‘What?’ Closer, closer…
‘I got fired. From the bookshop.’
‘Shit, Daisy. Bad news.’
‘And I got handed this.’ Daisy pulled the half-bone from her pocket.
‘Wow! There’s your rate of exchange then.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I reckon you’re in need of a good dance. And also some of this, maybe?’
‘What?’ Daisy had to move so close in order to catch Jaz’s dropped-down voice; so close, it was almost like kissing. Then she saw the powder he was offering to dissolve into her orange juice. ‘Ultragarlic!’
‘Keep your fucking voice down, girl!’ This was whispered as he poured the bounty into her drink. ‘I made it special for you. A present. Beginner’s mix.’
‘You reckon?’
‘Most definitely. It’s your birthday, isn’t it?’
‘I never told you that.’
‘Did a little research, didn’t I? On the university’s computer.’
‘They have passwords.’
‘And Jazir has the key. You really shouldn’t have lied about your father being dead. That was cruel.’
‘Oh.’
Daisy had never taken drugs before, but now here she was, downing her powder cocktail in one. Seeking a release from the day.
Seeking…
So, they danced. Jazir and Daisy. They danced the neo-cool step to Dopejack’s mashed-together beats, the music of forgetfulness. The crowd went loopy, dancing like Frank, and Daisy couldn’t help but mellow, especially when the ultragarlic finally kicked in. The world was so full of hazy fire, so spicy and hot, that Daisy Love truly forgot herself for a moment. Somewhere in the darkness, Daisy kissed Jaz.
Play to win
Outside the club, that very moment, Little Celia was staking out her abandoned shop of a home, knowing all too well that some greedy tramps might be waiting for her inside. A faint light glinted through a gap in the wooden battens covering the window. Somebody was in there.
Celia could hear the Snake Loungers’ music, muffled by the walls, and over this, surely she heard a noise from within her carefully chosen home. Somebody laughing? Was some vagabond tramp laughing at her, waiting for her return, hoping to steal the prize she no longer had. After finding her naked of the bone, wouldn’t they just kill her?
You bastard tramps! That’s my secret house you’re messing with! We’re supposed to look after each other.
She didn’t shout this out loud, she just thought it to herself, but the pain was real, the sense of loss, abandonment. As she walked over the road. This is my house. This is my fucking house! Celia could see that her usual hidden way had been savagely torn aside. The door was splintered, flapping wide like a mouth. Somebody coughed from inside. Celia called out, ‘Who’s there?’ No answer, and the light within wavered and then died. ‘I’m coming in now. You’d best be ready.’ Why was she being so brave? Because it was her home, that’s why. And the homes of the homeless are the deepest homes of all.
Play to win
Jazir Malik banged his fist on the door of the private booth, upstairs at the Snake Lounge club. A slatted peephole slitted open, and a voice called out, ‘What the fuck do you want?’
‘We’ve come to see Joe Crocus.’
‘Joe doesn’t want no visitors. Bye.’
Jazir recognized the voice. ‘Sweet Benny,’ he replied, quickly. ‘It’s Jazir Malik here. I just want to shoot the breeze.’
‘Go fuck the breeze.’
‘I’ve got Daisy Love with me. She wants to talk to Joe.’
‘No visitors.’
‘Sweet Benny, all I’m asking is a little audience. Daisy has something good she wants to show Joe. It’s about the dominoes.’
‘No.’
‘Benny, Sweet Benny. Have you forgotten already the favour you owe me?’
The door was finally, reluctantly, swung open. ‘Come in then, you two. Be quick about it.’
Jaz and Daisy were super quick about it and, within a second’s breath, the door was shut and locked and bolted behind them.
The private booth was small, mainly filled with a table, and a TV screen, a music system, both turned to low. Along one side of the table was Old Joe Crocus, his face stony like a blank bone. Benny Fenton muttered something like, ‘Hutch up, Joe. Make room for the girl.’ He got a scowl for his cheek.
‘I’ll stand,’ said Daisy. ‘I’m fine just standing.’
‘Please yourself.’
Daisy was well out of it, to be honest; the garlic was frying her brain; the drugs, the reported music, the slight delay on the closed-circuit screen, the coldness of the company, the stupidity of that stupid kiss, the stupidity of showing the half-cast bone to Jaz.