The Bare Necessities (Non-Profane Edition) (7 page)

“Yeah,
please.”

“And … Claire
isn't it?”

Claire hummed and
nodded. “Yeah.”

“I remember you
from the camp. Do you want a bite to eat? It's only Pizza.”

“Thanks,” Claire
muttered and the door closed. “Now why can't Jack's mother have
done that?”

“Because my
parents are not upper class twats,” Paige spat and picked up the
microphone. “Go on, your choice. Which one?”

Claire scanned the
list and looked up. “If I can get us access to Jack's recording
studio, will you make a demo tape. The recording studios should wet
themselves with your vocals.”

“Yeah, wet
themselves laughing,” Paige joked and shook her head, but Claire
was serious.

“I mean it,”
Claire asked. “Would you?”

“I guess,”
Paige replied. “But I really don't think I'm that good.”

1. Chapter
   VI
   

“And poof,” the
weird-looking gentleman cried. “Not the only poof in here, is it?”
A wisp of smoke appeared from an upturned hat, and the “magician”
extracted a Rampant Rabbit dildo from it. “The Rabbit from the hat
trick!”

Andre laughed; he
had enjoyed the magic show, despite being slightly uncomfortable
that the male magician was dressed in a latex bustier, fishnet
stockings and outrageously neon make-up. His adult-themed show was
designed for his gay patrons, and he delivered it well.

The young agent
had felt decidedly uneasy at first; most of the audience fit a
stereotype and he reasoned he was the only heterosexual in the
room, although the barmaid was happy to flirt with him, partly
because she probably presumed he was “that way inclined.”

Andre fidgeted and
was anxious, but as the show progressed and the alcohol entered his
system he felt more at ease with himself. He was still not sure
about signing “Pedro, the world's best magic bender,” but his uncle
had been firm. “Go down there and get him to come back to the
office if he's any good.”

Andre wasn't sure
if he was “any good” as far as his uncle would think, but his adult
shows were popular in certain communities and the lure of a popular
client had enticed Andre to pay entry to a gay club and watch the
explicit show.

Pedro was
certainly keen to exploit his exhibitionist streak and his clothing
was soon on a crumbled heap on the floor. His audience howled with
laughter as he found all four queens in a pack of cards before
suggesting “they weren't the only queens in the room!”

As the show
finished, Andre moved towards the dressing room. He was stopped
from entering by a burly security guard who was unmoved by Andre's
claims to have an appointment with the scandalous entertainer.
Andre rang Pedro on the mobile number he had been given, so he
could be retrieved from the bouncer who was running out of patience
with Andre's desperate pleading.

Pedro thought
nothing of walking naked through the corridor to his dressing room,
and Andre closed the door to give them some privacy. Smoke hung in
the small room, and gay pornography blared on the television behind
the middle-aged man. He refused to shake Andre's hand with a snort.
“No idea where your 'ands been.”

Andre gave a weak
smile and adjusted his suit. “I'm Andre Wilson, executive at
Incredible Talents, and we like what we see. Ummm … we are asking,
would you consider having us as your agent?”

The middle-aged
man leant back on the chair, idling playing with his manhood while
he spoke and stretched. “So, what's the deal? You get me bookings,
and I give you 25%?”

“Err … not quite.
We use our contacts throughout all industries to promote you, your
work, your brand to increase recognition and maximise exposure to
increase revenue and fully exploit your talents. And we take around
8%, not 25.” The entertainer grunted, and Andre pulled out a small
wad of papers. “This is the sample contract, and this is my
suggestion of what we do with you. I suggest a DVD to begin with
and a promotional tour. Now …”

Pedro snorted and
idly picked up the papers, flicking through them and looking back
at the shifting feet of Andre. “Trouble is, I know your kind. Ya
sign loads of people up do sod all for 'em and still want ya cut at
the end. Ya on a commission if ya sign me up?”

“Err … no.” Andre
stammered and squinted at the magician. “Not at all. I came here to
speak to you as agreed on the 'phone. And we will work hard for
you, like we do for everyone.”

