need a word
with you,’ Phoebe whispered to me as Charlie was winding that song
down and winding up another, amending the lyrics so he could remind
people to donate generously. ‘In private.’ She grabbed me by the
hand, led me down a darkened alleyway and pushed me against a wall
behind some bins. The shandy suddenly seemed to turn on me as she
stood there, silently staring into - and eventually through - my
downturned eyes.
‘I might have
underestimated you when I said you were a giant pussy earlier,’ she
said. She was standing so close to me that I could feel her warm
breath against my mouth, her perfume in my nostrils. I remember
thinking that I didn’t have her down as the perfume-wearing
type.
‘Uhh, well,
technically, you said I was a “big sissy girl”,’ I replied, wishing
she’d stop trying to force eye contact.
‘I must’ve
underestimated you there, as well.’
‘Er…how do you
mean?’ I asked, between stammers.
She took a
step forward, and whispered:
‘I mean, I’m in.’
‘In with
what?’
If
Charlie’s tried to sign me up for a threesome , I thought to
myself, I might have to kill him. But, of course, he hadn’t.
The truth wasn’t much less annoying than that, though. Phoebe held
her finger up to my temple like a gun, and said:
‘You’re
robbing a bank.’
‘What?’
‘You’re
robbing a bank,’ she repeated.
‘Uh, am
I?’
‘That’s what
he says,’ she said, nodding her head in what I assumed to be
Charlie’s general direction. The sudden uprush of frustration
allowed me to finally assert some authority over my vocal
cords.
‘Considering
he’s the guy who claims to be the second coming of Christ, I’d take
what he says with a pretty fucking big pinch of salt!’ I retorted.
With it, the breath I’d been holding came stampeding out of my
lungs. Phoebe’s nose wrinkled.
‘So you’re not
robbing a bank, then?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not
robbing a fucking bank!’
‘Why not?’
‘What? Because
it’s illegal!’
She shrugged,
and replied:
‘Nothing’s
illegal if you don’t get caught.’
I opened my
mouth, as if to respond, but then realised I didn’t have a
response.
The acoustic
guitar had stopped playing. Phoebe at last broke off from staring
at me, and with a coy smile and a ‘suit yourself, then,’ she turned
and wafted back around the corner to Charlie. When she disappeared
from view, I cupped my hands together over my mouth, breathed, and
sniffed at the trapped breath.
So it seems
like I’m going to be seeing a lot more of Phoebe over the coming
weeks. Probably starting with this morning, seeing as she stayed in
Charlie’s bed last night. As soon as she leaves, though, I’m going
to collar him and tell him to stop telling random strangers what
laws he’s planning on breaking next. That or duct-tape a balled-up
sock into his mouth, anyway.
No time
like the present, I guess , I think to myself, hauling myself
out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and some jogging bottoms and
traipsing down the stairs. I was assuming I’d have to wait in the
living room before ambushing Charlie once he’d let Phoebe out of
the front door, but - to my shock - he’s already stretched out on
the good sofa, wide awake, apparently showered, and with Phoebe
nowhere to be seen.
‘Ay,
lazybones; come tell me what you think of this,’ he calls as he
spots me in the hallway.
‘What the hell
are you doing up this early?’ I ask him, throwing myself onto the
vomit sofa.
‘There’s a
lewd pun about birds and worms in there somewhere, but I’m too busy
to find it.’
‘Busy? Sorry,
but I’ve got to ask - who are you, and what have you done with
Charlie?’
‘Some unfunny
cunt called; he wants his joke back,’ he replies. ‘But seriously,
can you just listen to this fucking song for me? I’ve spent the
last two hours writing it.’ He bangs his hand against the acoustic
guitar he’s cradling.
‘Go on, then…’
I sigh.
‘Great, so
before
with you,’ Phoebe whispered to me as Charlie was winding that song
down and winding up another, amending the lyrics so he could remind
people to donate generously. ‘In private.’ She grabbed me by the
hand, led me down a darkened alleyway and pushed me against a wall
behind some bins. The shandy suddenly seemed to turn on me as she
stood there, silently staring into - and eventually through - my
downturned eyes.
‘I might have
underestimated you when I said you were a giant pussy earlier,’ she
said. She was standing so close to me that I could feel her warm
breath against my mouth, her perfume in my nostrils. I remember
thinking that I didn’t have her down as the perfume-wearing
type.
‘Uhh, well,
technically, you said I was a “big sissy girl”,’ I replied, wishing
she’d stop trying to force eye contact.
‘I must’ve
underestimated you there, as well.’
‘Er…how do you
mean?’ I asked, between stammers.
She took a
step forward, and whispered:
‘I mean, I’m in.’
‘In with
what?’
If
Charlie’s tried to sign me up for a threesome , I thought to
myself, I might have to kill him. But, of course, he hadn’t.
The truth wasn’t much less annoying than that, though. Phoebe held
her finger up to my temple like a gun, and said:
‘You’re
robbing a bank.’
‘What?’
‘You’re
robbing a bank,’ she repeated.
‘Uh, am
I?’
‘That’s what
he says,’ she said, nodding her head in what I assumed to be
Charlie’s general direction. The sudden uprush of frustration
allowed me to finally assert some authority over my vocal
cords.
‘Considering
he’s the guy who claims to be the second coming of Christ, I’d take
what he says with a pretty fucking big pinch of salt!’ I retorted.
With it, the breath I’d been holding came stampeding out of my
lungs. Phoebe’s nose wrinkled.
‘So you’re not
robbing a bank, then?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m not
robbing a fucking bank!’
‘Why not?’
‘What? Because
it’s illegal!’
She shrugged,
and replied:
‘Nothing’s
illegal if you don’t get caught.’
I opened my
mouth, as if to respond, but then realised I didn’t have a
response.
The acoustic
guitar had stopped playing. Phoebe at last broke off from staring
at me, and with a coy smile and a ‘suit yourself, then,’ she turned
and wafted back around the corner to Charlie. When she disappeared
from view, I cupped my hands together over my mouth, breathed, and
sniffed at the trapped breath.
So it seems
like I’m going to be seeing a lot more of Phoebe over the coming
weeks. Probably starting with this morning, seeing as she stayed in
Charlie’s bed last night. As soon as she leaves, though, I’m going
to collar him and tell him to stop telling random strangers what
laws he’s planning on breaking next. That or duct-tape a balled-up
sock into his mouth, anyway.
No time
like the present, I guess , I think to myself, hauling myself
out of bed, pulling on a sweatshirt and some jogging bottoms and
traipsing down the stairs. I was assuming I’d have to wait in the
living room before ambushing Charlie once he’d let Phoebe out of
the front door, but - to my shock - he’s already stretched out on
the good sofa, wide awake, apparently showered, and with Phoebe
nowhere to be seen.
‘Ay,
lazybones; come tell me what you think of this,’ he calls as he
spots me in the hallway.
‘What the hell
are you doing up this early?’ I ask him, throwing myself onto the
vomit sofa.
‘There’s a
lewd pun about birds and worms in there somewhere, but I’m too busy
to find it.’
‘Busy? Sorry,
but I’ve got to ask - who are you, and what have you done with
Charlie?’
‘Some unfunny
cunt called; he wants his joke back,’ he replies. ‘But seriously,
can you just listen to this fucking song for me? I’ve spent the
last two hours writing it.’ He bangs his hand against the acoustic
guitar he’s cradling.
‘Go on, then…’
I sigh.
‘Great, so
before
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