The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) (3 page)

“Like …
Anorexia?”

“Yeah,” Claire
muttered. “That's what they called it. And I would wear T-shirts,
shorts, everything. So maybe your sister is going through
that?”

“No,” Paige told
her. “I know what it is. She has problems and, although she denies
it, she likes the attention.”

“Oh.” Paige and
Claire walked to the tents, talking earnestly to each other, when a
scowling Hazel, wearing a long T-shirt that came down to her knees,
glared at them.

“I'm saying
nothing,” Paige muttered under her breath to Claire as they
approached the teenager, and then broke her promise. “Hazel,
seriously, what the hell is that?”

* *
* * *

“Go on, have a
go!” Paige's mother passed the small folder to her daughter as
Paige watched a performer take to the stage and Hazel sulked in the
corner of the small pavilion. There was a mixture of naked and
clothed patrons, although Paige noticed she was towards the
younger, as well as the least dressed, end of the visitors.

“I'm not sure,”
Paige replied. “I like to sing my own songs.” She looked up to see
a middle-aged married couple murder a Sonny and Cher song, and then
looked down at the folder. “And …”

“You could do one
with your sister,” her mother suggested, and the apprehensive Paige
scowled at Hazel, who was staring at her lemonade. “We'd like
that!”

“Don't think so,”
Paige muttered and looked around the room for Claire; she wasn't
present, although the karaoke night had only just begun and there
were many families who also hadn't arrived. Paige flicked through
the folder, reading the available songs by each artist and jumped
when an ice cube rolled down her back.

Her squeals
weren't heard as the couple got overly-generous applause and Paige
turned to see a giggling, and dressed Claire hovering over her.
“Serves you right for flicking cold water at me earlier,” the
voluptuous teenager giggled and Paige scowled. She could smell
alcohol on Claire's breath, and Claire pulled up a chair to sit
alongside her new friend. “Sorry, this is Mum, Dad, George,” she
said with a wave of the hand and pointing towards her two parents
and brother sitting on the next table.

“Well you've met
my family,” Paige muttered.

Claire grabbed the
folder. “Oh, you doing it? Of course, you said you liked singing.
What are you doing? Joan Jett you liked, didn't you and Pink and
Katy Perry and …”

“I wasn't going to
do it,” Paige interrupted and adjusted her towel on the cold, hard
seat. “I'm not great at singing in front of audiences and …”

“Oh, I'll do it
with you,” Claire gushed. “I love karaoke. I'm more of a Lily Allen
and Katy Perry person but … you doing it Hazel?”

“No!” Hazel cried
and sneered at her elder sister. “Do it with her, not me.” Her
mother looked expectantly at Paige.

“What about
Firework or Teenage Dream or …”

“I'll do Hot N
Cold,” Paige said firmly. “I've sung that a few times when …”

“Great,” Claire
interrupted and looked at Paige and her family. “Sorry, were we
meant to be naked for tonight?”

Paige gestured
around the room at the other patrons. “It's up to you,” she told
her, and Claire looked her friend. “Some people dress for the
evening, and some don't.”

“And you don't,”
Claire replied as Paige, the only naked member of her family,
grimaced. “Well we'd look a bit silly if you're naked and I'm
dressed,” she reasoned and then caught Paige in the cheek as she
moved her hands up to remove her dress and then slid her bum up to
remove her knickers. “Sorry!”

“How many have you
had?”

“A couple. With
our meal. That's all. And one with the … ahh … come on!”

Claire giggled and
grabbed the hand of her red-haired friend, and Paige chuckled to
herself. Claire was considerably more assertive and outgoing when
she had had a bit to drink, and the excitable girl dragged Paige to
the little stage.

They had to wait
for a few minutes until it was their turn, but the self-styled
Karaoke Master, selected their choice of song on the karaoke
machine as Claire and Paige took to the stage. Paige closed her
eyes; she knew the words off by heart and waited for her cue. She
was nervous, and her heart pounded in her chest. She felt
butterflies dance around her bellybutton and took a few deep
breaths as she opened her mouth to sing. Claire, despite being
tipsy, was pitch perfect and the two girls sang in perfect harmony
adding energy to the song through their enthusiastic voices.

