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

by Chloe Rayban

  ‘Yang,’ she said.

  ‘Original!’

  ‘OK, I know. It’s a really stupid name. It was Dad’s idea. We’ve got two you see — the other ones white.’

  ‘Yin and Yang?’ (We were building up some rapport now.) That figures.’

  ‘Mmm … when they curl up together at night they look like … the symbol of harmony.’

  (Curl up together. It brought tears to my eyes, man. She was just such a babe!)

  ‘Cool,’ was all I could manage to say.

  ‘Mmm …’

  I was lost for words for a minute. (Fill the pause — quickly!)

  ‘You’re trespassing, you know,’ I said, giving her what I hoped was a cool ‘come-hither-gorgeous-creature’ look. ‘I really should call the police.’

  ‘I thought the house was empty.’

  ‘Doesn’t that make it worse?’

  ‘Look, just hand the cat over, OK?’

  Another burst of colour filled the sky. She went all shimmery blue and gold, brushing her hair out of her eyes — her blue eyes, which were catching flecks of gold as the firework died in the window behind me. She was about to leave. She couldn’t! Improvise — something — anything!

  ‘Hey look. We’re missing the fireworks. They’ll be over in a minute.’ (Naff I know, but this was a crisis.) ‘I’ve got a really ace view from here.’ There was another paint can luckily, beside mine. ‘Why don’t you join me? The best seats in the house.’

  She hesitated with this cute little smile. ‘I really ought to take the cat back.’

  ‘He’s fine. Look at him!’ (He should be — his stomach filled with my sardines and practically getting stroked to death.)

  ‘OK. Just for a bit.’ She sat down. I moved my paint can a little closer to hers.

  We watched the fireworks. Or at least she watched the fireworks and I watched her. Each time a rocket exploded overhead she was lit up in blue or red or gold. Its not every day you get the chance to test out a girl under every conceivable colour condition. She passed all of them, even green. Very few girls look good lit up livid green …

  Sitting in the dark with her was really a turn on. I would have liked to make a move. But she still seemed kind of up tight and what with her cat watching and everything …

  And just maybe there was just one thing missing.

  ‘Hang on a minute.’ I handed her the cat and padded off to remedy the situation by putting my compilation on.

  The music filled the room — pure magic. No girl could resist this kind of treatment.

  ‘What’s that you’re playing?’ she asked.

  ‘A tape I made. A compilation.’

  ‘Oh really?’ She sounded kind of doubtful. ‘It’s really cool.’

  ‘You like it? I’ll make you a copy.’

  ‘Really? Thanks,’ she smiled.

  We listened for a bit. I was still wondering what would happen if I made a move on her. She leaned against the wall hugging the cat. This was more like it. I went and turned the music up. As I got back, a trio of really massive rockets exploded. This was too much for the cat. He leapt out of her arms and shot down the stairs.

  Oh no! She was running after him. The cat had disappeared into the room without boards.

  ‘Not in there!’ I leapt in front of her and barred the way. ‘Sorry, no floorboards. Don’t worry. I’ll get him for you.’

  ‘Look, I’ve got to go. He’ll find his own way back.’

  But I wasn’t going to lose her after all this effort. The cat was balancing on a joist near the doorway.

  I grabbed him and held him … luring her … willing her towards me …

  Our hands met through the fur. What a turn on! She smiled. This was real encouragement. I leaned towards her. Her face was in darkness and our lips were just about to … When a car door slammed below.

  ‘Oh my God!’ she said. ‘I’ve got to go.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t want to leave?’ I said, holding the cat fast as he struggled to get free.

  ‘They’ll go mad if they know I’ve been over here.’

  She’d suddenly lost interest in the damn animal. She was already running down the stairs. I followed.

  ‘Hey, wait!’

  She paused in the garden.

  ‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’

  She turned. I held out the soft furry bundle. She came closer — I reached out. I don’t know quite what I had in mind — to touch her, I guess. But something told me that would scare her off. I made out like I simply wanted to brush the hair back out of her eyes.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  ‘Any time,’ I said.

