That asshole could claim nothing besides tree house building skills and examples of what disassociation and detachment felt like. Fuck Phil.
I pulled my clothes off and climbed in bed. I could shower in the morning.
That would piss him off even more.
I got up early, had a shower and took a cab to the bar to pick up my car. The woman in the cab office didn’t even ask where I was going, she knew, and that was embarrassing. I said a silent goodbye to the bar as I climbed in the car; I wouldn’t be going there again. I had to stay away from Rochelle. I hadn’t had to do that before – I usually just pretended I didn’t recognise the girls, but I always remembered their names and faces. I had to avoid double-dipping.
I drove to the coffee shop on the high street and ordered an extra-large espresso. I used to hate coffee but I now relied on it to cure the hangovers. Of course I got them, they made me want to curl up in a ball and spend the day in bed, but they were just another thing I kept concealed. I took a seat by the window and pulled out my phone.
“What mess have ya go yaself into now?” Geoff said when he answered the phone.
Yeah, I only called him to get me out of trouble when I screwed up.
“I haven’t. I'm in Starbucks, have you got some time?”
“For you, son, I ‘ave. On the high street?”
“On the high street.”
“See ya in a minute.”
He hung up and a few minutes later, I saw him waddling towards Starbucks. I smiled. I couldn’t help it, although I tried to hide it. I loved Geoff, in my own way. Maybe it was gratitude or respect or whatever. I didn’t think too much about it, I just knew he was one of the few people in the world I wanted to see.
I stood up and shook his hand when he joined me at the table.
“What’s with the formal stuff, son?” He laughed and pulled me in for a hug. “Sit down. What do ya want?”
“I’m good.”
He scoffed when he saw the coffee and headed to the counter. I was nervous, so nervous. He probably thought we’d end up sitting in silence like we usually did, but I had to talk to him. Whether I cared to admit it or not, Phil had made me think; his mental mashing usually did.
“How ya doing?” Geoff asked, returning with a pot of tea.
“Good. I’m good, you?”
“Always good.” He grinned and I noticed how old he was when his skin took longer to snap back than usual when his smiled dropped. “What’s up?”
“Can we talk? Off whatever record you keep?”
He nodded and gestured for me to continue.
“I want back in.”
“In what?”
“The circuit.”
I’d heard Geoff react to many announcements in our time; retirement, marriage, homosexuality. Nothing shocked him…I just had.
“I don’t know, Curtis.”
“I need it,” I confessed.
“Why?”
“I don’t know who I am,” I hesitated but he was waiting. “I was somebody when I was in the circuit. I want to be somebody again.”
“Have you seen the state you’re in?”
Ouch. Yes, I had. I’d gained weight, lost definition, my hair was too long and I probably looked like a homeless alcoholic. I scrubbed my hand over the rug of facial hair on my jaw.
“I don’t want to fight.”
“What do you want, then?”
“To promote, to train, to run a gym. I don’t know, but I need it.”
He sighed and made his tea while he thought about it.
“Are you prepared to work?”
“Always.”
“I mean it, Curtis. You’re a mess, physically and mentally. I hoped you’d find your way back but you have to earn it.”
“I know,” I said with confidence. I knew I couldn’t deceive Geoff, but I had to try. He had to see there was some life left in me, even if I knew there wasn’t.
“Get in the gym, sort yourself out. Stop messing around in the sack and work. When I can see you’ve earned it, I’ll get you back in.”
I nodded.
“But I’m moving.”
“What?”
“Times ‘ave changed, son. Little league doesn’t cut it anymore. I’m moving to the city.”
I sagged in my seat, defeated. Geoff was my mentor, the only father I’d had since I was five. He was leaving and I knew I wouldn’t be able to do it alone.
“Curtis,” he said, drawing my eyes from my lap to his face. “Come with me.”
Chapter Fourteen
You’ll know. You’ll just know.
January 2nd, 2005
Come with me.
Those words echoed in my mind for days. Geoff had given me an ultimatum. Stay in Kent and continue to exist, or move to the city, fix myself up and fight. I didn’t know what to do. Kent was my comfort zone, the world was a big place and moving to London meant leaving twenty six years of my life behind with no guarantee that the grass was greener in the city. What if I failed? I always failed, but if I went to London and nosedived into failure, I’d never recover. I knew it. Moving away meant leaving everything. Lois? I hated the idea of leaving her with Phil. He’d managed to deceive her for years but I didn’t trust him. My parents? The only memories I had of them were at home. How could I leave that behind? I’d never moved on from their deaths, how could I do it now? Skye? Skye Jones; Kent was the epicentre of everything I’d ever had with her. I still craved her, still wanted her, still loved her. I needed to remember that I loved her; it was the only thing that stopped me finding her. If she was happy, if she’d moved past everything that had happened in this town, who was I to storm in and fuck it up again? And if she wasn’t happy, if she ached for me as much as I did for her, I wanted to be right here when she came home. I couldn’t go. I’d get a regular 9-5, go to the gym just enough to not be a beer-bellied fatty and I’d protect Lois. I’d be there if – no, when – when Phil fucked up and I’d support her like she had always supported me.