The room feel
silent as they listened; the undercurrent of chattering and
whispering during past performances disappeared and the two girls
played to their attentive audience who were rapt with
attention.

Paige opened her
eyes and made eye contact with her brother, but Hazel was staring
at her drink and not watching her sister. Paige turned to face her
singing partner, who was using the words on the screen as she sang.
It was easily the biggest crowd Paige had sung in front of since
she had had the disaster of the school talent show when she was
sixteen, and felt the buzz of being in front of a large audience
again.

Claire went
slightly off pitch as the song finished, but the two girls held the
attention of the crowd and got a deafening applause from the
delighted group of naturists. Paige stared at her sister who just
shook her head, but gave a “woo!” and passed the microphone back to
the compère.

There was little
doubt that the two teenagers had stolen the show and as the acts
dried up, they were enticed back to the stage by an appreciative
audience, some nagging and a couple of glasses of wine, to do a
further number; Paige chose “Bad Reputation” that suited Claire's
voice more than her own.

Her attempts to
get her sister to come and join them on stage for a third song were
met with an angry grunt and Paige watched as the stroppy teenager
stormed out of the pavilion.

Paige caught up
with her fifteen minutes later, sitting by the side of the pool and
with her legs dangling over the side. “We won,” she said as she
approached. “Claire and me won the karaoke.” Hazel said nothing;
her eyes were focused on the ripples in the water and Paige sat
down next to her. “Bit cold to go swimming?”

“What do you
want?” Hazel snorted, and Paige stared at the side of the pool; it
had been a lovely evening and there was no need for her sister to
spoil it with her moodiness. “Go away.”

“Are you going to
talk to me?” Paige asked and shivered in the cold, night-time
air.

“No,” Hazel spat
and Paige shook her head as she righted herself to her feet. She
coughed, took a step back, and pushed her sister into the icy cold
water of the pool.

Hazel shrieked and
screamed as her body disappeared into the cold, bleak water. “You
witch,” she spluttered loudly into the moonlit evening.

“Language,” Paige
taunted and knelt on the water's edge to reach into the pool and
haul her sister out of the water. “Now you've got to talk to
me.”

“S'off,” Hazel
shouted, her wet shirt and shorts clinging to her body. Paige
passed her the towel that she had been sat on for most of the
evening and Hazel snatched it with a grunt. “What was that
for?”

“To get you to
talk to me,” her elder sister spat back and folded her arms.
“'Cause you've been right moody all week and …” Hazel pushed past
her and strode out of the small pool area ignoring the words of the
well-intentioned girl.

* *
* * *

“Two million hits
on YouTube,” the man told Andre. “Two million. And we've sold some
merchandise through our site. Eight T-shirts at the last
count.”

“Right,” Andre
said as the bald man showed him into a derelict warehouse that was
packed with ramps, weights, skateboards and bicycles. “I saw some
of them. They looked a little bit dangerous.”

“Yeah, that's the
point,” he replied. “We ain't called Crazy Stunts for nothing. I
mean, over here, that's where I got pulled along on a skateboard at
30mph and hit the wall.” He smiled, and Andre pulled out a sample
contract from his bag.

“And you're
insured and this is your warehouse, and the like?”

The man sniffed.
“Does it matter? OK, it's not my building, but it's, falling down.
No-one cares.”

Andre hummed. “OK,
that would be a problem, but my uncle'll talk 'bout that. Ummm,
well, as discussed on the 'phone, my uncle might be interested.
Look over this contract, and we can meet up at our office, have a
chat and decide on your plans and if we help realise them and then
it's … err … good.”

“Good?” The man
cried. “Effin' awesome. I mean YouTube's great, but everyone wants
to be on the telly, right?” He pulled out his mobile phone and
touched the screen. “This should definitely get me somewhere. Look
at this one,” he shouted and flicked a video on. Andre saw a shaky
hand-held camera focus on a man surrounded by flames and then run
through the fire, setting his clothes alight.

