Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune (5 page)

“I know he’s your friend, but I hope you’re right.” After eating her
last meatball, she put down her cutlery and met his eye. “You’re doing so well.
Please don’t throw it away.”

A waiter came by and Noah asked him to take the can off the table.
It was a relief not to have to look at it. He’d only got through the meal
without chugging it because he wanted to prove her wrong. But it had been the
hardest thing he’d ever done.

He hadn’t taken more than a few sips, but he could still taste it.
And he wanted more. The worst part of it was the fact it had taken the edge of
his shakes – he felt better than he had in days. She was right. He couldn’t
have a drink and stay in control.

“It helps to know that you understand what it’s like.” In spite of
himself, he found he was warming to her. In fact, he was finding it really hard
not to put a friendly hand on hers. But she didn’t want him to touch her. He
hadn’t realised how much he relied on little gestures of affection like that.
He even hugged John when he was in a good mood.

Dave came back in and asked for the bill. “All sorted.” He had one
of those looks on his face. Like he was up to something.

“Who was that on the phone?”

“You’ll find out.”

He didn’t like the sound of that. By her sour expression, neither
did Angie.

The waiter brought the bill and they all chipped in some money.

“Back to yours?” Dave asked.

“I haven’t got anything else in mind.” He hoped the evening would be
less eventful than their lunch. But Dave wasn’t making him feel very confident
about that.

––––––––

B
ack at the house, Dave made it very clear that he didn’t want
Angelique hanging around while he caught up with his old friend. She was
reluctant to leave Noah in his hands, but after sitting with them in the
conservatory and getting the sort of looks that were intended to give her
second-degree burns, she decided she’d have to trust Noah to make the right
choices.

She didn’t go far – the dining room next door gave her somewhere to
sit and pretend she could concentrate well enough to read her Nora Roberts. She
was thinking about offering to cook dinner when the doorbell rang. Should she
answer it? Her duties probably didn’t extend to that. There were sounds of
movement in the neighbouring room and she got up to see what was going on.

When she looked out, Noah was walking across the hall to open the
front door. As soon as he turned the handle, about five guys with hair of
varying lengths and a selection of black t-shirts for bands she’d never heard
of swarmed over the threshold.

“Noah, man.” Bear hugs were exchanged.

This didn’t look good.

“What are you lot doing here?”

All of them were holding bags. The beer bottles that poked up
through some of the handles made her wonder what else they’d brought.

“Dave said there was a party.”

Shit. She opened the door wider to go out there and say something,
but then a second wave of men appeared and she got nervous. They weren’t going
to like it if she got in the middle of things and spoiled their fun. Even if
Noah backed her up that would only make two of them against more than ten. And
she could hear another car pulling up outside.

Dave came out and started clasping hands and patting backs. “This
way guys.”

Noah looked shell-shocked. When everyone had trooped past him to the
conservatory, Angelique took the opportunity to slip over to talk to him.

“I know what you’re going to say, but I had no idea they were
coming.”

He looked worried enough for her to believe him. “This is a bad
idea, Noah. They’ve all brought booze.” She could already hear them cracking
open cans and clinking bottles together in the other room.

He looked in their direction. “I can’t ask them to leave. I haven’t
seen some of them in years.”

She could sense the yearning coming off him like pheromones. “You
can’t drink.”

He shook his head. “I know. I wouldn’t.”

But she knew what the need was like. All the good intentions in the
world wouldn’t be enough if he spent too long in there with them drinking in
front of him. And if they were anything like Dave, they’d all be offering him a
beer as soon as he set foot in the room. “You can’t cope with that. Not so
soon. I know I couldn’t.”

He looked at her. Really looked into her eyes until she could see
the depth of his sadness. He wanted to be with his friends. He wanted to be
normal – the kind of guy who was able to knock back a few drinks without a care
in the world.

That could never happen again.

“I won’t drink.” He turned away from her and went into the party.

A moment later, loud music started up. She walked up to the glass
door of the conservatory, but Dave slipped through it and stood in her way.

“Sorry, love. You’re not invited.”

She’d thought she’d seen the worst of him back at the tapas place,
but the glare he gave her was more full of hatred than anything he’d managed
that lunchtime. The doorbell went again.

