Angel 78 (old friends and new)

Pizza Face made tea, toast and cheese for her and Adam picked at it as they made small talk. He wasn’t a religious man, but he kept touching her, stroking her arm or leg and she knew the way he was looking at her son, he was praying that Adam would fall asleep. When he did he fucked her on the couch long and hard as if he’d just discovered sex. A warm, sweaty, honey glow dripped from every part of her body. She grabbed onto his hips and bum, keeping him inside her even though he’d warbled, ‘I’m cumming’. She couldn’t wait for more, then they heard somebody battering on the door.

She dug her elbows into the cushions scrambled out from under him, reaching for her bra, her nipples suddenly feeling bruised and sore as she slapped cloth cups on her breasts and clipped them on at the back. Searching for her pants, a one-handed trawl at the side of the couch. Her dress and blouse flung on the chair near the window, the seat on which Adam’s cot was placed.

The renewed drum beat of banging on the door also roused her son. He screamed in fright and Angel went to sooth him, leaning over him sticky and knickerless. ‘You’re alright,’ she crooned, rubbing his chest, his red-rimmed eyes asking what the matter was, while stepping into her pants and turning her head to keep her hair out of the way, momentarily, forgetting she’d clipped it off.

Pizza Face was already on the move at the back of her, shirt on, but unbuttoned and she heard him pulling up his zip. ‘Try and keep the wain quiet,’ his voice had none of the panic she felt. He marched towards the living room door with a sense of purpose.

Adam lifted his arms and hands up to be lifted and she grabbed him up, ‘Shhhing’  him. Her head turning one way then the other and searching for a place to hide behind the curtains, crouched behind the chair. Imagined flinging down a rope ladder from the window and dropping down it, hand over fist. She heard the front door open and the sound of raised voices, Pizza Face’s the loudest.    

Too late.

She darted across clutching Adam and hid behind the living-room door, peeking out through the crack at the front door.

Pizza Face was standing shaking his head and over his shoulder she could see the dark sedge of uniform and a squarish head wearing a police cap.  ‘Way and fuck,’ said Pizza Face, ‘I’ve done nothin’. You’re no’ gettin’ in—no without a warrant—me and you both know that and I’m telling you categorically, no, and noo, fuck off.’

He swung the door shut before they could reply. The door chapped again and he crouched down, pushing the letterbox open with his index fingers and speaking out of it. ‘Fuck off, ya pair of tossers, I’m a taxpayer,’ he laughed, ‘Or I’m phoning the police!’  

Pizza Face barged through and into the living room unclutching his fists and grinning. The confrontation with the police seemed to give him renewed energy. He scanned the room, turning his head looking for her.

‘Whit yeh daeing there?’

It amused him she was shivering behind the door.

‘Hiding.’

He wrapped his arms around her and rocked her. She could still stale smell off sex of him. ‘Yeh didnae pick a very good place.’ He kissed the crown of her hair, his warmth, a reassurance.

She was still jumpy, waiting for the door to chap again. ‘Are they still there?’ she asked, nuzzling into his shoulder.

 His hand patted her bum. ‘Don’t think so.’  

Felt the stretch and tug of the elastic, the spider crawl of his hand and a finger hooking up and into her cunt.

‘They’re too busy,’ he pulled down his zip. ‘They’ve no’ got enough manpower to hing about long.’

He tugged at her pants, pulling them down to her feet. She stepped out of them. Clutching Adam’s head to her breasts. Her son’s eyes shut.

He stepped closer and lifted her up by the waist, grunted as he pushed into her cunt. She was still wet from before. ‘Love you,’ he said.

Her head almost banging against the wall. Adam’s eyes opened and grew frightened. She had to pull away and his penis slithered out of her.

‘Love you too,’ she said.

He took it in his stride, remained in good humour, his cock shrinking he wanked it a little. ‘Perhaps you could finish me off, gie me a blow-job?’

She shivered, there was something of Jaz, his older brother and the smell of him that made her want to gag, a remembrance of the things he used to make her do. Her voice hardened. ‘Perhaps, I couldnae’.  

‘Right then,’ he backed away from her, tucking himself in and adjusting his trousers and buttoning his shirt up. ‘I maybe need to nip out.’

‘Out where?’

‘Just stuff.’

‘Whit if the police come back?’

‘Well,’ He swelled up, sticking his chest out. ‘I’ll tell them to fuck off again.’

She kept her head down as she brushed past him holding Adam. ‘But you’ll no’ be here.’ She glanced at him. ‘And, anyway, the police arenae gonnae let that go because of your say so. They’ll be back and whether they’ve got a bit of paper or no’ they’ll get in.’

‘You’re suddenly all Mrs Doom and Gloom,’ he said it in a jokey manner, but she could tell he was hurt.

‘Sorry,’ she sighed and tried to smile. ‘You’ve been great.’ She sat sideways on the edge of the couch, her legs and feet underneath the table.  Pulling Adam up and down by the arms and making him laugh.  ‘I’ll make it up to you later,’ she promised.

He skirted around them searching for his socks and trainer and spotted them under the telly cabinet. He sat facing her, his back to the window, putting them on. He stood up, ‘Need to pop oot.’

‘But why?’ she asked.

A flicker of annoyance flashed over his face, he shrugged. ‘I’ve just got stuff to dae.’

‘You back selling drugs?’

‘No,’ he hissed. ‘You’ve no right to ask me that. After everythin’ I’ve done fer yeh.’

He bent down to kiss her on the way out, but she dipped her shoulder and pulled away from him.

‘Suit yerself,’ he hovered, hand on the door hande. ‘I’ll bring us somethin’ in to eat. Somethin’ nice.’

She played with Adam, keeping her back to him, tears in her eyes. She heard him rooting about in the lobby and he came back with his denim jacket on.

‘That’s me away.’

‘Right.’

The front door opened and banged shut and she was alone with Adam, wishing she was back in The Mother and Baby Unit. Wishing she could turn back time, and that night when Toyah had come into the kitchen, she’d simply went back to her room. She sat for a while too scared to move, listening to the noises of the neighbours through the walls. Then she got up and unzipped her holdall, sorting through Adam’s stuff and searching for a clean pair of her knickers, when she heard a chap at the door and she froze.

Adam started crying and put her hand over his mouth. He struggled, purple faced, and she pulled it away, appalled she could have done such a thing.

The door chapped again and she heard a voice shouting, ‘Graham, it’s me. Let me in.’ A woman’s voice.

She floated into the lobby, holding Adam and looked through the spyglass. An older woman, hair bleached, a squat body, tanned arms and a greenish blue tattoo of a snake added colour to her bare shoulders and crop top. Arms folded over big breasts and a look about her that suggested she wasn’t for moving. Although she couldn’t be seen, Angel stepped back. The woman was fat, but she was also very obviously pregnant.

‘Graham, it’s me,’ she flapped at the letterbox. ‘Let me in.’

Adam’s squawking gave her little choice but to open the door.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ the woman licked her bright red lips. Her oversized bum pushed off the bannister rail; she barged in past her and looked towards the living room. ‘Where’s Graham?’