Page 35
Story: Time of Your Life
First girl I’ve kissed since I met Ysolde… Won’t lie to ya, don’t love it. Don’t hit how it used to like.
It ain’t bad, is it? It’s just fuckin’ sirloin to Wagyu, know what I mean?
Dunno how long we kiss for—not like I’m fuckin’ swept up in it or owt, but cos I’m in me head, you know?
Thinkin’ ’bout how this is sorta fuckin’ weird.
What am I kissin’ this bird for, you know—?
When there’s this girl back waitin’ for me in London—the one I’m fuckin’ obsessed with.
Best snog I’ve ever had, best shags of me life, and a face I can’t get out of me fuckin’ head. What the fuck am I on like?
And it’s now—right fuckin’ now—while I’m thinkin’ all that, that I hear Chops sayin’ my name only about a thousand times.
“Jo—Jo. Joah. Joah—”
It ain’t even me who pulls back—it’s Pip—stops kissin’ me to lean over and smack Chops quiet, and it’s right as she leans Chops’ way—that’s when I see it.
That’s when I see her.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
“So,” Ysolde says, arms crossed, starin’ at me like she’s about to set the fuckin’ place alight. “ This is why you didn’t want me to come to Manchester.”
“Ysolde—” Mick says, taking a step towards her, and she gives him the iciest fucking look I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Fuck yourself,” she snaps, and—maybe my head’s just spinning, maybe I’m imagining shit—but did he smile? Did Mick smile when she said that? What the fuck’s that about?
Don’t matter. It don’t matter because Ysolde walks bang into the room, no hesitation, and straight over to Pip.
“Pippa—? Hi.” Ysolde just sticks her hand out, all polite-like. Pip just stares at it, then at me, then up at Ys—who’s towering over her—before finally, awkward as fuck, shaking it.
“It’s so good to meet you—” Ys says, smiling in this way I ain’t never seen before. It’s weird. Thought I knew all her smiles. Guess she’s never needed to take this one outta the toolbox before. Not ’round me, at least. Not till now.
“I’ve heard about you.” Ys goes and she does that same polished-to-fuck smile again—Pip can’t even meet her eyes.
I could gip, couldn’t I? That’s when she looks at me, eyebrows up, face all conversational, like she’s just chatting.
“No, Jo—do you know what? She’s prettier than you made her sound.”
And you could hear a fuckin’ pin drop in that room, couldn’t ya?
Pippa’s eyebrows shoot up, her mouth falls open, and she gives in to gravity, sliding right off me lap.
“But you’re right—” Ysolde keeps going, voice all light and airy. “I am more attractive. Just, you know, in that”—waves her hand through the air—“silly, conventional kind of way.” She scrunches her nose and shrugs like we’re a pair of daft little duffers. Feel about fucking two feet tall, don’t I?
“So—” Ys glances between me and Pip. “What are we doing?”
“Ys—” I start.
“No.” She shakes her head, still all smiles. “No, that’s not a name for your mouth anymore.”
Eyebrow lifts, curious, like she’s dissecting me. “Was this always the plan, Jo?”
I sigh. “Ys—”
And then summat behind them eyes of hers proper snaps. “Not. For your mouth. Anymore,” she says, slow and sharp, over-annunciating like I’m thick.
Am fuckin’ thick though, aren’t I?
Start shaking me head. “I can explain…”
“I’m quite sure you could,” she says, that smile sliding back into place, fuckin’ eerie, innit?
“But it’s already incredibly self-explanatory.
” Then, like I’m not even worth it, she pats me on the arm.
A pat—like she’s wishing me luck on my fuckin’ A levels.
“Anyway—have fun finishing this up. She looks like a hard worker. That tracks.”
And just like that, she turns and fuckin’ swans out.
Fuck—it’s like all the air’s been sucked out the fucking room. I’m on me feet and after her in under two seconds, but—innit just my fuckin’ luck—she runs into Richie in the hallway.
