Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune by Neneh J. Gordon Read Free Book Online Page B

what to do. Calling John would
make her look weak. But what if Noah took a drink?
    She strode over to the cause of all the trouble and tapped him on
the shoulder. “If you really gave a toss about him, you wouldn’t be doing
this.”
    Dave met her eye with another searing look. “Why don’t you just piss
off? We’re trying to have a party.”
    The men he’d just let in looked her up and down. No one wanted her
there. She glanced through to where Noah was sitting. He wasn’t holding a
drink. But that was probably only a matter of time.
    After one more scowl from Dave, she turned away and headed upstairs.
If the music got too loud, she’d make an anonymous call to the police. Apart
from that, there wasn’t really anything she could do.
    ***
    N oah hadn’t realised how much he’d missed the old gang until they
arrived at his door. How had he managed to lose touch with so many of them? But
he knew the answer to that – booze and coke had pushed everything else out of
his life.
    Wozza started telling his infamous anecdote about the catfight
between the groupie and the female roadie. Noah tuned out a little – everyone
there must have heard the story at least a dozen times.
    He looked around him, totting up all the cans and bottles. Most of
them would have had a snort of something before they’d come out. Taking stuff
was different for them. It was recreational.
    Actually, that wasn’t true. Out of all of those guys, he could count
the ones in steady relationships on one hand. And most of them were involved
with users. No, they might not think of themselves as addicts, but their
behaviour was just as self-destructive as his. The main difference was that he
wasn’t in denial any more. Approaching bankruptcy tends to do that to a guy.
    “Noah.” Benjy thumped him in the shoulder. “Where the fuck have you
been, man?”
    He looked around all the faces turned towards him. Surely they read
the papers? “Rehab.”
    “Load of bollocks,” one of them jeered.
    “You don’t need rehab, you need one of these.” Someone produced a
humongous spliff and held it out in front of him.
    He stared at the thick white roll-up. It truly was a thing of
beauty. He’d never had a problem with weed – everyone knew you couldn’t get
addicted to the stuff. A few puffs might even stave off the DTs. They wrote
prescriptions for it in some parts of the States.
    Noah looked over at the door. There was no one standing on the other
side of it. No Angie to tell him not to do it.
    ***
    I t was all Dave’s fault. She didn’t get it – Noah didn’t even seem
to like him that much. Maybe it was because they had history. It could be hard
to let go of people. Even when you knew they were no good for you.
    Sitting on the chaise longue up in her room, she stared at the walls
and listened to the heavy bass of the music throbbing through the house. She’d
long given up on the television and she hadn’t even bothered getting her book
out. It wasn’t so loud down there – not for a party.
    Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she pulled it out. It was John.
Should she answer? It would look worse if she didn’t. “Hi, John.”
    “Hey, Angelique. Just phoning to check how things went with Dave.”
    “He’s not exactly a good influence, is he?”
    John laughed. “No. I can hear the music in the background. I take it
he’s still there?”
    “Yeah.” Probably not a great idea to tell him Dave had invited half
the county over.
    “If you want me to get rid of him, I’m happy to come over.”
    Nothing would put her mind at rest more than watching him and his
cronies walk out of the front door, but she couldn’t let John do the heavy
lifting. “It’s okay. I can handle him.”
    “You sure?”
    “Yeah, it’s fine.” Well, it would be in about ten minutes, after
she’d broken up the party. This had gone on long enough.
    ***
    N oah reached out for the spliff and took it between his unsteady
fingers. He hadn’t smoked weed for months.