A life like George - CHAPTER ONE

[CHAPTER ONE]

Wake up and you’re in a new place. Wake up and you’re in a different place to where you were last night. Wake up and you’re in an unfamiliar bathroom, watching your own blood and mucus drip off your lips. Thack..thack..thack. Landing in big thick chunks on the surface of the water. Thack..thack..thack. Wake up and you’re staring into the mouth of a dirty assed toilet bowl. Incrusted round the edges in god knows what brown and black gunk..and you wake up, with your all naked lips kissing that shit.
Thack..thack..thack. Your head is pounding, feels like your brain oughta be pouring out your ears by now. Thack..thack..thack. Wake up and you oughta be me. Tommy Reno.
This, here, right now, will probably be the climax of your day. Head down a mysterious toilet with the melodic thack..thack..thack. Believe me, this is the highlight of the whole motherfuckin’ day and it’s only morning time..you think.
Wake up and your somewhere in the middle of Main Street, sipping coffee from a shitty paper cup nodding a thank you to the guy at the stand. Wake up and your shaky hands are deep in the leather pockets of your jacket. Wake up and the coffee is already gone, the cup abandoned on the street behind you. You sniff loudly, your nostrils feeling burnt and raw from continuous sniffing. A few stick-up-ass’d locals with their briefcases and big shot businessmen coats sidle past you and peer out the corner of their eyes. You oughta look like shit to get those sorta looks in an upbeat town like this.
You oughta be a junkie to look that shit. You oughta be Tommy Reno to look that shit. No fucking doubt you’re the motherfuckin’ son Tommy Reno.
Wake up and you’re sitting deep in a crusty grey living chair, picking at the foam exposed through the holes in the arms. Wake up and your squatting over a silver spoon with a heaven flame burning beneath it. Wake up and your’re shaking from your knees, picking at the holes in your own arms.
“Better leave dat shit alone, son.” , wake up and your being nudged by Colin Dorset. He has taken his eyes off the silver spoon and heaven flame and is looking at you.
“Yes Mom….” He’s only looking out for you, but you don’t need looking out for.
Tommy Reno looks out for himself, he don’t need shit from anyone. Colin Dorset draws his eyes away from you and squints his lids back at the silver spoon. That oughta be your right hand man, straight outta Moss Side in Manchester. Ha-haaa that oughta be the skinny assed boy who could have been an movie star with that baby face, if only he could keep himself straight.
“You know…” he says, tounging the inside of his mouth, “I think we could be onta somethin’ good here.” You start picking at the red scabby holes in your arms again,
“Better be fuckin’ straight son, Ima bought to tear myself apart ‘ere.” The picking and scratching at your rotting skin is impossible to reframe yourself from doing, the crunchy sound is addictive. “Faaar son..”, he frowns, “I told ya…you oughta stop doing that.”
Wake up and your hanging upside down, the blood running to your head on that scoddy lounge chair, climbing up the walls with your feet. Wake up and your on the floor again, face down looking at the dirt imbedded in the carpet, watching the tiny beads sway in the breeze of your breath. Wake up and your dirty fingernails are flicking at the orange and white paper of a cigarette, Shiiiip, shiiip, shiiip. You flick a tiny corner of the paper.
Shiiiip, shiiip, shiiip. “You wanna stop doin dat fo’ christs sake?”, Colin Dorset asks, squeezing the air out of a heaven syringe. Wake up and you’re squeezing the needle into your arm. Feeling the familiar prick in a vein. You sigh deeply, Aaaaaaaaaaa…….
Your mind is a lull and a dopey grin stretches across your face. Aaaaaaaaaaa…….
You wake up and you’re alive. You don’t skip towns or houses or nothing this time.
You stay leaning against the door of Colin Dorset’s apartment, you know exactly where you are and are no longer losing chapters of the day mysteriously. Aaaaaaaaaaa…….
You’re fucking high baby. I take that previous statement back. THIS is the climax of your day. I swear to the big man upstairs, shit won’t get any better then this. And this, is the story of your life.

