A Little Rain

by Dee Winter

  We get back to his. I ask Jon if I can take a shower. He says sure and waves me through. His bathroom is suspiciously clean. No man I know keeps a bathroom like this. It’s sparkling white, like something out of a bleach advert. I count the toothbrushes, there are three. I wonder if he does have a woman living here. In our place though, there are about seven toothbrushes in the pot and only two of us live there and two are Ruby’s. I get nosy. I check the mirrored unit above the sink. Posh razors, blades, shaving foam, hair gel, toothpaste and a packet of soaps. I look by the bath. A bottle of green forest fresh shower gel and purple sleep-tight bubble bath that when I open it, it smells of lavender. He’s looking maybe single. I don’t see giveaway girly shampoo or body scrub or hand cream. When in the shower, I fill the bathroom with the smell of fresh forests. I borrow his razor. I know blokes hate that. I think of it as revenge for playing me earlier. He knew he was messing with fire and we both could have got burned. When I’m all but finished, I shower myself over with cold water. I do this to sober myself up as best I can and it works a bit. I towel dry my hair and scrunch my mousse into my curls. I tie it back in a fat plait and start to do my makeup, carefully this time and thankful I now feel a little less drunk. The black lines I draw on my eyelids are almost straight. I look pretty good I think when I finish slapping it all on, even in this dazzling white, unflattering light of the windowless bathroom.

  I come out wrapped in a little white towel that feels rough to touch and barely covers my bum. Rob and Jon are on the couch smoking a joint. It makes my head swim just smelling it. I look at Jon. He’s looking at me goggle-eyed. “Want a toke?” he says, offering me the spliff.

  “Yeah ok,” I say, starting to move towards him. Rob gets up and swipes it out of his hand before I’m even close.

  “Oi! You get decent first, you mashup.” Rob shouts, and I come to my senses and realise I’m wearing just a towel in front of the guy I was snogging earlier and also my brother.

  “Ah… ok, yeah.” I’m blushing now and suddenly feel more sober still than I did a second ago. I dash back to the privacy of the bathroom. I bolt the door and drop my towel. Not bad, not bad, I think to myself. My stomach is looking pretty trim, amazing considering the amount I eat. The bruises on my ribcage have toned down now to a dusky pink. My arms are still quite purple in patches. I notice two little indents on either side of my belly today like the starting of a six-pack, not that I want to start growing muscles but it gives me confidence definitely, enough to wear something hot tonight. I pull out of my bag my hip-hugging, every-occasion, never-need-to-iron, tight black trousers and to go with these, a dark red itty bitty top with strategic slashes. I go over my makeup once more adding a swoosh of silver glitter to my cheekbones. One final check and I’m feeling good.

  Shoving everything I bought with me, old clothes, mousse bottle, and make up back in my bag, I go back in to Rob and Jon. Jon’s got his eyes shut and his face is crinkled up in giggles. Rob’s trying to sing. Jon is then doing some kind of beat box, except it’s the worst I have ever heard. It sounds more like he’s trying to clear something that went down the wrong way, like a piece of popcorn stuck in his throat. No wonder they’re laughing. It stinks of skunk now. In fact now I notice it, there’s like a fog hanging above the whole room, like the morning mist on a field of dew. Jon’s got his leg crossed and ankle resting on Rob’s knee and Rob’s looking at Jon like he’s a chocolate cake.

  “Hey!” I say. “Come on you guys, I’m ready. Look at you two layabouts, get yourselves up, come on.”

  “We have got plenty of time yet Skit.” Rob says.

  “Yeah,” says Jon. “The club don’t open ‘til 10 and there’s no point getting there early. You should know.” He says with sarcastic undertones I choose to ignore. I check my phone. It’s not even 9.

  “Ok fine whatever,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, quietly defeated. “Let me have some of that... what you’ve got.”

  “Help yourself.” Jon gestures to a white plastic tray with pictures of fruit on it, on top of a pile of dubious lad and car magazines. On it lays a pack of king-size papers, a bag of tobacco and a less than legal bag of sticky looking green stuff. I sit cross-legged by the coffee table bopping my head in time to the beats. The boys have stopped singing now. My spliff rolling efforts seem to have given them something else to laugh at. They sound like a pair of deranged hyenas. Raaa-haaa-ha-ha-ha. They’re in all new giggle fits at what they call the look of deep concentration on my face, like I’m doing a test, they say.