Pedro sniffed. “Ya
gay?” Andre shook his head, and Pedro chuckled. “Ya came to a gay
club to watch me?”

“Yes, in short. I
came here today to watch you. And it was a good act. I liked it,
and it made me laugh, so I want to work with you.”

Pedro scratched
his ear. “My mate got an agent after he was on telly and all that
bastard did was leach off him. And then sued him. Near-on lost 'is
'ouse did he.” Pedro gulped and took a sip of his beer. “So, how do
I know …”

“We aren't like
that,” Andre promised.

“How do I know
that ya ain't gonna flake out on me? There's one way.” He pushed
himself into the chair and moved his legs further apart. “Ya get ya
straight arse over here and you put your lips around my little
friend,” he said with a grin. “And I'm gonna film it on my phone.
And if you try any of your little games, it goes public.”

Andre gulped.
“Pardon?”

“Give me a blow
job?” Pedro demanded and Andre put his hands in front of him,
pushing the air.

“No. Umm … no,
I-I-I-I don't do that and …”

“So you won't do
anything for me?” Pedro asked. “'Cause I want your lips around my
little man. Am I gonna get it?”

Andre shook his
head and backed out through the door. For a moment, the idea was
almost palatable; he had not managed to secure any new clients and
his uncle was getting restless with him, but it was too far.
“Sorry,” he muttered and fled the room as Pedro cackled behind
him.

* *
* * *

“It's you,” Jack
muttered as a familiar face ran to catch up with him as he left his
exclusive college. “How did you know where to find me?”

“I know,” Claire
said cryptically and then smiled. “OK, you told me where you went
to college, and you said you finished at lunchtime on Mondays.”

“You're not
stalking me, are you?” Jack moaned. “'Cause my parents reckon you
are trying to seduce me and want to … yeah, well, you can't blame
me for asking, can you?” Jack looked at Claire as her giggling
turned to scowling.

“No. I am not
stalking you. And I don't want to seduce you. In fact, the
opposite.”

“Oh cheers,” Jack
moaned, and Claire crossed her arms.

“I want to ask a
favour,” she begged. “Can I see your recording studio?”

“Why? I've not
been in it for four months. It's probably really musty and
'orrible.”

Claire sighed and
ran her hands through her hair. “OK, cards on the table. I have a
friend who has an awesome voice. And I would love to get some of
the singing on tape to send to some record companies. And they have
some songs written, and I want to try and get 'em to record a
couple 'cause they're better than all the X Factor crap or
manufactured bands and stuff. I just want to give 'em a chance to
get something quite special down onto tape. And we haven't got a
studio and … that's it.”

“So, why do you
want to use mine? There are loads all over London that have the
latest kit in them!”

“And they cost
money,” Claire replied. “And lots of it. I know you don't use
yours, and you have lots of time without your folks, and I only
want to borrow it. I can give you something, but not much.” Jack
sighed. “I just need to see what you've got and start to think
about things and then get 'em down for a day or two when it's
ready. What d’ya say?”

Jack sighed. “My
parents would go bananas,” he told her. “And my Aunt is staying
with us at the moment. She's getting divorced.”

“Oh I'm sorry to
hear that.”

“It's OK. It's
number twelve, she's used to it by now. Her weddings are a
bi-annual event. I've been to seven or eight.”

“I bet she eats a
lot of toast,” Claire joked, but the flippant comment was lost on
Jack, and she returned to her pleading. “So is it at all
possible?”

“Yeah. But only
when my parents are out. Now there is a fundraising dinner on
Saturday evening for some politician that my Dad's friend gets
involved with. They are out all Saturday evening. Why don't you
come 'round then and I'll show you.”

Claire smiled and
put her arms around him, cuddling him excitedly. “Thank you,” she
whispered in his ear. “Thank you so much!”

“You're welcome,”
Jack replied with a smile.

* *
* * *

“Hi,” Paige
muttered as her sister stormed into the room and she leant over the
top bunk. “I was thinking, I know you always like sleeping on the
top bunk if we have them on holiday, and I've had it at home for
five years, so do you want to swap?”

“You wet the
mattress then?”

