by I N Foggarty
“Coke?” Dylan offered, holding up a can from his mini fridge.
“Definitely,” Matt replied. He slouched backwards onto one side of a black leather L-shaped sofa. When he kicked off his trainers the other boy screwed up his nose.
“Way to stink the place out, Matt.” Taking that as a personal challenge he quickly slipped off one of his socks and caught Dylan in the face with it unawares. “URGH! YOU ARE SO DEAD, MATT!”
Almost toppling the sofa over, the other boy lunged on top of him and the pair were embroiled in a fierce wrestling match. An end only coming about when Matt managed to headlock his opponent and noogie him into submission. Tired out from their brief bout the pair settled down into a ceasefire whereby they watched an episode of a rather violent vampire anime. “I’m telling you, Man. Her boobs get bigger with each episode.”
Matt just shook his head and drained the last of his soda. The show wasn’t actually that bad he thought. Although he suspected Dylan watched it because of the aforementioned girl’s breasts. Her recent addition to his collection of posters seemed to back up this theory. “What time is it?”
“Almost six. We’d better get ready.”
For the briefest of moments, both boys’ eyes darted between each other and the door to Dylan’s en-suite bathroom. “Dibs on the shower,” they yelled simultaneously as they both scrambled off the couch and darted towards the white wood door at the opposite end of the room. For the second time tonight, Matt’s superior fitness level won out.
“Cheat!” he heard his opponent exclaim from the other side of the door when he locked it.
“Being fitter than you isn’t cheating, Dylan.”
His friend gave no reply. In all honesty, there had been no reason for them to have fought over the bathroom, other than for the competitions sake. The house contained at least two other rooms where one could shower. Still, as Coach liked to say, victory off the ice made you hungry for victory on the ice. Twenty minutes later and he had suitably washed and dried. Running a towel over his short brown hair Matt unlocked the bathroom door and fetched his change of clothes from his rucksack. He dressed quickly in front of the bathroom mirror. Black jeans, white t-shirt, blue checked shirt and trainers. Anna couldn’t complain that he didn’t look presentable he thought. He stole some of Dylan’s hair gel to complete the look.
“Hey don’t waste it.” He turned and was slightly taken aback when Dylan muscled his way in front of him to gaze upon the mirror. His surprise lasted just long enough for the tube of gel to be whisked out of his hand.
“Have it I’m done,” Matt replied nonchalantly. He gathered his sweaty clothes up and exited the bathroom. As he began stuffing them into the rucksack his jacket pocket vibrated.
“That mine or yours?” Dylan called from in front of the mirror.
“Mine.” Zipping the bag shut he picked up his jacket and rooted around inside the pockets for his phone. “It’s from Anna,” he added offhandedly on glancing at the screen.
“How is she?”
Sitting down on the edge of the sofa he unlocked the device and opened the message. His face fell. “In case you’re still planning on coming round tonight. Don’t.”
As the words failed to register his phone slipped from his grasp and flopped onto the soft carpet. Shakily he picked it up and reread the message. It hadn’t changed. Why had she waited until now to tell him that? Each time he read the words he became more despondent. What did this mean? Was she simply still mad at him for defending Natalie and needed more time to cool off? Or had she decided to end things? Or maybe she had considered it over on Wednesday and felt she needed to reaffirm her decision.
“So how is she?” Dylan’s words jolted him back to reality.
“She just text me telling me not to come round tonight,” he replied, quickly typing his most apologetic reply while trying to ascertain which of the above outcomes she had reached. He would have phoned her had he not known she would be at work and unable to answer.
“How come?” He hit the send button. “Is she sick?” A few minutes passed as Dylan wandered around about him in search of something known only to him. When the device eventually vibrated in his hands he almost dropped it for a second time. He didn’t want to look. It had been his own inability to side with his girlfriend that had led to this and he now dreaded the outcome. “Did you text her back?”
