Then nothing mattered apart from what was happening in that room. Being alone with Paul, in his flat, at the top of his tower. She enjoyed the tingle in her body, the thrill of his hands on her, the euphoria rising within her.
The kiss seemed to come from both of them.
She knew something was going to happen, but, contrary to rumours, she was not overly experienced. One frenzied fumble at school and another hopeless attempt.
They manoeuvred themselves into a comfortable position, with him resting on the edge of the couch and Lena standing in front of him. His head was cocked and he looked at her in a way that made her blush. But she had learned enough from watching MTV to know that bashfulness was not a good strategy in the art of seduction and she forced herself to meet his gaze.
He had a wry smile on his face and his chest was going up and down; she felt a flutter in her that she’d never experienced before. She wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted her to do, but he seemed happy enough with her knee rubbing his crotch through his jeans. He pulled her closer, his hands feeling the lines of her body. Her confidence grew as she realised he was aroused by her. She kissed his lips, combing his hair with her fingers.
Her kisses progressed to his neck, and then his chest; tentatively she undid the buttons of his shirt. Bending straight-legged from the waist, she slowly unbuckled his belt, looking into his eyes. His wry smile was now a broad grin that spread across his face. He helped her with the awkward trouser moment. At the back of her mind she heard her friend’s voice repeating, It’s just like licking a lollipop. With Paul’s guiding hand resting on the crown of her head, following the gentle bobbing action, she took his cock in her mouth and did what came naturally.
Afterwards she felt like she’d given him a very kind gift.
Chapter Six
Her initial confidence didn’t last long, and doubts and shame began to creep in. Afterwards, Lena wasn’t sure how to behave, or what to expect from Paul. She wasn’t sure if she should leave, if he was going to ask her to leave, now that he’d got what he wanted from her. She wasn’t sure if there was genuine warmth in the kisses that followed or if they were part of his goodbye to her; part of some unspoken ritual she would have recognised if she’d been more experienced. He broke away to pull up his trousers. She curled deep into the arm of the chair, making space between them, ready to take her cue from him. He stretched lazily, a wide smile on his face, his arm slowly lowering on to her knee.
He turned to her and she waited for his judgement.
“Cup of tea?” he asked.
Lena stayed on the couch while Paul disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear him rummaging and took the time to look around the room. Every inch was covered with junk from the party. What she could see of the laminate was so dirty with footprints, it looked like the road. The light machine still sat in the corner, but apart from that there were almost no possessions. Just a few books in a pile, a stereo and some CDs on a small bookshelf. The couch, chair, beanbag and table were the only other furniture. The woodchip walls were white and bare except for grey water splashes just above the skirting board. It smelled of stale beer and smoke.
Paul came back in with two mugs of tea and a folded black bin bag. He put the mugs down on the table and then straightened, looking at the piles of rubbish around the floor.
“I need to get this place cleaned up,” he said. “Don’t want you thinking I live in a rubbish dump.”
He opened the bag and started to scoop up air with it until it swelled like a balloon. Then he moved at speed around the room, picking up discarded paper cups and empty cans and throwing them in. Lena took a swig of her tea then got up to help. It took about five minutes to get everything off the floor and by that time the bin bag was full. Lena threw in the last cup and looked at him.
“The hall?” he said.
They spent the next half an hour going from room to room. Lena was glad to be active. It left no opportunity for awkwardness and took her mind off the pain of her hangover. Afterwards she went for a quick shower and when she came out the floors in the kitchen and hall had been mopped. Paul was finishing off the floor in the living room. The windows were open and a cold breeze was blowing in. She was still wearing just her vest top and jeans, but was feeling a little better.
Paul saw that she was shivering. “Do you want to bring in the blanket from the bed?” he asked. “It’s just until the floors dry.”
Lena dragged the thick blue duvet into the living room, jumping from dry spot to dry spot until she reached the couch. She wrapped herself in it and when Paul came back in and sat down beside her she shared it with him.
He sighed, out of breath, and looked around the room. “Bit better. I’ll do it properly tomorrow.”
Lena felt warm under the duvet, beside him. “I like your flat.”
He pulled another face. “It’s just temporary, until I get back on my feet. Good view, though.”
Her eyes fell on the books. She nodded towards them. “Are those yours?”
“Do I look like the kinda guy who sits around reading books on business?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.”
He smiled and then said, “There’s a guy over on Woodlands. Gives you half the cover price. When I was short of money I used to nick them and bring them in. Some of them I kept.”
She remembered the conversation she’d overheard earlier. “I didn’t like your friends, this morning.”
“They’re not my friends. They’re my customers.”
He reached over for his tin and began rolling. She watched him fill the papers with tobacco and with his fingers sprinkle on some ground-up leaves from a small plastic bag before rolling up a neat spliff. She knew she had to think about getting home, but one joint wasn’t going to make much difference.
Paul passed it to her. “Spark up!”
She reached for the lighter.
They spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch smoking joints. She was wasted. So was he. Two stoners laughing, trying to fix the world’s problems from a living room. Lena was too wrapped up in her own enjoyment to notice the sun going down.
“Most girls like me to be that way,” Paul said with assurance.
Lena shook her head and scrunched up her face. “Baws like watermelons…”
Paul looked momentarily hurt by the rebuke and she was glad.
“With those guys it’s like an act,” he explained, his hands held up like a market trader in defence. “There’s a way to be that makes my life easier. It’s business. I give them what they want. Not just the drugs. It’s more like a lifestyle. These guys want to be close to the action but far enough away not to get burned. They think because I was inside it makes me hard. I play up to it because it’s what they want to hear.”
“Do you always give people what they want?”
She was watching his face. She couldn’t stop watching his face. Not handsome, she thought, not in a conventional way. Objectively speaking, there was nothing extraordinary about his face. But it didn’t stop her heart racing every time she looked at it. The way he laughed and carried himself so convincingly, she began to wonder if maybe she’d got it wrong and it was the most handsome face in the world.
“Win, win. If there’s something you can both gain from it, why not?”
“That guy nearly whitied.” She laughed, enjoying watching him squirm at her teasing, no real concern for the guy whose rescue she was coming to.
“It does no harm every once in a while to remind them who they’re dealing with.”
“Who are they dealing with?”
“Not much. I’m a lover, not a fighter.”
“Why, cos it’s what I want to hear?”
Paul lunged across the couch; his arms wrapped around her, tickling the breath out of her. Their laughter rang around the room.
When she was with him she felt no ne
ed to be guarded. She could say what she wanted to say and wasn’t worried about hurting his feelings or that he would laugh at her. He listened to her. They had a conversation. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever had one of them before. She listened to him. Not always understanding, but finding warmth and encouragement in his words. Every once in a while he articulated her thoughts and she basked in the reassuring confidence it gave her when he made them sound entirely plausible, validating her existence.
“Do you ever just think that everyone you know is an asshole?”
She said it glibly because it was the most important thing she had said all day; the most honest confession she’d ever shared with anyone in her life. The thought that ate away at her day by day.
He laughed again. “I know exactly what you mean.”
The ashtray was resting on his chest. Smoke blew out of his nose. “Only I don’t think they’re assholes, I think they’re weak.”
Right, she thought. It wasn’t quite what she’d meant. She had been trying to say that she was weak, for thinking like that. It worried her when she had thoughts like that. She looked at her friends and envied them that they never had thoughts like that. Or if they did, they didn’t show it. She couldn’t understand what was wrong with her. The world was a hostile place and she was ill-equipped to deal with it.
She sipped her tea.
“I mean, like those guys today,” he said. “The one that nearly whitied.”
He waited for her laugh before he continued. He was taking her with him. “I give them a couple of nine bars, some pills every month to sell up at the uni. I give them a shit deal. And they know it. But it’s worth it to them. They’re not gonna fight me on it because I know they aren’t in it for the money. They’re in it for the show. In a couple of years, when they get their nine-to-five and their house, they can tell stories of their fucked-up youth and impress their friends. But for me, this is actually my livelihood. This is my life.
“If it’s what they want, they should do it. But don’t dip your toe. Why sit in the corner when you can be in the centre of the action? If you’re gonna do something, do it. All the way. Be it. All the time. Because otherwise you’re a fucking tosser and people like me are gonna rip the pish out of you.”
She thought of her friends and how she hid her grades from them. How she thought the clothes they wore were stupid but still dressed the same – just because. But it hurt when they whispered behind her back. Even the people she thought were her friends, the ones that were supposed to be looking out for her, only did it as long as she played her part.
“Most people are assholes, it’s true. So what? That’s their problem. But it’s not gonna change who I am. I’m still gonna do what I want to do.”
She took a large gulp, holding back. Not ready to believe him. Not wanting to give up a part of herself – feeling that once it was gone she could never get it back. Because it meant going solo and she didn’t know if she was ready for that yet.
“But what about when what I want is the opposite of what someone else wants? Should I just force it? I don’t want to hurt anyone,” Lena said.
“Sometimes you have to. That’s a choice you have to make.” His face was impassive.
“Like the guy you threw in front of a taxi?”
He looked at her like he’d just been mauled by a kitten he’d been petting. She regretted saying it. Wished she could take it back. The silence was strained. She wanted to return to the laughter, the soul-searching conversation. She’d ruined everything. Pushed it too far.
For a second she thought he was about to get up and leave. Then his eyebrow went up; he rocked his head, drew in a deep breath. She was surprised when he took the joint from her and started to speak.
“That was a mistake.”
Then he laughed.
“Because you got caught?” she asked, annoyed.
“No,” he answered quickly, sharply. “Not because I got caught.”
He waited a while and then continued.