“You’re not hungry, Curtis?”
I looked down at the steak Lois had cooked for dinner; I hadn’t touched it.
“Sorry, Lois,” I picked up the cutlery and began forcing the food down. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, Lois cooked better steak than I’d ever had in a restaurant, but I’d lost my appetite when I began to lose my mind all over again.
“Sorry, Lois,” I said again, pushing my plate away. “I guess I’m not hungry.”
“Eat your dinner,” Phil hissed.
“It’s fine, Curtis.”
“I said eat your dinner.”
I watched them argue back and forth, my head flitting from side to side like I was watching a tennis match. I saw Lois’ bottom lip tremble.
“Phil,” she turned to him and took his hand. “He’s not a child.”
Phil threw back his chair and left the table, slamming the front door after another one of his hissy fits.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t. He’s stressed at work.” Lois offered me a weak smile and began clearing the table. I helped her with the plates and we cleaned the kitchen together. Phil always complained if he came in and the house wasn’t tidy. Asshole.
“I saw Geoff in town today,” Lois handed me a pile of plates to put in the cupboard.
I didn’t respond. Geoff wouldn’t have said anything to her. He agreed we were talking off-record.
“Yeah? How’s he doing?”
“Curtis.”
I turned to find Lois leaning against the counter with her arms folded.
“Yeah?”
“When were you going to tell me you’re moving?”
“I’m not moving?”
“But Geoff said-”
“Geoff wasn’t supposed to say anything. I’m not going.”
I threw the dishcloth on the side and stormed out of the kitchen.
I sat in my room in silence and thought. For someone who just passed their mandatory school exams, had no qualifications and the
IQ of a donkey no doubt, I thought a lot. Phil was always walking out on Lois – instead of planting his feet and having a serious conversation, even if he didn’t like it, he ran; walked out of the house and drove around until he knew Lois would have fallen asleep waiting for him. She wouldn’t bring the subject up again.
I’d seen the deflated, hurt look in her eyes hundreds of times, when all she wanted to do was talk and he just ignored it. I’d done the same thing downstairs. Lois was the last person I wanted to hurt and the first person I could talk to.
I headed downstairs to the basement where Lois was sitting at her sewing machine. She made baby merchandise; blankets, cardigans and stuff, to sell. Any money she made went to the children’s home just outside town – the one I would have gone to if she hadn’t saved me.
“Lois?”
She looked up from the machine and smiled. She was tired. She nodded to the basket on the counter and went back to sewing.
“What colour?”
“You choose.”
I pulled a ball of yellow yarn from the basket and put it on her lap before sitting on the stool next to her. My knees almost reached my chin; the last time I sat here it was comfortable. We hadn’t talked for a long time.
“Comfy?” She grinned.
“Oh yeah,” I rolled my eyes. “Not how it was when I was a kid.”
I shifted, trying to get comfortable.
“Yeah, you’re all grown up.” She tried to hide the sadness in her voice with sarcasm, sniffed and turned to me. “Talk to me, Buddy.”
I loved that she still called me that. It always took me back to time when we’d race our toy cars around the house, without a care in the world. I think that’s why she said it – Lois was the only one I could almost open up to.
“Have you ever had a life-changing decision to make?” I looked away and scoffed with guilt. “Yeah, I guess you have.”
“What do you mean?”
“When you took me in. It must have been hard to just change your life like that.”
“There was no decision to make.” She stopped sewing and turned her chair towards me. “You were coming with me. There was no other option.”
“You could have given me to the home.”
She sighed, “That was never going to happen. You’re family, Curtis. You were my boy. I was never going to let anyone take you from me.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. You’re the only son I’ll ever have.” She leaned forward and patted my knees. “Now, tell me about your life-changing decision.”
“I just-” I paused. “I’m scared.”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Leaving. I don’t want to leave home. I don’t want to leave you.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to leave you. What if something happens?”
“You mean what if I prick myself on a needle and I’m sent to sleep for a hundred years?”
I shrugged, but smiled, “It’s not a fairy tale.”
“No. It’s not. It’s life and you have to live it. We’ll still see each other. I’m just a phone call or an hour’s drive away.”
I nodded. Lois was waiting for more.
“I’m afraid of failing. I’m scared of being eaten alive by the city.”
“It’s normal to be afraid, but you’ll never fail. You won't let yourself and we won't let you.”
“We?”
“Me and Geoff. We’ve been there from the beginning and we’ll be there until the end.”
I nodded again, noticing she didn’t mention Phil. She knew he didn’t like me, too. But she was right.
“It’s the girl, isn’t it?”
My eyes flew to meet hers, “What?”
“The girl from last year.”
“What girl?”
“Oh, you mean which one from the list of hundreds?”
“We’re still in double figures.”
“Right.” She rolled her eyes and grimaced. “I mean the girl.”
“I’m not following.”