  ‘I meant for the cat.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  In the weeks that followed, gradually everything started to fall into place. In the house, the builders had at last got their act together. The dead bat and lethal mould smell was being replaced by plaster dust, dry rot treatment and freshly-sawn wood. Each day more electricians’ cables snaked their way through the murky underworld beneath skirtings and floorboards. One morning, plumbers appeared on the doorstep, waking me up at crack of dawn, but that night — magic! The shower spluttered to life with hot water.

  At West Thames I got the sense that I was accepted. Probably due to Flashpoint. Word had got around about my Friday night stint. Folks liked my stuff. I’d even overheard people talking about “The Hex” as if he was a legend. Nice one …

  But as a Radio DJ your reputation is only as good as your collection, and that can go cold overnight. So every penny I had was invested. I was up at Vinyl Mile every weekend like an addict with a habit. I couldn’t get enough of it.

  Thanks to the stuff that guy with the lip-ring put by for me, my session was really radical. I’d even developed a standard patter as a lead-in: ‘So it’s hi from The Hex — the guy with the evil grin’ — (hollow laugh) — I’d added a cool echo effect to that. Then I’d slip into the first track.

  All in all, I was feeling pretty good about life. I was getting to know my way around the warren of West Thames’ corridors. Faces and names were starting to match up and I’d developed an instinct of who to say ‘hi’ to, who to nod at — and who to give a wide berth.

  Work was going OK. I wasn’t doing brilliantly, but I was coming out with consistent pass grades. Anyway I was keeping out of trouble — which was more than could be said for Brillo.

  I met him on the way out of college one Friday looking really down. He was carrying an official-looking note in his hand.

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I can’t understand it. It looks like I’m going to be suspended. And they want to drop me from the Marathon team.’

  ‘Really, why?’

  ‘One of my sponsors has like complained to the college.’

  ‘Bout what?’

  ‘Money she gave me up front.’

  ‘You collecting already? But the Marathon isn’t for months.’

  ‘Yeah well …’

  Dom was approaching from across the lobby.

  ‘Look man, I don’t want to talk to my brother right now.’ Brillo dodged round me and made off in the opposite direction.

  ‘What’s up with him?’ asked Dom.

  ‘They want to drop him from the Marathon team.’ I didn’t mention the possible suspension.

  ‘What Marathon team?’

  ‘The West Thames team.’ Either Dom was being incredibly dense, or maybe Brillo hadn’t told him he was up for it.

  ‘What West Thames team?’

  ‘We’re collecting sponsors for “Reclaim the Streets”. I’m looking for one myself actually …’

  At the word ‘sponsor’ Dom’s face clouded over.

  ‘Oh no … not again.’

  That’s when it all came out. Ever since they were little kids, Brillo had constantly been in and out of trouble. He was into everything — nicking stuff, bus surfing, spraying graffiti. Getting sponsored for things was apparently one of Brillo’s standard sources of income. />
  ‘Look,’ said Dom. ‘I’ll go and have a word with that Wally guy. See what I can do.’

  A couple of hours later, Dom found me in the canteen. ‘I’ve squared things with Wally. If you and me and Brillo put on a show at one of his precious ‘Reclaim the Streets’ demos on Sunday, it seems he’ll let him off.’

  ‘What about that sponsor’s money?’

  ‘You get Brillo to run. And I’ll bail him out, OK? I’ll pay the damn money back into the fund myself.’

  After I’d searched the library and the canteen and the locker area, I found Brillo outside the back entrance, in the place where people hang out to smoke.

  I relayed Dom’s message.

  ‘He says if you actually run — he’ll pay back the money.’

  ‘But the Marathon’s like miles long.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s why we’re meant to be training, remember?’

  ‘I’m not into that kinda stuff.’

  ‘Currently mate, I don’t think you’ve got much option.’

  Brillo frowned, dropped his cigarette end and ground it into the tarmac with his shoe. Then he looked up with that broken-toothed grin of his. ‘Yeah, well. In that case, let’s just do it, man.’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Yeah now — why not?’

