by Jade West
Then I went back to my desk.
I stared at the garage tenancy screen, hovering the mouse over the terminate button. Derek had been renting the garage for ten years, rent always paid on time, in cash, with no client visits necessary.
I gripped the garage key in my hand, taking a moment in remembrance of Derek Headley and his happy smile.
“Only live once,” he’d said to me, after a ten hour stint in the community garden. “Gotta make it mean something, else what’s the point?”
I made it mean something.
I put the key in my handbag and got the hell out of there.
I got the tube down to East Veil and wandered round in a daze, ignorant to all its dangers, its rabble of violence and seediness, and drugs and fear and hate. I passed unhindered and unnoticed, until I found Callum Jackson.
He was rolling a cigarette outside Al’s while Casey tucked into a piece of old fish by the bins. He didn’t see me at first, not until I was practically in his arms.
“Soph?” he managed to mutter before I was on him. I wrapped my arms around him without care, barely registering the cackles from the crowd on the benches down the way. He flinched as I gripped him, but it only took a heartbeat before he held me back, his lips on my hair as I cried into his hoodie. “Jesus, Soph, what’s happened?”
I shook my head, unable to find words. He didn’t push me, just held on tight until I was ready to speak. “Missed you,” I said. “Come home with me. Please, just come home with me.”
“Now? For the night, like?”
I nodded. “One night, two nights, ten nights, forever, don’t fucking care.”
“You fucking serious?”
I looked up at him through watery eyes. “What do you think?”
“I think you’re upset.”
I blinked away the tears, and that’s when I saw his face. His jaw was swollen, eyes black and blue. “Fucking hell! What happened to you?”
He shrugged, looking away. “Don’t matter.”
“It does matter!” I hissed. “Who did this to you?!”
“Leave it, Soph,” he said. “Don’t matter.”
I reached up to touch him, turning his face so I could see better. It made me suck in all my breath. “My God.”
“Said it don’t fucking matter!” he snapped. He looked down the road, scowling at the crowd gawking at us. “Let’s just go, yeah? I’ll stay one day, ten days, don’t fucking matter to me, Soph. Just wanna be where you are.”
I took his hands in mine, and they felt so alive, so real, so warm. “Just want to be where you are, too,” I smiled. “That’s all I want.”
He whistled for Casey.
***
I lay with my head on Callum’s arm, stroking his chest in the darkness. I was careful, staying away from the bruising on his side, just wishing he’d open up and tell me what the hell was going on, but he wouldn’t say a peep about it.
I’d told him about Derek Headley, told him more than I’d ever told anyone about my job, about Haygrove, about the people, about all the things I’d done there. My parents had scoffed when I’d brought any of it up, and I’d learned to stay quiet, downplaying my achievements like they meant nothing.
Callum’s voice sounded so loud in the room when he spoke.
“I lost someone,” he said simply. “Years ago, like. Still hurts, though.”
“Who did you lose?”
“Old Jimmy, guy who taught me to paint. Thought he was fucking awesome.”
“You knew him a long time?”
“Long enough.” I knew he was smiling at the memory. “Helped me out, he did, when I had no one. Shoved a spray can in my hand and let me help. Fucking loved it, best feeling in the world.”
“What happened to him?” I said, propping myself up on an elbow.
“Liked taking risks, stupid old cunt. Know the multi-storey down on Acer Street? One you can see from tower one?”
“Yeah, condemned, right?”
“Aye, but it weren’t back then. Used to go on about it, how he could do a fucking masterpiece up there. Would laugh that no fucker would be able to cover that shit up, not even with twenty men.” He laughed gently. “I weren’t there when he did it, probably arguing with Mam or some shit. He went up there, off his face, I reckon. Dangled himself from the railings but didn’t secure it properly. End of him.”
“He fell?!”
“Long fucking way. Instant, they said, wouldn’t have felt nothing.”
“Shit, I’m sorry.” I shuddered at the thought.
“He’d have wanted to go that way, ya know? Died for his art, like.”