Sheepishly he opened the message. “I thought telling you to fuck off on Wednesday would have been enough for you. I don’t want your apologies and I don’t want to see you tonight, or ever.”
Matt’s heart sank as the words played around in his head. How had he not realised that she had broken up with him the other day? More to the point what had possessed him to defend Natalie and not her? How could he have been so stupid!
“Matt…Matt!”
Matt jumped slightly, the sound of his own name being shouted in his ear startling him. Slowly he looked up, trying with all his might to hold back tears. He couldn’t let Dylan see him cry. “What’s happened?” For a moment, he just sat there, not wanting to answer. Not willing to answer.
Maybe part of him hoped that by not vocalising it he could keep it from being true. A foolish notion. When he eventually replied his voice was a faint whisper and caught in his dry throat. “Anna broke up with me.”
“By text?” Dylan sounded confused. “Dude I didn’t think even she could be that heartless.”
“No,” Matt replied firmly, as though standing up for her now somehow made up for his failure two days prior. “She wouldn’t do that. She only sent the text because I’m too stupid to realise that she had done it in person on Wednesday.”
Dylan slid onto the sofa beside him. “Dude, I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. All mine.”
Dylan raised a hand and laid it on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, Dude. Are you going to be ok?”
Matt shook his head. “I don’t know.” It was the truth he realised. Anna had been his first and only girlfriend. The first girl he had ever asked out. His first date. His first kiss. She had helped him achieve his goal of making it onto the hockey team, and then some. Even though they had been going through a rough patch of late he had still felt they had some sort of connection. He couldn’t explain it, and he didn’t even know whether or not Anna had ever felt the same.
“Listen. Would it make you feel any better if we just stayed here and had a bro’s night in? Just you and me?” Matt looked across at his best friend. It was nice of him to offer but he had no intention of ruining Dylan’s evening too.
“No, it’s ok Dylan. You’ve been looking forward to this party all week. I’m not going to ruin your fun just because I’m an idiot.”
“Then you’re just going to have to come with me.” Before Matt could respond with, ‘I’m not in the mood for a party,’ Dylan cut him off. “I’m not leaving my best friend to wallow in self-pity all night.” Rising the other boy took hold of his limp arm and dragged him to his feet. “Come on.”
“I really don’t…..”
“Don’t care,” Dylan interjected sharply. “Mark’s getting me beer and Raymond said he would cut me in on the crates he has. I’ll split it with you. You can sit, have a drink and relax.” Before he had a chance to take stock of things Matt found himself outside the bedroom and at the top of the stairs. “And if you feel at all interested, there will be plenty of ladies looking for a great guy like you.”
None of that sounded appealing. However, his body seemed to be on autopilot and Dylan was not taking no for an answer. “Ok,” he relented on being prodded down the stairs. “But can we at least find a semi-quiet room? And will you stop pushing me?”
“You’re the boss.” Following Dylan into the garage, he climbed into the front passenger seat. The other boy wasted no time in driving into the night.
How things had quite ended up this way Matt did not know. At the start of the week, he had known so clearly the course things should have taken, but
now… now events had coerced him into a correction that would take him… he didn’t know. He felt both hot and sick and above all numb. He didn’t speak or look at Dylan on route to Raymond’s party.
A rolling stone gathers no moss
On the edge of the horizon, the day’s warm sun had slowly started to disappear. After the week’s polar weather conditions the residents were more than ready for the weekend. The Friday feeling firmly in the air. It was not the only thing. In plentiful pockets dotted all around the city, light and sound collided to welcome all into one of the various establishments offering, ‘A Good Time’.
In a diner that looked every bit the relic of the nineteen-sixties as the music coming from its jukebox sat Ramone Gonzalez; a stereotypical burger and fries in front of him. The place was a dive even by his standards. Yet the need to keep a low profile until they could ascertain if the cops were after him meant that such places were about the best he could frequent. He had never been here before and had no wish to return. His burger, if that could even be considered an appropriate term for unidentifiable meat pate, was greasy, half cold and topped with something that Ramone could only assume had once been a slice of lettuce and tomato.