  ‘OK, you’re on.’

  I didn’t feel much like a run as a matter of fact. But if Brillo was up for it, I felt I had to.

  He made off at some speed through the college gates. I followed. We’d only got a hundred yards or so down the street when I spotted Tasha up ahead. She was sauntering along with that friend of hers. The one she always hung out with.

  I knew Brillo would make some lewd comment about girls in uniform. So I tried to steer him off before he saw them and did something typically Brillo-ish like wolf-whistling or burping or worse in front of them.

  But Brillo had spotted them.

  ‘Hey, see what I see …’ said Brillo.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Talent! Come on, let’s catch up with them.’

  ‘No look, Brillo. Please — she lives in my street, remember.’

  ‘They’re pure virgin territory, man. Don’t even have boyfriends hanging round. We should make a move before it’s too late.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘They’re like all caged up in that all-girls school. Gaggin’ for it.’

  ‘Shut up Brillo. Just keep running, OK?’

  ‘Look mate, if you’re not interested … I’ll go on my own.’

  I watched helplessly as Brillo put a spurt on and drew level with the girls.

  I didn’t want to be associated with him in his present mood, so I dived into a telephone booth to observe from a safe distance.

  He was chatting to them, and by the look of it the girls were responding nicely. That guy had such a nerve. The three of them were crossing the street together. I couldn’t believe it!

  Some woman was after my booth — wanted to make a call. So I continued running and did another circuit of the college. Pounding back towards where I’d last seen them, I was passing The Savoy …

  Hang on. I didn’t like the look of this. There was Brillo sitting with the two of them — at a table in the window.

  The telephone booth was empty again, so I leapt back in.

  Tasha was sitting with a roll-up in her hand. I pretended to be making a call as I watched their every move. Brillo was leaning his chair back and had his feet up, looking well at ease, and they seemed to be drinking in every word he said. Brillo — the old devil — of all people.

  Hang on, Tasha was getting to her feet. But the other one was leaning towards Brillo and he was writing something on his wrist. He’d got their numbers — the jammy bastard. I hung up and shot out of the booth at that point — I didn’t want to give the wrong impression. It’s not as if I was spying on them. I was just passing, that’s all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The following day, or rather night — Saturday — while I was having a shave, getting ready to go out, I heard someone banging on the front door. I would have left them to it, but the banging was out of time with the music I was playing. I couldn’t stand it any longer.

  Dom was standing outside.

  ‘Man, what kept you? Crisis. Can you do a session for me at The Institution tonight?’

  Could I do a session at The Institution? Man, was I hearing this? Or had I died and gone to Heaven? This was the break I’d been praying for! Mind you, it didn’t do to sound too keen.

  ‘Hmm, tonight … It’s the night I generally chill out.’

  ‘Oh look, pl-ease. You’d be saving my life. I won’t forget it.’

  ‘Oh well, I guess … If you put it like that. Why can’t Brillo do it?’

  ‘It’s all Brillo’s fault. He’s got something on. Won’t do his stint.’ Dom slapped me on the back. ‘I won’t forget this, man.’

  I went back upstairs two at a time. Boy, my own session at The Institution — Saturday night too! My first night as a real live DJ at a London club. Man, I’d really made it!

  I sorted through my tracks. Even gave myself a secret dummy run. Naff, I know. But I wanted the whole thing to sound really spontaneous. I had some wicked new stuff from Vinyl Mile, so I spent quality time fine-tuning all the mixes till they were like second nature.

  Way too early I’d packed my Probag — nice and neat, concentrating on getting everything in order. Hours to go before I needed to leave. I’d have a shower, relax for a while. Might even try to have a kip. It was going to be a long night. Kip? Daft idea — I was far too psyched up. I paced back and forth between the two rooms. Hang on, activity over the road …

  I looked out. Tasha and that friend of hers were coming out of her house. Dressed up — both climbing into her parents’ car. Man — she had nice long legs. Where were they going though? Looked like they were off partying.

