of the group worked for Falls, she felt it had that nice ring of Brixton. If you had to describe how to survive the streets, you could do worse than say… ‘Coldplay’… and if that didn’t make sense, then you belonged in Hampstead.
She stretched out on the sofa, felt the day ease on down and thought it was nice to just fold in front of the TV and, like, hang. The niggling line ‘Get a life’ tried to intrude but she moved it on along. The bottle of vodka should be nicely chilled and she’d be making a run at it real soon.
The doorbell rang and it startled her. Since the days with her last man, Nelson, the bell put the fear in her, making her think that he’d come to read the riot act and drag her sorry ass off to rehab.
Dark days indeed.
‘Course, she reasoned, she could just ignore it but no, here it was again, and whoever it was, they were leaning on the buzzer, determined to get an answer. Sighing deeply, she got up, went to answer it.
She threw the door open.
At first she didn’t recognise the person. A blonde woman in a black bomber jacket, carrying two Tesco bags. She gave a huge smile, said:
‘Hi, girlfriend!’
Angie, the woman who’d saved her purse.
Falls knew there was something wrong with this. Did she give out her address? As a rule, she never did. Cops only gave that to other cops and even then, to a very select few. But she’d been drinking vodka and her memory at such times was far from reliable.
Angie said:
‘So, do I get to come in or do I just drop these goodies here and run?’
‘Shit, sorry… course, come in.’
As she breezed past Falls, the smell of her perfume was downright seductive. Falls would have to ask her the brand.
Angie plonked the bags on the coffee table and surveyed the room, the empty bottles were like a neon sign.
She said:
‘Cosy.’
Falls felt mortified. If it had been a man it would have been bad enough but you never wanted another woman to see you might be a slob. Especially not a classy woman like Angie.
Falls said:
‘I just got home, never quite got round to tidying.’
Angie went to the bags and pulled out a bottle of vodka,bags of crisps, peanuts, wine, carton of cigs and a mess of napkins, said:
‘I didn’t know what to get so I got everything.’
Falls was conscious of her ratty dressing gown and said:
‘Just let me change.’
Angie put up her hand, said:
‘No way, girl, you look comfortable and unless you have some guys stashed, let’s have us a girlie night.’
She began to open the vodka, said:
‘Yo, Elizabeth, get some glasses. We don’t want to drink from the bottle – least not yet, am I right?’
Falls went to the kitchen, rinsed out some glasses, tried to get with the game. The Bud had made her fuzzy and she felt she’d better slow down and let Angie catch up.
Back to the living room and Angie was on the couch, the bottle opened. She was wearing a very short skirt and Falls marvelled at her shapely legs.
Angie caught the look, asked:
‘You think my legs are too heavy.’
‘No, you, ahm… you’re in great shape.’
She patted the couch, said:
‘Come on girl, join me.’
Falls thought she was probably imagining it but was there a tone of flirting in there? She sat back and Angie poured two lethal measures, opened a pack of peanuts, said:
‘I’m, like, starved. Didn’t get to eat today.’
She raised hers, clinked glasses and knocked it back. Falls took a small sip, resolved to take it real slow and asked:
‘So, how come you’re… in the neighbourhood?’
Angie, thinking of the one-bar fire, the bath and Jimmy, smiled, said:
‘I had me a day, and I remembered we had us such a nice evening last time, I thought it would be fun to get together. Truth is, I was feeling electric.’
Falls realised she’d finished her drink and, when Angie poured two more, she didn’t fight it. Angie went into a long story about the club she was working at and the shit she had to tolerate. Falls was laughing,
She stretched out on the sofa, felt the day ease on down and thought it was nice to just fold in front of the TV and, like, hang. The niggling line ‘Get a life’ tried to intrude but she moved it on along. The bottle of vodka should be nicely chilled and she’d be making a run at it real soon.
The doorbell rang and it startled her. Since the days with her last man, Nelson, the bell put the fear in her, making her think that he’d come to read the riot act and drag her sorry ass off to rehab.
Dark days indeed.
‘Course, she reasoned, she could just ignore it but no, here it was again, and whoever it was, they were leaning on the buzzer, determined to get an answer. Sighing deeply, she got up, went to answer it.
She threw the door open.
At first she didn’t recognise the person. A blonde woman in a black bomber jacket, carrying two Tesco bags. She gave a huge smile, said:
‘Hi, girlfriend!’
Angie, the woman who’d saved her purse.
Falls knew there was something wrong with this. Did she give out her address? As a rule, she never did. Cops only gave that to other cops and even then, to a very select few. But she’d been drinking vodka and her memory at such times was far from reliable.
Angie said:
‘So, do I get to come in or do I just drop these goodies here and run?’
‘Shit, sorry… course, come in.’
As she breezed past Falls, the smell of her perfume was downright seductive. Falls would have to ask her the brand.
Angie plonked the bags on the coffee table and surveyed the room, the empty bottles were like a neon sign.
She said:
‘Cosy.’
Falls felt mortified. If it had been a man it would have been bad enough but you never wanted another woman to see you might be a slob. Especially not a classy woman like Angie.
Falls said:
‘I just got home, never quite got round to tidying.’
Angie went to the bags and pulled out a bottle of vodka,bags of crisps, peanuts, wine, carton of cigs and a mess of napkins, said:
‘I didn’t know what to get so I got everything.’
Falls was conscious of her ratty dressing gown and said:
‘Just let me change.’
Angie put up her hand, said:
‘No way, girl, you look comfortable and unless you have some guys stashed, let’s have us a girlie night.’
She began to open the vodka, said:
‘Yo, Elizabeth, get some glasses. We don’t want to drink from the bottle – least not yet, am I right?’
Falls went to the kitchen, rinsed out some glasses, tried to get with the game. The Bud had made her fuzzy and she felt she’d better slow down and let Angie catch up.
Back to the living room and Angie was on the couch, the bottle opened. She was wearing a very short skirt and Falls marvelled at her shapely legs.
Angie caught the look, asked:
‘You think my legs are too heavy.’
‘No, you, ahm… you’re in great shape.’
She patted the couch, said:
‘Come on girl, join me.’
Falls thought she was probably imagining it but was there a tone of flirting in there? She sat back and Angie poured two lethal measures, opened a pack of peanuts, said:
‘I’m, like, starved. Didn’t get to eat today.’
She raised hers, clinked glasses and knocked it back. Falls took a small sip, resolved to take it real slow and asked:
‘So, how come you’re… in the neighbourhood?’
Angie, thinking of the one-bar fire, the bath and Jimmy, smiled, said:
‘I had me a day, and I remembered we had us such a nice evening last time, I thought it would be fun to get together. Truth is, I was feeling electric.’
Falls realised she’d finished her drink and, when Angie poured two more, she didn’t fight it. Angie went into a long story about the club she was working at and the shit she had to tolerate. Falls was laughing,
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