“That must have been rough on you, how old were you?”
“Thirteen, summat like that. Could’a been me up there with him. Could’a saved him, maybe.”
“Or maybe not. Maybe you’d have fallen too.”
He squeezed me into his side. “Maybe.”
“You won’t ever take risks like that, will you?” I said. “Promise me.”
He laughed, louder this time. “Jesus, Sophie Harding, what’s this? Proposal, like?”
“I want you alive.”
“I’m alive with you,” he mumbled. “Weren’t alive sometimes before.”
My pulse quickened, hedonistic urges racing. A need for life, to feel something, to feel fucking real.
“Make me feel alive,” I whispered, inching my leg over his. “The way I need. I need to feel.”
His body responded in a heartbeat, his breath turning shallow. He took my hand, squeezed my fingers round his cock. “Feel that,” he groaned. “That’s for you.”
“Alive...” I whispered. “I need to feel it... make me...”
He got out of bed, hissing at the pain in his side, but he recovered quickly, yanking me out and up onto my feet. He pulled the drapes aside, unlatching the balcony door. The breeze hit my naked skin, sending shivers right the way through me. He stepped out, his shadowy body beckoning me. I followed, nervous, pussy begging for his touch. “I’ll show you alive,” he rasped. “Trust me.”
I didn’t have time to respond before he shoved me forwards, jamming me into the railings with such force I folded over the edge, hands flailing for grip. He kept pushing, and I squealed, panicked, head swimming with vertigo. I gripped hold of the bars from the wrong side, head lolling and eyes fixed on the ground such a long way below. My centre of balance was precarious, tiptoes my only contact with solid ground. His warm hand between my thighs made me cry out, his bulk pressing tight against my thighs.
“Heart racing,” he growled. “Brain fucking spinning... hits you in the gut, don’t it? The fear. Knowing you could fall, any fucking second, just one tiny slip.” He pushed me forward further still and my toes lifted, I cried out, petrified, but he pulled me back in, just enough. “Wanna feel alive, Soph? Ain’t nothin’ feels more alive than the fear of death. Nothin’.”
“I’m scared,” I cried. “Don’t let me fall.”
“Ain’t gonna let you fall,” he groaned. “Trust me.”
I tried. I really tried, but my lungs were screaming in my ribs, gulping for air. His fingers found my clit, and found me wanting in spite of my predicament. I moaned and it sounded so weird, so fucking loud in my head.
“Don’t fight,” he growled.
His hands moved to my waist, arms folding around me as he lifted my feet from the floor. The railing cut into my stomach, taking my weight as I teetered on the edge. This was crazy, fucking stupid, but still I spread myself for him, groaning in the back of my throat as he slammed his way inside.
“Yes,” I hissed. “Take me.”
“Ain’t got no rubber, Soph,” he growled. “Fucking sorry ’bout that. Just wanna feel you.”
I didn’t fucking care.
My tits bounced, nipples freezing cold as they bashed into the metalwork. I gripped the side as hard as I could, blood rushing to my head. He fucked me so fucking hard, growling and cursing and slamming his way into me. Adrenaline and endorphins hammere
d the shit out of me, and I was a hot mess of fear, my pussy on fire as he pounded me from behind. I closed my eyes, the breeze around my ears as my hair flew limp.
“Let go,” he groaned. “Let go of the fucking railings.”
“I can’t,” I choked. “I fucking can’t.”
“Let go,” he barked. “I’m fucking telling you to.”
His voice shocked me into submission. A strange cry came out of my mouth, almost a sob, and I let go, senses reeling in fear. My hands dangled in the air, scrabbling for nothing, until finally I clenched them into fists and let them be. His cock was savage, thrusting so hard it hurt. It took me a few minutes to realise I was crying. Tears streaming from my eyes with only my frantic breath as accompaniment. It was cathartic. It was cleansing. It was really fucking beautiful.
He pulled me back before he came, laying me flat on the cold balcony floor with my legs pinned high. I groaned as he slammed back inside, hands in his hair.
