Closure (13 page)

She placed two fingers on her lips, kissed them, and tapped them on the window. Behind her fingerprints, the four birds continued their song. Donna turned around, gathered the duvet up from the sofa, carried it upstairs to her room, and went to bed.

SAI MURRAY
PISS PALS

Damo caught a glimpse of himself as he strode past the darkened window of Woolsmiths and stepped up his swagger.
Tschhhhh! Damn fine.
He was late but that didn't matter, he was worth it. Shit yeah, Matty would never be able to compete with £250 faded Marischo Narvadis – originals of course – limited edition with customised ass-rip below left buttock, revealing a purple sliver of £80 Drice Nortons.
Sweet as.

“Fucking slow down, will ya!” Tameka called from down the street.

Damo slowed outside Rekordz. The window featured posters of some boy band. Although Damo knew he would always have the edge over any manufactured high street wank, he was struck by how much they looked like him. There was a difference though – a big difference – maybe not to the untrained eye. But the people that mattered knew. You couldn't fake real style with no cheap chic.

“What's the fucking rush; we're already late, aren't we?”

Breathing hard, Tameka adjusted her black Asher Pearce handbag from left shoulder to right. Damo set off as she drew up. He still had it, he was still ahead. When the high street caught up with your styles, that was when you needed to worry.

He undid a button on his Sempuriio shirt.
Let the tan breathe – that's cool, that's allowed, not too posy in this weather
. A low cut tee might have been a better option than the Sempuriio, though. A tee would have worked well – especially a Giorgius with sleeves rolled up.

He pulled the layered Morracka gem-beads up from beneath the 3-grade cotton, then carefully laid them back inside. He loved to feel them flop against his waxed pectorals and his ripped rectus abdominis. Erotic.

“Oi! I am in heels, remember!” Tameka click-clacked behind.

Damo stopped to let her catch up. She leaned a delicate hand against Krenco Caffè, careful not to get dirt on her Paschlina wrap. She adjusted the straps on her 3-inch Harpers.

Damo lapped up the show of cleavage. Yeah. Not the biggest but she did make use of what she had. Blinding. A knockout. He flashed Tameka his trademark grin and patted her arse.

“S'okay babes, don't worry.” He looked at their reflections. “Fucking gorgeous.”

* * *

Damo scanned the room as soon as they entered the pub-restaurant. It was no place he'd choose, but this was Matty's home turf. Old locals, a smattering of youngsters, the usual non-clubbing awkward geeks: Goths, Tuck-ins, Eco misfits. The back of Matty's gelled three-quarter scalp (a “style” he had not altered for as long as Damo had known him) was visible in the far corner. Damo pulled Tameka forward by the waist and felt several manicured nails dig into his flesh. Damo regarded her with puzzlement.

“I need… to… pee.”

Tameka hurried off; he rubbed his forearm, tensing the flexor carpi muscles. Beneath his tribal dragon tat there might well be a set of crescent-shaped blemishes. He smiled.
Feisty
.

His best mate Matty was still engrossed in banter with his girl, Claire. Not an argument though. All sicky lovey-dovey.

Stay cool, Damo. Cool cool.

He strutted towards the bar pretending not to appreciate the nudges between a group of alco-pop girls. They wouldn't often be blessed with seeing the likes of him in these parts. He could clean up in this town. They probably thought he was some celebrity. He often got that.

* * *

Four drinks crashed onto the table. Lager sloshed onto Matty's Fenchcross polo tee. It was an old one; Damo had seen him in it before. Anger flashed across Matty's face. Then he looked up and saw it was Damo.

“Don't even serve Krostburg in this shithole,” Damo announced.

“Damo!” Matty pulled his arm from around Claire. He stood up to embrace Damo.

Mindful of the spill on Matty's shirt, Damo pulled back, “Easy pal, Sempuriio, yeah.”

Matty raised an eyebrow at Claire. He wiped his tee-shirt dry, held up his hand, then punched Damo in the abs. Damo countered with two swift kidney punches, faked a jab and then pulled Matty into a headlock. Sweet citrus tickled Damo's nostrils. Was that Assati cologne? Subtle musk, hint of menthol. Some Dravidus moisturiser as well perhaps? Well played, Matty. Matty slipped Damo's arm and they wrestled each other into the wall. Claire tutted as they collided with the table.

“Settle down, boys.”

