Writing.Com: (1987) Two

Lucy was lost.

She was somewhere in Enfield, but no where near Baker St or the new bar Lauren had told her about that morning.

It was cold, her skirt was short, black and her leg warmers only really warmed her shins, her knees and thighs were ice cold. It wasn't supposed to be this cold in May, and denim jackets did nothing to keep the chill away. She looked great but she was too cold to think straight.

She needed a drink.

Some alcohol in her blood would warm her but she couldn't see a bar in sight, let alone the one she was looking for. The street lights were broken, the lamp posts just decoration, the odd one or two along the long road just lighting her way enough to see ahead of her, the passing cars blinding her for moments a time. The shops were closed and ark, there were no open bars, no lights from any of the buildings. No people either, but then, there was no reason to be down this part of Enfield at this time of the evening. No houses, and nothing open and Lucy wasn't sure there was any reason to be here at any time of day when she walked past a boarded up window, tagged with spray paint to say En Massive.

She stopped and pulled a packet of cigarettes from her purse, looking at the crumpled box with disgust. She couldn't afford to smoke, couldn't afford to let her mother know she smoked, even though she was twenty-two. Her Embassy lights were crumpled and bent from where she had been hiding them under her mattress in her room. She put the tip of the straightest on in her mouth and tried to light it, growling and swearing at the lighter when it failed to produce a flame. She tried again, once more, twice more then threw it to the floor, stamping on it and crushing the plastic under her heal. She swore again and turned around, heading home, or at least back to the nearest place she knew. She could find Lauren as Vivs, later, and be warm and drunk in Tottenham instead or cold and lost and pissed off in Enfield.

At least, she thought she was in Enfield.

“Got a light?”

She tried not to jump as the voice came out of the dark, and kept walking, glancing back at the man who had started to walk after her in the shadows of the broken street lamps. She couldn't see him properly until he jogged a little to catch up with her and fall into pace beside her, still in the shadows. But then, she was in the shadows too.

He looked like a shadow.

Dark hair, slicked back and greasy looking, dark skin, greasy looking face too match his hair, dark clothes to match his skin. He looked like he was wearing a costume but looked far too comfortable, the trousers faded in places, the rips mended in places, the jumper stretched and well worn.

“Sorry,” she muttered, still walking, “that was my lighter back there.”

“Bloody hell.” He glanced behind them and shoved the cigarette he'd been holding behind his ear. He carried on walking with her. “So, where are going tonight?” he asked.

“None of your fucking business,” she snapped.

“Sorry, maybe I should have introduced myself,” he said, extending his hand, still walking with her. “I'm William.”

“Good for you.”

She tried to pick up her pace a little, but it was hard to walk fast in the little heels of her ankle boots. Especially when her legs were frozen solid, and her leg warmers were keeping her from walking properly at all.

The man, William, didn't have any trouble keeping up, he towered over her five foot eight frame, his stride long and easy. Lucy was almost panting, her breath coming out in puffs of cold air. She was scared and embarrassed, this shadow of a man walking beside her wouldn't leave her alone and she just wanted a drink, and maybe a dance, and maybe, maybe to go home with someone.

Maybe.

Not this bloke. Who looked homeless almost, but walked with confidence beside her, scuffed black doc martins boots silent as he pressed down on the pavement. The fact that he had doc martin boots at all told her he wasn't homeless.

“What do you want?” she snapped at him, pulling the edges of her jacket around her, hugging herself, the chunky plastic bracelets banging together under her sleeve.

“A smoke and a drink,” he said. “Come on, lets go get some matches.”

He nodded his head down towards another street, stopping but Lucy kept walking. William smiled and jogged after her once more.

“There's a newsagents down there,” he told her, “little Indian bloke keeps it open 'til eleven.”

“I don't care.”

“Very well.”

He fell into step beside her again, as they walked back the way she came, the working street lamps increasing in number as they went. It lit them both up and she could see more and more of him as she glanced a him every so often. He wasn't as dark as she had first though, his skin was still greasy though, but it was pal, freckled. His hair wasn't greasy, just gelled, a light brown colour darkened by the sheer amount of hair product he'd used to slick it back.