“You know I’m a drug dealer. It’s a good job for me. It means that I’m not going round punting kitchens or double glazing that people don’t want. I’m not working at McDonald’s with some spotty-faced virgin telling me to fry chips faster, smile more at the customers. Or in a call centre clocking in and out to piss. I couldn’t do that. I can’t have other people telling me what to do.
“I used to think it was me that was damaged. That there was something wrong with me. That I couldn’t fit in. I was called antisocial, oppositional, dysfunctional. Then one day I didn’t think that. One day I realised that being the way I am isn’t a bad thing. I had a couple of harsh lessons. Helped put things in perspective. I realised that when it’s all taken away, there’s something inside me that survives. And just knowing that, it knocks down any walls, unlocks any doors. And people are scared of that. Because it shows up their own weakness. I don’t blame myself. They can’t make me feel guilty for being who I am.”
Lena listened carefully, sensing that somewhere in there was the key she was looking for. The tools she needed to survive a little better herself.
“When I stood in front of the judge and he told me I was getting a sentence, I was terrified,” Paul said, deadly serious. He wasn’t laughing or smiling anymore. “I lost control in a moment of weakness. Could have jeopardised everything. There was no choice in it. The guy provoked me. I reacted. And it was stupid. And the cost of that was six months of my life.
“It wasn’t pretty. I was fresh meat in there. First day I walked in, they could smell I was different. I wasn’t in the infirmary because of a wrist strain, I was there because I got into a fight. I got into a lot of fights. Sometimes violence is necessary. But it’s never an easy choice. Not for me. That’s why I knew I was different. I hated every minute of it.
“Do you want to know the worst part, though?” He looked at her, his mouth grim, his face dark. “Knowing I could have killed a guy. Knowing I came that close.” He measured a small distance between his index finger and thumb. “Because that’s one thing you can never escape from.”
Lena felt a shiver and let his words settle; some she took straight to heart, others she saved for later. Her eyes fell on the clock on the shelf. It was midnight. She realised she had to go, or stay out for a second night. She sat up straight, not wanting to cut him off when he was speaking so openly, so honestly. She wanted to stay there beside him and hear him talking till morning. But a second night was pushing an already precarious situation at home.
“I have… err… college tomorrow.” She avoided his eye. “My flatmates will be wondering where I am.”
“Blow it off and hang out with me,” he said.
She wanted to. She wanted to live with freedom and without responsibility. She didn’t want to be a teenager with school and teachers and people to answer to every minute of every day. Partly she wanted to upset her mother, let her see what bringing an asshole like Jason into their house had done to her daughter. There would be havoc when she got home.
But she could take it, she thought. It was worth whatever they threw at her. She was a survivor too.
“Please,” he said, with a desperation that took her by surprise. And suddenly he seemed very small in the room with blank walls, filled with little else besides loneliness.
“OK,” she said.
They stayed up talking for the rest of the night and when morning beckoned, he took her hand and led her to bed.
That afternoon, when she woke up beside him, she discovered what it was to feel totally connected to another person, to the world.
This is what real life is all about, she thought. Happiness exists and it’s there to be taken. And there’s nothing wrong with that.
It wasn’t selfish. There was nothing to feel guilty about. Why did adults make everything so complicated? Why did they fill your head with lies and their stupid ideas of how your
life should be? Stupid lies their parents had told them and their parents before them. Lena had never met an adult yet who was happy, so why should she listen to any of them?
Some of Paul’s words rang in her ears. Why recognise another man’s rules, the responsibilities he gives me, when you can choose your own?
In that moment, Lena couldn’t remember ever having been so happy.
A few minutes later, when the buzzer went and a heavy fist pounded on the door, it all came crashing down around her.
“POLICE! OPEN UP!”
There was a horrible moment when they both froze.
Paul whipped round and pointed to a spot on the bedroom floor. “The stash.”
Lena couldn’t see where he was pointing, but it was too late, he was already making his way to the door. Then she spied the transparent bag filled with pills, pellets and powders. Grabbing it, she ran to the toilet. Her fingers fumbled as she tried to open the ziplock. Another thud at the door caused her to jump. In desperation she tore her nails through the soft cellophane, spilling the contents into the toilet bowl. She watched the white dots spiral down the U-bend just as the door in the hall crashed open and a policeman’s stern monotone, forceful as a juggernaut, carried through the wall.
“Paul Dalziel?”
“Yeah, so?”
She heard a tussle, followed by the sound of someone bashing into a wall.
“We’re looking for a Lena Warren,” the policeman said. “We have reason to believe she attended a party here on Saturday night.”
Heavy footsteps pounded her way. After two deep breaths she opened the bathroom door and was met by a female police officer.
“She’s here,” the officer yelled back to her colleague, who pushed Paul into the living room.
Lena was ushered out of the flat, flushed with embarrassment and shame. As she passed the living room she heard Paul shout, “Fourteen? FOURTEEN!” He was with a uniformed male officer and his face was stony, his hand over his mouth.
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