Painted Faces (31 page)

“
We're having a lock in after closing time,” Phil announces. “Do you two want to join us?”

A little thrill of excitement goes through me. I've never been to a lock in before. “I'm definitely up for it,” I turn to Nicholas. “What about you, Viv?”

He looks a bit tired, but he musters a grin. “I wouldn't miss it. Count me in.”

“
Good stuff,” says Phil with a clap of his hands. “We're clearing the punters away now. Come out when you're ready.”

Phil leaves and I glance up at the clock. It's almost three in the morning. Normally Nicholas' gigs don't run this late, but Phil had another drag queen called Linda Lovely from Brighton doing a once off performance tonight, so Nicholas' slot got pushed back.

Once I have all of his make-up off he stands and shimmies out of the skirt and corset he wore for his show. He's wearing the frilly burlesque knickers again, and I can't help myself but to take a peek. He catches me looking and eyes the bra strap on my bare shoulder, since I'm wearing an oversized blue top that hangs off to one side. I glance away.

By the time I look back he's slipped out of the knickers and into his boxer shorts; the Calvin Klein ones that I wore on my head like a hat. The memory makes me slightly giddy.

Nicholas puts on a nice pair of black trousers and a light grey shirt. His hair is a mess from being squished up under the wig, and I know that he won't fix it himself, so I grab the hairbrush from the dressing table and stand up.

Pulling him down into a chair I say, “Let me brush your hair Viv, it's a disaster.”

He sits silently and I comb his hair until it's sufficiently neat. It's cut tight to his neckline, but a lot longer on top. I run my fingers through it after I'm done, because I kind of can't help myself.

He glances at me through the mirror as I stand behind him, a wry expression on his face.

“
All done,” I say, pulling my hands away.

“
Thanks,” he grins and then pats me on the bottom.

We head out to the now empty club and make our way over to a table where Phil, Sean and Linda Lovely are sitting doing shots of tequila. Unlike Nicholas, Linda Lovely is still in her full drag get up, which consists of a huge pink wig, a silver dress and rainbow coloured heels. She looks like a fairy godmother from a dream you'd have while tripping on acid. I think I remember Nicholas mentioning that her real name is Dave.

A few members of staff potter about, doing the final clean up of the night.

“
Nicholas Turner,” announces Linda Lovely as Nicholas sits down at the table and I take the chair beside him. “I'd forgotten how good you look in a pair of trousers. Two eggs in a hanky.” She smacks her lips.

Phil, Sean and I burst out laughing, while Nicholas stands up to twirl around and give Linda a proper look at his goods. She arches her sculpted eyebrow and nods approvingly.

Sean pushes a glass in front of me and pours some kind of fruity cocktail into it from the big jug sitting beside the bottle of tequila. I take a sip and it tastes like lemon and orange heaven.

“
What is this?” I ask him, gulping it back.

Sean shrugs. “It doesn't have a name yet. I rustled it up at the bar and put a bit of everything in.”

I laugh. “Should I be worried?”

He gives me a nervous look. “Prob...ably not.”

“
Prob...ably not is good enough for me,” I tell him, nudging him in the side with my elbow.

Phil speaks up, “Linda my lovely, tell Nicholas and Fred your juicy gossip.”

Linda coughs to clear her throat and proceeds to detail an encounter she had last weekend, with a celebrity she refuses to name, who came into her club in Brighton and had a quicky with her in the toilets. The unnamed celebrity apparently has a wife and two kids. I spend the next half an hour trying to goad her into telling us the name of the celeb, but her lips are sealed as tight as a chastity belt.

At some point Nicholas rests his arm across the back of my chair and begins rhythmically tracing his fingers in circles over my bare shoulder. Every time he does this I pull my top back up to cover my skin, but he just waits for it to fall back down again. It's a weird little game we're playing.

I think I hear Linda Lovely make a comment to Phil, something like, “What's the story between those two anyway?”

I'm tipsy enough not to think too much about the answer to that question or about how transparent we both are.

I'm currently on my fourth glass of Sean's mystery cocktail, which has gone from tasting like lemon and orange heaven to the elixir of the Gods. Every touch Nicholas gives me is so subtle and barely there, yet I'm hyper aware of all of them.

Sean gets up and sets some music playing over the sound system. He's one of those drummers who's always tapping out a beat on whatever surface he can find. Earlier I watched in fascination as he created an intricate rhythm, using his knees as percussion instruments.

I turn to Nicholas drunkenly. He looks like his mind is elsewhere, like he's sad about something. “Viv, the next time some guy gets up on the stage and grabs you like that I'm going to punch his lights out.”

He smiles and leans in close to me, pulling himself out of his own thoughts “Very gallant of you to offer Fred. I'll hold you to that.”