  Gave me an uneasy feeling inside. There’d be guys there. Sure, OK, so there’d be girls at the club. Masses of them. I stared after the car. Maybe they were meeting up with some guys. Maybe right now, some brainless male bimbo, some immature freak, would be sloshing aftershave on to his useless puny body and he’d be planning how he’d soon be making up to her. Yeah, right. It wasn’t my problem, was it? I mean, here I was — a DJ, right? Come midnight, I’d have half the girls in London lusting after me. I should feel really good. But she wouldn’t be there to see it, would she?

  I was standing in that very place, where she’d been leaning against the wall. She’d been so close and all shimmery blue and golden. God, what a bloody waste!

  The uneasy feeling lasted until I was actually at The Institution, setting my Probag down by the decks. The guy on before me was called ‘Nasty’. Nasty was actually pretty nice — a bit aggressive-looking but in fact a gentle giant. He put a track on, cleared his stuff and gave me a friendly slap on the back as he handed me the phones.

  I climbed on to the stand and sat down adjusting them so that I could concentrate on the incoming track.

  It was a good night. You could tell from the energy people were putting into their dancing. Nasty had created a fantastic atmosphere. I made a bit of a hash of the first mix. Didn’t know Nasty’s track and I guess I was pretty nervous. One guy glanced over but no-one else seemed to notice.

  After that I got into my music, the stuff I knew by heart. As soon as I mixed my second track I felt my concentration come back. The third mix I did the people nearest me broke into applause and the floor went mad. It was like they were lifting me up on a great wave of their energy. It was a breeze, man — a dream — I felt a million miles high. Mix after mix, it was getting better and better.

  A couple of girls left off dancing and came and hovered over me in the stand. One of them was holding a piece of paper, wanted my autograph. Naff really, but it gave me a kind of thrill anyway.

  I was about half an hour into my set when I caught sight of Brillo. He was dancing with a kind of seraphic look on his face. Hang on — there was
a girl dancing with him — long-haired. She turned. There was jarring lurch in the music as I lost my grip on the track I was bringing in.

  It was Tasha. What the hell was she doing here? She looked really different. All made-up for a start, and she was wearing this totally crap over-the-top dress, looked like bondage.

  Brillo was moving in, trying to slow dance with her. Ludicrous. No-one could slow dance to a number like that. I glowered at him. She was backing away. Yeah, not surprising, Brillo was like grotesque, Man. I mean, he was OK for a mate. But what would a girl see in him?

  Another mix came up and I really had to keep my mind on the tracks. When I looked up again I’d lost sight of them. No, hang on — he was leading her off somewhere. They were going into the quiet room. So that was his game was it? Get me tied up, safe and sound, glued to the DJ’s seat, then … move in. You bastard, Brillo. Just wait till I get my hands on you. I could feel sweat breaking out on my back. The hairs on my neck were standing on end. I felt absolutely murderous.

  During the next few tracks, I learnt what it was to suffer, man. Anything could be going on in there. I could see it all in my mind’s eye, and currently my imagination needed an X-Certificate.

  It was during one of the more active scenes of my imagined scenario that there was a commotion on the dance floor. Some girl had fallen down or fainted or something.

  My heart gave a jolt. I wondered for a moment if it was Zalia. Last time I’d seen her in the club she’d been way over the top. I craned over to where the girl was lying. People weren’t taking much notice — just stepping over her. But from where I was sitting I could actually see she wasn’t trying to get up or anything. She wasn’t moving in fact. Didn’t seem to have anyone with her, either. As the dancers parted, I suddenly got a better look at her.

  It wasn’t Zalia. It was Tasha’s friend. She looked absolutely terrible. Where the hell was Tasha?

  Chapter Nineteen

  I was off the stand and down beside her in seconds. I turned her over on to her side, into the recovery position.

  ‘Look, keep back, can’t you …’

  People stopped dancing and one girl leaned over. ‘She OK?’