Looking for Andrew McCarthy (31 page)

‘What the FUCK!’ he said. ‘Oh God. Please don’t kill me. Please. I’ll do anything. Here. Why don’t you take her. She’s got more money than me, I promise. Please.’

The dancer perked up remarkably quickly and vanished into the night.

‘That’s for shaggin’ around on my bird,’ said Big Bastard. Patrick curled himself into a ball, clasped his hands over his head and started to cry. Big Bastard
opened his wallet and pulled out a twenty-pound note. He handed it to Patrick with a grin.

‘And that’s for shaggin’ around on my bird. Beer’s on me, mate; I’m glad to have her. And I tell you what, I bet she’s a damn sight foxier in the sack than that skinny little bonehead you’ve got going on.’ He stood back. ‘Now, stand up, stop crying, and fuck off, you snivelling little shithead.’

Big Bastard watched, arms folded, grinning broadly and pretending to be Vinnie Jones as Patrick picked himself up, looking at the ground, brushed off what he could of the muddy puddles, cigarette butts and old hamburger that had pretty much done for his Prada raincoat and limped off into the night. He paused just once, to cast one incredulous glance backwards – as if to check Big Bastard was indeed as enormous as he’d looked from the ground. Then he scarpered.

From her hiding place behind the bins, Siobhan squeezed her legs together and moaned.

‘Andrea Dworkin will
hate
me,’ she thought. ‘And I just don’t care.’ She poked her head out.

‘Fancy doing it behind the bins?’

‘That’s my
favourite
place for doing it. Reminds me of my happy childhood.’

Loxy discarded yet another shirt. Colin was wearing a muscle vest, despite the fact that the temperature
had dropped considerably and it was only about four degrees outside. He was very excited.

‘This will be the first time I’ve ever done something before Arthur,’ he reflected with pleasure. ‘Apart from the Pokemon tournament. And he didn’t seem to care about that at
all
.’

‘Well done,’ said Loxy, shrugging on a checked shirt from the Gap. ‘Okay. I didn’t want to have to ask you this, but I’m going to. Do you think I look gay in this? I’m sorry, I just don’t want to waste anyone’s time by looking like I’m up for it.’

Colin examined him critically. ‘No. No, you don’t.’

‘Okay then.’

‘You look more like … you know, sexy trucker or woodcutter or something. Mmm.’

‘Oh God,’ said Loxy. ‘Okay. Look, if I really hate it, can we leave again?’

‘You won’t hate it,’ said Colin. ‘They have coloured lights that flash on and off in time with the music.’

Andrew II headed the car out West, feeling a complete fool. It had been a long time – in fact, never – since he’d chased after a girl in that way. But something about Ellie had really got to him: her complete inability to not say exactly what she felt at all times, and her general cheekiness. So different from the ubiquitous blondes he came across
every day. But not that different after all. They’d been punting him about like a piece of meat, a little stateside diversion. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and pushed the speedometer up a little.

His mobile rang, and he listened for a long time. Then he pulled over.

‘Oh no,’ he said. ‘Oh, no. Poor Hedgehog.’

Hatsie snuffled some more. ‘Okay. You’ve got his address? I think I’ll try and get there before the police do’

He scribbled it down then sat in the car for a long time, staring straight ahead, realizing just exactly how much he was missing this daffy curly haired girl, and how much he wanted to protect her from what was coming.

Saddened – and, deep down, excited about seeing her again – he turned the car around and, facing back towards the East, started pushing out the Thunder-bird to see how quickly it could go.

Everything out of the window was colder now, Ellie had noticed numbly, and whiter. She was trying to plan out how much fun they could have in New York – the transvestite parade for starters – but her thoughts kept slipping and sliding – to afterwards. Her imagination was working overtime – what was
she going to do? Now the quest was definitely, definitely over. She tried to scoff when she thought of how daft it had been really, but she couldn’t quite, particularly when she saw the Frog Brothers’ faces in front of her. Perhaps, she thought, I could just pop into a couple of places. Just keep my eyes open. She looked at the two in front now eagerly discussing the Guggenheim. No, she thought to herself. Go with the flow. She wasn’t going to find any answers; she’d been right all along. Isn’t fun the best thing to have?

