40-Kit
A neon sign above the door flickers as we step out, casting the pavement in an ocean-blue glow.
The night is cool enough to cut through the lingering heat of the laser-tag game, though my shirt still clings to my sweaty back.
Seth’s wheezing as Silver wipes fog off their visor lenses, and Yensil looks like he’s reconsidering every life choice that’s led him to this moment.
He follows at his usual distance; hands tucked behind his back in that stiff stance he defaults to whenever we’re in public.
“Well,” Seth says, dragging the word out dramatically as he lights two cigarettes, “that was humiliatin’.”
“Humiliating is generous.” Silver slicks their hair back, tossing an elastic around it. “We were annihilated.”
“By children.” I take the smoke as Seth hands it to me, holding my ribs where one of the arseholes rammed into me at full speed.
“They’re in a bar; they’ve got to be at least eighteen.” Silver wraps themselves into their fur jumper. “I told you lot not to underestimate ’em.”
“Nah, they gotta be twenty-one over here.” Yensil unwraps a piece of nicotine gum, pocketing the rubbish. “I swear kids are looking younger each day.”
“I was target practice,” Seth says flatly through a drag. “One of the wankers called me ‘the big one’ and used me as a bloody shield.”
Silver laughs so hard they nearly trip over a curb. “You are the big one.”
“You should’ve kept to the corners,” Yensil rumbles from behind us. “You all ran into the open like amateurs.”
“Easy to say when the arsehole did’n play,” Seth mutters through another drag.
We cross the street toward the hotel. Petrol fumes and fried food muck up the air. The city buzzes around us despite the late weekday hour; cars honking and people’s cheerful chin-wagging—America’s much louder than home. Big and chaotic. Loud enough to drown out the thoughts I’ve been avoiding.
“I needed that. Truly. Running around like a bunch of twits for an hour?” Silver stretches their arms above their head. “Best therapy I’ve had in ages.”
“Good to get you guys out for once.” Yensil twirls his fidget spinner. “You’re like gremlins. If I leave you alone too long, you start causing trouble.”
The hotel comes into view; tall, glassy, and far too posh for a bunch of pillocks who belong in dingy pubs. The lobby glows warm through the windows, revolving door spinning lazily as guests come and go. As we approach, Seth shoves his hands into his pockets.
“Ya know what? I miss London. Proper London. Rain. Puddles. Pigeons that look like they’ve seen war.”
Silver laughs. “The pigeons here are fatter; I’ll give you that.”
“They seem content.” Seth drops his cigarette, stomping it out with his boot. “It’s unsettling.”
“Can’t blame ’em, the portion sizes are obscene.” Silver digs their phone from their back pocket, showing us a picture of a giant Styrofoam cup. “This was a large coffee; the size of my bloody head.”
“That’s America,” Yensil says, “go big or go home.”
I hum in agreement. “I miss the food. A proper fry-up. Chips that aren’t called fries, and crisps that aren’t called chips. Tea that doesn’t taste like sadness.”
“The tea here is criminal.” Silver nods solemnly. “I ordered Earl Grey yesterday, and it was like bathwater.”
We reach the hotel entrance and the doorman nods at us. Yensil gives him a curt nod back, the kind that says thank you for your service, but I’m watching you. The lobby reeks of citrus and eucalyptus, but the marble floor gleams. The air-con hums, brushing a cold wind across my clammy cheeks.
“I’m knackered.” Seth flops onto one of the leather couches.
“We should get upstairs.” Yensil pockets his spinner and checks his watch. He steps in front of me, blocking my view of the entrance. “Early call tomorrow.”
I crane my neck over his shoulder. A small group of guests whisper as they glance our way. My stomach drops. We head toward the lifts, Yensil taking point now, scanning the room with that critical gaze. The lift dings, and we step inside.
As the doors close, I catch my reflection in the mirrored wall; hoodie, messy hair, flushed cheeks barely visible above my face mask. Tonight is the first time in months I’ve felt like myself, and it’s bloody brilliant.
Too bad it’s only for the night.