“What the …”

“Yeah, I know.
Effin' hurt like 'ell but watch this.” Andre watched open-mouthed
as the man ripped off his trousers and underwear and ran back
through the flames screaming as the fire touched his pubic region.
The fire looked incredibly intense and after jumping through the
inferno again, he ran towards the exit with the cameraman following
him out of the building.

“What's that?”

“Oh, it's our
video of the week … for next week. Pretty special, huh? That's the
best thing 'bout these warehouses, we can do what we like to
'em.”

Andre puffed.
“Well we would need to sort out insurance and safety, and all that,
we can't …”

“Ahh … bollocks to
that. I'd never get to do anything like set fire to a ware …” His
voice trailed off as Andre listened and he sighed. “Look, we get
loads of hits each week 'cause we're original. We make money.”

“Right,” Andre
muttered. “And this warehouse you filmed that in. Would that be the
building just down the road that was on the news last week?”

“No,” he cried and
bit his lip. Andre raised his eyebrows and the man shrugged.
“Yeah,” he admitted.

“OK. That will
be a problem. I'll see what my uncle says,” he told him and shook
his hand, before walking outside the warehouse and ringing the
local CID as he meandered down the road. There was an active arson
investigation and Andre had an exceptionally good lead for
them.

1. Chapter
   III
   

Jack crossed the
road and approached the park; his music on his iPod skipped onto a
rock song and he hummed along to the beat as he strode purposefully
towards his home. His bag slapped against the side of his legs as
he walked.

The teenager looked up and stopped. In the park, on
the swings was his ex-girlfriend, Ellie. The wavy-haired brunette
swung gently back and forth, and Jack scanned the park for any sign
of Ian, her new boyfriend. He heard the girl shriek and looked back
to the swings; Ian had obviously been loitering nearby as he pulled
her off the seat and tickled her on her sides as he held her in his
arms. Her squeals stopped, and he saw the two lovers move their
heads together for a kiss.

Jack pulled the
earphones from his ears and leaned against the wall by the side of
the park, watching his ex-girlfriend and ex-friend intently. They
kissed, they chased each other, they flirted, and she teased; it
could have been Jack and Ellie from six months ago.

Ellie had not
changed much, her playful exuberance and smile was clear for
everyone to see, and Jack rubbed his eyes; tears were forming and
he had seen enough.

Jack took a few
steps back and walked back down the road, taking the “long way”
from the station to his house. He could not bear to see them any
longer.

He muttered and
thought as he strode home; just what had he done wrong with Ellie?
Why couldn't he move on from her? Every time he thought that he was
over their four year relationship breaking down, something would
remind him of the coquette, and he would be angry and upset for
days.

He kicked a stone
in annoyance at the pavement, and it bounced onto the grass verge.
He knew, the real reason he was not over Ellie was because Ellie
had not been replaced in his affections. There was a vacuum in his
life that had been created when they had split, and he was finding
that her painful memory was more than capable of filling the hole
her presence had left behind.

He opened the door
to his house and kicked his shoes off with such force they were
propelled across the hall and bounced off the wall in the corner of
the room, leaving two little marks on the cream wallpaper. He
listened for anyone in the house, but the cleaner-cum-house manager
was on holiday and the gardener didn't work on Wednesdays. He heard
the feint sound of a television in a neighbouring room; it would be
his mother.

Jack walked up the
stairs to his bedroom and slammed the door, throwing himself down
on his bed and staring at the ceiling. He needed to break free from
Ellie; she reminded him of a weekend where he felt angry, isolated
and suicidal. A weekend where he wanted to hurt people, and when he
cried. A weekend that was, without doubt, the worse weekend of his
life.

He needed to let
it out, and for the first time in months picked up his pad to begin
writing a song. The lyrics would be violent, hateful, nasty and
vindictive, but that's what Jack thought of his ex-girlfriend.

* *
* * *

Paige sat down in
the little pavilion and pulled out a deck of cards from her bag. “I
hate the rain,” Claire moaned.

“It's great,”
Paige replied. “OK, if you are wearing clothes, you get wet and
cold, but naked in a storm … ahhh, that's magical.” Claire
giggled.

“I've not done
naked in a storm,” she replied. “I don't think that I have done
half of what you have,” she moaned.