It is half past something when me and my right hand man Colin take our asses back onto the street. The sun creeps behind the tall orange-bricked buildings, our junkie assed shadows trailing along behind us. Our minds are buzzing, we are joking, laughing, sniffing and our legs break into occasional skips. We are hopping away down Main Street, our shoulders bouncing off one another. “Do ya think we’ll see any Exister’s today?” Colin chuckles, flashing a wiry grin at me. “Fucking Existers. Learn ta fucking live.,” I say, rolling my eyes and shakily pulling a cigarette from my jacket pocket and placing it between my lips. “Gimme here?” Colin asks, bouncing his shoulder against mine again. “Whaa?.” I ask, through partially sealed lips. “Gimme here.” He persists. I sigh and slip the cigarette from between my lips and pass it over to him, he tears it in a half in his hands and throws it onto the ground. “The fuck son?? Tha’ was my last one.” I shove my shoulder hard against his. “You shou’nt be smokin ‘is shit.” He says, trampling it under his shoe. I scowl at him, “Thanks for the fucking life lesson.” He flicks the end of his gray woolen beanie up over his face to look at me with his baby blue eyes, “You’ll thank me, I swear to ya.” He winks at me and then, laughs when he sees the look on my face. “It’s like what they say on the adds son, smoking kills 1 in whatever, or 3 in..whatever, I forget.” I stare at him, “Your fucking nuts you know that?” He shrugs, “Tha’s what I’m told.” He laughs again. “Tha’s why I ain’t no movie star son.”
I shake my head,
“Fucking prick.” He weaves his body in front of me, and starts walking on the curb,
“But Herion’s all aight?” I ask him, smirking. Colin is busy peering into the windows of the parked cars, looking for prime Existers. He turns his baby face to me and grins. “Course.” He says. He presses his hands against the glass of the windows, leaving ghostly prints of his fingers. “Ya better watcha ass for ‘em fuckin’ car alarms son.” Colin half coughs half laughs, “I don’t give a shiiiit. Existers can’t do shit to me.” He trails his right hand along the roofs of the cars, his nails making a clink..clink..clink as they make contact with the metal.
“No..” he murmurs to himself, taking a personal note of each locked car. “No..No..No..No…..”
clink..clink..clink. I really craved a drag. I patted my pocket for a cigarette. clink..clink..clink. Then I remembered Colin had destroyed my last one..”Son of a…..”
clink..clink..clink. I shifted my gaze back over to him, he was still on his hunt for a prime Exister, it was proving to be a mighty assed mission, no unlocked cars in fuckin site. An Exister as Colin and I called them are the tight pocketed pricks in society who only choose to exist, going to work with their motherfuckin’ briefcases, eating fuckin’ cherrio’s with their plastic coated lips, not wanting to start shit with no one. Just oughta blend the fuck in and get money on the table for Jason and Luanne’s college fund. clink..clink..clink. Not ever living their goddamned lives, just choosing to exist and eating everybody’s shit day in day out. Clink..clink..clink. Tommy Reno and Colin Dorset ain’t no tight doored Existers, we are loose lipped, black veined Livers. Choosing to live our lives how we want them, not taking anyone’s lip or eating anyone’s shit.
clink..clink..clink..stop. Colin oggles me with his baby blues, a dorky assed grin pasted to his face. “Fucking prime Exister?” I raise my eyebrows at him curiously. “Fucking prime Exister.” He smirks. “Too caught up in da motherfuckin’ system son. Too caught up slaving for da man to lock they’re bloody car.” He shakes his head, and starts yanking at the door handle. “I have a fuckin’ nerve to smash their fucking windows.” I laugh, “That’s not part of the game though baby.” He shakes his head, “No sir,” and yanks open the door. It swings open quickly and scratches loudly against the pavement, I swear that oughta have ripped the silver paint clean off that bitch. “Ooops.” Colin chuckles and throws his widdly assed body into the car, face first into the right side front passenger seat, his legs slamming against the steering wheel. “Farrrhhhhhhhk,” he murmurs, the back of his sneaker starting to slip off his foot. “Keep watch baby!” he hollers at me from inside the car.
