Love Hurts

  He said, ‘Ellie, what’s going on?’

  She turned and stood before him. She looked so gorgeous standing there, smiling like there was light shining from inside her.

  She said, ‘You tell me.’

  And he knew then why she was stalling, and he felt so dumb for not realizing it earlier. She’d got him to come to the house when everyone was out, tried to create a vibe with wine and dope, invited him upstairs. She wanted him to make a move on her.

  He smiled, took a step towards her. ‘No one’s here, right?’

  She turned to the door and locked it, put the key in her skirt pocket, turned back to him. ‘They’re all out.’

  ‘When are they back?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  He held out his arms. ‘Come here then.’

  But she shook her head. And in the space between them something shifted, like the room got colder.

  She said, ‘I know who you are.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’re Karyn’s brother.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  She slapped the closed door with the flat of her hand. ‘Don’t even bother denying it.’

  His heart was pounding. Standing there in her bedroom with a massive hard-on, he knew he was totally shafted.

  She said, ‘I’ll read you your rights, shall I? You don’t have to say anything. But it might harm your defence if you don’t mention something that happens to be true. Like the fascinating fact that you’re related to Karyn.’

  ‘Fuck off.’

  ‘You fuck off. My parents will be back soon and we’ve got CCTV at the gate, so it will have recorded you arriving. You’ve got fifteen minutes to tell me what’s going on, or I’ll tell them you tricked your way in, helped yourself to drink, smoked drugs in their house, then forced me upstairs and made me take my clothes off. See how easy it is for people to get themselves into compromising situations? See how bad this will look for your sister?’

  ‘You set me up?’

  Her eyes hardened. ‘You did it to me first.’

  She could do anything, say anything. She could say he touched her, that he made her do stuff.

  ‘Did you think I wouldn’t find out?’ she said. ‘Do you think I’m stupid?’

  He sat down on the edge of the bed and wiped a hand across his eyes. ‘How long have you known?’

  ‘Since the pub. Your boss let it slip. But I knew all along you were only pretending to like me – all that chat at the party and then at the river. I didn’t believe any of it.’

  He shook his head. ‘I wasn’t pretending.’

  Her eyes were stone. ‘OK, let’s get this straight. You crash my brother’s party, you hit on me, then ask for my number. Why?’

  ‘I liked you.’

  ‘Bollocks.’

  ‘OK, I liked you and I thought you might know stuff.’

  ‘What kind of stuff?’

  He shrugged. ‘Something that might help my sister.’

  ‘Why would I?’

  ‘You were in the house when it happened. Karyn remembers you.’

  She gave him a look. It was the strangest look, like a veil lifted, like what he was saying made some kind of sense. ‘You didn’t ask me anything at the river. You didn’t mention my brother once.’

  ‘I forgot.’

  She looked puzzled. ‘You forgot?’

  ‘I was having a good time.’ He was aware of how gravelly his voice was and gave a quick cough. ‘Courts are crap, you know that. Your brother’ll get off for sure and I wanted Karyn to know someone cared. I thought I’d get information out of you – where your brother hangs out, that kind of stuff. I wasn’t ever going to hurt you.’

  ‘You were going to hurt my brother?’

  He shrugged. ‘He raped my sister.’

  Ellie’s face closed down again. ‘Karyn wanted him. It’s not Tom’s fault she changed her mind in the morning. She flirted with him all night – laughing and joking, knocking back the booze.’

  ‘She fancied him. Haven’t you ever done that?’

  ‘I’ve never offered myself on a plate to a boy, then woken up and cried rape.’

  ‘That’s not what happened. I know her and she’s not making this up.’

  ‘I know my brother and neither is he.’ She took a step forward. ‘Why would he rape her when she was clearly going to give it to him anyway?’

  Mikey’s stomach gripped. He held on tight to the edge of the bed. ‘I don’t know, but he did.’

  ‘Maybe your sister got so drunk she forgot she said yes – you ever thought of that?’