“What? Did you fall in a vat of gel or something?” she asked He smiled at her, a tight closed lip smile and she thought she'd upset him at first, like she intended but he laughed, a short chuckle escaping him.

“I went a bit overboard with the pomade. I know,” he said, “I just don't know when to stop.”

“Pomade?” she said, “I think my granded uses it that. Or did when he had hair.”

“A man with taste,” he said with a grin.

“An old man,” she told him, unable to stop her own smile. This William was odd, and she was cold and this whole situation was stupid.

“Was there really a newsagent down there, or were you going to rob me?” she asked.

“There really was a newsagents,” he said solemnly.

“Just checking.”

She slowed down a little, her quick pace tiring her out and her boots starting to rub against her heel. He slowed with her, shoving hie hands into the pockets of his brown leather aviator jacket.

“So, where are you going?” he asked, “and do they have matches.”

“Yes,” she said. “I'm supposed to be meeting a friend,” she emphasised 'friend' but William smiled at her again.

“Your friend got a lighter?”

“She don't smoke.”

“Bloody hell.”

Lucy smiled again.

“Is that all you want?” she asked.

“And a drink.”

They were back in Tottenham, having crossed the invisible border from one borough to another and she felt a little safer now she could recognise where she was. She couldn't tell where she had gone wrong in trying to find the bar, but she knew she could get to Vivs, and quickly. She wanted a smoke and a drink too. One of her Embassy king-size and some Diamond White.

“I'm Lucy,” she said, voice quiet, head down. She still didn't trust this bloke, but she hadn't been very nice to him either. Her mother would be appalled with her, she could feel the ghost of the woman's hand across the back of her head.

“Nice to meet you.”

He held his hand out again and she slowly took it, shaking it once, twice, thrice before pulling gently away with a smile.

“where were you going before you started following me?” she asked.

She turned and he turned with her, and Vivs was one street over but she wasn't sure she wanted him to go to the club with her. She did know where there was another newsagents, run by another little Indian called Rajesh who sold little bottles of vodka and gin under the counter without a licence. They could get some matches first, or as lighter.

She turned back and he followed without question, and she wanted to snap at him again, but held back, and let him follow. These streets were well lit, bright, the cars still blinding them but passing often. He wouldn't be able to do anything to hurt. She hoped.

“I was going to that newsagents to get a lighters, or some matches.”

“Right,” she said. “And even though you're desperate for a fag, you're following me instead.”

“You're cute.”

“Fags are better.”

“I don't know what you taste like.”

“Fuck off.”

“Sorry, too much, I'm sorry. I apologise.”

They came to the newsagents and she heard his little sigh of relief over the tinkle of the bell as they walked in.

“Evening!” Rajesh said, throwing his hands up in the air. “Lucy, yes, yes.”

“Hi,” she said embarrassed again, not looking at William.

“Kingsize yes?” he asked,c turning to the cigarettes behind him.

“No, I have fags, I want some matches,” she said, walking up to the counter, William followed. The Indian dropped a box of matches onto the counter and smiled bright and wide at them both, showing off brilliant white teeth.

“Drink?”

“No thanks.”

She dropped some change into his hand and smiled.

“What do you have to drink?” William asked, stepping forward as Lucy moved away.

“Boyfriend?”

“No,” she said, frowning. Rajesh laughed.

“I have vodka, some good stuff, gin, diamond white.”

Lucy looked up then, re-thinking the offer of a drink for a moment.

“I'll have some gin, some matches and a pack of ten B and H.”

Rajesh bent down and pulled out a little bottle of gin hidden in between the fireworks under her counter, handing it straight to William. He placed the matches and cigarettes on the counter and smile.

“Five nineteen my friend.”

William paid him scooping up his change with his matches and cigarettes, smiling back at Rajesh.

“Thank you,” he said, leaving the shop, Lucy following.

“See you my friends.”