Hear him before I see him.
“Hey,” he says to her. “You alright—?”
Round the corner, and Richie takes one look at me—and dunno, do I have hair that looks I’ve had a snog, or something, like, how’s he know?
“Ah, fuck—” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose like he already can’t be arsed with what’s coming next.
“Ysolde—” I reach for her but she jerks away.
“Stay the fuck away from me,” she says, and her voice sounds raw now. Eyes are sad too. She was fronting in the room before. I can see her now.
“Ysolde—” I go to grab for her, but she jerks back like I’ve got the plague. I shake me head, try again. “Can we just—”
But she fucking shoves me. Full-on shoves me. Proper hard, too, like she means it.
“Stay. The fuck. Away from me.” She’s yelling now—yelling. She ain’t never yelled at me before, not like this. My head’s spinning. What the fuck’s going on? What did I just do?
“I hate you,” she spits, and it cuts right through me, don’t it?
Don’t handle this shite well. Back me into a corner—don’t matter who y’are, even if you’re the love of me fuckin’ life—I’m gonna come out swingin’.
“I told you not to come!” I shout back—don’t like being yelled at meself, is the thing. Don’t like being talked to like that by anyone, you know what I mean?
“So you could do this?” she asks, eyes all wide with betrayal.
No, is the answer I don’t tell her out loud. Dunno why.
She shakes her head at me. “Fuck yourself.”
Over it now—don’t much fucking care for being shouted at in the hallways of me own show—all these eyes on me like I’m the villain here, like I’m the fucking fuckup. Maybe I am. Don’t give a shit, even if I do.
Shake my head at her, the whole ship’s already going under—might as well sink with it.
“Don’t need to,” I say, my chin up, all cocky. “That’s what she’s for, innit?”
Said it to hurt her, didn’t I? And it does—I see it land—wait for the rush to come, the one I get when I’m in control and everyone else can get fucked, I don’t care—doesn’t come, but. Not this time.
“Apparently so.” Ysolde gives me a threadbare smile. Then she nods back towards the green room. “Go get her, tiger.”
Give her a weird fucking salute as I turn and walk away—dunno why—felt like a good exit at the time, but actually I think I’m just a prick.
Round the corner, don’t go back in that fucking room—stay close as I can where she can’t see me, make sure I can hear it all. Fuck, my heart’s beating fast—we’ve never had a fight before, but this feels bad.
She looked proper sad, didn’t she? Proper fuckin’ sad. Fuck. What’ve I done?
“Are you alright?” my brother asks.
“Yeah,” she says, but I can hear she’s lying.
“Sorry,” Rich says.
“No, it’s good—” says it, but it’s shite, that. “It’s fine.”
“Do you have a place to stay tonight—” Rich asks. Fuckin’ annoying how good he is of thinkin’ about things ain’t never cross my mind. “Are you—”
“I’m good,” she says. “I’m all set.”
“Oi, here.” Sounds like he hands her something. “That’s me number. Ring me if you need owt, yeah?”
“Thanks, Rich,” she says, quieter this time.
“I mean it,” Richie says, his voice carrying as he walks away, heading my way. “Call me,” he calls back, dead serious.
He rounds the corner.
“Don’t fuckin’ tell her to call you,” I snap, warning him with a look.
Rich snorts, proper amused, rolls his eyes and keeps walking back to the green room.
“I ain’t takin’ the piss—” I shout, going after him. “You can fuck right off.”
Rich don’t even glance back, the prick. Just strolls over and plants himself next to Mick, like I’m not about to set the place on fire. Fine.
Pippa’s in the corner, huddled up with Lox, lookin’ like a kicked puppy. Don’t care. Bit shit, I know, but I can’t care right now, can I?
“What the fuck’s she doing here, Mick? Eh?” I jab a finger his way, my voice bouncing off the walls. “Why’s she even fuckin’ here?”
