by Chloe Rayban
I spun the deck and slipped the ‘phones on. Dom was right. This guy had an ear for worthwhile stuff.
‘Got any more where these came from?’
By the time I left I was totally cleaned out. I’d got maybe thirty, thirty-five good tracks. Mix them in with some of my own stuff and maybe I had a set or two. And I’d made an impression as well. The guy said he’d hold some stuff back for me for the following week.
I walked back to the tube station feeling pretty damn tall.
Chapter Fifteen
I got into a cool routine. I’d do my set at Flashpoint Fridays, and chill out at The Institution Saturdays — Dom’s night. The Institution used to do party nights as well. Promotional stuff, anything they could feature on the flyers to get a crowd along. They had one planned for Hallowe’en.
Hallowe’en, 31st October, was a Friday — happened to be Zalia’s birthday as well. Kind of confirmed me in the view that the girl really was a witch. Anyway, she took it into her head to throw her party at The Institution. She wanted everyone to dress up for it too — typical woman. And she tried to talk me into letting everyone start out at my place.
I’d been dead against it at first and said a categorical ‘No’.
But Brillo talked me round.
‘Look, I reckon it’s just an excuse for another party …’ I said.
‘No way!’ he insisted.
‘Then why can’t we start over at her place? It’s her birthday.’
‘Don’t you know about her parents?’
‘No?’
‘The original nightmare rentals. They’ve made a fine art of repression. I called round there once. House like some monument to mediocrity — everything kind of beige. The sort of folks who put stretch covers on their brand new three-piece suite.’
‘You’re joking — Zalia’s parents?’
‘Yeah — they took one look at me and practically threw me out. I reckon they’d keep Zalia caged up with their budgie given the chance.’
I felt a bit guilty at that point, sorry for the girl. So I agreed that we could start out at my place as long as we left for the club at a decent time.
Zalia turned up lugging a couple of carriers full of gear. She had cobweb spray and Dracula teeth and stick on scars and a bottle of blood-red liquid called ‘Kensington Gore’.
Brillo insisted on wearing a rubber skull mask, but we couldn’t talk Dom into anything more than a forked devil’s tail pinned to his 501s. It seemed it was beneath a DJ’s dignity to dress up.
Zalia wanted me to wear this bolt through my head. It was brilliant. In actual fact, it was two ends of a bolt that you stuck on either side of your temples, but she added little trickles of false blood underneath — looked really convincing.
She got herself rigged up in torn tights and a ripped black mini-skirt, topping this with a flesh-coloured skintight T-shirt which was dead sexy because it looked like real skin until you looked more closely. Brillo’s eyes were practically coming out of his skull when he saw it.
She gave me a big black marker and instructed me to draw a spider’s web all over her T-shirt.
I hesitated. ‘This stuff is indelible you know. It won’t wash out.’
‘I know,’ she said. ‘I’m chucking this T-shirt anyway.’
‘I’ll do it,’ said Brillo.
‘Come on, get on with it. Matt,’ said Zalia.
I tried to take a distanced view of this. It was really just contours I was dealing with. But boy she did have a nice body underneath that T-shirt. And didn’t she know it. When I’d finished the work of art on the T-shirt she was so chuffed she made me do her face as well. Then she hung this really realistic tarantula on her nose chain.
We had just finished when the doorbell rang. I opened it and found the little lad from over the road and his kid sister standing outside.
He opened his mouth to say something, then looked at the bolt through my head and his courage failed him. He turned and clung to his sister.
‘Trick or treat,’ shouted the girl delightedly. ‘Is that real blood?’
‘Of course, and I’ve got a real witch inside. Born on 31st of October. Do you want to see her?’
They both nodded in horrified excitement.
‘We can’t come in without my sister,’ said the girl.
I put my head round the door. ‘Hi! Any more witches outside?’
Tasha seemed reluctant to join them.
‘Look, we’re in a bit of a hurry as a matter of fact,’ I heard her voice say.
