Maybe Tomorrow (part 8)
The inkjet-printed sign on the door said Dressing Room - McFly; below that, someone had scrawled in blue biro, abbandon hope all ye who enter hear.
Tom sighed, sniffed, then pressed his ear to the door and frowned at the lack of noise from inside. He checked up and down the corridor, then gripped the handle, turned it slowly and pushed the door a fraction of an inch.
Nothing.
He exhaled, opened the door wider and put his head in far enough to see.
No hail of fruit, no streams of bottled water. Nothing, in fact. Nothing and nobody, nobody visible, anyway. He straightened, craned his neck and tried to see over the top of the dark green sofa.
He sighed again, pushed the door and stepped inside. “Giovanna?” he called. “Guys? Danny?”
From one side came a soft rustle of paper. Tom ducked. Crouching, he circled round the end of the sofa, raised his head and looked around, then down.
“Dougie?”
On the floor beside the armchair, Doug was sitting with his legs pulled up in front of him. Across them, a magazine lay unfolded, coloured pages hanging either side.
“Oh. Oh, you’re not having a...” Tom edged away.
Doug lifted his head and narrowed his eyes.
“Sorry.” Tom cleared his throat. “Wouldn’t be the first- Have you seen Gi?”
Doug shook his head and turned the page.
“She said she’d meet me here after the sound check…” Tom peered at the furniture in the room: the two sofas, the dressing table, the costume rail, empty apart from a half dozen wire hangers, the stack of plastic chairs in the corner. When his eyes turned again to Doug, the boy had gone back to staring at his magazine.
Tom sniffed. “Dougie, what’s wrong?”
The bass player sucked in a breath. He glared up at the older boy, then turned away.
Rolling his eyes, Tom leaned forward. “What’s that you’re reading?”
Doug lifted the magazine. The pages were splashed with colour photographs: crocodiles, a stretch of murky water, a curiously familiar face grinning out from rumpled blond hair and a khaki shirt.
“Isn’t that Steve Irwin?”
Doug nodded and lowered the magazine back onto his legs.
“Oh.” Tom scratched his head. “It’s a real shame about him.” He glanced round the room again, brought his hand down to his mouth and bit at his thumb.
“Sad, sad day.”
Tom nodded. He settled himself into the armchair, leaned over the side, and read over Doug’s shoulder. “Do they know what happened yet?”
“Yeah.” Doug tapped the page with his finger. “He was swimming, him and a cameraman, with a stingray. Swam over the top of it, too close, and it just... They have this, like a spear in their tail. It whipped it...” He stabbed at the page. Tom winced; the magazine fell sideways onto the floor.
“Straight into his heart.” Doug let his head fall back against the wall; his hand joined the other one in his lap, fingers twisting between each other.
Tom shifted in the chair and brushed his fingers on Doug’s shoulder. The bass player flinched.
“Sorry,” Tom said. “I should have realised when it was on the news.” His fingers eased up the slope of muscle towards the boy’s neck. “You know, it’s OK to be upset-”
Doug pulled away. “They’ve been finding stingrays, dead. On the beaches. Tails cut off.” He untwisted his fingers, picked up the magazine, closed it and smoothed a hand over the grinning face on the front cover. “People are so fucking stupid. It’s just... You feel trapped, you can’t help it, you...”
“Dougie...”
The boy raised his head and stared into Tom’s eyes. His voice was quiet. “You never give up, do you?”
Tom shoved himself onto his feet. “Fuck’s sake, Dougie. Excuse me for giving a shit. I’m only-”
Doug shrank away, then watched with widening eyes as Tom stumbled forward, coughing and thumping his chest. He started to get up.
Tom waved him back, pulled in a deep breath and shook his head as he stood upright again. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered as he shuffled back to the chair.
“I didn’t... I only meant...” Doug twisted round. “You never give up. Even if you’re feeling like crap, or I’m being...”
Tom’s dimple made a fleeting return to his cheek as he watched Doug struggle to find the words. “Independent?” he offered.
Doug’s frown grew deeper. He began to tug at the hair beside his ear. “A dick.”
Tom’s hand drifted towards Doug’s shoulder. As the fingers made contact, Doug’s hand darted across, wrapped itself around Tom’s wrist and held tight. Tom grunted at the sudden strength of it, opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and answered with a squeeze of his hand instead.
Doug closed his eyes.
“You think, when we’re like, 60 or something, we’ll still be...” Doug opened his eyes and tilted back his head to see Tom’s face.