  ‘He should have looked after her if she was drunk, not taken advantage.’

  Ellie glared at him. ‘Why did it take her twenty-four hours to go to the police?’

  ‘I don’t know! I don’t know all the answers.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘She was scared, I know that. She still is.’

  ‘Yeah, well it’s not easy for any of us.’

  And that’s when they heard the car, a door slamming shut down there. ‘That’ll be my parents.’ She looked at him with a strange fake smile and calmly turned round and unlocked the door. ‘I’m going to introduce you. Come on.’

  ‘What? Are you crazy?’

  ‘Let’s go and say hello. I’m sure they’d love to hear all about your plan to trick their daughter and hurt their son.’

  He couldn’t believe she was opening the door, was walking out onto the landing, expecting him to follow. She was only half dressed. Her parents would kill him.

  ‘Ellie, come back!’

  She swung round, her eyes furious. ‘Why should I?’

  And that was when someone yelled, ‘Ellie, you up there?’ which sounded like a threat and made her flinch, and footsteps came pounding up the stairs.

  FROM

  13 LITTLE BLUE ENVELOPES

  BY

  MAUREEN JOHNSON

  Only three people showed. Since two people had already purchased tickets before Ginny got there and she had used one herself, this meant that absolutely no one she had given tickets to had come. Her Japanese girls had let her down.

  The result of this was that the cast of Starbucks: The Musical outnumbered the audience, and Jittery seemed very aware of the fact. That might have been the reason he decided to skip intermission and keep right on going, eliminating any chance of letting his audience escape. For his part, Keith didn’t seem to mind at all that hardly anyone was there. He took the opportunity to dive into the seats and even to climb one of the fake palm trees that sat on the side of the room.

  At the end, as Ginny leapt up to make her escape, Jittery suddenly jumped down off the stage as she was reaching down to get her bag. He dropped into the empty seat next to her.

  ‘Special promotion, eh?’ he said. ‘What was that about?’

  Ginny had heard tales of people being tongue-tied, of opening their mouths to find themselves incapable of any speech. She never thought that was literal. She always thought that was just another way of saying they couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  Well, she was wrong. You could lose the ability to speak. She felt it right at the top of her throat – a little tug, like the closing of a drawstring bag.

  ‘So tell me,’ he said, ‘why did you buy three hundred quid’s worth of tickets and then try to give them away on the street?’

  She opened her mouth. Again, nothing. He folded his arms over his chest, looking like he was prepared to wait forever for an explanation.

  Speak! she screamed to herself. Speak, dammit!

  He shook his head and ran his hand over his hair until it stuck up in high, staticky strands.

  ‘I’m Keith,’ he said, ‘and you’re . . . clearly mad, but what’s your name?’

  Okay. Her name. She could handle that.

  ‘Ginny,’ she said. ‘Virginia.’

  Only one name was really necessary. Why had she given two?

  ‘American, yeah?’ he asked.

  A nod.

  �
��Named after a state?’

  Another nod, even though it wasn’t true. She was named after her grandmother. But now that she thought of it, it was technically true. She was named after a state. She had the most ridiculously American name ever.

  ‘Well, Mad Ginny Virginia from America, I guess I owe you a drink since you’ve made me the first person in all of recorded history to sell this place out.’

  ‘I am?’

  Keith got up and went over to one of the fake palm trees. He pulled a tattered canvas bag from behind it.

  ‘So you want to go, then?’ he asked, tearing off the Starbucks shirt and replacing it with a graying white T-shirt.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the pub.’

  ‘I’ve never been to a pub.’

  ‘Never been to a pub? Well, then. You’d better come along. This is England. That’s what we do here. We go to pubs.’

  He reached behind once again and retrieved an old denim jacket. The kilt he left on.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, gesturing to her as if he was trying to coax a shy animal out from under a sofa. ‘Let’s go. You want to go, yes?’

  Ginny felt herself getting up and numbly following Keith out of the room.