  “It is like a flipping test.” I’m still not sober and I’m sure the toxic smoke cloud is having an effect too. Eventually, I hold it up for them to see, my king-size creation.

  It’s a bit fat and loose in the middle but still, Rob says, “Give us it here.”

  “No chance. I get first go.” I say, sparking it up with a purple lighter from the tray. “Hmmm… yeah, it good,” I say, in my best mock Jamaican taking not quite a lungful but it still makes my eyes water and throat burn. I hope they can’t see this. Both Rob and Jon are each holding out a hand for me to pass it to them. “You wait your turns,” I say.

  Time disappears like birdsong into the night. The hours drift by and we’re ready to go. The boys are showered and changed. They look good. Jon’s done his hair. I can smell sticky sweet wax and the rainforest all over again. The smell of skunk now is so ingrained in everything I don’t notice it. Like any smell fades when you get use to it, well almost any smell. I’ve been slumped on the sofa waiting, giggling to myself, watching cartoons on MTV. I delay us briefly by trying to get my things together and going to the toilet. They tut and make a fuss at me not being ready. I check everything again, cigarettes, lighter, chewing gum, money, lip gloss, hair band. I’m sure I’ve forgotten something. I squeak my dissatisfaction as Rob grips my shoulder with a strong warm hand and marches me out of the door.

  When we get outside I say, “You’re having a bubble!” We’re walking to the club, in November! It’s not raining right now but God its cold and I’m only wearing a hoodie. I thought we’d drive or get a bus or something, but no. Rob and Jon seem oblivious. They walk very fast. I have to run to keep up. I zip my hoodie all the way up and push my hands deep in my pockets as I trot beside them. The pavement’s not wide enough for the three of us. Sometimes, I end up in the gutter feeling even smaller. With only trainers on my feet, they walk like giants next to me. We don’t walk for that long as it happens, about ten minutes. Jon says we are nearly there and I see a burger van parked up ahead. I’m about to voice my hunger and make the point that none of us have really had enough to eat, but it’s like they know what I’m going to say, and don’t want to hear. They appear to walk even faster as I’m stopped still. The wafting smell of hot fat has glued my feet to the floor, making plain my intentions. The road ahead is straight. I can see where they’re going. I head to the van and get chips only. I don’t have to wait to be served. From paying to putting on salt and ketchup takes less than a minute.

  I run slowly and eat at the same time, trying not to choke on a chip. I nearly puke when I accidentally eat a green one that tastes bitter and wrong. I spit it out in the gutter. Someone told me they were poisonous. I watch them turning a corner up ahead. I break into a slow sprint and as I turn the corner too I see the club. They’re waiting outside for me. There’s not much of a queue. The bass I can hear tickles my eardrums and sounds good. It takes my mind off the cold and makes me feel happy. They won’t let me in with my chips so Rob, Jon and the doormen take it upon themselves to help me eat them. Jon even has to cheek to tell me I should’ve put vinegar on them.

  3

  Friday Night

  As we go in, the club is lovely and warm so I take off my hoodie and Rob and Jon hand me their coats. They are heavy. “Thanks babe,” says Rob. He winks and smiles. He has that way. For him, I’d do anything. I’ve already seen a little paper sign pointing to the cloakroom but I act the innocent and ask the cutie nearby where it is. He shows me the
way. We chat a little and he seems nice. His name is Jaz. He told me his whole name but I can’t remember it. I think he must have silly hippy parents. I tell him my name. He says it’s pretty. I then say I’m here with my brother, whose name is Rob. He nods like it’s unexceptional. I’m just paying the cloakroom girl three pounds in silver coins and Rob appears behind me.

  “Who’s this?” he says ever the tactless.

  “This is Jaz.” I say. “Jaz this is Rob.”

  “Hey,” Jaz says, “Ella told me about you.” Rob looks at him, then at me. His face is saying, Told him what? Thankfully, he just nods a few times.

  “We’re at the bar,” he says, then walks off.

  Jaz breaks the two-second silence saying, “I’m DJing later.”

  “What? Here? Tonight?” I say.

  “No, next week,” he says, a bit abrupt. I look at him, puzzled. Why did you just say that then? Then he looks at me intently and says, “Yes, tonight. Half one ‘til three. Most Fridays I play here…” Then I have to listen as he rambles on about the club, his set list and the other DJs. All the time I thinking DJs are never single. He must have girlfriends and groupies. Also where are his friends? So I ask him. “I got here early to set up, see a few people. More coming later.”

