Angel 10 (bromance)

Angel lit another cigarette, more for something to do, and she rolled down the window. ‘Sorry,’ she blew out the smoke sideways, fanning it with her hand.

‘It’s alright.’

He patted the back of her hand, which she’d tucked into her lap to stop it from shaking, but he didn’t seem to notice. As they came off the roundabout and nearer the house, the familiar throb started in her temples. An anxious voice at the back of her head. ‘Run little girl. Run little girl. Run as fast as you can, little girl.’ And she could hear Jaz’s mocking laughter.

And there was something of Jaz in Pizza Face’s nose and mouth. But she smiled and laughed, on cue, at the punchlines of his stupid jokes. And that part of her was laughing and wasn’t anxious. But when he parked the car, turned the engine off, the heating still whirling out of the fans and leaned across to kiss her with peppermint-chewing-gum breath, she turned her head and he kissed her hair and the pink of her ear.

She gulped down air. A prickle in her voice, which made it sound harsher than she intended. ‘I need to go…I need to go noo.’

She snatched at the door handle as if he’d held a knife to her throat, part of her knowing how it would go now. He’d make a grab at her, like her mum’s other special friends. Reaching for bra straps to ping. Patting her prepubescent tits. Nipping her bum. Touching between her legs. Sometimes she thought there must be a smell about her. A sign above her head that read: Damaged goods.

Pizza Face made no move to stop her. She stood on the pavement, clutching at her bag and feeling slightly stupid.  When she ducked down and looked through the side window, he was slumped down in his seat, his hands firmly on the wheel, a half-smile on his face, as if he’d already forgotten her. But she thought he looked rather sad.

He turned and looked at her face and caught her looking at him. He mouthed through the glass. ‘I’d never hurt you, Angel. Never!’ He turned the ignition barrel.

She crossed the road, her bag swinging on her shoulder and watched the Jaguar indicating and taking a left and disappearing down the hill. He must have been looking in the rear-view mirror, because his hand was held up in salute.

The Jaguar was parked in almost the same place, but in front of red Fiat, the following night. She was later, standing in the rain, under the umbrella of an elderly neighbour that used to stay close by, whom she hadn’t seen for yonks. He was sitting, square-jawed, his hands on the wheel, as he peered out at her. Reaching across, he shoved the passenger door open.

She bent down and looked in. The car was mint fresh and neater than a matchstick model just out of the box. He wore a white shirt, but the same watch and black trousers. The compilation tape was different. Barry Gibb’s sotto voice: How Deep is Your Love. How Deep is Your Love. In a world of make-believe, I  Really Want to Know… the other Gibb brothers carolling in.

She shook her head and slid into the heated passenger seat, clunking the door shut. ‘Soppy,’ she said, laughing. ‘That’ll  really dae nothing for your reputation.’

‘Whit the fuck, who cares?’ He’d that humorous expression on his face. ‘Quality counts.’

‘I’m only staying for a minute.’

He shrugged. ‘No problem. A minute wae you is good.’

She looked back at his daft face, grinning at her. ‘That’s thirty seconds.’

Reaching for the door handle and turning back to see what he’d do. ‘You’re time’s up.’

‘I love the Bee Gees,’ he said with a crooked smile and croaked and cackled through the rest of the song with the Gibb family, flinging his arms out as he minced along.  How deep is your love. How deep is your love. I really want to know. He lost the high notes. He lost the low notes. But she couldn’t fault him for effort.

She was bent over with laughter, as she stepped out of the car. ‘Yah, daft bugger. You’re absolutely terrible.’    

‘There’s room for improvement,’ he admitted, smiling at her, with a gleam in his eyes.

‘See yeh, later, alligator,’ she slammed the car door shut, and the lime-green bodywork vibrated.

‘Ouch, you,’ he winced, turned the ignition, and laughing pointed a finger at her. ‘Aye, why don’t you shut the door properly, Angel.’

The following night, there was no red Fiat and he’d his parking space back. But the pavement in front of his car was covered in white roses shaped like an arrow that pointed at the passenger door. He stared ahead, smirking, as if he hadn’t noticed her hurrying up the hill. She pulled open the door and sat beside him. He mimicked being surprised to see her.   

Travis was blaring on the compilation tape, Why Does it Always Rain On Me?  

‘Yah, daft bugger,’ she said. ‘At least it’s no the Bee Gees.’

‘Hi, don’t knock the Bee Gees. Super group.’

‘Where did you get the roses?’

He sniggered through his nose. ‘Well, there was a guy in the Parks Department putting a bush through a shredder and I thought it would be funny.’

She put a hand on his knee. ‘Aye, it is quite funny. But I just want to be friends.’ She shook her head and kneaded her fingers. ‘I don’t want to be one of these girls that gie you the run-around. Messing you about.’

‘Friends is good.’ He held her gaze. ‘I’m no saying I don’t want a bit more than that. I’ve had a couple of girlfriends you know—wan of them dead serious—but nothing special, like you.’ His head dropped and he looked across, sideways, at her lips. ‘The thing is Angel, me and you go back a long way. I don’t feel as if I’ve got to put on an act with you. You know me. And I know you.  And we’ve always known each other. And that makes it kinda special. But, aye, friends is fine.’

Angel wet her lips. ‘Aye, I feel the same way. I’ve no really got anybody else and I kinda look forward to you being here. But I don’t know. Just don’t know.’

‘Right,’ he seemed as relieved as her. Then his face hardened. ‘But I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Just say the word, and you’ll ne’er see me again.’

She patted his arm. ‘But you already have made a fool of yerself.’

‘Whit dae yae mean?’ he snapped.

‘Wae the roses,’ she giggled.

‘Och, that. I got them for nothing.’ He slid across her lap to open the door. ‘Now beat it and gie me peace. And I’ll see you the morrow night?’

‘OK,’ her face glowed as she skipped out of the car. ‘She scooped up some roses and cupped them in her hand, smelling their scent. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said through the window.

‘No as beautiful as you,’ he mouthed back, turning the car engine on.

She held her hand up, waving him away as his eyes went to the rear-view mirror. ‘Not as soppy as you,’ she whispered, letting the petals of the white roses fell at her feet.