I flick my eyes around at the shadowing buildings for any dopey Existers coming out for a dopey lunch break at the fucking Coffee Shack or somethin’, a chi latte’ with no cream please, the cream fattens my fuckin’ Exister ass. Fuckin’ pricks. I cock my head in Colin’s direction, “Just pretend you’re a fuckin’ safety inspector or some shit. These pricks won’t know the better.” Colin makes a gargley laugh from inside the car, “Ha-haagggghh,” his legs are still thrashing up by the dashboard. He rips open the plastic glove compartment, the door falls open on his head. “Aggghhh!” This fuckin’ dope some how manages to swoop his body into an almost upright position. He grins in triumph to himself, tonguing the left side of his upper lip. He scratches his bristly chin violently and then rummages through the glove box. “CDs.”, he picks them up and examines them more closely, “Nah!” he yells, and winds down the right window with his gangly arm and throws them out onto the road. You better believe those bitches made a clatter. I was still on the eye out for dirty fuckin’ Existers. Colin continued to tear apart the contents of the glove box, discarding anything that was worthless. “Ah-ha!” he cheers suddenly, slamming his hands against the dashboard. He grins out of the car at me, “Fucking 50 smacks!” he fans the notes out in his hands, “Fucking dirty sons.” He chuckles, and folds the notes up into his pocket. He comes across a plastic drivers license card, he tilts his head to one side as he studies it. He smirks. “Fucking mother Donald Port!” he throws the ID out the door to me. It skims across the concrete, Exister number one for today, Donald Port, a fuckin’ fat brother, with a wide frog like face and a pasty baldhead. I chuckle, bending the plastic with my fingers. “Cell phone!” Colin jeers from inside the car. “Silly prick left his cell phone behind.” I continue to bend the plastic ID card with my fingers, “Looks like Mister Port might have missed out on some very important phone calls.” I joke. “Sure.” Colin chuckles and pockets the cell phone. He jerks his head in the direction of the back seats, a dopey assed grin pinned to his face. “You oughta dump your tiny ass ‘ere, Son.” He smirks and sinks down into the front passenger seat, slipping his beanie over his face. I gaze gingerly over at the cramped area of the car I would be attempting to shove my scrawny self into, I pocket the ID card. “Move the seats forward?” I joke. Colin just laughs and slumps his boyish body over, “Fuck off mate.” He smans, cocking a finger at me. I yank the side door open it skids across the pavement, I give the moaning son of a bitch a light kick with my boot, Cccgrrrrrrrhhhhhhhhhhhhh. It cries out in protest as more silver paint is ripped off. Son of a biiiitch. I stretch my needle torn arms forward and drag my junkie ass onto the cool leather seats and slam the door shut behind me. I lie face down for a moment, inhaling the bitter smell of the black leather, the cowhide or whatever bullshit leather is made out of, I dunno. There are tiny burns in the seats from something, some prick must’ve smothered they’re cigarettes out in these seats. This will be home for the next few minutes, as we wait for the Exister. I pull my black beanie over my eyes and nose, this, here, is my disguise. Colin and I, we are deep thinkers you see, our plans, always fully thought out. I play with the fraying edge of the beanie with my fingers, tugging at the tiny pieces of wool. I wonder if I could unravel the whole thing by tugging this one piece of wool? I finally decide to ease myself down onto the floor of the car, positioning myself at my post. Discovering that this sure is one cramped motherfucker.
“Aghh fa christs sake…” My spine is hunched over uncomfortably against the door. I hope this son of a bitch hurries the fuck up. “You holdin’ up aight?” Colin chuckles. I mumble an unenthused response, kicking my feet against the opposite door impatiently. Colin smans, “He’ll be ‘ere soon son.” I slump down even further, “He fuckin’ better, ma legs are crampin’ already.” I bend my boney knees up by my chin and rest my face against them, suddenly feelin’ tiredness creep over me. I am coming down, ‘fucks sake. I close my eyes and rub them tiredly against the rough denim of my jeans. I could just fuckin’ sleep. Suddenly Colin rips his face round to mine, “He’s comin’!” he whispers desperately and falls back into his seat. The dope almost looks comical with that gray beanie dragged over his face. I’m starting to wonder how the hell he’s gonna manage to control this situation with no eyes. I shake my head. I cut the holes into mine. I stifle a laugh, “The fucks your eye holes son?” I whisper to him, feeling a goofy smile tug at the corners of my mouth. Colin turns serious, “I forgot aight?,” he’s never been so composed in his life. He is in character now Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff. That is the sound of nicely polished businessmen shoes making they’re way across the pavement. We duck down into position. Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff. Hard, shiny, black leather shoes, scraping they’re way over to the car. Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff. I watch Colin blindly thumb around for his switchblade. Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff.
Mr Colin Dorset and Mr Tommy Reno perched unsuspected in his car. Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff, Diff. The door opens and I can see a blue jacket and a black tie. Donald Port and his pasty assed head and shiny leather shoes thump into the drivers seat, before he even has a chance to breathe Colin’s switchblade is at his throat, the silver blade begging, pining for a cut. But that ain’t part of the game, so the blade remains still.