  I bite the bullet. “I bet your girl loves you being a DJ, huh? Free entry. VIP.”

  “Actually I just got divorced,” he says, almost laughing.

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” I say, simultaneously thinking not now no way never. “I’ll talk to you later. Look forward to hearing you play.” I kiss him on the cheek goodbye, just because, and wander off to find Rob and Jon.

  I find them at the bar. Rob puts his hand to his mouth, his brown beer bottle to his lips, drinks, and then swallows. I ask him what he’s doing. Jon shows me in his hand just below the edge of the bar some Ecstasy pills. Little pink circles stamped with a smiley face supposedly, although I can’t see that close from here.

  “Want one?” Jon asks.

  “Maybe later,” I say.

  “If I got any left. They won’t last long.”

  “Plenty more like that in a place like this,” I say, casual.

  “Don’t you be buying anything,” Rob interjects. Oh, the irony. If Rob were that bothered about my health he wouldn’t have me taking ecstasy at all but I suppose at least he’s not a hypocrite. “Hey…” Rob starts. He comes close and carefully, discreetly, pushes something into my palm. I close my fingers up around it. A tiny package. A pill wrapped in rolling paper. “Take this. Take it easy though, yeah?” he says. The look on his tilted face right now is beautiful in the semi-light. He puts his arm round my neck and pulls me close to his chest in a hug that makes me melt inside. He kisses the top of my head. My arm is bent up between us. My hand a fist. The little package is sandwiched in my palm. I feel it unfurl a little. I shut my eyes and sigh. When he lets go I open them and see Jon. He’s looking in the other direction. I follow his gaze to two tall girls nearby dressed truly in the club-style, white hot pants and bra-tops. They’re going to be frostbitten to death if they go outside like that, I think. Maybe they have coats. I look back at my hand. The paper has come loose and I see the little ball of dark pink fire. It tastes bitter. I pull the bottle free from Rob’s hand. He’s seen what Jon has and is now looking too. I swig and swallow. I start to dance.

  I spend the next half hour dancing brave. I feel a fizz in my belly. It feels like a moody firework biding its time, sparking a little, not yet gone boom. I’m dancing in anticipation, dancing it up. The music playing is dark, dirty house. Twisted bass and beats. No tunes in sight. No cheese. I can already smell sweat and see smoke. It’s a cosy place. This is no superclub. Not many people are going to fit in here. It’s now getting busy on the dance floor. There are some seats in the arches either side. One bar is at the back and there’s another tiny bar opposite the entrance down a dangerous slope. The toilets I haven’t found yet. Apparently there’s a chill-out room too, but that’s another secret to discover. I go on the dance floor and wriggle my way to the front. There is no DJ box up high, just a little stage. Some people are dancing on it, facing the dance floor. Some people are sitting on the edge. DJ Jaz is not playing yet. The DJ that is playing and his mate are behind the decks whooping up the crowd. I like it here. I groove my way round the floor a bit more, smiling and blinking at another cutie I spot. He’s wearing mirror shades so I can’t see his eyes. It’s too loud to start to chat here so I just dance near him for a bit and admire his moves. I watch him some more. He looks a bit too good. He has very styled hair with highlights and smart looking stubble in sharp lines. He must be very fit, judging by his arms which look solid.

  Rob and Jon don’t come and find me for a while. I don’t know how long exactly. They eventually come. They’re looking jacked and I’m feeling it too. It’s like my feet aren’t touching the floor, walking on a carpet of cloud. We dance and dance, sometimes together, sometimes apart. My bare shoulders are constantly touching against other people’s moist skin. Later still, Rob leans over and says it’s time for a break. He says I look hot. Hot as in sweaty, he adds. He would never say I was cute. We move to the edge and squash up on a boxy type seat against the wall. Rob gives me some of his water. I lean back, my shoulders against the wall. I feel some sort of metalwork behind my head. I light a cigarette, relax and breathe, feeling wonderful and thinking how beautiful almost everyone is, one or two not so beautiful. Then suddenly, I’m stuck. My hair is caught on something. I reach back to feel bracings on the wall. It hurts. I try and unfix myself but it feels worse. The more I move, the tighter it gets and the more it hurts. “Sit still,” Rob says, and it stops hurting. I cannot see what’s happened but I hear Rob tearing my hair from the metal. I reach back and feel a chunk of it missing. I feel like crying but Rob hugs me, says, “It’s ok, it’s not much, you cannot see.”