‘This quest is
so
over!’ she said out loud.

‘Good,’ chorused the other two.

God, she missed him.

The bouncer’s flesh shone with oil or sweat – Loxy assumed it was oil, as he could see the breath in front of his face, it had become so cold. He hustled them through without questioning them, or giving Loxy any mysterious looks he didn’t understand.

‘Welcome to the meat packing district,’ he said.

‘
What
?’

‘That’s just the area we’re in,’ said Colin importantly. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘Sure, kiddo.’

They were in a cavern underneath a warehouse. The
walls were curved, and brick, and covered in sweat. Everywhere were men of all shapes and sizes dancing, snogging or just generally hanging out. Some looked extremely camp and bizarre, some looked utterly normal, including one, Loxy noticed with a gulp, the spit of his old French teacher. There were a couple of women in the place, looking overweight and a bit awkward, desperately trying to seem as if they were fully taking part in conversations when they clearly weren’t. The place was heaving. Colin was bouncing up and down with excitement.

‘Dancy dancy!’ he shrieked. ‘Come dance with me.’

‘Sorry,’ said Loxy. ‘But there is no way on earth that I am dancing to “I Know Him So Well”.’

‘Not even when it’s being mimed by two eight-foot-tall drag artistes?’

‘Oh,
that’s
what those are. I thought they were holding the roof up.’

‘Bringing the house down, honey,’ said one of them, pushing past Loxy to replace his suspender belt.

‘This is great,’ said Colin, looking around, his eyes shining. ‘This is the best place I’ve ever been.’

‘Uh huh,’ said Loxy. ‘Do you want a beer?’

‘Nope! I want a Manhattan!’

Loxy left him spinning around on the dance floor
and leaned on the bar. A burly man with a crew cut leaned over.

‘What can I get you?’

‘A Coors and a Manhattan, thanks.’

‘So, who are you buying for tonight?’

Loxy indicated Colin, who was now dancing with everyone on the dance floor.

‘Ooh, cute. Known him long? Oh no – he hasn’t been out the womb that long.’

‘I’m babysitting him for a friend, actually.’

‘You
are
a naughty boy.’

‘No, it’s not like that. Actually, I’m not gay.’

‘You’d be amazed how often I hear that.’

‘I’m sure. But I’m really not. We’re just …’ he debated whether to explain his visit then decided against it. ‘I’m in America to meet my girlfriend.’

‘Ha! Well, I doubt you’ll find her in here.’

Loxy took the drinks but decided against plunging into the mêlée. Everyone seemed to be bumping bits with everyone else. He sipped his beer and looked at his watch.

‘Saving that for anyone?’

The voice sounded like Harvey Fierstein with a bad cold after a heavy night.

‘Uh, yes,’ said Loxy.

‘Oh well, he won’t mind if I just have a little sip will he?’

The man was about five foot four and entirely
covered in grey hair – his shoulders, his back, everything. His shoulders and his back were visible because he was wearing a holey aertex vest. The effect was of Teenwolf, gone quite remarkably to seed.

‘Eh … yes, I think he would actually,’ said Loxy, picking up the cocktail anxiously.

‘Ooh, you are a big grizzly bear aren’t you?’

‘No,’ said Loxy, desperately. ‘Colin!’

Colin looked up briefly from his shimmying and shimmied over.

‘I’m very happy,’ he announced.

‘Good, good, I’m glad,’ said Loxy, desperately hoping he would stay.

‘Hello little chicken,’ said the older man. Colin looked at him for a second.

‘He’s frightening me,’ he announced to Loxy, then turned away and disappeared back into the throng.

‘So,’ said the man, leaning in and resting his arm on the bar. ‘Looks like you’re by yourself now. Here for the festival?’