I’m surprised at Colin’s accuracy. Donald breathes out heavily, every bone in his body quivering, too afraid to make a sound. Colin leans forward his lips brushing against the side of Donald’s ear,
“Just drive.” He says, his voice slurring. Donald’s hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white and blotchy. “Start the car shithead.” Colin says coolly, Donald shudders as he feels Colin’s breath against his skin. Colin remains completely calm, his coolness and easiness is menacing, this he has learned from me. Donald shakily fumbles around in his jacket pocket for his car keys, his fingers all thumbs. The sorry fuck is panicking. If I could feel empathy, I would probably feel sorry for the sniveling shit. But I don’t so I just sit back with my feet against the door feeling absolutely nothing. Donald is still struggling to grip his keys clink clink clink, they fall in and out of his hand, clink clink clink.
“Christ’s sake!!” Colin curses impatiently, losing his cool and blindly reaches over to Donald, he grips the front of Donald’s shirt, feeling around for his shirt pocket, fighting the urge to remove his blinding disguise. Then, looking almost rehearsed, the stupid dope tumbles forward and smashes his fist against the window. My patience is quickly burning. “Fucccckkkkkkk!” he yells, ripping off the beanie and revealing his face to the trembling yet slightly smirking Donald.
“Fa’ Fucks sake Colin! Put the fucking beanie back on.” I snap, learching forward from the back seat. Donald almost has a heart attack, his face turning white as he sees the black masked me appear from the back. “My god…..” he wails, almost passing out.
“Yeah,” I say, raising my eyebrows at him, “I’ve been here the whole time. Big FUCKING surprise”
Colin is sitting half on Donald’s lap, inspecting and rubbing his hand, “Fuuuuuuck.” He murmurs.
“Colin??!” my mouth sucks the black material in and out as I talk., tiny beads of wool stick to my tongue. Colin looks up from his hand and stares at me, giving panicking Donald a nice clear look of his face. A nice mug shot look. A nice convict line up look. That’s the one officer, that’s the fucking one. “The fuck son?” I spit. Colin raises his hands in defense, “Cool it man, you just fuckin’ blew your position.” He shakes his head at Donald,
“See what I have to deal with day n day out?” He bites his lip, “This crazy assed shit son.” Donald the prick is still terrified, he silently whimpers while me and Colin get over our domestics. “Whattaya want me to do? Put the fucking beanie back on and fuckin cut the shit out of myself?”, “I just wanna go fucking home son, your fucking unorganized..”, “Whattaya want me to say??”, “I dunno, just fucking finish this shit boy.”, “Aight we’ll finish this shit and get our fuckin’ asses home.” Donald jumps as he hears the word “finish”, we’d almost forgotten about the whimpering wreck. Colin leans forward and pats the top of Donald’s bald head, “Don’ worry son, we aint gonna kill ya.” He says, grinning slightly as he speaks. “This’s all jus’ a test.” The tears in Donald’s eyes cloud over his cheeks and his chin trembles, “What do you mean?” he sniffles. I slump myself in the back seat, completely and utterly fucking over this shit. “It’s a test son.” Colin repeats. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out Donald’s cellphone , he throws it onto his chest.
“Ya see Donald, you left your car unlocked see. ‘N you left your cellphone, your cash..”
I remember the ID card in my pocket and pull it out, “Don’t forget your fucking drivers licence, DONALD.” I say and flick the card into the front of the car. “Your fucking drivers licence.” Colin repeats. Donald stares up frightenedly at him, still somehow believing he was gonna get stabbed, which in his position, is a fair enough thought. “You see, you silly silly man. Had any other geiser caught sight of ya unlocked car, they’d ‘ave hotwired that bitch and stolen all your shit.” I slip my beanie off and rub my face, shit it had gotten hot, and man, was I completely over this or what? I thump my head against the leather set, “So what have you learned?” I ask Donald in a bored unenthused voice, I start flicking at the skin at the corner of my nails.
“Not to leave my car unlocked?” Donald responds, his voice still trembling. Colin grins and slaps him on the leg, SMACK. “Well done Donald!” he cheers, then looks over his shoulder at me. “Well we need to go now mate, you probably don’t know it yet..”