They disentangled and smoothed out their shirts.

“Not bad, Matty lad.” Damo slapped Matty's abs. He tried not to sound out of breath, “Still going the gym?”

“Nar, not been for ages.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Damo pulled up a seat and swigged a gulp of lager. “Claire,” he nodded.

“Hello Damo, you alright?”

“Good babes, good. You?”

“Yes, very well thanks. We're good.” She draped Matty's arm across her shoulder as he sat down next to her. “So, where's… your girlfriend?”

Damo took another swig. He looked over their shoulders and saw Tameka emerge from the lav.

“Tameka? Just coming.” He pointed with his pint and enjoyed watching their expressions as they turned their heads.

He stood up when Tameka arrived.

“Y'alright, babes?” He kissed her cheek, let his hand linger on firm arse beneath silk Avanti dress as he sat her opposite Claire. Tameka had taken the opportunity to touch up her make-up. She glowed.
Good girl
.

“Tameka – Matty. Matty – Tameka. And this is Claire. Claire – Tameka.”

Damo caught Matty's eye. He translated his mate's arched brows and puckered lips: “Fucking nice one, mate, well done. Fucking babe.”

Damo returned the telepathy with a wink: “You don't know the fucking half, mate –absolute filth!”
That would do it. Satisfactory. Best possible entrance under the circumstances
.

* * *

The meal went better than Damo had expected. He'd been worried about Tameka fitting in and her banter level. They never really talked about much; she didn't often get his jokes. Claire stepped in though and the two seemed to be getting on.

Claire always made an effort to be nice to his girlfriends. He appreciated that as he knew she must feel intimidated. Claire was clever and everything, funny, but with that girl-next-door kind of look. Didn't really make the effort. Decent tits but body-fat ratio leaning towards pudgy.

Matty would have to watch that – Claire's arms showed early signs of turkey wobble. He looked over at Tameka's arms. Tight. Not Madonna-muscled, but just enough cardio to keep everything toned. No excess. Claire acted almost as if she didn't care. Damo remembered describing Claire to Tameka, and the time she spilled sticky toffee pudding on her fake M&P top. Custard, the works. When Matty pointed it out, Claire had just laughed and slurped it up, not even bothering to wipe the stain. Damo knew Tameka would never embarrass him like that. Tameka had laughed with him at that story.

While Tameka and Claire bonded, Damo leaned over to Matty.

“So, let's get some toot, yeah?” He tapped his nostril twice. “Tams would be up for it. Go find a club, yeah?”

Matty shook his head and glanced over at Claire. “Aw nar, mate.”

“What? C'mon, mate. How long is it since we had a proper blow-out?” He kept his voice down. “She doesn't have to come if she's not up for it.”

“Yeah but we've got her folks round tomorrow.”

“Shut up. Even more reason. Go on mate, grow a fucking pair.

Must be some decent clubs somewhere round here. I'll get the taxi, soft lad.”

“I dunno, mate.”

“C'mon fella. I'm only up here one night. Couple rounds triple voddie Red Rag to start us off?”

“Aw, fuck off, I'm not touching that again.”

“Yeah, you could never handle your drink.” Damo clinked his glass against Matty's.

“Remind me – who was it puking their guts in H-bar that got us kicked out again?”

“I told you.” Damo pointed a fork in Matty's face. “Dodgy pizza that was.”

They both laughed.

“Good times.”

“Good times,” Matty echoed.

To be fair, Matty could hold his drink.

They'd finished their burgers and the girls had both been to the lavs, but Damo was not going to break the seal before his mate. He knew Matty could point to the fact that he had been there half hour before him and was one pint ahead. No, he was not letting Matty have that. Matty would break soon. He was starting to look uncomfortable; he was sweating.

Damo saw that Matty was about to get up. Damo placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Mate, remember that time at Sanko's? Tell Tams about us two at Sanko's. Mad it was.”

Matty sank back in his seat and recounted the story of when Damo had knocked out some twat who had been hassling Matty. It was good to hear someone else recall the events, even if Matty did miss out a few details. Matty finished the story and rose. Damo was too slow to drag him back.

“What about in the kebab shop as well, Matts?”

Matty's face tightened in a near grimace.

“You tell it mate. I gotta piss.” He turned to leave.

“Weak bladder that one,” Damo declared downing his pint.

Matty turned back to the table, “Same again all of you?”

