Read Online Black Lipstick Kisses by Monica Belle - Free Book Online Page B

the pieces and tags always appeared when I was taking Lilitu for a walk. It had occurred to me they might live close by, close enough to watch my comings and goings, which was a little scary.
    The two Lilitu had scared away were much clumsier, and had managed only the outline for two letters, Z and U, before she arrived. They had also painted the little metal flag on Major Inkerman Goodwell semaphore red, which I left, and made a few random scrawls elsewhere, which I cleaned off. Snaz had done a big piece on the rear wall which I hadn’t noticed as well, and by the time I had finished I was hot and sticky, thirsty too.
    I went inside for a drink and a wash, stripping out of my sweaty dungarees and climbing into the big sink to splash water over my face and body. It had been a lot of work, and I smelt of meths and paint. My mind was dwelling on ways of getting rid of Biggy and Snaz, but while I was pissed off with them it was hard to feel resentful. I’d done my share of tagging, as a kid and when I’d wanted to assert my identity as the dark and mysterious Dusk instead of plain old Angela.
    Dusk had been my tag, done in black lettering as if from a medieval scroll, sometimes as a dub with a gold or silver fill. Twice I’d made it a piece, or tried to – one huge one beside a railway in black shading to deep purple with highlights of silver and dull dark green,and the other one a red and black Gothic script with deaths heads over the ‘u’. I’d always been a loner, and never got that into it because everybody seemed to hate each other. The local bombing crew had held me down and tagged ‘ TOY ’ across my chest, but with my usual defiance it had only made me worse. In the end I’d earned their respect by putting my piece halfway up the sheer glass face of a twenty-storey office block. I was working for the firm who did the window cleaning, but they didn’t know. About that time I’d begun to really understand myself, and as I’d moved more into my own peculiar blend of Gothicism and sex I had given up on the tagging.
    So I knew how Biggy and Snaz worked, probably as a team with one keeping lookout while the other completed his piece. They could watch the cemetery gate and might even have mobiles to communicate my comings and goings, while it was no doubt possible to do the outer walls at night without disturbing Lilitu. So far they hadn’t done anything inside the church, but to grow more daring is in the nature of tagging, so I was sure it was only a matter of time, and that the more I reacted to them the more determined they would get. Of course if Lilitu got one then they’d stop it, but that would lead to all sorts of trouble.
    My thoughts were interrupted while I was drying myself, first by a deep growl from Lilitu, then by a knock on the vestry door. The writers were hardly going to knock for me, so I called out and was answered by a familiar voice, Stephen Byrne. I shouted for him to wait and began to dress, hurrying on my panties and dress, then slowing down. He had an image of me in his head and I wanted to keep it that way.
    Stockings, boots, hair, make-up, jewellery and perfume and I was ready in a shade over half an hour, not bad for me. Lilitu had come in from the church to see what was going on, and I took a firm grip on her collar as I opened the door. Stephen was reading the inscription on Nathaniel Hawkins’s stone, very smart in his suit and tie. He smiled as he saw me, flicked a worried look at Lilitu and spoke.
    â€˜What a beautiful dog. Um . . . I managed to get off early today, cancelled meeting, and I thought you might like to come out for the evening?’
    â€˜Sure.’
    There was no hesitation. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t call him and I hadn’t, but that I’d go if he came for me. Here he was. There was no hesitation, but a little guilt. As I let Lilitu free and locked the door I was telling myself I would