He turns back to Donald, “but we’ve just changed your life forever. You probably won’t understand today, or tomorrow or nothin’. But every time you go to slave at your shitty assed job, you will remember how easy it is to have your whole life taken from you.” He pats Donald hard on the shoulder, “And there is more to life then just existing. You gotta live Donny, you gotta fuckin’ live.” His speech is wasted on Donald, who’s mouth just hangs open, not looking to understand a word that’s coming out of Colin’s mouth. Colin grins over at me, “I think we’re about wrapped up here.” He says. There is a Lord. “Aight.” I say, opening the car door and hopping back out onto the street. The cool air strikes my face like an open fucking fridge door. I wipe the small beads of sweat that have gathered across my brow off with the back of my hand. “Excuse me mate.” Colin says to Donald, and crawls his body up over him and out the door. “Fuck son…” I sigh loudly. What a relief to be out of that fucking car. My eyes squint in the sun and I crumple the black dog of a beanie in my hand. Colin athletically ambles his body the rest of the way out of the car, he turns and winks at the still shit faced Donald. “You behave.” He says and slams the door shut. He gags out a laugh, it comes out in half assed gurgles.
“Chriiiist.” I curse.
Donald sits there unmoving and unblinking in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel, emotions ajar.
We’re going down hard baby. Today we are devils but come night, we are no more then shadows.

* * * * * *

Colin sidles down the edge of the sidewalk with his smutty blue and white sneakers, dishing his feet round and over eachother like some sort of lame animal.
“Sometime’s I feel like everyone’s drownin’ in this town. Drowning upside down in little glass boxes .” He says, scuffing the corner of his heel along the pavement, dragging it in a small line. “We’re all jus’ slowly drownin’, each n’ our own little glass box. Our little glass boxes we created fa ow’selvs. Wit no one ta blame but ourselves fa da shitty little lives we’ve shaped fo our selves’. N da more we try ta swim to the top, tha more the water fills higher n’ higher. Everyone’s fucked Tommy, me n you n everyone in this stupid assed town is fucked. F-U-C-K, fuuuuucked. N it don’t matter what we do, or what we try ta do, we are fucked. Everyone is goin down Tommy, N I think, who’s stoppin’ me from goin down wit em right now?” He thoughtfully begins to tap his collarbone with his fingers, “Who am I to be so fuckin’ different?” He gazes away, taking a moment to breathe. “Who am I?” he exhales slowly, “Who am I?”
There is a pause.
“Huh?” I ask.
“Nothin’.”
There is another pause.
“You high or sumfin?” I ask jokingly.
His face drawn all serious.
“No.”

* * * * * *

Colin spits a huge lump of cream out of his mouth and back into his glass,
“Why da fuck they have to put cream on this shit?” he asks, shoving his strawberry milkshake dressed in a wig of cream across the table. “You say no fucking cream and they add even more fucking cream.” I raise my eyebrows, peering into my own glass, stirring the cream around with my straw, “Well at least they try ta dress it up,” I say, tipping my glass in his direction, “wit all that strawberry sauce or whatever they put on it.” Colin continues to scowl. He begins shooting nasty looks over his shoulder at the waitresses, and Colin ya see, can do a nice angry face. His eyebrows all screwed up over his crinkled brow, mouth all twisted up in a frown, if the waitresses hadn’t guessed he was angry already, they would sure know now.
“l’albicocca” meaning, “The Apricot.” Innnn…Eyetalion, is the name of this little joint. The owner, or manager or something is Eyetalion I think, must be, oughta be.
“La-beee-co-ca,“ Colin and I practiced saying that over and over again when we first ever went here, I liked the idea of being able to speak a little Eyetalion. I think Colin does too but who really knows what that kid is thinking, he’s stopped eviling the staff members now and has resumed inspecting his glass; He’s holding it up by his eye, squinting down into it almost hoping that if he stares at the cream enough it will vanish.