“Yup, put it on me ISAX, pal.” Damo slapped his platinum ISAX on the table. Matty made for the toilet and Damo stretched his arms wide. With the contest won he had lost concentration. He felt a dribble in his purple boxers. He crumpled forward and drained his glass.

“So what about this kebab shop?” Tameka asked. Claire had heard this one many times.

“Aw, let Matty tell it when he gets back. He tells it better.” This was a lie but it was good to compliment Matty in front of his girl. He started to drum his legs on the floor. “Fuck it, I'll get the drinks, ladies. He'll be ages.”

Damo got up from the table. Still cool. He walked to the gents as slow as his bladder would allow.

* * *

Bursting through the door Damo found Matty waiting for a free urinal. Having to readjust his expectations caused more warmth to trickle into Damo's Nortons. He tried not to let his anguish show.

“Geezer,” he nodded at Matty.

“Geezer,” Matty replied.

They both turned their attention to the two people in front of them. The cubicle displayed the red engaged sign. If Matty wasn't here Damo would have pissed in the sink. He realised he was humming and stopped himself. Matty's knees crouched together as he shifted his weight from one leg to the next in time to the ancient Perushia remix playing outside.

Damo removed the Niksim 2.0 from his pocket and pretended to check the screen. Matty stared ahead. One of the guys was wagging his right arm with the closing strokes. Damo inched a hand into his free pocket to nip the bulb of his dick between thumb and fingers.

Both twats finished, the one closest to Damo turning first. Although Damo's path was clear he waved Matty forward, managing a tight smile.
Squeeze
.
Tense
. It would not do to fall at the last hurdle. The second urinal became free and Damo joined his pal.

Matty had just a zip on his Krabin's and was already pissing. Damo's fingers trembled to undo his G-Rope belt. He felt real fear as another little bead released itself in anticipation. If he was not careful the seepage could show through the white denim. He pushed out his backside as much as he dared, body pinched in the middle, squeeze, squeeze, pulling hard at the oversized Narvadi buttons. Care. ful. Not. To. Pull. One. Off…

“Ahhhhhhh,” Matty let out a satisfied sigh. Damo freed his cock and had to fight to point it at the porcelain. He exhaled as the amber blast cascaded onto the rubber splash-mat.

“Few cans before I came out.” Damo could talk now.

Matty snorted a laugh – he seemed happy just to be relieving himself.

“So, we having it tonight then or what?”

“Mate, let's just have a few bevvies, yeah. I'll whoop you at pool next pub.”

“As if. Lame mate, lame.”

“You done well there, you know.” Matty jerked a chin back towards the pub-restaurant.

“Yeah, she's alright.” Damo played the moment down. To brag would be as good as pissing all over his own Doranos.
She's alright
– to be interpreted as
Yeah she's a part-time model but I could still do better, I can pull girls like that all day
.

There was no requirement for Damo to return the compliment. He had told Matty “not bad” when he introduced Claire to him the first time. They'd been engaged for a year, or maybe two now, so to comment again was not necessary. Damo offered his customary question, “So, you set a date then?”

Matty hesitated.
Shit. They're breaking up.
Well, he knew Matty could do better. She was a nice lass, been good for him. Not bad. Nice tits. Damo would sort him out though, get him down London – pissed, pilled, coked. He'd find loads of birds for his old pal. In fact there was that…

“Yeah, we have actually.”

“You wot?”

“Yeah. We set a date.”

Damo remained silent.

“Next August. The 27
^th
.”

Damo squeezed out another stream. Fucking hell. Moving in together was one thing, but fucking married?
The idiot
.

Matty was shaking out his last drops.

“Fuck,” Damo offered. “No, I mean good luck. Congrats, mate.”

Damo had lost concentration; yellow spots splashed his Doranos. “Shit!” He flicked his feet to disperse the wetness.

Matty laughed, zipping up his jeans.

Damo began to redo his buttons. He joined Matty at the sink. “Bastard! 200 quid these bad boys!”

“We were thinking as well that we'd like you to be best man.” Matty looked at Damo; Damo kept his eyes on the mirror. Matty's smile looked genuine.

“Me? Yeah. Cool, yeah 'course. Cool. Cheers mate.” Damo wiped a hand on the back of his Narvadis and offered it to Matty. Matty shook it in a firm two-handed grip. Damo clapped his mate on the back.
Way too formal
.