The Zoo by Jamie Mollart Read Free Book Online Page A

long.’
    â€˜Any ideas?’ she asks.
    â€˜I c-c-can spell you know,’ he says, looking up from his painting, ‘I’m not a b-b-baby.’
    â€˜Go on then, clever clogs, what did I just spell?’ Sally cocks her head to the side, hand on hip, matronly and sexy at the same time.
    He makes a show of screwing his face up, rolls his eyes back until I can only see the whites and then shrugs.
    â€˜That’s what I thought,’ she says, then to me, ‘get your thinking cap on. I’m going to have a shower. Can you ring us a taxi for about 8?’
    I hear the water running and her muted singing and for a little while I think everything is going to be alright.
    Â 
    In the background Bob Dylan sings about trying hard but not understanding. Sally passes me the joint and I take a big toke, jump as the hot rock falls onto my shirt, curse as it bounces onto my knee, onto the floor. Sally giggles and cuffs me with the back of her hand. She tucks her feet beneath herself and leans on me. Lights are low. Dan and Lou sit on the floor at our feet. They could be from 1965, all loose hair and hippy smiles, flowing clothes and gentle voices. Earnest.
    â€˜Have you seen them in real life, though?’ Lou’s talking to me.
    â€˜No,’ I reply handing the spliff to Dan.
    â€˜Makes all the difference.’
    I realise I’m stoned and have forgotten what we’re talking about. Sally shakes an empty wine glass at Lou who gets up and takes it through to the kitchen, talking all the while.
    â€˜I was like you. I thought they were art prints for students. All pretty colours and no substance.’
    I whisper to Sally, ‘Who are we talking about again?’ and she replies, ‘Rothko.’
    â€˜I don’t think that’s quite what I said, Lou,’ I shout through to the kitchen.
    She returns and hands Sally a glass.
    â€˜Sorry, did anyone else want one? Maybe you didn’t quite say that, Jay, but same lines. I know where you’re coming from. What those prints don’t show you though is the sheer size of the things. I mean, they are fucking vast. And the texture. They look all smooth and sanitised in the piccies, but in real life they’ve got texture. They’re ugly and lumpy. They move too. No, fuck off, Dan, don’t pull that face at me. Seriously, they move. They vibrate. Honestly, I’m not joking.’
    â€˜Actually, I’ll go with her on that one,’ says Dan. ‘There is something a bit weird about them when you see them all together.’
    â€˜I can’t imagine them in a restaurant. No way are they conducive to a nice relaxing meal. We didn’t speak to each other for at least an hour after we left.’
    â€˜Jesus, Dan, I’m amazed you don’t take her every day,’ I say, then laugh to show I’m joking. Lou makes a point of melodramatically punching me on the knee.
    â€˜You used to know about Art, didn’t you, James? Before you sold out to the Man,’ she says.
    â€˜Everything’s for sale, Lou. You know that. Even creativity.’
    â€˜It’s not your creativity I’m worried about.’
    â€˜What then? My soul?’ I ask.
    â€˜Your soul,’ she confirms.
    â€˜Gone years ago. A tiny blackened peanut is all I’ve got left.’
    â€˜If that,’ says Sally and kisses me on the cheek.
    Â 
    Later, in the taxi on the way home I’m warmly drunk. Sally has her head in my lap, big eyes gazing up at me. I stroke her hair.
    â€˜They’re such dicks, your friends,’ I say.
    â€˜They’re your friends too.’
    â€˜Only by proxy,’ I say, ‘Friends by association.’
    â€˜Come on, they’re alright. You like them really.’
    â€˜They’re pretentious.’
    â€˜They’re arty.’
    â€˜My taxes pay for them to do fuck all.’
    â€˜You’re just sour because they took the piss out of you.’
    We stop at