The diner is a safe haven for Colin and I, well especially for me. The dark bitter smell of the coffee, the black and white tiled floors and the baby pink icecream scooped out with shiny silver spoons, all brings me comfort. Looks like something straight out of a movie, all the people at the booths, just actors. A young dude with a green and black flannel shirt, sits opposite us next to a window. His sleeves rolled right up to his elbows, arms hairy as shit and..hell, needle torn jut like mine. He stares hungrily down at the table, his eyes darting back and forth, and blinking, blinking blinking. I wonder if he doesn’t sleep like me? A waitress with soft eyes smiles kindly at him and asks him if he’s ready to order. The stupid dope just stares at her, mouth hanging right open, a tiny bit of drool escapes his mouth. The woman smiles again, unfazed by the state of this kid, and says, “How about a milkshake darlin?” like something straight off a movie script. The pathetic dick just bows his head, his reddened eyes just blinking, blinking, blinking. She pats his hand affectionately with hers, “Coming right up,” she says and walks away, her long black hair trails over her shoulder as she goes. What an Angel. I turn my head and look out the big old glass window, out onto the street. The evening is coming. A golden light grasps the entire city, each and every window on the towering skyscrapers twinkle like stars and the trees, all wrapped up tightly n cyan fairy lights begin to glow. No screaming sounds of cars, no nothing, not on this street, just the hum of the espresso machine, and the clank, clank, clank of cutlery against plates. This could be heaven. I feel like that in this little diner, with the red rubbery seats and circle shaped menus, I could be anyone. I turn my eyes to Colin who is still consumed by the cream in his milkshake,
“Besides,” I say, picking up conversation, “No one’s forcing you to eat it. Why don’t you just scoop it out onto your napkin or some shit?” He shakes his head from side to side and begins to scoop lump after lump of cream out of his glass and onto the table. “Your gonna get us kicked out ya know that?” I say.
“What do you care?” he snarks, and continues scooping more cream out onto the white tablecloth. The many unexplainable acts of Colin Dorset. “I don’t care,” I pause, raising my eyes to the front desk. “’just sayin is all.”
A waitress with a blonde bob and little black heels stares at us, her mouth a tight frown. With puckered up lips she calls to someone from the back. She continues to stare at us with her bitchy little face twitching, and tapping the toe of her shoe on the black and white tiles, occasionally looking over her shoulder to see if whoever she has called is coming. A young woman appears from out of the kitchen, she is also wearing little black heels but has loose orange curls. She has a round pale face, which she scrunches up when she sees Colin and I.
“He we go,” I say to Colin. “We’re in trouble now.”
“What?” he asks, looking up over his shoulder to see the two woman discussing amongst themselves, the woman with the orange curls and raspberry lips screws up her eyes at him, the harshness in her face drops when she recognizes his face. Her mouth in a straight line begins to tremble, she bites hard down on her lip to restrict its movement, and drops her eyes to the floor. My heart stops.
“Isn’t that---“ Colin begins to say, turning to look back at me. His lips curling up into a grin.
“Yes,” I say, leaning forward “And don’t you say a fucking word.”
“Ha-Ha-Haaa you stuuupid son ov a biiiitch,” He laughs, “You came here on purpose didn’t you?” He shoves my shoulder back with his hand, “Didn’t you???”
“We always come here.” I say.
“But ya knew she was gonna to be ’ere today didn’t you?”
“’Course I didn’t.”
“I don’ believe you.”
“Well don’t then.”
Colin waves at them with his hand, grinning wildly at them, his eyes dancing. He is getting absolute thrills off all this.
“We’re almos’ done ‘ere!” he calls to the woman, scooping the last of the cream out of his glass, “Jus’ a few minor alterations!” The dirty kid at the opposite table looks at him, he blinks and drops his gaze uncomfortably. Poor sod. Colin always has to make a scene.
“Can’t we have a civilized--,” I pause for moment, smirking to myself, “meal for once??”
Colin is not listening.
The woman with the blonde bob says something like, “you go” or “you deal with them” to the orange curls,
I can’t fucking lipread so I don’t really know but that’s what I assume ‘cause the next thing she does is shove her fist into her shoulder blade and pushes her forward.
Colin flashes me a child like smirk,
“It IS Desiree!”
“Shut up.”
“Why????”
“Get fucked”
Colin laughs, his choky sounding laugh, that sounds more like raspy gags then anything else.
Desiree stumbles forward, her heels making a clack, clack, clack as she loses her balance. She grips her white lacey apron with her hands, her knuckles turn white as she squeezes harder and harder. Her chest heaves as she exhales and makes her way over to our table, clack, clack, clack, clack. Her pale blue eyes drop to the floor and her lip begins to tremble again, clack, clack, clack, clack. It feels like the whole diner is watching us. Colin leans back in the booth, looking absolutely delighted with himself. He folds his arms and just grins at me.
“What??” I say, my blood beginning to boil.
“Oh, nothing.” He responds, raising his eyebrows at me.
I drop my fists hard onto the table, “You’re an idiot.”
“l’albicocca”; la-bee-co-ca. Make’s me feel at home.
“Desiree”; dez-a-ray. Make’s me feel like me.
