Chapter 9
Leo
The house is full – I can tell from the doorstep.
It’s right posh, Sam’s house. He’s one of those rich people who’s hooked.
Hooked on the gak, the party, the people.
He’ll stay awake all weekend like the rest of us, then put on his shirt and tie and go into work, and no one will know.
He won’t tell us what he does, but we know he’s minted.
I’m only allowed in cos I get the stuff, see.
He doesn’t let any old fucker inside his gaff.
Only some of us. The ones he cares about, he says.
Daddy: The Father Figure.
He lets us come and use his couch, his bed, the water dispenser in his massive fridge, his wealthy mates, his lube, and then we leave, having spent no money, sometimes having made it.
As I look at the door, about to knock, the colours in the window pane start to blend together and dance.
I feel good. It’s kicking in. I realise, as I stare at it, that I have a weird relationship with this door.
When I enter it, I feel fucking amazing.
But when I feel it close behind me, days later, I want to die. Every time.
But that’s not for now.
That can wait.
I knock three times. No one comes. I look behind me, back down the street. Smells good, the rain. That petrichor. It’s dead silent, too. If Brick was following, he’d be here by now.
I’m grand.
The door creaks open, and a head appears in the gap.
It’s not Sam. Someone I haven’t met before.
Young. Probably younger than he should be, but hey, I’m no Mother Theresa of this stuff.
He’s only wearing his kecks, and the skin on his tummy is pale, almost see-through, like uncooked chicken.
I can hear the low thrum of music coming from the living room behind him, or the kitchen – sometimes they do it in there, too – and voices. I hate it when it’s busy.
‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Leo. Not seen you before.’
‘Where have you been?’ he asks. Confident, for a new one.
‘Sorry, got lost.’
‘Lost?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Looks like you got lost in a bin.’
He looks at my hands. The dirty nails. I look a mess – Sam doesn’t like that. He points. ‘Why have you got flowers?’
‘For Sam. Where is he?’
‘You bought flowers for Sam?’
‘Yeah. Why?’
He smirks. ‘That’s sweet. He’s inside, but he’s busy.’ Course he is. This lad thinks I’m jealous, which is funny. He really is green. He’s staring at my face now. ‘You’ve had some of the T, haven’t you?’
Shit. ‘Who are you?’
‘Your eyes are gone.’
‘Nah, mate. Haven’t. Hay fever.’ I realise I’m not stringing full sentences together. It’s really hitting me hard right here on this doorstep, which is unfortunate, and the lad is frowning at me like I’m chatting utter bollocks. ‘Am I coming in then, or what? It’s fucking mingin’ out here.’
‘Where’s your coat?’
Who the fuck is this guy? My mother?
‘All right, I didn’t realise there would be a seven-year-old bouncer on the door tonight.
’ He looks pissed off at this. I should have just thought it.
I hold up the Poundland bag. ‘Listen, mate, it’s all in here, just let me in.
’ And give me the G. I’m scratchy as fuck for it, and I’m spinning out now. Will calm me down. Slow me down.
‘Is it real?’
‘Course it’s fucking real.’
‘Last time it was rock salt.’ How does he know that? ‘So Sam sent me to make sure. Can I see it?’
‘Not out here, are you fucking joking?’
But he’s not listening. The lad’s eyes have moved to a noise directly behind us. I turn to see a car pull up on the opposite side of the road. I can’t see the driver but it’s not Brick. Car’s too nice. Volvo XC40, licence plate this year.
Rich.
The car stops, but no one gets out.
Weird.
‘Wait here,’ the lad says, putting his hand on my shoulder. I flinch when it makes contact with my wet T-shirt, but he doesn’t notice. ‘I’ll get Sam. He can check.’
Fucking check.
I don’t need to be checked.
This could go wrong. Sam is good with seeing if things are missing. And I’m not sure I have time to get rid of the tin foil and pen in the bag. Not a good look, that. Bit of a giveaway.
But I shrug and nod – nothing to hide.
He smiles, then slams the door, disappearing inside the house. I look at the flowers from the graveyard and see there’s a half-disintegrated card tucked into the plastic wrapping with a message inside.
Daddy we will always love you xxxxxx
Suppose that still works.