Outside Lucy lit her cigarette on the step of the shop, taking a long drag and dropping the match to the floor. William did the same, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it, taking a long drag like Lucy, his used match joining hers in the concrete slabs. They smoked in silence, standing outside the newsagent, until William took the little bottle of gin from his pocket. He unscrewed it, holding the cigarette in his mouth for a moment, before dropping it to the floor and stubbing it out with his boot. He'd only smoke half of it, and to Lucy it was a hell of a waste. He took a swig of a gin and offered her the bottle.

“No thanks,” she said, waving her hand at him.

“Take a drink, Lucy, you're turning blue,” he said. She frowned and took the little bottle from him, taking a long swig, making an involuntary 'ah' noise as she swallowed it down. He took the bottle back and finished the rest of the alcohol in one long drink, Lucy watching the liquid go down his pale throat, the way his head was tipped up revealing a faint scar on the side of his neck.

“You an alcoholic or something?” she asked.

“I was thirsty.”

“Could've bought some coke.”

“Don't like it with gin,” he said.

“Diet coke?” she tried, smiling at him.

“Funny.”

“I know, and it's been great talking to you William, but I need to be going,” she said, starting to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he called out. “I thought we were getting along?”

He ran to catch up with her, and she tried to walk quickly again, faster than him, but his legs were longer and she would never be able to outrun him.

“You know, it;s not good to follow girls around.”

“I know. I just like you.”

“I don't like you, so fuck off.”

“you swear a lot,” he said.

“You'd swear a lot if some bloke was following you about like a shadow.”

“I'm sorry. Let me buy you a drink. In Vivs,” he said.

“Vivs?” she asked, slowing down.

“Yeah, it's round the corner right? There;s only tow places to go round here. Vivs or home,” he said. She stopped.

“Or Discos.”

“Discos is awful”

“I know, but like you said. It's that or home.”

“Or Vivs,” he reminded her, like she had forgotten.

“Diamond White.”

“Great!”

He smiled, showing his teeth this time, showing some super sharp fangs, she thought. He grabbed her arm, looping it with hers and almost dragged her around the corner where Vivs nightclub sat on the corner of Stewart Street, the name lit up in bright pink, the sign flickering a little, the 's' almost going out. There was a no cue, it was still early for a Saturday, and a single bouncer standing outside, leaning against the wall, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Quid,” he said, pulling the cigarette away when they approached, holding hid hand out. Lucy gave him a pound coin and walked by. “Each,” he grunted at William, who glared at him and gave him a pound coin as well. The bouncer let his pass, and he followed Lucy into the dark club.

It was half full, the dance floor was empty but the music was loud and banging, the rhythm completely different to the night before. It was happy, almost and Lucy wanted to jump along with it, but kept herself on her feet. Most of the people were sitting around the edges, on chairs, on the tables, leaning against the walls, smoking and drinking. The bar was surrounded, and she followed William into the throng of people, letting him hold her hand, telling herself it was because she wanted her Diamond White.

Needed some Diamond White.

After the cold May night, the club was welcome warmth of body heat, even though Lucy knew she'd be sweating through her leg warmers by the end of the night.

William let go of her hands and she didn't know what to do with herself for a second, until he was thrusting a drink into the same hand and leading her away from the crowned bar with a hand on the small of her back. She let him, sipping her drink as they walked across the club to an empty table in the corner. He waited until she had sat down, then joined her, smiling. Lucy didn't smile back, she took another drink and looked around for Lauren, or someone else she knew. Her best friend was probably still on Baker Street, drinking both their weights in the cheap vodka tonics.

“Looking for your friend?.” William asked.

“Yeah. She won't be here yet.”

“Then you can talk to me,” he said. “You come here often?”

“That's so crap.”

“I don't get out much.”

“That's crap an' all.”

He laughed, a low dark sound pushing through the House music and she smiled at him.

“You're not dressed like you go out much though,” she said, “dressed like C and A threw you out.”

“I'm not too bothered about my clothes,” he said, “and I wasn't planning to come out and meet a pretty girl tonight.” She didn't respond to that, taking another long drink of her cheap cider. “I do dance.”

“I'm not dancing with you.”

“Not even for another drink?”

“I'll think about it.”

Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only