“Excuse me.” He very deliberately shut the door behind him and went
to let in a group of women in short skirts and skinny jeans. She could see Noah
through the glass, throwing his head back and laughing. There was no reason for
him to look up and see her, but it hurt when he didn’t.

Standing in the hall, she didn’t know what to do. Calling John would
make her look weak. But what if Noah took a drink?

She strode over to the cause of all the trouble and tapped him on
the shoulder. “If you really gave a toss about him, you wouldn’t be doing
this.”

Dave met her eye with another searing look. “Why don’t you just piss
off? We’re trying to have a party.”

The men he’d just let in looked her up and down. No one wanted her
there. She glanced through to where Noah was sitting. He wasn’t holding a
drink. But that was probably only a matter of time.

After one more scowl from Dave, she turned away and headed upstairs.
If the music got too loud, she’d make an anonymous call to the police. Apart
from that, there wasn’t really anything she could do.

***

N
oah hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the old gang until they
arrived at his door. How had he managed to lose touch with so many of them? But
he knew the answer to that – booze and coke had pushed everything else out of
his life.

Wozza started telling his infamous anecdote about the catfight
between the groupie and the female roadie. Noah tuned out a little – everyone
there must have heard the story at least a dozen times.

He looked around him, totting up all the cans and bottles. Most of
them would have had a snort of something before they’d come out. Taking stuff
was different for them. It was recreational.

Actually, that wasn’t true. Out of all of those guys, he could count
the ones in steady relationships on one hand. And most of them were involved
with users. No, they might not think of themselves as addicts, but their
behaviour was just as self-destructive as his. The main difference was that he
wasn’t in denial any more. Approaching bankruptcy tends to do that to a guy.

“Noah.” Benjy thumped him in the shoulder. “Where the fuck have you
been, man?”

He looked around all the faces turned towards him. Surely they read
the papers? “Rehab.”

“Load of bollocks,” one of them jeered.

“You don’t need rehab, you need one of these.” Someone produced a
humongous spliff and held it out in front of him.

He stared at the thick white roll-up. It truly was a thing of
beauty. He’d never had a problem with weed – everyone knew you couldn’t get
addicted to the stuff. A few puffs might even stave off the DTs. They wrote
prescriptions for it in some parts of the States.

Noah looked over at the door. There was no one standing on the other
side of it. No Angie to tell him not to do it.

***

I
t was all Dave’s fault. She didn’t get it – Noah didn’t even seem
to like him that much. Maybe it was because they had history. It could be hard
to let go of people. Even when you knew they were no good for you.

Sitting on the chaise longue up in her room, she stared at the walls
and listened to the heavy bass of the music throbbing through the house. She’d
long given up on the television and she hadn’t even bothered getting her book
out. It wasn’t so loud down there – not for a party.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. It was John.
Should she answer? It would look worse if she didn’t. “Hi, John.”

“Hey, Angelique. Just phoning to check how things went with Dave.”

“He’s not exactly a good influence, is he?”

John laughed. “No. I can hear the music in the background. I take it
he’s still there?”

“Yeah.” Probably not a great idea to tell him Dave had invited half
the county over.

“If you want me to get rid of him, I’m happy to come over.”

Nothing would put her mind at rest more than watching him and his
cronies walk out of the front door, but she couldn’t let John do the heavy
lifting. “It’s okay. I can handle him.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Well, it would be in about ten minutes, after
she’d broken up the party. This had gone on long enough.

***

N
oah reached out for the spliff and took it between his unsteady
fingers. He hadn’t smoked weed for months. Other things had taken his
attention. Holding the joint up in his line of sight, he tried to work out how
many skins its creator had used.

And then he realised what he was doing – putting off the moment when
he would take it between his lips. All that bullshit about weed being good for
him was exactly that – bullshit.

“Actually, mate, I don’t think I want any.” He tried to give it
back.

“Nah, have it.” Dave produced a lighter and held it out to him.

Noah looked up at the sound of the door. In walked Angie.

Her eyes went straight to the giant roll-up in his hand and her face
tightened. “I get it. You promised not to drink, but you didn’t promise not to
get high. Well you can send your little friends home now.” She walked further
in and put her hands on her hips, giving everyone a death-stare.

“I wasn’t—”

“Everybody out!” She raised her voice, startling some of them to
their feet.

