Sottopassaggio (16 page)

“Enough!” he shouts.

The guy points at Tom accusingly. “He started it! That fucker there!” he says.

The bouncer nods at a colleague who grabs Tom's shoulder. “OK, you too,” he says.

Tom shakes his head. “Me?” he says, looking desperately to me for support.

“He's not…” I start, but the bouncer is ignoring me.

I touch him lightly on the shoulder, something he doesn't like at all. He turns jerkily and glares at me.

“Get your fucking hands off me!” he says.

I lift my hand. “Sorry! I say. “But he didn't start this.”

Belinda steps forward. “It's not our problem,” she says, “It's the prick with the big ears.”

Big Ears lurches towards her again but the bouncer grabs him by both shoulders and pulls him back.

The security staff look at one another, and, seemingly having communicated without words, the first one reaches for my shoulder and the second places a hand behind Belinda, pushing her forwards.

“OK, all four of you then. Out!” the first one says.

“No way José!” Belinda shrieks, prising off his hand, “Fuck you!”

A third guy appears wearing a headset. “What's happening here?” he says.

Tom, Belinda and Big Ears all shout at the same time. The result is an incomprehensible cacophony of shrieking.

I turn to look at the guy with the headset, but he is leaning listening to someone, to Jimmy. He nods as he listens and then glances up, first at Belinda, and then at me.

He leans towards the big bouncer, says something low, something inaudible. Again, the two staff stare at each other, and then in a single movement, they release Tom and Belinda before grabbing Tom's aggressor and bustling him towards the door.

“I'll fucking ‘ave you!” the guy shouts, as the two men literally carry him up the stairs.

I catch Jimmy's eye. As he slips back into the crowd, he winks at me.

The lights start to dim again. Tom pulls on his T-shirt. He looks pale and ghost-like.

“Shall we fuck off as well?” he asks.

Belinda who is still red faced, forces a smile. “Hey, come on boys,” she says. “We're a team!”

She feigns holding a gun in the air and says, “Charlie's Angels, look out!”

Tom grins weakly.

“Anyway, Tom!” she says. “You don't want to leave yet. Let them get rid of Big Ears first.”

The man with the headset steps up to Tom, leans into his ear and says something before readjusting his headset and walking away.

Tom shrugs at me. “Might as well stay,” he says.

I reach in my pocket for my glasses and realise my hand is trembling. “Well, actually I could do with a stiff drink,” I say, glancing at the bar.

Tom smiles weakly. “Well, that's a happy coincidence,” he says. “The owner just offered us a free bar.”

Belinda pouts and wiggles her shoulders as she gets back into her role. “Hon,” she says. “Never refuse a blow job, and
never
refuse a free drink. Mine's a double Bacardi. With Coke.”

Tom sighs and nods at me. “You?”

I shrug. “I'll come with you,” I say.

People are moving back onto the floor, but still talking a lot about the incident, still sneaking surreptitious glances at us.

Tom pulls his T-shirt down and we push through to the bar. He glances down at himself and tugs on the T-shirt again.

“You look fine,” I say.

He smiles. “I shouldn't let it get to me,” he says with a shrug.

“Is he the guy you had trouble with earlier?” I ask.

Tom nods. “I refused to sleep with him. It was ages ago though…”

“Well, you're in a relationship,” I say. “It's not even like it's an insult…”

“No,” Tom interrupts. “This was even
before
Antonio. I refused him because he's a cunt.”

I grimace.

Tom nods. “No he
is
. He's a bare-backing, bug infecting, evil fuck.”

I frown. “Another bare-backer?”

Tom nods and laughs angrily. “Yeah, right. And guess who his best mate is?”

I shake my head.

“That evil fuck you were talking to in
Legends
.”

I nod. “You already knew that guy then?”

Tom nods agitatedly. “Yeah. Those two fucks wanted to share their
gift
with me.”

I shake my head. “That's
crazy
. That whole scene is madness.”

“So now, every time I see him he says something insulting, something about how unattractive I'm looking. The tosser.”