  The night had become misty. The glowing yellow orbs of the crossing lights and the car headlights cut strange patterns through the fog. Keith walked briskly, his hands buried in his pockets. He occasionally glanced over his shoulder to make sure Ginny was still with him. She was just a pace or two behind.

  ‘You don’t have to follow me,’ he said. ‘We’re a very advanced country. Girls can walk beside men, go to school, everything.’

  Ginny tentatively stepped beside him and hurried to keep up with his long stride. There were so many pubs. They were everywhere. Pubs with nice English names like The Court in Session and The Old Ship. Pretty pubs painted in bright colors with carefully made wooden signs. Keith walked past all these to a shabbier-looking place where people stood out on the sidewalk with big pints of beer.

  ‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘The Friend in Need. Discounts for students.’

  ‘Wait,’ she said, grabbing his arm. ‘I’m . . . in high school.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘I’m only seventeen,’ she whispered. ‘I don’t think I’m legal.’

  ‘You’re American. You’ll be fine. Just act like you belong and no one will say a word.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I started getting into pubs when I was thirteen,’ he said. ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘But you’re legal now?’

  ‘I’m nineteen.’

  ‘And that’s legal here, right?’

  ‘It’s not just legal,’ he said. ‘It’s mandatory. Come on.’

  Ginny couldn’t even see the bar from where they were. There was a solid wall of people guarding it and a haze of smoke hanging over it, as if it had its very own weather.

  ‘What are you having?’ Keith asked. ‘I’ll go and get it. You try and find somewhere to stand.’

  She ordered the only thing she knew – something that was conveniently written on a huge mirror on the wall.

  ‘Guinness?’

  ‘Right.’

  Keith threw himself into the crowd and was absorbed. Ginny squeezed in between a clump of guys in brightly coloured soccer shirts who were standing along a little ledge. They kept punching one another. Ginny backed as far into the wall as she could go, but she was sure they would still manage to hit her. There was nowhere else to stand, though. She pressed herself in close and examined the sticky rings on the wood shelf and the ashy remnants in the ashtrays. An old Spice Girls song started playing, and the hitting guys began to do a hit dance that brought them even closer to Ginny.

  Keith found her there a few moments later. He carried a pint glass full of a very dark liquid that was coughing up tiny brass-colored bubbles. There was a thin layer of cloudy foam on top. He passed her the glass. It was heavy. She had a brief flash of the thick, warm Ribena and shuddered. For himself, Keith had gotten a Coke. He glanced behind him and placed himself between the dancing guys and Ginny.

  ‘Don’t drink,’ he explained, seeing her staring at the soda. ‘I fulfilled my quota when I was sixteen. The government issue me a special card.’ He fixed her again with his unwavering stare. His eyes were very green, with a kind of gold starburst at the center that was just a little off-putting and intense.

  ‘So, are you going to tell me why you did this strange thing or not?’ he asked.

  ‘I . . . just wanted to.’

  ‘You just wanted to buy out the show for the week? Because you couldn’t get tickets for the London Eye or something?’

  ‘What’s the London Eye?’

  ‘The bloody great Ferris wheel across from Parliament that all the normal tourists go to,’ he said, leaning back and eyeing her curiously. ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Three days.’

  ‘Have you seen Parliament? The Tower?’

  ‘No . . .’

  ‘But you managed to find my show in the basement of Goldsmiths.’

  She sipped her Guinness to buy herself a second before answering, then tried not to wince or spit. Ginny had never tasted tree bark, but this was what she imagined it would be like if you ran it through a juicer.

  ‘I got a little inheritance,’ she finally said. ‘And I wanted to spend some of it on something I thought was really worth it.’

  Not totally a lie.

  ‘So, you’re rich?’ he said. ‘Good to know. Me, well, I’m not rich. I’m a hooligan.’

