Seeker (2 page)

The backpack was nowhere in the lounge that he could see, but as his eyes scanned the room one last time before giving up he spotted the charger lead sitting on the bottom shelf on his Conran Balance shelving unit. The unit, although supposedly designed to be free standing, was screwed to the wall. Willem suspected it had little to do with the jigsaw design of the unit, more to do with the slight subsidence of the house over the years. He grabbed the lead and plugged it into the wall and then the back of the laptop.

While the laptop powered up, Willem headed into the kitchen to prepare himself a mug of coffee, smiling to himself. Not many got to see his scar; in fact even Jacen had only just about got to see it, and he'd been with Jacen for quite a while, but once the laptop was ready to go it was webcam time, and he was almost certain Charlie would be seeing the scar today.

Before even putting the kettle on he released the lock off the back door, and opened the top window above the sink. It was a thing with him; he didn't like the back door being locked while he was home and awake just in case he needed to rush out in an emergency, and he also hated not having fresh air running through the house. Of course, the concept of “fresh” air was a bit of an oxymoron in London, but better to have external air running throughout the house than the stale air that circulated in a closed environment. The plants played their part in oxygenating the house, but there was no harm in offering a little help, Willem reasoned.

The kettle now on the boil, Willem checked in the lounge to see how the laptop was doing. It was all ready to go; he simply had to await the connection of the net. He opened the main messenger window in preparation, just as he heard the back door open.

He let out a groan of disappointment, hardly able to believe his luck. The one time he didn't want his sister to come back early…

“Hazelnut Macchiato for me,” said a male voice containing a very slight American lilt to it.

Willem smiled ruefully. Getting rid of his sister would have been difficult enough, but getting rid of Jake…In what he would have called a mini-strop had Curtis done it, Willem slammed the laptop shut knowing full well that the scar exposure would have to wait.

“Mate, kettle's boiled.” There was the scrape of a stool being pulled across the lino and Willem knew that Jake was plonking himself by the back door so that his smoke wouldn't waft into the house.

Willem grumbled silently to himself and pulled out his phone. “Get making it, then,” he called out to the kitchen, satisfied by the loud sigh he received in response. He could just see Jake stubbing the cigarette on the wall in the back yard before returning to the kitchen.

“Some host you are.”

“I think after almost thirty years your guest status is well and truly revoked, fella,” Willem called back as he began texting Charlie, “so quit the bagging and get on with it. I'll be there in a sec.”

“Fine, let me do it, then, see if I care. Hope I didn't interrupt anything.”

“No,” Willem said, looking up from the phone, “unless you count my wet dreams about you.”

“Mate! You're ill.”

Willem laughed and shrugged; there was probably some truth in that.

“And anyway, guy, you haven't lived here for thirty years, so I should still be treated as a guest,” Jake continued, his tone still light and playful.

Normally Willem would have continued the banter but right now he wanted to get the text sent before Jake decided to come and see for himself what was holding Willem up. Once finished he quickly hit send and closed his phone. On the way out to the kitchen he bumped into Jake, literally, who was indeed coming to have a nose.

“Shit, guy,” Jake said, rubbing his shoulder, “you should watch where you're going.”

Willem looked incredulously at his best mate. Like he could hurt that brick-house of a body. It was his own fault, though, since he'd been so intent on quickly stashing his phone away that he'd got it stuck on a piece of thread in his pocket. “Shut up, you girl. Coffee done?”

Jake eyed Willem in mock pain. “I thought I'd go for latte today, actually. Coffee is so last year.”

“Whatever. Shift your ass.”

Jake turned and headed back into the kitchen. “Commencing the shifting of the ass,” he said, mincing his way ahead. Willem couldn't help but laugh; no one could do camp as well as Jake and it was always guaranteed to get a laugh out of him.

Finally the phone found its way into his pocket snugly, and the good humour dripped coldly away. A few days ago he wouldn't have cared for shit if Jake had known about Charlie, but now he was relieved that his mate hadn't queried the whole delay with the phone, for he was sure Jake noticed him quickly trying to shove the phone away. He wasn't quite sure why that was, and he was still frowning over it when he entered the kitchen.

