over Zalia?’

  ‘How did you guess?’

  You’re not the first.’

  ‘I don’t know what she’s playing at. Are they going out or aren’t they?’

  Dom shrugged. ‘She’s doesn’t feel like she’s got a life unless she’s making at least two guys miserable.’

  ‘Well, she’s not making me miserable.’

  ‘Yet …! Look man — I wouldn’t clash with Will if I were you.’

  ‘I can handle him.’

  ‘And his mates?’

  ‘What mates?’

  Dom paused, caught me by the arm and stopped me. We were crossing from one side of the building to the other — currently standing on an upper level which looked down into the concourse below. The concourse was packed with people making their way in and out through the main doors.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. The thing you gotta understand about this place — it’s tribal. Take a look down there — what’ve you got? Raggas? Acid-heads? Swots? Sloanes? New wave weirdos? Casuals? Grungies? Even our very own little Moslem comm-u-nity.’

  ‘Yeah, well …?’

  ‘They’re tribes man, and they’ve got tribal customs. They’ve each got their own kind of cool. Language, gear they wear, music. You gotta find where you fit in man, and stick with it. Guys like Will, they’re into their own scene, and Zalia’s part of it. Either you’re with them or you’re against. There’s no neutral ground.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. There’s no reason why we can’t all just — get along.’

  ‘Yeah, and the world should be all peace and love and we all should be winning the lottery — sure.’

  ‘Yeah but …’

  ‘See ya,’ said Dom. And he was off.

  I leaned on the railings looking down. Maybe Dom was right, maybe it was a jungle down there. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Stroud after all.

  Suddenly, the party started to take on a different complexion. I mean, who were all these people who thought they’d been invited? And how many of them? Maybe the whole thing was getting out of hand. No, not maybe. The whole thing was definitely getting out of hand.

  ‘Look!’ I said, catching up with Brillo on the way to an Economics period. ‘Hold it, I never said we were having this party.’

  ‘Look man — you can’t go back on it now.’

  ‘I haven’t even got anything to play music. Whatcha wanna do? Take it in turns with my Walkman?’

  ‘No problem. It’s sorted. We’re bringing our system round. Dom’s got a van.’

  ‘A van? What kinda system is this?’

  ‘You want music, or you want music? This is going to be some party-y-y.’

  ‘Now, look, wait. I mean, we can’t play that loud or that late …’

  ‘You want a party? Or you want a wake?’

  ‘Well, I don’t mind just a few folks round …’

  ‘Stop frettin’ man. It’s all under control.’

  Chapter Seven

  On Friday afternoon I got home from college with a couple of hours to spare. It was a good feeling, having the place to myself and time on my hands. Time to do absolutely nothing. That’s the thing about parents — they don’t see the value of pure indulgent idleness. Time-wasting, that’s what they call it.

  The last of the day’s sun was shining in through my window. I thrust the sash up and settled down to enjoy the warmth of the dying rays.

  That’s when I heard it. Someone playing some instrument across the way. It was a single strung-out note-just a long piece of pure sustained sound. It was beautiful, man. There was no bass, no beat and yet that sound — it went right over the top of the emotional scale. It was uncategorisable. There it was again. And a third time …

  There was a pause. Everything in my body was begging for it to be played again … But that was it. Silence.

  I made a vow to myself there and then. Once I got my equipment up, I’d record that sound. It was the kind of thing I could incorporate — build in, yeah! Just play it again — please!

  Then it struck me with a kind of shock. That was classical music. The old-fogey stuff Dad was always going on about with his precious Radio 3 and crappy Classic FM. The stuff he had on CDs that I’d been told to sit down and listen to, in silence, with respect. And I’d never had a clue what he’d been going on about.

  I stared out of the window. The sound had been coming from the Babe’s house. A window was open. Her window. So the Babe was into music, was she? Interesting. I mean, it wasn’t exactly my kind of music. Or was it?

  I was still under the spell of it as I walked down to the The Savoy. I kept catching echoes of it in the whine of the traffic. I was aching to hear it again — just that one long sustained note.