I rub Tom's shoulder. “Poor Tom,” I say.

Tom sighs again. “Yeah, well, as I say. I shouldn't let it get to me.”

I shake my head. “Nah,” I say. “You really shouldn't. You're the sexiest guy here.”

Tom laughs.

I nod. “You
are
.”

Tom laughs again. “You're not coming on to me now are you?” he says, the rage in his eyes fading, the twinkle returning.

I give a little laugh. “If you were single I would,” I tell him. “If you were single, I think I would do everything I could possibly think of to come on to you.”

Tom breaks into a grin, and then turns to the barman and orders.

As we wait for the drinks, he says, “You know what?”

I shake my head and raise an eyebrow. He smiles, stares into my eyes, and blinks very slowly. It's the same expression my cat makes when I speak to her.

“If I was single, I'd let you,” he says.

I smile sadly at him. “Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

When I eventually leave the club, the owner pats me on the back.

“I'm really sorry about before,” he says. “I didn't know you were Jimmy's mate.”

I nod at him, fraudulently thinking,
“I'm not.”
I can feel myself swaying slightly and I wish he would just open the door.

“No problem,” I say. “And thanks for the drinks,” I add.

He pushes the door, forcing against the small crowd gathered outside.

I gasp. Rain is plummeting from the sky. A wall-to-wall sheet of rain.

“Jesus!” I exclaim. “When did
that
happen?”

“That's why we call it
Storm
!” the owner laughs.

A man with a shaved head and bushy eyebrows turns to me and shakes his head. “Dunno where it came from,” he says. “But I ain't going anywhere till it stops.”

I regretfully glance behind me at the staircase, but the door closes pushing me into the group.

I hesitate for a moment considering my options: return to the club, stand here, get soaked… But then a huge drip lands on my temple.

I steel myself and push through. “Make way!” I shout.

“You're bloody mad mate,” laughs the guy with the eyebrows.

It's warm, and for a moment, the rain actually feels pleasant.

The 4am streets are deserted and the street is filled with white noise, the hammering, rushing, gushing of rain hitting cars, tarmac and me. Water is sliding
down streets, bubbling out of blocked drains, and gushing in glassy sheets over the edges of gutters.

I head to the seafront, skirting along side walls trying to avoid the worst of it, but it's pointless and by the time I get to the end of the tiny street I am already drenched; my shirt is clinging to my torso and my feet are squelching in my trainers, producing foaming squeegee bubbles with every pace.

I run across the road and stare briefly at the pier, ignoring, then actually starting to revel in the rain.

An occasional wind is gusting salt towards me, and the street-lamps are dappled by the halo of falling rain.

I turn my face skywards and open my mouth, then turn and start to walk briskly homeward.

Rain is trickling down my back; it's the only unpleasant sensation it's creating, but it makes me shiver, so I start to walk faster, then break into a jog.

It's a peculiar feeling jogging, and I realise that I haven't run anywhere for years, probably not since my twenties.

As I run, as I watch the rain falling past the sodium streetlamps as I see it rhythmically squelch and squirt away from my feet as they hit the pavement I start to feel high.

I run past a set of traffic lights and see the reflections on the tarmac shift from green to yellow to red. I stare out at the sea and laugh a little madly, a slight note of hysteria entering my voice.

The intensity of the rain increases, and I grin at the thought that it is truly madness to be out in this. It's like standing in a shower cubicle fully clothed. I get lost in the sensations of my feet in their watery housings, at the feeling of the water trickling down my face, over my lips.

A song from the nightclub slips into my mind and I start to hum, then sing the words as I run. “I'm alive, and it's amazing, I'm gonna let my joy shine out…” I sing breathlessly.

Is it the evening with Tom, or the words he said? Is it a chemical phenomenon caused by beer, or adrenaline or endorphins? Could it be atmospheric: the moon, the rain, or positive ions? I don't know where the feeling comes from, but I don't remember
ever
having been happier. My brain is united with my body; I feel thoroughly wholly me, not only present in my mind, but in my hands, my chest, my pounding feet.