I walked a few steps down the front path. She was standing in the shadows dressed as a witch, standard gear considering the evening. But it was her nose that cracked me up. It was absolutely plastered with the most realistic-looking warts.
‘I like the outfit. Come on in,’ I said.
She looked at me and did a double-take. I’d forgotten about the bolt through my head.
Zalia appeared in the front doorway: ‘What’s going on? There’s not more kids out there, is there?’
The two girls faced each other.
‘You with those other kids?’ Zalia asked. It was the way she said ‘other’. It was such a put-down.
‘How d’you do the warts? They’re brilliant,’ I said.
‘Yeah, thought they were real for a moment,’ said Zalia.
‘Rice Krispies,’ muttered Tasha. ‘They’re stuck on with Copydex.’
‘Cool,’ said Zalia. ‘Let’s get some. Imagine what an entrance you could make at The Institution.’
The little brother was asking what The Institution was. I think he was under the impression it really was a mental institution.
Well, looking at us, who could blame him?
That was the night Zalia got off her head. I don’t know exactly what she was on but whatever it was, she had too much of it.
It was a really good night at The Institution. Loads of people had dressed up and the DJ had raked out all this old-time stuff — anything about spooks or monsters or suspense — and made some ace weird mixes. I lost Zalia right from the start. Don’t know who she was with but I didn’t catch up with her until about two-thirds through the evening.
She’d obviously been dancing for hours. Her eyes looked glazed and she was soaked in sweat. The minute she saw me she was all over me. I tried to stay reasonably detached. It was her birthday for Gods sake. Obviously she wanted to have a good time. But when I caught sight of her about to pop another E into her mouth, I really lost my cool. I caught her wrist and held it tight.
‘Jeesus, Zalia. Haven’t you had enough?’
‘Come on Matt. Just because you don’t wanna have a good time — there’s no need to spoil everyone else’s.’
‘I’m going to get rid of this,’ I said, prising her hand open. I got hold of the tablet and headed for the Gents.
She made a grab for me, but I was too fast for her. I was through the crowd and slammed the door behind me.
‘What you done with it? Swallowed it?’ asked Zalia when I returned.
‘No. I flushed it down the loo.’
‘D’you know how much that cost?’ she asked crossly.
‘I don’t know and I don’t care. Too much.’
‘Boy scout,’ she said, dancing round me. ‘I just love it when you get all protective like this.’
‘Yeah, well I reckon you need protecting. From yourself.’
She put her arms around me and started clinging to me and hugging me.
‘I just love you. Matt. I love everyone. But I love you most of all.’
‘Yeah sure, Zalia.’ I said. It was the E talking. I eased her back on to her feet and she went off dancing alone again, totally out of it.
But she was back within ten minutes.
‘Give me some cash. Matt. You owe me for that E you trashed.’
‘No, Zalia.’
‘Then lend it to me. Come on. It’s my birthday — be nice — you know how much I love you, Matt.’
‘You don’t give a damn about me, Za
lia, as well you know.’
Suddenly her expression changed. ‘Who would?’ she snapped. ‘You’re such a bloody killjoy.’ She still looked pretty high but she was edgy. Her euphoria was wearing thin and she was taking it out on me.
‘Look, go and play with your real friends, Zalia,’ I said.
‘OK, I’ll do that.’
I didn’t see her again until it was time for me to leave for my stint at Flashpoint. I bumped into her in the street outside just as I was leaving.
Someone must’ve forked out some cash for her. She was chewing gum like mad. Her jaw had gone slack, it was like she just had to chew. That’s what too much E does to people. They just have to chew as if the gum is saving their lives or something. She was obviously way over the top. She really got me worried.
‘Look, how are you getting home? I’ll find you a cab,’ I said.
She shook her head. ‘No, can’t go home like this. Mum’ll kill me. I gotta go somewhere to come down first. Let’s go back to your place.’
‘I’m not going home. I’m going to Dom’s place.’
‘Let me go with you then.’