The unclasped apricot, or la-bee-co-ca curls make me remember who I could’ve been.
Colin won’t—can’t understand.
I’m just having a bit of a hard time being me today, that’s all it is.
It’s got nothing to do with la-bee-co-ca making me feel so..so.familar, but everything to do with the tangerine ringlets. . . Tangerine is such a beautiful word. There’s something so picturesque, so..so…I can almost taste it..so..
Blah, blah, blahhk, I’m getting soft.
Soft, soft, SOFT.
But I’m not soft.
Only when I’m here in the la-bee-co-ca. Fuck the Eyetalians for making me soft.
Fuck Desiree for making me soft. Fuck, fuck, FUCK.
“Excuse me sir.” Says a soft woman’s voice. There’s that word again, soft. There’s that buzzword. I draw my eyes upwards and stare at the anguished eyes that blink so rapidly at me. Soft, soft, soft, too fucking soft.
“What?” I say, doing my least gentleman’s voice. Ha! Not soft.
Colin shoves his straw into his mouth and begins chewing it, his teeth gnashing and gnawing against the plastic. Gnash, gnash, gnash. It makes a low rubbery sound as he pulls it in and out from between his teeth. Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“I’m going to have to ask you gentleman to leave sir.” Says the downcast eyeballs of Desiree.
“Huh??” I have perfected my nobleman’s tone.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
She exhales deeply, her bottom lip beginning to quiver.
“Tommy please..”
Another buzzword! My name!
The bones in her hands rattle against her face as she wipes her snowglobe eyes.
She bites down hard on her lip again, I can almost feel the teeth marks.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“What??” I say, raising the terror alert in her face to red.
“Why are you here?” she manages to say, gripping the lace of her apron again.
“Ta fuckin’ eat wa’ do ya think?”
Her lips narrow into a line, her lashes blink back more tears.
Crush, crush, crush. I got her crushed.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“You can’t,” her voice strains to an almost whisper, “You can’t be here.” She says.
I know.
“Fuck off.” I jeer.
Her lids begin to flick faster and faster as more tears sidle their way out over her lashes.
Watch out for severe mascara mess!
“Yhhh fkkk ufffff.” Colin adds between gritted teeth. Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“You guys are just..going to have to leave.” She says.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“Please.”
She’s about to cry, tiny little bumps begin appearing on her chin as she tenses her lips.
The corners of her mouth pull down wards, she attempts to keep a straight face but is useless against her own muscles. Down. Fight. Down. Fight. Useless.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
Or is she crying already? It’s hard to say. This kind of weakness in a person is fucking pathetic. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Probably awhile back when I actually knew how. I swallowed that whole emotional, tender, venerable male thing, a long time ago. Despite what they say, in the real fucking world, no one gives a SHIT about a man who knows how to cry. Colin is a little more in touch with his emotions then I am. I’ve seen that little blighter blubber like a baby. I guess you could call him an emotional guy, he cries if he fights with Fleur, he cries if his Mom doesn’t ring him on his birthday (She doesn’t EVER), he cries if ya hit him too hard etc etc etc. But oddly, he doesn’t cry when Fleur cheats on him, he doesn’t seem to give a shit about that and neither does she so I guess it levels out.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
Another reason why I hate it when people cry is because of the shit ugly expression you pull, it brings out the worst in everyone’s face. Veins all bulging in foreheads, mouth like a fucking train wreck and all those red blotches that appear on your skin. Hideous, hideous, hideous. Desiree is no exception to this rule. This is why we would never work out, she cares too much about…EVERYTHING and well..that simply doesn’t fly with me.
Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr. She’s really struggling to keep herself together now, I’ve barely said two words to the bitch and she’s already a fucking mess.
“Do Eyetalians own this place?” I ask her, dropping my eyes from hers.
She pauses, sniffing in loudly through her nose, “Huh?”
I pick up my glass and examine it, it is still half full of candy floss coloured milk.
“Eyetalians.” I say, “This place owned by Eyetalians?” I press the straw against my lips.
Her brow furrows, “I—don’t know.”
WACK! I slam my glass down hard on the table, she almost jumps out of her skin, her whole body jolts like she was electrocuted by something. So does Colin.
“Shiiieeet man.” He chuckles wacking his hand against the table. Gnnnnnnnr, Gnnnnnnnnnnnnr.