I take a long swig of my drink, and ramble on, the alcohol making me far too honest. “I could tell you didn't like it. I didn't either.” I break out into furious laughter. “Seriously Viv, I will cut a bitch the next time.”

By the way Nicholas is paying perfect attention to me, I don't think he's as plastered as I am. In fact, I think he's been nursing the same drink all night. That can't be good. He's going to remember all of my ridiculous comments. The problem is, I'm too drunk right now to care.

I twist my chair around so that I can look at him properly. I put both of my hands on his cheeks, holding onto his face. “You're so pretty Viv, it's not fair. How can you be pretty
and
handsome? Did you sell your soul to the devil or something?”

He puts his hands on top of mine. “Nope, and being pretty isn't the cake walk you think it is Fred,” he answers, somehow managing to sound miserable while he's smiling.

I frown. “Why? Because arseholes think they can come up on stage and grab your crotch without asking your permission?”

He laughs and his eyes go all sparkly and crinkly the way that I like them. “Something like that. Mostly it attracts people whose attention you don't want.”

I grab a hold of his bicep, for no real reason other than it looks nice and I want to feel it. “I'll be your bodyguard, if you want me to be.”

“
I want you...” he trails off with a hot expression, and doesn't finish his sentence.

I suddenly notice that Phil, Linda and Sean are up and dancing. Linda totters her way over to me and pulls me up by the hand. I follow her over to the others, bopping along to the music. Nicholas remains seated, watching the show.

I don't think I've ever felt more drunkenly happy, as I allow a six foot tall drag queen in rainbow high heels to twirl me around the empty night club to the beats of “Rock DJ” by Robbie Williams. I laugh so hard when Phil tries to do the splits that I almost cry. When he's standing again Sean jumps up onto his shoulders and Phil gives him a dancing piggy back ride around the room.

Some time later I find myself not dancing merrily with Linda anymore, but slow dancing with Nicholas, while the others return to the table to continue drinking. I can't even remember him approaching me. All I know is that it feels good to have his arms wrapped around my waist, while mine are wrapped around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

He looks down at me and whispers, “If you weren't so drunk, I'd ask you to stay with me tonight.”

I lay my head on his chest, tired. “It's nearly five o'clock. The night's almost over anyway.”

“
That's true. I should get you home, you look sleepy.”

“
Can't I just sleep here?” I ask. “Here is good,” I snuggle in closer to him.

“
Here
is
good,” he agrees, stroking a hand down my hair, “but you need your bed. Come on, we'll see if we can catch a taxi outside.”

Nicholas tells the others that we're leaving, but Phil asks us to wait so that we can all go out together. It only takes him a couple of minutes to lock the place up. Linda and Sean are singing the lyrics to “Sweet Caroline” as we stand by the front door, waiting for Phil. I lean into Nicholas, because I'm too wasted to hold myself up.

“
Done and dusted,” Phil declares, as he saunters into the front lobby and unlocks the door for us.

Nicholas and I are the first to step out, and my entire body seems to instantly sober when a brick comes hurtling towards us, along with somebody shouting the word “QUEERS!” at the top of their lungs. Nicholas pulls me out of the way just in time for the brick to go smashing through a window instead of hitting us.

I look frantically from left to right to see who threw the brick. Then I spot the suped-up Ford Fiesta with go faster stripes on the other side of the street. Three scumbags are standing by it, while another sits in the driver's seat. Nicholas stands up straight and pushes me behind him, just as Phil, Linda and Sean all spill out the door.

“
Which one of you threw that?” Phil shouts.

The three jog across the road, with one of them walking right up to Phil and punching him in the face. Another has a baseball bat, which he swings at Nicholas. Nicholas ducks and kicks the guy in the knee cap. Sean and Linda are huddled around Phil, who's clutching his bleeding nose, while the other two thugs spit a range of threats and homophobic slurs at them.

I get a good look at all of their faces, trying to commit them to memory. The one who attacked Nicholas swings for him again, but this time Nicholas feints to the side and brings his elbow down on the guy's jaw. He drops the baseball bat and lets out a yelp of pain, while Nicholas grabs the bat.

“
Now!” he shouts angrily, wielding the bat. “All three of you are going to get into your piece of shit car and drive far the fuck away from here.”

The one whose jaw Nicholas just bashed raises his hands in the air. “Okay pal, calm down,” as if Nicholas were the one to initiate the attack and not simply defending himself.

Nicholas takes a step towards him. For a second it looks like he's considering hitting him with the bat. “I'm not your fucking pal, you scumbag. Now go before I do something I regret.”

The three of them scurry off to their ridiculous car, while mumbling things like, “Fuckin' psycho” and “Bleedin' lunatic”. Typical. We all step back inside the club. Nicholas pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight.

“
Jesus, that brick was an inch away from hitting you Freda,” he breathes.