Jake was sitting on the stool by the open door, puffing away at a freshly lit fag, his coffee cup sitting on the breakfast bar behind him. Willem's own mug was still sitting next to the kettle, the open milk bottle beside it.

“You could have put the milk away, fella. Wouldn't have hurt you.”

Jake flicked some ash into the back yard and glanced over at the milk. “I could, true, but then you'd be left with black coffee.”

“Lazy sod,” Willem said, spying his milk-less coffee. “And you couldn't have put it in mine because why?”

Jake shrugged. “Don't remember signing up as your slave.”

Willem narrowed his eyes. “Right, whatever,” he said, sharper than he meant to. Not wishing to pursue it anymore, Willem poured his own milk then returned the bottle back to the fridge. He picked up his mug and took a deep sip, enjoying the heat as it surged down his throat. The caffeine hit his taste buds, and he immediately felt better.

“Want to talk about it?”

Willem closed his eyes, and slowly turned to Jake. “Usual shit,” he said, knowing full well what Jake would infer from that.

“What's that prick done now?” Jake asked, all humour gone.

The prick in question was Jimmy; not Jake's favourite person. In fact, Willem considered, he couldn't imagine Jimmy being anybody's favourite person. Willem always got a kick out of the way Jake's whole demeanour changed whenever Jimmy's name was mentioned. Although Jake didn't work out, he was naturally a big man, much like his dad had been, and working on a construction site helped to maintain the muscles better than any gym would have done, and whenever Jimmy was mentioned it was as if some automatic signal was sent to Jake's cardio system and the muscles immediately tensed. The new shaved head was, now that Willem noticed it, a bit of a departure from how Jake had looked the day before, and only helped to complete an ensemble of threat and danger. Deep down Jake was a softy, and after almost an entire lifetime of friendship Willem felt he was eminently qualified to make that observation, but Jake also had his darker side. He'd seen it on occasion, and one day Jimmy would, too, and on that day Willem would not like to be in Jimmy's shoes.

“Same old, up to his eyeballs in shit. Lawrencia has dumped Curtis on me.”

Jake looked around. “Where is the champ?”

“Napping. I tell ya, man, this ain't gonna end well.”

“That's a sure thing,” Jake said, his voice little more than a rumble now. “You honestly need to let me take the fucker out.”

Willem let out a noncommittal “hmm”. Someone needed to give Jimmy a good slap, but Willem suspected it would take a lot more than that to sort that man out. He'd been nothing but trouble for Lawrencia, ever since she first left London back in the winter of '06. She'd only been back for the last two years, and when she had returned she came with a seven-month-old baby and a wanker of a boyfriend. If it wasn't for the fact that Jimmy was Curtis's dad Willem would have found a way to rid Lawrencia of that stain from her life years ago.

“Like he's much of a dad to the champ anyway,” Jake said, as if he'd been reading Willem's mind.

“Well, we know this, but Ren insists that Jimmy dotes on Curtis.” Willem raised his hands, warding off the derision that was about to erupt from Jake's mouth. “Yes, we know it's bullshit, but you ever tried telling her that?”

“Have you?” Jake asked pointedly.

“Of course,” came the sharp reply.

“Sure you have. Like never.” Jake finished his coffee and walked it over to the sink. “I love you, Will, but, man, you need to grow a backbone. Bitching to me about it really isn't doing Lawrencia any good.”

“Fine, I'll shut up then.” Knowing how sulky that sounded, and not really caring much, Willem picked up his mug and walked out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, real mature, buddy,” he heard Jake mumble.

Willem narrowed his eyes but didn't respond. Instead he flopped down on his chair and threw his feet on the stool. By the time Jake entered the lounge the TV was on.
In the Night Garden
, the digital box having been left on CBeebies when he'd taken Curtis out earlier, was preferable to the little tiff he was having with Jake. And that it was a silly little tiff was not lost on Willem, but for reasons he didn't want to entertain he was irritated by what Jake was saying.

They didn't fall out very often, but when they did it stung.