Paige scowled.
“No! I just thought …”

“You just thought
I might not try and top myself if I have the top bunk.”

“I didn't say
that,” Paige told her defensively.

“Why is everyone
treating me like a child? I 'ate it and …”

“'Cause you won't
talk to anyone,” Paige screamed. “And when you do, it's angry
grunts, and you barely say a word. What are we supposed to do? You
snap at everyone, it's like walking on eggshells with you.”

Hazel's eyes bored
into her sister. “Then don't talk to me.”

Paige swung her
legs over the side of the bed and descended the ladder. “You are my
sister,” she replied and grabbed her taller sibling by the tops of
her arms, shaking her aggressively. “I found you unconscious in a
pool of blood.”

“And if I'd died
you'd have the room to yourself,” Hazel spat back. “You'd love
that.”

A tear rolled down
Paige's cheek, and she gestured wildly at her sister. “I found you
in a pool of blood. I had three minutes of waiting for an ambulance
when I thought you were dead. How do you think I felt?” Hazel
didn't respond, and Paige shook her again. “Eh? I've had nightmares
that I really will find you dead one day, and you don't care. You
think we don't love you, but I was in pieces that night. I've never
cried so hard, and I spent all night at your bed side at the
hospital. I wouldn't leave you and …”

“I didn't ask you
too,” Hazel muttered. “I never wanted …”

“It's what sisters
do,” Paige shouted. “'Cause long after Mum and Dad die, we'll still
be here with Jeremy. And I know you don't believe me, but I love
you. I love you more than anyone else in the world because as long
as I can remember, there's been you in my room, playing with my
toys and at my school. I helped you with your homework, I helped
you with puberty and boys and everything. Even your make-up when
you went on your first date or when you were being bullied, it was
me that beat 'em up to put a stop to it.” Hazel sniffed back a tear
and stared at the floor. “So when you have a problem you won't talk
about, that is so bad you can't face life, it hurts when you won't
talk to me.”

“There's nothing
to tell,” Hazel muttered and shrugged. The naked Paige stared into
her sister's eyes, and she blinked. “Really, there's nothing to
tell.”

Paige gulped and
held out her arms to embrace her sister, holding her tightly and
sniffing back the tears. It was the first cuddle they had shared
since the troubled girl had left hospital four months previously
and as far as Paige was concerned, it was a massive step in the
right direction.

* *
* * *

Claire crept up
the front drive of the house and swore when she saw the executive
saloon of her friend's father parked outside their front door; if
she was spotted at the house in her waitressing uniform, then she
was in trouble!

Claire looked to
her left and right; there were impeccably manicured bushes and
plants, but she had no option and dived to her left, over the bush
and landed on something prickly.

She could still be
seen, and showed up very well in her white uniform, so the young
lady crept behind the back of a giant plant, swearing when she
caught the spines on her hand in the twilight. The voices of Paul
and Anne carried in the night as the man of the household moaned
vociferously about the time it took his wife to get ready.

A couple of
minutes later, the car swept out of the drive aggressively, and
Claire waited for a few moments, just to make sure that Jack's
parents did not return having forgotten something and see her
striding towards their house. They didn't return, and after a
minute of painful waiting, Claire tentatively got out of the bush
and walked towards the house.

She could feel her
heart beating and she felt as though she was doing something
exceedingly naughty, but there was no shouting or screaming and the
girl calmly knocked stoutly on the door.

She waited for an
answer or for Jack to appear, but there was no response until she
knocked again. “I'm comin',” a female voice shouted and Claire
swore again, and sprinted back towards the bushes and dived into
the prickly plant again. Neither Jack nor her had considered that
anyone else would be home and Claire winced as she tried to remove
two thorns from the back of her hand in the semi-darkness.

She watched as the
dainty frame of Harriet Rees-Montague came to the door and shouted
into the night, “hello?” The girl looked around the drive before
cursing Claire under her breath and slamming the door.

Claire had a
problem; she did not know Jack's mobile number and had no way of
getting a message to him that she was waiting in his driveway under
a bush. He told her to come to the house on Saturday evening, but
they had not agreed at what time that meant, or how to meet.