Kate Tempest - The Bricks that Built the Houses

Dale sticks his bottom lip out in surprise. Scratches his head. ‘A masseuse?’

‘Yeah, you know,’ Pete says, raising his eyebrows. ‘A masseuse .’

‘Oh right,’ Dale says nodding. ‘A prostitute?’

Pete buries his head in his hands. ‘No,’ he says. ‘No. No. No.’ Dale raises a finger, points at him, eyebrows raised, questioning him. ‘No,’ Pete says again. ‘It’s different. She doesn’t sleep with them. At least, she says she doesn’t.’

‘What does she do with them then?’

‘Like, a massage, full body or whatever, I don’t know the exact fucking technique. Swedish or shiatsu or whatever. All I know is it all ends happily, know what I mean?’

‘But no more than that?’

‘No. And they can’t touch her. There’s all kinds of rules. She rubs them down and then, you know, wanks them off.’

Dale puts his hands on his hips, looks up towards the flickering light bulb. ‘Tough one, mate,’ he says. ‘Tough one, that.’

Sweat prickles at his temples, shivers skate across the back of his neck, Pete sits down at the table, tells himself to act natural.

‘I can’t help it, mate,’ he says. ‘I’m worried.’

‘Of course you’re worried.’ Dale’s large mouth opens and swallows half a pint.

‘Well, she tells me it’s not a big deal, says I can trust her, and she loves me and that.’

‘Do you trust her?’ Dale wriggles his nose about, opens and closes his mouth.

‘Yeah,’ Pete says, flicking his hair out of his eyes. Sitting up straight.

‘Well, not being funny, mate,’ Dale says, ‘but obviously you don’t.’

It smacks Pete in the face, brings him down like a breaking wave. ‘How is that obvious?’ he asks timidly.

‘Because, mate, if you trusted her, it wouldn’t be a problem, would it?’ Dale opens the hole in his face and the rest of his pint disappears down it. He shrugs at Pete as he swallows. Beer froth clings to his top lip. Shining. ‘You think she’s fucking them?’ Dale whispers it; a conspiracy.

Pete’s head rests in his hands, elbows on the table top. He rubs the back of his head, looks up. ‘Do you?’ His jealousy is staggering towards them, thumbs in its belt loops, screaming.

Back at the bar now, they’re ordering rums.

‘And a couple black sambucas. And two more pints, please.’

They stand close, down the sambuca shots. Wince happily.

They sit down at their table and look out at the people.

‘I like it in here,’ Dale says.

Mitch is singing Chuck Berry.

The old men at the bar are jiggling their hips and the women with the purple wine smiles are throwing their arms around and shaking their knees. Dale nods his head to the beat, Pete watches him.

‘I’VE GOT IT!’ he shouts over the music. Everything feels louder than it felt an hour ago.

‘WHAT?’ Dale shouts back.

‘CAN I TRUST YOU, DALE?’ Pete’s voice is urgent, his eyes are shining.

‘YEAH. COURSE YOU CAN, MATE.’ Dale grins at his new friend, nodding.

‘I FEEL LIKE I CAN,’ Pete tells him.

Dale points at him. Winks. ‘GOOD!’ he shouts. ‘YOU CAN TRUST ME.’

‘IT’S PERFECT.’ Pete sees it play out in the space between their pints. Watches the table top, excited.

‘WHAT IS IT?’ Dale leans in like a dog leaning out a car window, tongue to the wind.

‘ YOU COULD BOOK IN WITH HER, COULDN’T YOU?’ Pete shouts.

The music stops, the people applaud. Mitch beams. Pushes his belly out. Hands on the small of his back, letting his guitar hang by its strap.

‘ME?’ Dale’s voice is suddenly huge in the quiet room. Awkward, they look around and huddle closer. ‘What do you mean?’ Dale is entranced.

‘It’s perfect!’ Pete is overwhelmed. ‘She don’t know you,’ he says, eyes darting left and right. ‘She knows all my other mates. And I can’t trust them anyway.’ He looks at Dale, who is grinning madly.

‘What would I have to do?’ Their eyes burn brightly together.

‘I’ll pay,’ Pete says. ‘I’ll give you some money, so you can get a room somewhere. Book in with her, she comes to you.’ Dale nods. Smiling, wet-mouthed. ‘She gives you a massage and that, and then you tell me what happens. OK?’

‘You want me to try it on with her?’ Dale asks, voice low, serious. ‘Try and get, like, a full service?’

Pete thinks about it, considers it, looks at his friend, his caring confidant. ‘Yeah,’ he says gravely.

‘You sure?’ Dale asks him. ‘I mean, I will do that, if you want me to.’

Pete is stunned by this man’s generosity, his comradeship. ‘Just to put my mind at ease.’ He is serious and thoughtful. ‘I know she won’t do it. I know I can trust her. I just need to be sure. That’s all.’

They nod at each other. Pete flicks his hair out of his eyes.

‘Yeah,’ Dale says. ‘Wow. Alright. Yeah.’

‘Look, here’s her card, OK? Take it.’ Pete has a business card of Becky’s he stole from her room. He keeps it in his wallet, a little vicious reminder that he looks at when he hates himself. On the card is a close-up photo of her naked back and hips and in the bottom-right corner the name Jade and a phone number.

Dale takes it. ‘I’ll do it, mate, I’ll help you out. We’ll put your mind at rest.’ They both look at the card in Dale’s enormous hand. Dale tucks it into his top pocket, taps it a couple of times.

‘Can you get these, mate? I’m out of cash.’ Pete can’t look up from the floor.

Dale swings his hefty arm around Pete’s shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about that, mate,’ he says, going into his pocket and slipping a twenty off a folded wedge and handing it to the barman.

They take their drinks and their change and Dale winks at a woman he’d been talking to as they head back to the toilet to rack up another line.

‘Think you’re in there, mate,’ Pete tells him.

‘You think so?’ Dale asks, looking back over his shoulder to catch her watching him.

‘She likes you.’ Pete digs him in the ribs with his elbow.

‘I always had a thing for the older ladies,’ Dale says.

‘I think she used to be a dinner lady at my school.’ Pete turns and pushes the toilet doors open with his shoulder.

‘Sexy.’ Dale takes one more look back at the bar before following Pete into the cubicle. ‘Wonder if she’s still got her hairnet.’

Mitch is on his last number. ‘Sweet Caroline’. He holds the mic out for the crowd to do the chorus. Dale and Pete are arm in arm, giving it all they’ve got.

‘“SWWEEET CARRROLLLIIINE.”’ Wild applause follows the end of the song.

‘Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve been a wonderful crowd,’ Mitch says, deadpan. The couples are starting to leave. A big man waves goodbye to his pals and walks ahead of his girlfriend to the door.

She’s wearing a lovely bright blue coat and stops to kiss Mitch goodbye. ‘Well done, darling, it was great,’ she says.

‘Thanks very much, Michelle.’

She gets to the door where her boyfriend’s waiting for her. He opens it, is about to go through it but then steps out the way to let her go first, holding it open for her.

There’s a comedy bicycle horn taped up behind the bar. The barman honks it twice.

‘Waheyy, well done, Terry,’ he says. Honk Honk. Terry raises his eyebrows and dips his head at the barman and leaves, smiling, after his girlfriend.

‘See you later, boys!’ the barman shouts to all the old men getting up from their stools. He honks his horn a few more times as they put their hats on and head off into the night.

Dale and Pete stumble towards the main road. Concentrate at the bus stop, working out routes home.