“Come with me,” he hissed. “Wanna see you coming.”
His warmth was a relief, the bulk of his body the anchor I needed to unravel. I let myself go, bucking underneath him to get my fill, groaning like a whore as his hips ground hard against mine, mashing my clit between us.
“Fuck...” I cried. “Now... yes...”
“Come,” he barked. “Come for me...”
“Fuck... please... hard...”
“Want this, yeah? Want this fucking hard?” he raised himself on his arms, gritting his teeth with the pain as he fucked me raw. “Fuck, Sophie, your fucking cunt is so fucking sweet.”
I cursed as I exploded, a flash of light behind my eyes. It was intense. So fucking intense. He grunted as he came, pulling out enough to shoot his load over my tits. He rubbed his hot seed all over me, eyes wild as he marked me as his own.
“Mine,” he growled. “Never had no one I wanted before. Want you though, Soph. Ain’t gonna let you fucking go, neither.”
I reached for his fingers, guiding them down my body, still wet with his release. “Yours,” I said, forcing his fingers inside my pussy.
His eyes widened, feral, like the savage I met. “You fucking mental?” he rasped.
I nodded. “Something like that, yeah.”
***
“Are you fucking mental?” Bex didn’t bother with niceties, and I didn’t expect her to. Her heels clacked across the street by Haygrove tube station, dark ringlets flying in the breeze. Confessing my stupidity by text probably hadn’t been the best choice.
“Callum asked the same thing,” I said. “I sure felt a bit fucking crazy last night.”
“You want to get knocked-up or something, baby? I mean, seriously, I know the hormones can really fly, but this really isn’t the way to go about it.”
“No, of course not. I don’t know what the hell came over me. It’s him, I think. He makes me crazy.”
“No shit,” she smiled. “Don’t know this side of you, darling, it’s news to me.”
“News to me, too.”
“You should watch that shit, seriously. The first Explicit baby, hey? Thought it would be Masque and Cat.”
“Christ,” I said. “Enough of the baby shit. I’m not planning on getting knocked-up anytime soon.”
She leaned down and pressed an ear to my stomach. “Hello, little Savage, meet auntie Raven.”
“Knock it off, Bex,” I laughed. “I’m serious, I lost my fucking mind, alright? That’s all, won’t happen again.”
“What you doing here, anyway? Called in with morning sickness already?”
I rolled my eyes. “I called in with a migraine. Needed some space. Haven’t called sick in about five years, I think one day is forgivable.”
“Why the summons, then? Want to talk baby names with me?” I frowned in irritation and she cackled her very best laugh. “Ok, ok! I’ll drop it. Why am I here? Jaz nearly blew her top when I asked her to cover me.”
“Sorry, but this is pretty urgent.” Her eyes widened as I took the garage keys from my bag. “Wanted to get started, Studio Jackson is in motion.”
She lunged forward and kissed my lips, her hands on my cheeks for long moments. “You’re a fucking superstar,” she said. “Knew you’d sort it.”
“Tenant passed away,” I explained. “Really sad. We should have a while with the property before it gets flagged. Better make it count.”
She smiled. “Best take a fucking look, then.”
***
Callum
“Don’t like surprises,” I said. “They make me edgy.”
I followed anyway, dragged along by Sophie on one arm and Raven on the other. Casey was having a fucking field day, bouncing from one to the other. Least they was all having fun.
“You’ll like this one,” Sophie said. “Promise.”
My stomach lurched. Happy lurched. Being around Soph was too good, too sweet. It made me nervous. Don’t hurt to lose something you never had, but losing something like her scared the shit out of me.
They dragged me all the way down by Haygrove, past the King’s Road maintenance huts and into the garage block. Place was like a ghost town.
“And?” I said. “This party ain’t really digging.”
Sophie put a key in the door to one of the units, springing the catch and lifting it open. Took me a minute to get with the plot.
“Surprise!” they squealed. “Studio Jackson is open for business.”
