inhales deeply. ‘Care for a toke, young man?’ He holds the joint out, and smiles, watching Luke closely as he brings it to his lips. ‘What a cupid’s bow to die for,’ Gordon sighs, and his eyelids slide shut, his fingers waving lightly, like a king dismissing a serf. He resembles a shrunken old man lying on the bed, pale-skinned and thin-haired, laid out for the coffin.
Luke laughs at the thought, coughing out little chokes of smoke, and Sam budges up on the bed, indicating for him to squish on beside her. She’s wearing her tiny shorts again, and as he shifts closer to keep from toppling off the bed he feels the soft brush of her skin against his.
‘This is cosy,’ she says, reaching across to take the joint from his far hand.
Across the lawn, some of the Suncoats are now congregating between shifts, sharing cigarettes and cans of drink in the afternoon heat. They look so much older, the women curvy and tall, some of the men thick-armed andmoustached. Gordon props himself on to his elbows for a better look, commenting on the broad shoulders of the Burt Reynolds lookalike at the centre of the group. ‘What a dish,’ he says, rolling his eyes as if it’s all too much.
‘What does your mum think?’ Sam asks, craning her neck to look directly at Gordon.
He appears to give it some thought. ‘Nothing,’ he replies, his eyes still on Burt Reynolds, who has now taken off his jacket to sit on the bench with his arm draped around one of the girls. ‘She’s too busy arranging my next blind date to even notice my, well –
lack of interest
in the opposite sex. Honestly, she’s always trying to pair me up with her friends’ daughters, talking about me as if I’m some kind of Greek god.’
Luke laughs, then stops short when Gordon scowls at him. ‘Well, you don’t look very Greek.’
‘Really? Some might say I’m a bit of an Adonis.’ He strikes a pose, flexing his puny white bicep as Luke and Sam collapse on the bed, shrieking with joint-fuelled laughter. Gordon sucks in his cheeks, feigning offence, sitting up to roll another, and Luke lets his gaze drift with the blue sky beyond the glass of the window, feeling the beads of perspiration prickle his upper lip.
‘So, I hear you know my Lenny?’ Samantha suddenly says, startling him out of his daze.
He stiffens, at once feeling exposed as he lies beside her on the narrow bed. ‘We were friends at primary school.’ He sits up, mirroring Gordon on the bed opposite.
She nods. ‘That’s what he said.’
Luke waits for her continue, but she just lies there smiling mysteriously. ‘Yeah, we were good mates back then,’ he says, ‘but not so much once we were in our teens.’
‘You’re not at all how he described you,’ she says, and Luke instantly feels defensive, a surge of hatred for Len pushing out through his chest. ‘He said you’re a bit of a wimp.’ She puts a hand up in front of her mouth.
‘Nice,’ Luke replies, and he turns to Gordon, who’s sucking deeply on the fresh reefer. ‘I remember that was one of his favourite expressions: “wimp”. For anyone who didn’t go around intimidating the other kids with their fists.’
‘Luke!’ Sam gasps, before shrieking with laughter again. ‘He’s my
boyfriend
. You can’t say that!’
Gordon passes the smoke to Luke. ‘Oh, I think he can, Sam. I mean, Lenny does sound like a bit of a thug, darling. And I haven’t even met him.’
‘
Tit-Head
, that’s what he used to call my mate Martin,’ Luke continues, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs, enjoying the straining sensation behind his ribcage, the light-headed fuzz as the marijuana seeps into his bloodstream. He exhales a thick white column of smoke up into the room, following its trail with his eyes. ‘What an idiot.’
‘Why Tit-Head?’ Sam sniggers, pressing the palm of one hand against his thigh while she stretches across for the joint.
‘His surname – it’s Brazier,’ Luke replies. ‘You know,
Luke laughs at the thought, coughing out little chokes of smoke, and Sam budges up on the bed, indicating for him to squish on beside her. She’s wearing her tiny shorts again, and as he shifts closer to keep from toppling off the bed he feels the soft brush of her skin against his.
‘This is cosy,’ she says, reaching across to take the joint from his far hand.
Across the lawn, some of the Suncoats are now congregating between shifts, sharing cigarettes and cans of drink in the afternoon heat. They look so much older, the women curvy and tall, some of the men thick-armed andmoustached. Gordon props himself on to his elbows for a better look, commenting on the broad shoulders of the Burt Reynolds lookalike at the centre of the group. ‘What a dish,’ he says, rolling his eyes as if it’s all too much.
‘What does your mum think?’ Sam asks, craning her neck to look directly at Gordon.
He appears to give it some thought. ‘Nothing,’ he replies, his eyes still on Burt Reynolds, who has now taken off his jacket to sit on the bench with his arm draped around one of the girls. ‘She’s too busy arranging my next blind date to even notice my, well –
lack of interest
in the opposite sex. Honestly, she’s always trying to pair me up with her friends’ daughters, talking about me as if I’m some kind of Greek god.’
Luke laughs, then stops short when Gordon scowls at him. ‘Well, you don’t look very Greek.’
‘Really? Some might say I’m a bit of an Adonis.’ He strikes a pose, flexing his puny white bicep as Luke and Sam collapse on the bed, shrieking with joint-fuelled laughter. Gordon sucks in his cheeks, feigning offence, sitting up to roll another, and Luke lets his gaze drift with the blue sky beyond the glass of the window, feeling the beads of perspiration prickle his upper lip.
‘So, I hear you know my Lenny?’ Samantha suddenly says, startling him out of his daze.
He stiffens, at once feeling exposed as he lies beside her on the narrow bed. ‘We were friends at primary school.’ He sits up, mirroring Gordon on the bed opposite.
She nods. ‘That’s what he said.’
Luke waits for her continue, but she just lies there smiling mysteriously. ‘Yeah, we were good mates back then,’ he says, ‘but not so much once we were in our teens.’
‘You’re not at all how he described you,’ she says, and Luke instantly feels defensive, a surge of hatred for Len pushing out through his chest. ‘He said you’re a bit of a wimp.’ She puts a hand up in front of her mouth.
‘Nice,’ Luke replies, and he turns to Gordon, who’s sucking deeply on the fresh reefer. ‘I remember that was one of his favourite expressions: “wimp”. For anyone who didn’t go around intimidating the other kids with their fists.’
‘Luke!’ Sam gasps, before shrieking with laughter again. ‘He’s my
boyfriend
. You can’t say that!’
Gordon passes the smoke to Luke. ‘Oh, I think he can, Sam. I mean, Lenny does sound like a bit of a thug, darling. And I haven’t even met him.’
‘
Tit-Head
, that’s what he used to call my mate Martin,’ Luke continues, drawing the smoke deep into his lungs, enjoying the straining sensation behind his ribcage, the light-headed fuzz as the marijuana seeps into his bloodstream. He exhales a thick white column of smoke up into the room, following its trail with his eyes. ‘What an idiot.’
‘Why Tit-Head?’ Sam sniggers, pressing the palm of one hand against his thigh while she stretches across for the joint.
‘His surname – it’s Brazier,’ Luke replies. ‘You know,
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