  Before he began setting the names of coffee drinks to music, Keith had led a very interesting life. In fact, Ginny soon found out, he spent the ages of thirteen to seventeen being a parent’s worst nightmare. His career began with crawling over the fence to the garden of the local pub and begging for drinks or telling jokes for them. Then he figured out how to lock himself into his local at night (by hiding in an under-used cupboard) and get enough alcohol for himself and his friends. The owners got so sick of being robbed that they gave up and hired him under the table.

  There followed a few years of breaking things for no reason and setting the occasional small fire. He fondly recalled razor blading the word wanker into the side of his schoolmaster’s car so that the message would show up in a few weeks, after it rained and rusted. He decided to try stealing. At first, he stole little things – candy bars, newspapers. He moved up to small appliances and electronics. It finally ended for him after he broke into a takeout shop and was arrested for grand theft chicken kebab.

  After that, he decided to turn his life around. He created a short documentary film called How I Used to Steal and Do Other Bad Things. He sent this away to Goldsmiths, and they thought enough of it to accept him and even give him a grant for ‘special artistic merit’. And now he was here, creating plays about coffee.

  He stopped talking long enough to notice that she wasn’t drinking her Guinness at all.

  ‘Here,’ he said, grabbing the glass and finishing off the remainder in one long gulp.

  ‘I thought you said you don’t drink.’

  ‘That’s not drinking,’ he said dismissively. ‘I meant drink.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Listen,’ he said, moving closer, ‘as you’ve effectively paid for the entire show – and cheers for that – I might as well tell you this. I’m taking it to the Fringe Festival, in Edinburgh. You know the Fringe?’

  ‘Not really,’ Ginny said.

  ‘It’s pretty much the biggest alternative theater festival in the world,’ he said. ‘Lots of celebrities and famous shows have come out of it. Took me forever to get the school to pay to send us up there, but I did it.’

  She nodded.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘I take it you’ll be coming to the show again?’

  She nodded again.

  ‘I’ve got to pack everything up after the show tomorrow and move it out for the night,’ he said. ‘Maybe you’d like to join in.�
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  ‘I’m not sure what to do with the rest of the tickets . . .’

  Keith smiled confidently.

  ‘Now that you’ve paid for them, they’ll be easy to unload. There aren’t a lot of people around since it’s June, but the international office will take anything free. And the foreign students are usually still here, wandering around.’

  He looked down at her hands. She was clutching at her empty glass.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll walk you to the tube.’

  They left the smoke of the bar and stepped back into the fog. Keith walked her along a different route, one that she would never have been able to find on her own, to the glowing red circle with the bar cutting through it that read UNDERGROUND.

  ‘So, you’ll be back tomorrow?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow.’

  She fed the ticket eater and passed through the clacking gate, descending down into the white-tiled tube station. When she got to the platform, she saw that there was a pineapple sitting on the rails of the tracks. A whole pineapple in perfect condition. Ginny stood on the very edge of the platform and looked down at it.

  It was hard to figure out how a pineapple could end up in a situation like that.

  She felt the whoosh of wind that she now knew accompanied the approach of the train. Any second now it would come blasting through the tunnel and cross right over this spot.

  ‘If the pineapple makes it,’ she said to herself, ‘he likes me.’

  The white nose of the train appeared. She stepped away from the edge, let the train go, and waited for it to pass away.

  She looked down. The pineapple wasn’t broken or whole. It was simply gone.

  FROM

  JUNK

  BY

  MELVIN BURGESS

  We got to the squat in the end. I was impressed, actually. I mean, he’d found a place to stay, got himself a bunch of people who weren’t just prepared to put him up, they were even willing to feed him. He’d only been away two weeks and he had the whole of that side of it worked out. The only thing he didn’t have was a scene . . . you know, people to hang around with. Friends. You couldn’t put Richard, Jerry and Vonny in that class. They were too old and too nice. To tell the truth I found it a bit put on. The girl, Vonny, came over and gave me a kiss and a hug, and I hugged her back and grinned, but she hardly knew me. And I didn’t get the impression she approved of me all that much.