They had paints, whole fucking racks of them. The ones I liked too, the whole range. Must have cost a fucking fortune. They had big white sheets of canvas, like I’d seen in the art stores. They had a bench, and some brushes, and turps and mixer and a tray full of pencils.
“Shit.” I put my hands in my hair. “What’s all this?”
“For you,” Raven said. “Call it a joint effort. Soph got the garage and I arranged the materials. Christmas is here early, kid. You’re welcome.” She smiled so fucking bright, eyes all shiny.
I looked at Sophie and she looked nervous as she stared at me. I didn’t know where to put myself, didn’t know what to think, what to feel.
“Don’t you like it?” Soph asked. “Have we got the wrong stuff?”
“Got the right stuff,” I said. “It’s fucking mint, like.”
Her eyes searched mine. “What is it, then?”
I was pissing on their parade and I knew it, but I couldn’t help it. “Can’t take this,” I said. “It’s too much.”
“Hey,” Raven said. “Listen up, baby. It’s a gift. Don’t make a pity party out of it. Doesn’t suit you.”
I tried to smile. “Ain’t making a pity party, just can’t fucking take all this shit. Can’t pay it back.”
She took my arm, so hard it fucking pinched. “Look at me,” she said. “This isn’t a loan. It’s not charity, either. It’s a gift, from people who believe in you. From people who give a shit about you and your art, alright? We cool on this?”
I nodded, but my throat felt weird, all thick and swollen. My head was spinning, tears springing up like a fucking pussy boy. I turned away, coughed them back. “Fucking hell,” I said. “Dunno what to fucking say.”
“Thanks is the standard response,” Sophie said. Her smile was so pretty. She was so pretty, prettiest thing in the world.
“Ain’t much good with thanks,” I smiled. “Thanks, though, this is crazy mint. Crazy.”
“Don’t mean to pile the pressure on,” Raven said. “But I’ve got someone waiting to see your art. A dealer, same one who launched me.”
My brain whizzed like a spinning top. “A dealer?! They ain’t gonna like my shit, Raven. Ain’t nothing like as good as yours. Shit, man, they’re gonna laugh me out the fucking park.”
Her smile was like the sun, eyes twinkling again.
“He’s already seen your shit, baby,” she said. “The paint is from him.”
***
I painted and I painted and I painted some more. Lost in time, in space, lost to everything but the colours on the canvas. It
was bliss in that place, with Casey at my side and Sophie in my life. It don’t get any fucking sweeter than that.
Case liked it down there, garage door open, catching the sun. When it’d rain she’d come inside, curl up at my feet and snooze without a care in the world.
She’d taken to sleeping on the bed at night, too. Dog didn’t know herself these days. She was still trashing the bins, mind. Tearing the kitchen apart every time we weren’t looking. Soph didn’t seem to care, though, didn’t seem to care about anything apart from getting her ass slapped red and getting a good pounding. Guess that’s what she liked best about me, that’s what I figured. Sure weren’t me talking skills, but I was getting better at that. I was tryin’.
I’d been at Soph’s nearly two weeks when I decided to get some of my shit from Vick’s. I’d been avoiding her, hiding my bruises where she wouldn’t see. She’d only feel bad, and I didn’t want that. They’d taken an age to go, especially the swelling on my eye. My ribs still hurt, but she wouldn’t know that, not now my face didn’t give it away.
Vicki was stood with her back to me in her yard, puffing on a cig. My heart fucking jumped a good’un, thinking it was that Lozza Price from down the garages, with that same bloody hair again. It weren’t, though, it was Vick, hairhacked into a messy blonde bob. It was more yellow than blonde in the sunlight, a bit like a canary. Didn’t like it much. Smiled anyway.
“Look different.”
She spun around at the sound of my voice, smiling bright. “Like it? Fancied a change. Where the hell you been, Cal? Slay’s been missing ya.”
“Around,” I said. “Busy, like.”
“Deliveries?”
I flushed with guilt. I’d been slack on deliveries, too busy painting. Needed to go and see Jack Willis before he forgot my rounds, but I didn’t want to freak Vicki out. “Yeah, working.”