“Exc..umgh…t fooood here. Ain’t it,” the man in the booth opposite said through a mouthful of his own dinner. As grease dribbled down the man’s square chin and into his lap Ramone tossed the remains of his burger across the table and onto his comrade’s plate. If he liked the food so much he could finish his too.
Taking up both halves of the booth by himself, El Roca, Ramone’s dinner companion, was thick from head to toe. A black buzz-cut topped a clean-shaven chiselled face that Ramone doubted even his mother, or to be more exact his grandmother could have loved. His dark brown eyes suggesting that the last person out had only done a half-assed job of turning out the lights. How on earth had it come to this Ramone thought bitterly? Stuck eating the worst burger in the city in one of El Roca’s favourite places with the man himself his only company. Worse yet he would be stuck with him until all this blew over. To say he did not relish the next few days would be beyond an understatement.
“I’m going out for a smoke,” he eventually said. He stood up from the table and winced slightly.
“Ah just light up in here, Bud won’t mind.” But I do Ramone thought, ignoring Roca’s reply and making for the door. His need for tobacco only half the reason he wanted to go outside.
Wrenching open the ageing door Ramone stepped out into the calm air. When he reached into his pocket for a smoke his phone rang. Pinching the bridge of his nose with his free hand he withdrew the device and flipped it open. “What,” he spat irritably.
“Geeze, Rae. You’re getting worse than Serg.” He groaned as the high-pitched voice of Tanya sounded from the device. Instinctively he fished in his pocket for a roll-up.
“The hell is it, Tanya?”
“Like where the hell are you dunderheads?” Her admonishing tone made her sound like a teacher scolding a naughty student.
“Fuhh you,” he said around the butt of a cigarette as he tried to light it with one hand. Once the flame of his Zippo had ignited the end he took a quick draw and removed the smoke. “We’re having something to eat.”
“Great.” He could hear her sigh on the other end of the phone. “Just great. While you two stuff your faces the kid, and by kid I mean the one you’re supposed to pick up tonight, goes walkabout. Well done, Rae.”
“How the hell’s that our fault?” He took another drag of his smoke. “We told you, it’s easier to do at night. They’ll be asleep and no one will be around outside.”
“Yes well, they can’t fall asleep if they’re not at home in bed.” The noise that accompanied her words told Ramone that he was not the only one with a smoke.
“Shows what you know,” he grunted, flicking ash from the end. “Want me to come over there with a tire iron and demonstrate?”
“I like so hope that’s not how you intend to carry out this operation. We like so need the kid unspoilt.” As per usual, he was getting nowhere fast with Tanya.
Gritting his teeth Ramone decided it would be best for his mood to simply cave on the issue and get the woman off the line. “Fine. We’ll drive over that way and when they get back we’ll do the job. Happy?” A pointless question. Tanya was never happy with anything he said or did.
The momentary delay in her reply gave him the chance to finish the cigarette. By the sounds of things she too had decided to stuff her face. What a hypocrite. He chose to let it slide.
“Well it’s going to have to do, isn’t it? I’m telling you, Rae, if this job goes south cos you and Rocky were too busy pigging out you are so for it this time.”
He resisted the urge to say look who’s talking. “We’ll get the job done.”
Whether Tanya heard the remark Ramone did not know as all of a sudden the line went dead. It would be too much to hope for that she had choked on her salad.
”Summin up?” He spun round to see the hard face of El Roca behind him. He gave the man a quizzical look. It was surprising to find that the rock had taken the initiative and joined him outside. In truth, he had half expected that he would need to drag him from the relative comfort of the dingy diner.
“We’re leaving,” Ramone replied curtly as he walked the short distance to their parked van; indicating that his comrade should follow. Climbing into the driver’s side he didn’t wait for the other man to get in before starting the engine. Regardless of what Tanya thought, there would be little need to hurry. However, from here on out, he could afford no more slip-ups. The last facet of his life was at stake.