  He goes off to get more water, and straight away another guy comes and sits down next to me. I see it’s Mr Goodlooks from earlier. The sunglasses are now on his head. He smiles then suddenly asks if I would like one of his Ecstasy pills. “Thank you!” I say. Feeling it would be rude not to although Danger Danger warnings ping about in my head. I ignore them. I quickly use his water to swallow it before Rob comes back, and the man gets up and leaves straightaway. Smart man. It’s not going to be long now before I’m supercharged and bouncing off the ceiling.

  Rob returns, hands me water and sits next to me. Jon’s standing next to Rob and talking to some pretty skinny girl, again all legs. I’m too mashup to tell if it’s one of the babes from earlier. She’s wearing short shorts. What do they call them in America? “Daisy Dukes!” I say aloud, laughing to myself, although no-one seems to listen. I’m feeling pretty damn good right now, but I can’t help but feel a tiny twinge of jealously, a little bite in my belly that Jon is being such a flirt. I don’t show it. I know what guys like Jon are. He doesn’t care about me, or anyone, only his self. I lean across Rob and say “Hi,” being friendly and ask her if she’s got the time. She tells me it’s nearly half one. She seems nice, though not interested, not like Jon is in her, albeit only temporarily. I realise DJ Jaz is now playing.

  “Hey... I’ll be back in a minute guys.” I say.

  “Where you going?” Rob says, hooking his fingers in my belt loops as I stand up.

  “To see that DJ play.” Rob nods and then shuts his eyes. With that I walk away, wobbling slightly. Even in trainers my steps are a little unsteady, like walking on a not quite fully deflated air bed. I get to the dance floor and it’s heaving. Pushing my way in, I dance a little on my own. I try to get to the front again. It takes a lot longer this time. People don’t seem to move or maybe it’s more me knocking into them. I see Jaz at the front surrounded by dancing girls and guys when suddenly I just rush and rush. I get so hot in the face and body I start to shake. I stagger forward, pushing through people, desperate get out of the crowd. I see seats ahead, up a few stairs, near the front of the dance floor. I
move forward, steadying myself on the wall as I take the stairs.

  I’m in a new place now. I didn’t see this before, a dark room with reddish paint on the black walls. I see a boy girl couple dead ahead of me. They are messing about with a disposable camera, taking photos together, smiling, and pulling faces. The bright light of the camera flash illuminating them and the grim scenery for all to see, just for a split second. They stop suddenly when they see me. The guy looks at me hard from under the rim of his baseball cap, and then sits himself up in the corner, still looking. The girl who has a mass of dirty blonde hair with wide pink streaks sits beside him, and is now facing me and staring too.

  I sit down in a nearby space, leaning forward and breathe deep for a minute or two. I can feel them both still staring at me and now the girl has moved right next to me. “Alana?” She says, with a wavering voice. I look up at her, shaking my head. She’s looks messy, wearing baggy blue dungarees. She reminds of a farmer. Even her smell makes me think of mud. “Are you ok?”

  I struggle to say, “Yeah, I’ll be fine in a minute.”

  “What’s your name?” She says, looking as though she might know me. The man moves suddenly behind her, standing up. She sits forward, leaning in very close to me. I notice her arms are darkened by heavy tattoos. I feel a little scared.

  “Ella.” I say at the same time as concentrating hard to slow myself down. I can’t look at her. Then I don’t know what prompts it but I just ask. “Do you know Rob?” I say this looking at the floor. I hear no response. I’m waiting for an answer. I look up at them both. The guy looks me straight in the eyes, then looks me down, looks me up and doesn’t meet my eye again, and just stands there still, looking impatient. I look at her. Her amber eyes widen like they’re breathing in, stretching out, then they shrink up slightly. She moves her arm like a witch about to cast a spell but offers me her water bottle. I take it but have to stop looking at her. I can’t. I need to look away. I feel her eyes burning into me and feel suddenly self-conscious. I close my eyes. When I open them again, she’s now standing, staring at me only inches away. I look up at her. I give her the bottle back. She looks at me for a while more and I don’t like it so I look away, then shut my eyes again and hope that she just goes away.