“Will, I wasn't saying you should shut up. That's like hundreds of miles out from my point.” Jake sat himself on the couch, and waited for Willem to turn the TV either off or down. For a short while Willem refused to do so, instead he continued to watch as Makka Pakka went about the Night Garden washing everything he came across with his sponge. Jake cleared his throat, but still Willem refused to budge. “Okay, you just sit here sulking. I'm sure when Curtis wakes up he'll give you a conversation worthy of your newfound maturity.”

Once Willem heard the back door shut, he turned the TV off, but still remained sitting there, gazing at nothing. He really was in a funk. Normally when he felt like this the first person he'd turn to was Jake, but…

He sat up and reached into his pocket for his phone. He'd apologise to Jake for being a twat, and assuming he hadn't pissed Jake off too much then within minutes he'd be back and the two of them could talk.

Willem knew his funk had nothing to do with the whole Lawrencia and Jimmy issue, as much as that ticked him off it was pretty much business as usual, and sure Jake had hit a sore point in regards to Willem's bitching, but still that was not the issue. Jake and he shared pretty much everything; of course Willem was sure that Jake didn't tell him
every
thing, just like he didn't tell Jake absolutely everything. That would just be dumb and plain impossible. But they always shared the big stuff, and what was developing between him and Charlie was pretty damn big.

He needed Jake in on this.

Just as he flipped open the phone it vibrated in his hand and a message alert appeared on the screen. It was Charlie. He opened the message and read; “hey, u still busy if not im online still.”

With the broadest smile he'd probably ever wear, Willem reached for the table and dragged it towards his chair, all thoughts of Jake having evaporated. He glanced up at the ceiling as the laptop powered up; he just hoped Curtis would stay asleep for at least another half hour. That would be ample time for Willem to show Charlie his secret scar.

* * *

Jake took a deep drag of his fag, and blew the smoke out into the cold evening air, wishing he'd not agreed to come to the pub. Normally he was the first one there, making sure he got the first round in, and getting steadily drunk as the night went on, leading the lads in their jokes and pranks, flirting with the first good-looking chick that caught his eye. But not this evening; he was so not in the mood.

He'd been at home, loafing around, listening to tunes and eating noodles, when Mike called to tell him that Amy was going to be at the Chancery later. The prospect of spending some time in Amy's company, and that of the lads, coupled with the need to get out of his huff, was enough for him to agree to meet Mike at the pub. It was a good plan, and normally one that would have worked like a charm. Alas, as Jake soon discovered, his mood refused to accommodate such a jovial time, and sitting there drinking his Staropramen he felt like some kind of vampire, sucking the fun out of everyone.

Mike noticed, and so increased his effort to drag Jake into his anecdote about how he had brained some fat cow the other day; just one of many amusing things you could apparently do by poking your testicles out of your trousers and squeezing them. Mike was too hooked on dumb TV, with the likes of
Jackass
being the definition of good entertainment, and as such the endless crazy stunts that Mike picked up never ceased to amuse Jake, but he didn't think any amount of drink would make him want to squeeze his nuts through his jeans until they looked like an approximation of a brain. For one thing it just seemed like a painfully stupid thing to do, and secondly he just couldn't be fucked.

His huff wasn't helped none by the arrival of Jimmy, dressed as usual in his chavish tracksuit, the bottoms of which were barely hanging off his ass, his boxers on full show. It seemed that some “fashions” weren't going anywhere quickly. He approached the bar with his little buddy, who was dressed in a way that led Jake to suspect a bit of misplaced idol worship going on, and loudly demanded a Stella from the girl behind the bar. The girl, Kayleigh Jake thought her name was, refused sale on account of the kid who she did not believe looked twenty-five. Naturally Jimmy was having none of this, and came up with every excuse he could think of.

As the situation steadily got worse, Jake's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing. A few more seconds of this and he would personally make sure Jimmy said hello to the pavement outside. In the long run Will might even thank him for forcing the issue. God knows someone needed to, before Jimmy ran amuck over everyone in Will's family. Mike noticed the look on Jake's face, and pointed him to the door.