“Sure you are. You think I couldn’t see? The way you walked with a bounce, spoke with peace in your heart and smiled with love in your soul. You loved her, didn’t you?”
I covered my face with my hands and groaned.
“I still do.”
“Tell me about her. Who was she?”
“Remember the boy from Geoff’s? The one who died?”
“Yeah, Oscar.”
“Oliver. Oliver Jones. She was his sister. He was like a brother to me and I betrayed him by fucking his twin.”
She smacked the side of my head.
“Language,” we both sighed.
“I fell for her. I wasn’t supposed to, but I did. I think she loved me back…but I betrayed her, too.”
“Curtis, we always hurt the ones we love.”
“It’s different.”
I felt the cold sweep over me, the poison leaking into my veins; the memories of deceit and pain and loss. I felt my face turn to granite and my heartbeat slowed to a near stop; just enough to keep me alive.
“How is it different?” Lois asked with a frown. She’d seen the change.
“I’m going to the gym in the morning,” I heard the drone, monotonous tone of my voice and couldn’t find the motivation to sound any different. “I signed up today. Maybe I could try London.”
I stood up heavily.
“Curtis.”
“Her name was Skye. Sky “the Skillet” Jones. If you ever see her, you’ll know.”
“What will I know?”
“You’ll just know.”
I climbed the steps of the basement, one heavy thump at a time and walked straight in to Phil. I could see the anger in his eyes; clearly he wasn’t done this time. He wanted to argue about the uneaten steak. Fuck, I’d buy him a cow if it got him off my case.
“You,” he seethed.
“Fuck off, Phil.”
Chapter Fifteen
That’s the thing about fate. You have no idea if the pretty little package that looks like a happy ever after wrapped up with a bow is just that…or if you’re being screwed over again.
December 31st, 2009
“Mr Mason?”
“Yes, Angelica?”
“Ms Tattersell has just entered the building.”
“Thank you, Angelica.”
I hung up on my secretary and swivelled my chair round towards the wall of windows that framed the London skyline. I hadn’t failed. I’d made it.
It had been close. I was ready to raise the white flag, throw in the towel and go back to Kent with my tail between my legs and beg for a job in the local pub. And then I met Ms Tattersell…
I’d been living in a shitty studio apartment in Brixton with mould on every surface, an insect problem, graffiti on the walls and burn holes in the carpet from the previous tenants. And it stank. I couldn’t find the source of the stench, but it woke me up in the night, gagging, with a burn in my throat a gallon of borderline stagnant water couldn’t fix. I hated it. I worked out for hours on end to keep me out of the house. I helped Geoff scout and train and promote. He had a gym in the central, training up guys who became huge names in the business. But I was an assistant, taking a cut of Geoff’s pay because there was no place for me if I wasn’t fighting. I wouldn’t fight. I couldn’t.
I was close to not making my rent payments; I was at the point where I had to choose between eating cheese on toast or having electric. I was poor, I was failing, and I was this close to being buried for good.
And then I met Charlie Tattersell. Completely by accident, or by some sort of fucked up twist of fate. I was walking the streets one night, because walking along the canal and inhaling the vapours of sewage was far better for my health than lying on my piss stained mattress – not mine, I was lucky enough to be toilet-trained.
She pulled up in a car so flashy I couldn’t even afford one of the nuts that kept the wheels in place. I stopped, thinking she thought I was a thug
and she was some sort of assassin appointed to gun down people like me who made the city look ugly. Yeah, I had an active imagination in my scum of the earth days.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she said, leaning over the top of the car door so I could see her silhouette behind the tinted window.
“Me?”
“Yes,” her posh, private schoolgirl accent had me on edge. “Well, your type.”
She took a couple of long glances up and down my body, from the almost-black-should-have-been-white shoes, the sweats that were grey and covered in dust from crawling under the ring to clean it; the white t-shirt that had my nipples standing to attention because it was winter and I didn’t own a jacket, to the caveman-style hair that covered my head and face because I was too poor to pay for a haircut or buy a razor.
“What do you mean, my type?” I barked. “Who the fuck are you?”
“I’m Charlie,” she smiled and her hand out over the door. “Charlie Alexander Tattersell.”
“You always use your birth certificate to introduce yourself?”
“Well, my friends call me Cat. Charlie Alexander Tattersell, C-A-T, get it?”
“Clever,” I mocked. “You learn that in private school?”
“I didn’t come up with it walking the streets.”
“Fuck you.”
I turned and continued walking. I heard the car door shut and assumed she’d had enough fun, until I heard the tell-tale sound of high heels behind me.
“What do you want?”
I spun around, spitting the venomous words in her direction. Fuck me. She had a body that would make Vogue models cry and run to the bathroom to purge.
“You.”
She stood tall, proud, arrogant. She thought she was untouchable.
“Aww, poor little rich girl bored and looking for kicks?”
“Get in the car.”
“Fuck you, I’m not going anywhere.”
“What’s your name, street walker?”
“Cut Throat.”
She raised an eyebrow and pouted in superiority.
Revival Page 6