Mick shrugs, useless as ever. “I told her to come,” he mumbles.
I stare at him like he’s off his head. “Why the fuck would you tell her to come?”
“Because—” He shrugs again, all limp and pathetic. “She’s your girlfriend.”
“Yeah, and you fuckin’ hate her,” I spit, my voice sharp enough to cut glass.
Mick rolls his eyes, long-suffering. “I don’t hate her,” he sighs, dead annoyed. “I was trying to be nice.”
Glare at him, proper livid. “Well, bang-up fuckin’ job there, mate. Nice one. Gold fuckin’ star.”
“None of this is his fault, mate,” Rich tells me, and fuck him—I spin his way.
“Where is she? Where’s she gone?”
Rich just shrugs, cool as a fucking cucumber, like none of this matters. “I dunno.”
“Well, I need to know!” I shout, my voice cracking with it. “So fuckin’ find out!”
“Are you off your fuckin’ head?” Richie gets up onto his feet again and right into my face now, proper close, his voice low and sharp. “Mate, you must think I’m someone else—”
“Shut the fuck up and find out where she is,” I bark, pointing a finger at him.
Rich takes a step back, slow as you like, and gives me this smarmy little grin that makes my blood boil. “I don’t reckon she’s your girlfriend anymore, mate.”
The words hit me like a gut punch. Is that true? Fuckin’ hell, do you reckon that’s true?
Shove me hands through my hair, pulling at it, desperate now.
“Where’s she staying?” I ask, my voice tight, looking from Richie to Mick like they’ve got all the answers. “Where’s she going?”
“I dunno!” Richie snaps, all exasperated, throwing his hands up like he’s the one with the problem.
And then it clicks—fuck.
“—Is Kekoa here?” I blurt out, the thought making my chest tighten.
Mick stares, proper confused. “Who?”
“Her fuckin’ bodyguard,” I grind out. “Did she bring him?”
Please , fuck, tell me she brought him . At least then she’d have someone with her, someone to keep her safe—
“Oh, him?” Mick scratches at the back of his head like a muppet. “Nah, she didn’t bring him.”
Cos she was coming here for me, wasn’t she? Told me she didn’t need him places when she was with me.
Fuck. This is all so fucking fucked.
She’s here. Alone. She fucking hates being on her own. Where’s she gonna go?
“Shit.” I press my hand to my mouth, feel like I’m gonna gip. “Cancel the show.”
“What?” Mick stares at me like I’ve just punched him.
Chops and Fry shoot to their feet, both talking over each other.
“What?” Fry yells, as Chops shouts, “No fucking way!”
“I have to find her!” I shout, chest tight. “I’m not going on!”
Richie’s right there now, all up in my face. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are.”
“Nah, fuck it—” I shake my head, blood boiling. “This is on you, Rich. I’m not fuckin’ going on—”
“On me?” Richie scoffs, face all twisted. “How the fuck’s it on me?”
“Bringing her ’round.” I jerk my chin at Pippa. “You knew what you were doing. Piss off, like—”
“Yeah, right,” Rich says, a smirk pulling at his mouth. “I made you hook up with her…”
I stare him down, fists itching, then turn back to Mick.
“Make the call, Mick. I’m not going on.”
“Yeah, you are,” Rich says, cracking his back like he’s king of the place. “Our insurance don’t cover you being a melt, so—”
“Does it cover you being a prick?” I snap back, fire in my voice.
Mick exhales through his nose, rubbing at his face. “Sadly, no.”
“Find her,” I bark at him, pointing straight at his chest.
Mick gives me a look—trying for something paternal, but it don’t land. Never does. Fuck fathers.
“I’ll find her, Jo,” he says, voice low. “But you’ve got to get on that stage—” He shifts, proper serious now. “Joah—we can’t do this again.”
Grab the bottle of scotch off the table, twist the lid, and take a swig. Burns all the way down.
I wipe my mouth.
“Fine.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35 (Reading here)
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49