‘No, I can’t do that.’ I knew Dom and Brillo didn’t want the location of Flashpoint to be spread around.
‘Why not?’ she asked.
‘I can’t, that’s all.’
‘Jeesus some friend you’ve turned out to be,’ she said.
‘Where’s Will?’
‘He’s left already.’
The club was closing. She wouldn’t go home and I couldn’t just leave her in the street. There was nothing else for it.
‘Look, I’ll get us a cab, OK?’ I said.
We rang on Dom’s bell for ages, then Brillo opened the door.
‘What’s she doing here?’ he asked.
‘Look mate. I’m sorry but she wouldn’t go home. And I couldn’t leave her in the state she’s in. Zalia won’t split on you. She’s not exactly on the side of law and order herself.’
Brillo shrugged and disappeared down the hall, no doubt to consult Dom. Then he came back and reluctantly let us in.
Zalia took one look at the equipment.
‘Oh pirate, cool,’ she said, and slumped down on the decaying sofa. ‘Got anything to drink round here? I could die for a cup of tea.’
I took over the decks and Brillo made her tea. She was playing havoc with my concentration. All the time I was on air, I could feel her presence behind me — moody and brooding.
As night turned to morning, Zalia became more and more morose. She drank gallons of tea and chewed her way through several packs of gum and she kept interrupting the music and saying how boring it was.
After she’d ruined a particularly good track by complaining all the way through, I really got annoyed. I took the ‘phones off and swung round to face her. ‘Look, it’s not the music that’s boring, Zalia. It’s you.’
She just stared at me as if I was the dumbest, lamest person who’d ever lived.
‘I don’t know why I ever hung around with you. You know what? You’re a loser Matt. You’re pathetic and you always will be.’
I went into the kitchen after that to make more tea.
Brillo took over the decks and I stood staring out of the window. Maybe I was a boy scout, a dumb, pathetic loser. Maybe she was right.
Dom came in after me.
‘Don’t take any notice, man. She doesn’t mean it.’
‘You could’ve fooled me.’
‘Nah, she’s just coming down. Haven’t you ever seen anyone come down before? It’s like the other side of the coin. All that love and euphoria’s turned sour.’
I glanced back through the open doorway. Zalia was lying in a slumped position on the sofa. Her lips were chewing methodically back and forth on the gum. Those big thick beautiful lips of hers were going slip-slop, slip-slop from side to side like some loose old clown’s mouth. It wasn’t me that was the pathetic loser.
‘Yeah, guess you’re right,’ I said. ‘I wasn’t going to take it personally.’
‘Good on you,’ said Dom.
Chapter Sixteen
That night, Zalia well and truly killed off any feelings I’d ever had for her. When a girl likes to get herself in a state like that — you can forget it. But I think I’d started to get turned off earlier. It was the way she treated Tasha as much as anything. Seeing them together had brought it all to a head. And then her attitude later that night — that finished it.
Tasha couldn’t be more different. That girl she reminded me of — the one in Stroud — she hadn’t wanted to know me. But something told me I stood more of a chance with this one. I got good vibes every time I saw her. In fact, I’d started keeping watch on her house like some unpaid Private Eye.
I’d watched her come back today and go into the house lugging a big sports bag. The door slammed behind her. It was nice to know she was in there, just over the way — within shouting distance. Hey, within hearing distance. That gave me an idea. It was nearly the end of the week so no point in studying — plenty of time to catch up on that over the weekend. A good excuse for doing what I liked best — indulging in a quiet, or should I say loud, evening with my feet up reviewing my favourite tracks.
I opened the window. Maybe I’d give her the benefit of some of my ace taste in music. I was just getting in to one of the softer lyrical bits of this totally sublime number I’d included in my famous compilation — Durassic — when I became aware that the bass line had some competition.
There was a series of dull explosions — sounded like war had broken out. This was followed by a hiss as a rocket whizzed up into the sky and filled the window with a burst of gold. Fireworks. I hadn’t even realised it was November; let alone the Fifth — Guy Fawkes.
