“Alright your highness,” he replied as I set my phone down.
I reached over for my stash tin and picked my phone back up. “Go on then.”
“Alright, I’ll only be a minute Vicky. Just, like, is the job doable?”
I stretched across the sofa again, enjoying the softness of the fabric against me, flicking the little lamp on. It felt good to be home. The room took on a pleasant glow. The living room is a decent size, but my big sofa takes over a fair whack of it. The walls are purple and I’ve a few classic art prints and old Blue Note covers on the walls.
“Yes Mike, it’s doable,” I conceded in a playful voice.
“Great, you’re a legend Vick!”
Although we were well and truly broken up, I still got a buzz sometimes from that thick, manly accent of his, especially whenever he was being nice to me. “I know I am. Right now, time to go. I wanna chill out before bed.”
“Alright, good night Amy Winehouse, go have your drugs.”
“Fuck off Little Prick Mick,” I said and hung up. It’s the prerogative of an ex to be able to tease about dick size when necessary. He’ll get quite annoyed sometimes, funny though. We’re actually pretty good mates. It’s the only time it’s worked out that way with an old boyfriend. I doubt it’ll happen again. There’ll probably come a time when he gets serious with someone else and she won’t want me hanging around. But sure, live in the moment, things worked for now. We’ll always still have our business arrangement anyway.
I skinned up a joint in the quiet of the room, then crossed to my Ikea glass cabinet to leaf out a record. It was too quiet. Once the gentle and meandering horns from Wayne Shorter’s Speak No Evil entered the room, I sparked up. I sat back down and curled up in a comfy little ball. The music lapped over me, washing away the ‘middle of the road’ muck I’d been playing all night long. These were the moments of gig nights that I looked forward to. I let Wayne and Freddie fight it out on their horns as I puffed away.
My apartment is in Belfast – I’ve lived up by Queens University and Botanic ever since I was at Uni. Well, I moved back to my family house for a while when my dad died. That was a weird time – on my own in that house. My Mum had left when I was little and I don’t have any brothers and sisters. I didn’t like it and I soon sold the place. I was alone at twenty-two. My Auntie is still around, though she’s not well. We’re close. But I’m the last of my nuclear family. I guess you could say that felt pretty bizarre. Anyway, after that I was able to buy my apartment – no more renting. Somehow, I managed to finish my degree. I got my 2:1 in Philosophy and Ethnomusicology, then there I was – out in the real world. I wasn’t really prepared for it.
Is anybody?
I rolled up another number and flipped over the record to side two. I love the recording of that album, just the whole mood. The arrangements are incredible. They’re like a haze dancing above you. In bed for three would do rightly.
I slept well.
2
The next morning started like most. Though I didn’t actually see it. I rarely see mornings. I average around two or three gigs a week – usually at the weekends. I don’t have any other job. I get about a grand from the gigs every month and usually the same again from Mike – most months anyway. I’m not proud of it. All I had to do was check the places out – take some pictures and give Mike an idea of the layout and security. I eased my conscience by convincing myself that they all got it back on insurance. But I knew there was other harm done too. I didn’t like thinking about that.
When I did wake up, I zombied into the kitchen and put on some fresh coffee. Once I was armed with that and a slice of buttery toast, I plonked myself down on the sofa and fired on BBC News. I had a small joint after the toast, just for the taste really. Warm daylight crept around the linen behind the window. They were old fashioned lace, but I liked them. They had been up when I had bought the place and might have been the only thing I hadn’t changed. Spring had recently sprung and in Northern Ireland that often means just slightly warmer rain. But this year, April had been lovely – almost barbeque weather all the time – practically unheard of. I like feeling that warm, midday sun coming through. I especially like it when I haven’t been up long; still in my jammies, feeling well rested.
After a second cup of coffee, I padded back to my bedroom, still not dressed for the day. The air was stale, so I pulled the blinds and cracked the window. I considered another wee toke but thought better of it. I used to smoke cigarettes as a student, but I knocked that on the head a few years ago. I tried to avoid smoking roll ups too. Maybe it was Dad having his heart attack young. He hadn’t smoked for most of my life, but as a younger man, he had reportedly been on sixty a day. It would have been hard to believe that in later life. My dad was a quiet man, also really very formal. He was reserved and wouldn’t have approved of smoking or excessive drinking in his later years. I’d still been hiding most of that from him when he passed.
I eased onto my piano stool and flicked the plugs on at the wall. Stretching my arms out to my back, I heard a few clicks, then shook myself. I punched