I'm grinning madly and my eyes are wet and salty and the world is wet and salty with sea and spray and rain, and together we are one, we are good, and it is wonderful.

I arrive at the house panting madly and stand for a final moment outside the house, wondering again where it appeared from, wondering how the weather can move from a clear moonlit night to a downpour in a couple of hours, then I push in through the door and close it behind me, silencing the madness of it all.

I take off my shoes in the hall. In the lounge I realise that my jeans are still dripping, so I take them off and put them in the kitchen sink.

Halfway up the stairs, I drunkenly pull off my shirt and hang it over the banister.

In the bathroom, I lean against the white tiles and stand beneath the boiling water of the shower for what seems like a few seconds. Only when the water runs cold do I wake up and cut the flow.

As I step from the shower I slip and steady myself by hanging onto the curtain, but it comes away in my hand. I giggle, pull a towel from the rail and drop the curtain on the floor.

I stumble into my room and am about to throw myself on the bed when I see Jenny. She's sleeping on her back and her mouth is wide open and for some reason this strikes me as hilariously funny.

Snorting with repressed laughter I back out of the room and across the corridor where I fall onto
Owen's bed.

When I close my eyes the room spins, so I strain, forcing my eyes to focus on the globe lampshade.

I think of Tom and Jimmy and Belinda and I grin to myself as I hum the song again.

“I'm alive, and it's amazing…”

The song goes round and round in my head, round and round go the disco lights, round and round goes the globe above the bed, round and round goes the room.

I jolt awake for a second. I just worked out why the room goes round and round… It's the spinning of the Earth on its axis. Only sober people can't sense it. You have to be drunk to feel the spinning of the Earth.

I close my eyes again, happy with my profound discovery. It's essential that I remember this tomorrow. It's hugely, profoundly important for the entire world, an answer, in some way to the great universal question. It's essential that I tell everyone this as soon as…

It is just after midday when hunger forces me from my pit. My stomach is screaming for food and my head is pounding for aspirin.

My tongue is coated in some kind of alien slime as if I have been abducted during the night and experimented upon. I steady myself in the doorway and squint at the daylight thrusting through the bathroom window.

Downstairs, Jenny is sitting on the sofa reading an old newspaper. She is wearing men's blue pyjamas and has her feet tucked beneath her. I pick up one of my shoes from the hallway floor and head straight for the kitchen.

“You perform a strip tease or something last night?” she asks, peering over the top of the paper and nodding at the pair of jeans she has hung over the back of a chair.

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth in preparation for speech, but I manage only a sigh.

Jenny folds the newspaper and stretches out on the sofa, propping herself up on her elbows to better observe me.

“Bad night?” she asks.

I turn on the kettle and slump onto one of the dining chairs.

“Nah, great,” I say unconvincingly.

She frowns at me. “Looks like it,” she says.

“Hangover,” I mumble. “I need aspirin.”

Jenny grins. “Don't move,” she laughs. “I'll get it.”

I rub my forehead. “Got free drinks all night,” I say.

Jenny stands and pulls the aspirin from the kitchen drawer, fills a glass of water and places them before me.

“Free drinks?” she says, impressed. “In the club?”

I force a regretful laugh. “Yeah,” I say, shaking my head and popping the aspirin. “
God knows
how much I drank.”

I pull a face and stretch my legs. “My ankles hurt,” I groan.

Jenny smiles. “Too much disco dancing no doubt; is this kettle for tea or coffee?”

“Tea please. No, it's because I ran home. It was raining.”

“You ran?” Jenny glances at the window. “It
rained
?” she says incredulously.

I laugh. “Yeah, it pissed down,” I say. “And yes, I ran.”

She pours the boiling water into the cup and slides into the seat opposite. “Sounds like I missed a wild night,” she says.

I look at her and see her breasts peeking from the top of her pyjamas and flash back to twenty years ago; an image of her sitting on top of me, those same breasts, which even then were huge, lolloping around, putting me off, making me lose my oh-so-necessary concentration.