“Well isn’t that a shame.” , I say giving her a foamy smile. I stretch out my arms and yawn obnoxiously. I flick Colin on the side of his head with one of my fingers. Colin wacks my hand away, like he was batting away a bug, the straw still in his mouth. Desiree just stands there, her lip still trembling. I’d scared the life out of her. But I guess that’s a win cuz’ that was my intention, really. Just tryna keep her on her toes. I throttle my glass again with my hand and tip the remainder of the milkshake down my throat. Glug, glug, glug. Boy, I am sure being a gentleman today. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Small amounts of stickyness cling to my skin.
“So are ya gonna clear up ow’ table or what?” I ask.
Colin laughs, marveling at my work of intimidation. That kid could learn a lot from me.
The thing is, the more calm and collected you act, the more intimidating you come across. But I guess he already knows that, after his, - may I compliment-, perfect display of coolness in Donald Ports car earlier that day. HaHaaa that shit didn’t know what hit him!
Desiree’s lips droop and tremble even more then before, tears finally spilling out over her cheeks. She drops her head, fumbling around for her spray and wipe shit, that stuff waitresses use to clean tables. I look over at Colin, who is grinning broadly, the straw sticking out of his mouth like a cigarette.
“I think we’re about down here.” I say, fighting to hide the smirk that is slowly creeping its way over my face.
“Yeah!” he says.
We get up nosily, our shoes shuffling against the floor, table sliding slightly, glasses struggling to keep balance. Colin pats me appraisingly on the shoulder as we make our way towards the door.
“Nicely done son, nicely done.” He says.
We shove past Desiree, knocking her against the opposite booth where that scrawny shit boy is sitting. He jumps in his seat as Desiree comes towards him. He shuffles his shoulders uncomfortably and pulls up his sleeves, his reddened eyes still forever blinking. Colin kicks open the door of the la-bee-co-ca with his foot and stumbles out onto the street in stitches of laughter. “My god!” he yells, “My god!”
The streetlights shine a glow over his face.
I’m almost halfway out the door, when a sharp woman’s voice shouts at me.
“Hey!!” I turn around, the woman with the blonde bob is standing behind me, tapping her foot against the floor, tap, tap tap. The stupid fucking little tap.
“Are you going to pay for you drinks or what???”
Tap, tap, tap.
I pause for a moment, holding the door open with one hand, pretending to think.
“Ummmmm……….”
I twist my mouth and scratch my head in mockery thought. Here comes that power trip.
“No.” I say, feeling myself grin. “I don’t fucking think so.”
I slam the door in her face.

* * * * * *

I didn’t mean to hurt Desiree, but I just kinda did. Even though I didn’t want to.
Desiree and me got history. We got some real history. About maybe 2 years ago, I was blobbing out on her couch, throwing corn chips at my mouth, note the at my mouth, and I had my feet perched up neatly on the arm, digging the heels of my shoes into the material. There was a tink, tink, tink of her stirring a tiny teaspoon in a white mug with a cat on it. Ya know those sorts of assy mugs old people buy cuz’ they think they’re clever? N’ that simplicity of a fucking cat on a fucking mug has them in stitches. Yeah, one of those mugs.. gohhhd daaaym. We even had prospects of maybe getting’ married, Desiree and me. Dreaming about taking walks on the boardwalk and she’d have one of them candy coloured parasols. And it’d spin, spin, spin with the waves looking all purple against the sand. I’d smell the ocean and that bitter salty taste in the air. Her hair would be all tangerine and her skin all snow like in them globes… But I’ll shut up now cuz’ none of that matters, none of it matters. Desiree doesn’t matter anymore. The person that was with her wasn’t me, ISN’T me, never was and never will be me. Tink, tink, tink. I can almost hear her stirring that coffee right now. . Tink, tink, tink. I shake my head furiously, rubbing my eyes tiredly. I needa fix, that’s what happens when I needa fix. I THINK too much, and thinking is what eventually kills people. The thing is, nothing in me compels me even be with Desiree anymore, no way do I want to get back with her. No fucking way. But I just can’t seem to let it go. Returning to La-Bee-Co-Ca purely to remind myself of..I dunno..me??, or me and her? , orrrr who I was when I was with her? Gaaawhhd almighty, I don’t know. But who cares, that’s all old news anyway. And if your Tomo Reno you don’t give a shit about no past or for reals no fucking broad. I’m ducking between glossy streetlights, watching Colin dance along in front of me like a shadow belonging to a child. The street is dark now, black as anything. The night is our kingdom tonight, and in the blackness that surrounds us we could be anyone.