And lust makes seven
A house. Two stories tall, made of red bricks and dotted with windows whose white frames had recently received a fresh coat of paint. By itself nothing special. However, when combined with its position atop a shallow inclined road it suddenly became the object of envy for all the lesser dwellings caught in its shadow. Or at least for their owners. Yes, this would be manse sat at both the physical and abstract pinnacle. For example, when one reached the top of the street there was nowhere to go but back down the way you had come. Almost poetic for a cul-de-sac that primarily housed the middlemen of society.
From inside the sound of a stereo could just be heard as a black Mustang neatly parked a few yards from the summit. Cutting the ignition the driver opened his door and stepped out into the warm evening air. The passenger in the front soon followed suit. “Try and cheer up, Matt,” Dylan said in an optimistic tone. His friend smiled weakly at him.
Matt hadn’t spoken since they had departed. Though this neither worried nor bothered Dylan… much. His plan was working perfectly. He’d got Matt here and so Raymond would have to pay his bounty of both beer and babe. Then, if Natalie played her part well, Matt would have a new girlfriend by the end of the evening. The only slight danger would be Anna breaking with tradition and confronting Matt head on when she saw him with Natalie. Unlikely, but even if she did neither of them could unravel his scheme. All that would remain would be for Anna to exact her revenge and divulge Natalie’s juicy little secret about the mysterious Rick to all. A win-win scenario.
Anyway, it would all be for the best. At least for Matt at any rate. Anna was bad for him and he couldn’t see it. His best friend had a habit of following misguided instincts. So Dylan always ensured to ‘correct’ them. He glanced across at the sullen look on the other boy's face but soon found himself distracted by more appealing eye candy on the opposite sidewalk; two girls from the cheerleading squad. Shepherding Matt towards Raymond’s front lawn he gave them the once over. Nice dresses, shame about the average frames. An overcompensation with the makeup, unfortunately, relegated this pair to the polite smile and a wave on category.
At the bottom of the garden path, the two pairs came face to face. Dylan dutifully smiled at them, “Ladies.” He made a gesture with his hand that indicated they should enter first.
“Thanks, boys,” they giggled. How
stereotypical Dylan thought. He hung back slightly before following them up the path. No need for anyone to see his social etiquette as anything more.
“Both those ladies are currently single,” he whispered in Matt’s ear. “But I bet they won’t stay that way after tonight.”
The reply was sullen and made Dylan want to shake him. “I’m not interested.”
Even average ass deserved a little bit more enthusiasm. “I wasn’t suggesting you jump one of them… or both.” On second thoughts it would need to be both he thought, taking one last look at the assets on display before they disappeared inside. Matt could do far better than either of those two on their lonesome. Though he hated Anna she had a waistline most girls would kill for. That fact alone placed her higher up the rankings than those two. “Just making idle conversation.”
The other boy said nothing. In front of them, Dylan heard the voice of Raymond echo out of the building when he greeted the girls who he had let go first. “Yo, Raymond.”
“Hey, Hey, Dylan, my man. Good to see you.” A smile formed on his lips the second their pompous host caught sight of Matt. The look of surprise evident, making things that tad bit sweeter. “Matt! Good to see you, buddy. Wasn’t expecting you tonight. Come in, both of you.” Dylan gave Raymond a knowing smile as he prodded Matt into the house and followed suit.
“Your friends aren’t long here. Think they’re in the back lounge. This way.” The way Raymond fell over himself made Dylan chuckle internally. So stereotypical. The upper second tier man trying too hard to impress those in the first that he made himself look like nothing more than a bumbling servant. And like the house he currently guiding them through, he was never going to move. He had at least managed to garner a good turnout he mused as they moved through the crowded hallway. Everywhere he looked, Dylan saw classmates with red plastic cups in their hands and chatter on their lips. The place had a good vibe and it had only just gone half seven.