Loxy backed into the bar, feeling ridiculously torn between trying not to offend anyone and wrenching, gut-churning dread. He cursed himself for not taking out his earring.

‘Is this man bothering you?’

Thank God. It was the beefy barman.

‘Umm …’

‘Beat it, DeLorean.’

‘Aw, come on. I’m not doing nothing.’

‘You’re annoying the customers. AGAIN. Now, scram.’

The grey fuzzy man shrugged and plunged back into the near darkness.

‘Thanks,’ said Loxy, feeling stupid.

The barman shrugged. ‘I used to work in a straight bar. The women used to get someone like him every five minutes.’ He continued to rub his glasses dry. ‘God, it must be crap being a woman. All that messiness, and you have to sleep with the really unattractive guys too.’

‘It’s probably alright really,’ said Loxy.

‘Yeah, yeah. I think our way’s easier, don’t you?’

‘I’m not … Yeah. Sure.’

The barman grinned, and Loxy turned back to the dance floor where Colin was burning it up to ‘Spinning Around’.

‘Come over here and DANCE,’ shrieked Colin.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Lox, and joined him.

They stumbled out into the freezing air at 3am, giggling their heads off. It was threatening to snow.

‘I can’t believe I know what it’s like to be Kylie Minogue,’ Loxy said, throwing his hands out in the air, a gesture not entirely disassociated with his seven Manhattans (and one beer).

‘They
loved
you,’ agreed Colin.

‘That is because I am the best dancer of ALL TIME,’ said Lox, whose tastes normally ran to R’n’B and who certainly hadn’t got it on to the Bee Gees in living memory. ‘Oh my God. And I could not be
happier
about my old French teacher.
Repete toi
indeed.
Fellate toi!
’

He giggled again.

‘That scary grey man looked like you,’ said Colin, skipping ahead.

‘What? What are you talking about, Col?’

‘I mean, he looked like you when you talk to Julia.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘All bending over and things. Like a big wolf.’

‘That’s not how I talk to Julia.’

‘Like, if she wanted to move away from talking to you, you’d bite her really hard.’

‘That is
not …
’

‘Grrrrr! Grrrr.’

‘Shut up,’ said Loxy, his good mood evaporating like the steam from his breath as three Shirley Basseys staggered past them, blowing kisses.

‘Hedgehog?’

‘Snfrgh?’

Ellie was in the middle of a dream involving
Andrew McCarthy. Only, this time, she couldn’t tell which one. Her dress was still pink; they were still kissing, but the faces kept dissolving into one another.

‘Hedgehog … wake up.’

Arthur was shaking her gently. The car had stopped.

‘Oh.’ She sat up, shaking her head, feeling slightly displaced, as you do when your dreams are rather better than waking up crouched on a filthy Toyota back seat. ‘Where are we?’

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but had just drifted off. Now she realized she was freezing, and it was nearly dark.

‘Ssh,’ said Arthur, and beckoned her out of the car. Julia had already left, and was standing a little distance away.

They were at the top of a hill, with the sun setting behind them. In the foreground, in a ball park, there was a bunch of small children playing baseball. Behind them were fields, then water. And behind that was Manhattan, looming out of the river like Kryptonite, reflecting itself off the water like a giant shiny machine.

‘Oh my God!’ breathed Ellie.

‘We thought you might want to see this bit.’

‘
Oh
yes.’

She stood on the top of the hill looking across, then moved towards Julia and linked arms with her.
Julia patted her on the hand, as the first snowflake fluttered down.

‘There’s our destination,’ Julia said.

‘I’d rather hoped it might have been the start,’ said Ellie a little sadly. She put her arm around Julia and squeezed her tightly.

Loxy and Colin were sitting in the All Flavor donut shop. Colin was on caramel cream and banana. Loxy was finding it difficult to conceal his nausea while continuing to eat, and looked green around the gills. They were en route to the Empire State Building clutching their hangovers. Despite his, Colin was still his usual chirpy self, which was reminding Loxy woefully of the difference between being thirty and still holding a young person’s railcard.