  I began feeling apprehensive as I approached the café. I wasn’t sure what kind of crowd was going to be in there. As Friday night came closer I kept asking myself how I’d managed to get myself into this situation. I was going out with Zalia. I couldn’t even remember how it happened. It must have just popped out of my mouth accidentally.

  I cast a glance through the window, looking for Will and was relieved to find he wasn’t there. But there were quite a few other people from college, the rougher kind. I was starting to recognise a few of them by sight. I felt pretty self-conscious as I ordered a coffee and sat down on my own as far away from them as I could.

  I knew Zalia would be late, she was that kind of girl — but I didn’t expect her to be that late. I was on my second cappuccino by the time she turned up. She’d made a big effort not making an effort, if you know what I mean. Had on her old leather jacket over something skimpy. She paused in the doorway to make sure all the guys in the café got the treat of a full-length view.

  ‘Hi there,’ she said, walking up to me and putting a possessive arm round my neck as if we were a long-term couple.

  ‘Hi,’ I said, climbing to my feet, not sure if I was expected to kiss her or what. ‘We’d better make a move or we’ll miss the beginning,’ I said pointedly. She was half an hour late, for God’s sake.

  She offered a cheek. I was expected to kiss her. I leaned forward to give her a brotherly peck when she turned and caught me full on the lips. The whole café got the benefit of that.

  ‘What are we waiting for?’ she said, threading an arm through mine in a possessive way.

  As she led me out into the street I was wondering if I had lipstick all over my face. As far as I knew I had a lopsided clown’s grin for all the world to see. I kept casting sneaky glances into shop windows, but I couldn’t pause long enough to get a decent view. Zalia kept pulling at my sleeve to make sure I was giving her the attention she deserved.

  A load of people were milling round outside the cinema. There was one queue for White Knuckle and another with lots of mums and dads and kids for some ‘U’ film. And there in the kids’ queue I caught sight of a face I recognised. It was the Babe with her little brother and sister …

  My heart did a double back-flip. She had those ‘don’t-care’ clothes of hers on and she was staring at Zalia as if she’d seen a witch or something. Come to think of it, Zalia did look a bit weird for a trip to the cinema. The two kids were laughing and fooling around, and I could see from their faces that going to the cinema was like a big event in their lives.

  I craned to get a better view of her, but it had started raining and Zalia ke
pt on making a fuss about getting wet. Everyone was in the same boat, pushing and shoving, trying to get out of the rain and into the cinema. Our queue and the kiddies’ queue were moving at the same rate and as luck would have it the Babe and I coincided at the swing doors.

  She took one look at me and then stared in the opposite direction. I just knew it, I must have lipstick all over my face.

  Her kid brother was asking if I was going to see Babe. The very word put me off my stroke for a moment. He was going on about it, like it was the most dead cool film of the century.

  ‘There’s a pig in it that can talk and everything,’ he said.

  ‘Really?’ I asked. ‘How do they do that?’

  ‘Come on Matt. We’re losing our place.’ Zalia was calling from inside.

  The boy paused and looked thoughtful. ‘Dunno … I suppose they must’ve taught it to …’

  I suddenly remembered those wonderfully foggy distinctions you have when you’re a kid — between what’s possible and what’s not.

  ‘Must’ve been some bright pig,’ I said.

  Zalia was fussing from inside the foyer, saying that we were going to lose our place in the queue, so I pushed my way through the swing doors and joined her.

  Once we’d got our tickets, I took the opportunity to make a dive into the Gents and check out the lipstick situation. Phew! Not a sign of it — the stuff Zalia was wearing must’ve been indelible or something.

  Back in the auditorium I located her. We were pretty late so we’d got seats at the side. I climbed over the people in our row and I eased myself into my seat.

  ‘Have you got popcorn?’ she whispered.

  ‘No, do you want some?’

  ‘I kinda like to eat something if I can’t smoke.’

  So I climbed over all those people again and fetched her some.

  The movie was about this guy who was being hounded by the Mafia. Except you weren’t exactly sure whether they were the Mafia, or the FBI, or it could have been the CIA — and there were these two girls in it that looked really similar to each other. And then one of them had her hair done differently, or it could have been a wig, and I got them totally confused.