“Hang on.” Dave got up and went to stand over her. “It’s not your
house. You don’t get to throw us out.” He was only an inch or two taller than
Angie, but he was a lot heavier. Even Noah would have been unsettled to have
him invade his personal space like that.

She didn’t bat an eyelid. Knowing how she felt about being touched,
her reaction was more than impressive.

“Dave, stop it.” Noah threw the spliff on the floor and rushed in
between them.

“Tell her then.” Dave stepped back. “Tell her this is your party and
you don’t want us to leave.”

He looked at Dave. He’d been holding court in some pub the first
time they met – not too different from that evening’s party. He was the rudest,
funniest man Noah had ever met. But saying outrageous things wasn’t quite as
funny once you’d passed thirty. And what was left when you stripped that away
from him? He wasn’t sure it was anything worth calling a friend.

Then he looked at Angie. She’d set her jaw and her eyes were
blazing. He’d glimpsed the steel in her before, but now he was getting a
full-on demonstration. And why was she so angry? Because she thought he’d
fallen off the wagon. Maybe she wasn’t his friend either, but she genuinely had
his best interests at heart. Yeah, she was being paid for it, but he was sure
it was more than that. She cared what happened to him.

But if he brought the party to an end, he could end up starting a
riot.

“Angie, come outside for a minute.” He risked taking her by the arm
and she shrugged out of his grasp, but she went with him to the door. “Let’s go
for a walk.” He guided her out the back, through the kitchen to the garden.

It was a warm night and the music drifted out to them from the
conservatory. He took them in the opposite direction, following the trail of
uplights that were dotted in amongst the shrubbery.

When they were far out of sight of the people inside, he stopped
walking. Angie stood with her arms folded, her expression wary.

“I know it looked bad in there, but I wasn’t going to smoke that
thing.”

She shook her head. “I don’t believe you. Why let them into your
house if that wasn’t what you wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

The disappointment on her face wound its way inside him and made him
want to die.

“I don’t want to fuck up any more.”

“Then stop putting yourself in these positions. Stop hanging out
with drunks and druggies.”

“You mean like you? Working at a rehab clinic and taking a job with
me?”

She flinched. “That’s different. And you know why I’m here.”

“Yeah. For the money.” It wasn’t that simple, but her self-righteous
attitude was getting under his skin.

“You know what, Noah? Fuck you. You’ve got no right to say anything
to me.” She started off back towards the house, but he ran in front of her.

“Wait.” He couldn’t let her storm off like this. “I’ll tell them to
leave.”

She walked around him. “You should have done that about three hours
ago.” Coming to a stop, she turned to face him. “Why do you want to torture
yourself like that? It was bad enough at lunch. I saw the way you kept looking
at that can. I found it hard and I hadn’t even drunk any of it.”

“I know.” At least she was talking to him now.

“You’re just setting yourself up to fail.”

“But there’s no point pretending that stuff isn’t out there. When I
go on tour, I’ll be surrounded by it every night.” Now he’d actually got some
new material down, the reality of going on the road was starting to hit home.
It was scary.

“So deal with it when you get there. After you’ve had some time to
build up your defences.” She took a couple of steps back to him. “No one
expects you to be able to handle everything straight away. It takes time.”

He remembered the way she’d left the restaurant. If she was still
struggling after two years, what hope did he have? “I just want to be better,
you know? I just want to click my fingers and be like other people around this
stuff.”

Hesitantly, she put her hand up and almost touched his shoulder. She
pulled away, then finally brought her palm to rest on his back. “I know. It’s
not fair.”

Tears stung at his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He wasn’t
going to cry. Not in front of her. “How come I don’t get to sit in front of the
football with a few beers? Why don’t I get to drink champagne at my wedding?”
It hit him then, all the different parts of his life that were affected by this
thing.

She pulled him closer and he smelled her perfume – rich and fruity.
He told himself to hold back, to respect how much she hated to be touched, but
he needed some comfort. When he laid his head on her shoulder, she held him
stiffly and gingerly rubbed at his back.

They stayed like that – their bodies barely touching while she
stroked him awkwardly, shushing him like he was a small child. It took him a
few minutes to pull himself back together.

He straightened up, ready to apologise for falling apart like that,
but then he looked into her eyes. It was a long time since he’d been with a
woman – even longer since he’d been in a relationship – but he knew what he saw
in Angie’s wide, brown eyes. Need.