By the look of it they were having a world-class display in the park. And I had a grandstand view. Turning all the lights off, I found an empty paint can and upturned it for a seat. Cool this, looked as if the whole show had been put on purely for my entertainment.
The Durassic track came to an end and the house fell eerily quiet between the random bangs. That’s when I heard this scrabbling noise on the stairs. I knew it — those no good builders had left the back door off its hinges. Now someone had got into the house. I looked around for some sort of weapon to defend myself with. In the absence of anything else, I took off my shoe and hobbled to the doorway.
‘OK, who’s there?’
A lost plaintive mew came back in reply. It was only a cat. I stared into the gloom. The stairway was suddenly lit up with a red glow from above. Hang on, no — it wasn’t only a cat. It was the Babe’s cat. I’d seen it lounging in the sun on her window sill. Or being retrieved and held blissfully stretched out on its back in her arms. Some animals had all the luck.
Almost at the same instant, I heard her voice from across the road.
‘Yang! Yang! Yang!’
I grinned to myself — pretty daft name for a cat. But Tasha was looking for him, wasn’t she?
‘Come on puss,’ I called softly. (Come on little hostage. This way! Just what I needed to lure her over to my place.)
I had to do better than that. Needed something to entice him up. I cast around for something to attract a cat. A few tins, the remains of my supplies lay in the corner. Sardines! That should do it. No cat could resist the smell of sardines. I hopped over to the pile of tins and snatched up the can.
Why did they make these beastly little key things so difficult to turn? Fish grease all over my fingers — but still.
‘Kitty kitty kitty …’ (OK you win) Yang … Yang … Yang!’ God, it was a daft name.
It did the trick. That animal was up in a flash. Must’ve had a nose like a fish-detector. I lowered the tin on to the floor and let it help itself.
‘Yang … Yang … Yang!’ Her voice was getting closer now. I reckoned she must be in the back garden. I shoved my shoe back on and made a grab for the cat as soon as it finished eating. It let out a lost and helpless miaow. Good cat!
<
br /> ‘Yang?’ A doubtful-sounding call came up the stairs.
I stared at the cat. (Miaow, go on, pl-ease.) But the cat looked up at me and licked its lips and started purring.
(Miaow, go on — try!)
The damned animal liked me. It was rubbing its head against me. I was getting desperate. Any minute now she’d go away. What should I do? Throttle a miaow out of it? Madman caught red-handed with dead caf? No, definitely not a good idea.
There was nothing else for it.
I took a deep breath. ‘Miaow …’ I said in my most plaintive tone. I’m a pretty good mimic actually. Sounded really convincing. I was proud of myself.
‘Yang?’ She was coming up the stairs now.
‘Miaow,’ I went again. (God, the things a guy has to do to get a girl over to his place!)
She paused on the top landing. I heard a rocket hiss up behind me. As it burst I said:
‘Hi … Don’t jump!’
She did. I’d scared the wits out of her.
She stood there clutching her arms round herself in panic. ‘What on earth are you doing standing there in the dark?’
She sounded really angry for some reason. I mean, this was my house wasn’t it?
‘Watching the fireworks maybe?’ She really did look shaken. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to give you a fright.’
‘Well you did.’
‘I said I’m sorry.’
‘That’s my cat,’ she said, reaching out for it.
‘Is it?’ I hoped I sounded suitably surprised. I moved a step backwards, she followed me into the room. Well, you should keep a cat inside on Guy Fawkes night, you know. The poor thing was scared out of its wits.’
‘That’s why I’ve been trying to find him.’
I tickled the cat under the chin. Always impresses girls when you come over the sensitive male.
‘I’ve managed to calm him down. Listen … He likes me, He’s purring.’
‘Sure. Thanks. Now please hand him over.’
She was softening a little. I could hear it from her voice.
‘What’s his name?’ I asked innocently, tickling the cat behind the ear.