“Probably.” Tom’s chuckle caught in his throat. “If I live that long.” He settled back, rubbing his chest with one hand and Doug’s shoulder with the other.
The younger boy lowered his head. With his free hand he retrieved the magazine from the floor, smoothed it and folded it and set it down again..
“He was really unlucky,” Tom said.
Doug let go of Tom’s wrist. “He made a mistake. He wanted to get closer to the ray, thought he’d show how amazing it is. But he got too close. It felt trapped. It was only a reflex. Self-defence.”
His head sank forward, hands once again entangling themselves in his lap.
“He was a legend.” Tom pointed at the magazine. “Did you ever meet him?”
Doug shook his head. “I wish. That would’ve been so fucking amazing.” He stared at the photo for a moment. “I thought, if we ever went to Australia, we could visit his place, maybe do something. I was going to say to Fletch, you know, charity, wildlife warriors, McFly...”
“Fletch’d crap himself.”
Doug frowned.
“And Tommy would have a heart attack.” Tom smiled. “Well, imagine it. You’d go walkabout, adopt a million bugs and lizards and never want to leave. We’d have to drag you onto the plane. Knock you out. Ha! Like the A-Team: Mr. T.” A grin spread across his face. “Mr. P!”
Doug laughed. He put his hands on his hips and waggled his head. “Watchoo talkin bout, foo?”
“And, and...” Tom wheezed. “I’d be up a tree, hiding from something with a million legs. And Danny... Oh my God!” He bent over, half coughing, half laughing.
“Danny’s the only person Zukie’s ever bit. Thought he was being friendly. Zukie... I tried to tell him, but.” He tapped his nose and sighed.
“I remember that. Ah were only tryin to say hello. No, wait.” Tom reached up and pinched his nose. “Ah were odly dryin do say...” He giggled.
“The same thing happened to him.” Doug touched the grinning face in the photo. “There’s a video, he found a bearded dragon in the desert, went up to it all, look at you, aren’t you brave?”
“It’d be so good, though. Why don’t you go anyway?”
“It warned him, he could see it felt cornered. But he wouldn’t back off, and, whap! Right on the end of his nose. What?”
“Australia. You could go over Christmas break. You aren’t going cruising with Danny this year, are you?”
Doug shook his head. “They’re staying in Bolton. Mum and Jazzie...” He pushed his legs and sat up a little straighter. His eyes gleamed. “You think I could?”
The door to the room swung open. Giovanna entered. She smiled and walked towards them.
“Why not? Use up some of those air miles.” Tom turned towards his girlfriend. “There you are. Hello, love.” He held out his arm; she wrapped it around herself and settled into his lap. They kissed, then she leaned over and looked down.
“Hello Dougie.”
Doug waved.
“Why do you sit on the floor?”
He shrugged.
“He’s down under.” Tom chuckled.
Giovanna stared at him while Doug shook his head and groaned.
“We were talking about Australia,” Tom said. “Going there for Christmas.”
“Is that where-”
Tom lifted his hand from Doug’s shoulder and touched a finger to Giovanna’s lips. “Just Dougie. He wants to visit Zukie and Joey’s family. Where we are going is a surprise. Don’t even ask.”
Giovanna growled. She nipped at the finger. Tom pulled it away and she chased it with her teeth, their smiles growing as they got closer.
“Don’t.” Tom laughed and pulled his head back. “I’ll bite back.”
“I will- Aah!” Giovanna squealed and swatted at Tom’s hand as it gripped her waist. She laughed as the hold turned to a hug and a kiss.
“Told you,” he said.
“I will find out, you know. Tell me.”
Tom pulled back his head and shook it. “I couldn’t tell,” he sang. “When hell freezes over, that’s when I’ll...” He stuck out his tongue, then turned his head to grin at Doug.
The bass player was turning the pages in his magazine. He didn’t look up.
“Oh.” Tom bit his lip. “I just remembered something.” He tapped gently at Giovanna’s waist. “I need to find Danny and...” He glanced again at Doug. “Won’t be long.”
Giovanna slid to her feet. They kissed, and Tom hurried out the door.
⇐ Part 7 - Part 9 ⇒
Well, this took rather longer than I expected: unhappy computer, and a busy real-life. OK, and the only halfway decent weekends of the entire alleged summer. Still, one new disk and a heckuva lot of copying later, and here we are again.
OK, and yes, the first thing that happened when I picked up this story again was that I hated this part of it and had to re-jig it. I'm still not happy with it - maybe I'll explain why later, or you can tell me.