DEATHLOOP (11 page)

Susan felt that anyone who didn’t like ‘
Jules et Jim
’ was a philistine and not worth bothering with. But it’s true, Zack seemed less than impressed by the film and he was asleep by the end of it. In fact she had to nudge him to get him to wake up. Maybe next time she should get the DVD and they could watch it in his flat. Then she could point out all the things she knew he’d missed first time round. He was obviously tired and not in the mood when they went to the cinema in East Finchley, plus Bolton Wanderers were on in the pub as well which didn’t help.

Susan did not really know what to do with herself now. She had asked to have her hours increased at the juice bar so that she would be spared the long light nights when it seemed everyone was going out and having fun, and she was stuck in Stoke Newington watching repeats of Big Brother on some obscure cable channel. (Susan had applied to go on Big Brother once, but she didn’t get selected which was a huge disappointment to her at the time.)

Susan had always had trouble with relationships, she didn’t know why. She was very good looking, she knew she was, in fact men often stopped her in the street and she had gone on hundreds of dates, but for some reason things always fizzled out. It was the same at catering college, she just seemed to lurch from one doomed love affair to the next.

Originally she thought that it was because she was not very good at sex, but over the years Susan felt she had got better at sex. No it wasn’t sex, she was sure of that, it was something else. But what? What was it? Once, one guy told her not to try so hard, so she decided that meant she was probably a little bit too female and dependent. That’s when she learnt to open beer bottles with her teeth, and wore jeans, and went around looking like a boy, she started swearing as well. But when another bloke that she was keen on told her to leave him alone, he didn’t date dykes, she put a stop to most of that.

But being dumped by guys she met at college or in the street was nothing compared to how she felt now being rejected by Zack. She had been going out with him for ten weeks, ten whole weeks which was an age for her, and it was perfect, just perfect. Somehow, being with Zack told her who she was, he defined her. Now she was lost again, completely cut adrift. She knew deep down that Zack was right, that she should just accept his decision and move on, but she couldn’t.

Susan felt that if only he would tell her what had made him change his mind about her she could attend to it and put it right. She felt sure that if she explained all this, Zack would respond positively, provide her with the information she needed and she could adjust to how he wanted her to be, then they could be happy again. She had to give it one last try, she just had to. Susan still had a set of Zack’s keys. She gazed down at them and turned them over in her hand as though they were the most precious things in the world.

“Zack… Zack, wake up…”

Zack yelled with fright to see Sid’s massive face bang in front of him and his fright spooked Sid who let out a yell just as loud, stumbling back across the room in shock.

“Shit, why so jumpy?”

“Sorry, mate, I’ve been strung out a bit lately.”

“You could have fooled me, man, you could have fooled me,” said Sid, shaking his head and making his dreads dance around like lanterns.

“Here, I found them,” said Sid, handing over a grubby polythene envelope containing pink and white pills.

“So which is which?”

“Don’t ask me, I don’t take the stuff, it’s poison, I and I know better. You just have to embark on trial and error, Mr Fortune. You just have to take your fun finding out.”

“You’re a gentleman, Sid,” said Zack, scrambling to his feet.

“That not in question or dispute, I and I got me self-esteem.”

Zack liked it when Sid did his ‘I and I’ Rasta type stuff, it made him feel part of the clan.

In the cab on his way back home Zack shook the plastic envelope mixing up the pink and white pills into various patterns. He decided he needed to sleep, really sleep, 24 hours or something, so he was trying to decide which pills to take. If he got it wrong he would have to go somewhere or do something because he’d be up there on Nelson’s Column, but he hoped he wouldn’t get it wrong, white or pink, which could it be? As pink was associated with red, it had to be the livelier of the two, didn’t it? He swallowed three or four white ones, and stuffed the envelope into his pocket, now it was a matter of wait and see.

As the streets of West London flashed by, Zack sat back and allowed himself a little smile. He’d had the perfect opportunity this evening of taking it easy, of enjoying his own company and gradually winding down. So what does he do? He’d got together with Sid Johnson of all people, who could always be relied upon to lead him astray as a matter of principle. But he’d enjoyed his evening with Sid, and as much as he rated Sam, he felt quite liberated out on his own without him.

Sam had quietened down so much since Cambridge. Keen to impress Zack in those early years, Sam was as crazy as everyone else then, up for just about anything. Although Clarissa had once told Zack that even during their time at university Sam only pretended to take all those drugs. He was just a straight Jewish boy really, making himself out to be the court jester he knew Zack wanted him to be.

Zack had found it difficult after Cambridge. All his friends had settled down quite quickly into mundane jobs which left Zack out on a limb. He missed University life, certainly
his
University life. He loved that complete anarchy, that feeling that he could do exactly what he liked and people would excuse it somehow because he was a student. It had taken Zack a long time to straighten himself out and settle down. Sam and Clarissa told him he had never really settled down and he never would, maybe they had a point.

Certainly it was true that Sam still kept him on a tight rein and secretly they both knew how far he could go before he was yanked back and brought to heel. This made Zack feel secure and frustrated in equal measure, and there were times when he wanted to take this damn rein and ring Sam’s neck with it. But Zack knew that without Sam’s influence he might well be dead by now, or in a funny farm somewhere howling at the moon, and because of that Zack put up with all his annoying little ways and deep down considered himself extremely lucky to have someone like Sam Stein watching over him.

Susan was not sure what to expect as she let herself into Zack’s flat. If anyone else was with him she would have to deal with it but Susan knew it was unlikely because Zack didn’t really like people in his area, which was why Susan considered it a privilege to be allowed to stay over as often as she did.

She crept into the hallway and stood very still. She could hear breathing from the bedroom so she crossed towards it, and peered round the door. Zack was crashed out in bed so Susan went in, picked up the quilt from the floor and laid it gently over him. She watched him for a while, examining the sweep of his shoulder, the muscular brown arms that had held her once, the hands that had brushed tears away from her face when she’d been crying. Then, after a minute or so, Susan started to get undressed.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, Zack stirred. Still groggy, he did not wake immediately but gradually became more aware as gentle waves of consciousness flooded back. Then he opened his eyes. For a long moment he could not comprehend the image that confronted him: completely naked, and completely still, Susan was lying beside him, wide awake and smiling, and looking like she’d been there all night.

“
Jesus Christ!
” said Zack, falling out of bed with the shock.

“Surprise, surprise!” said Susan with a grin, leaning over the bed to find him.

Zack crawled over to his padded Victorian chair and climbed into it. He had always felt awkward sitting in this chair (it was a woman’s chair, after all, and too small for him) but right now he couldn’t have cared less.

“Zack, I’m sorry,” said Susan. “I’ll get it right this time, I promise I will, and I’m sorry about Bellini’s, I could pay them something back each month. Shall I? Would that be a good thing to do?”

Part of Zack wanted to grab hold of Susan and drop her from the window and be done with it. She was like one of those characters in a Moroccan market who will not leave you alone, but the kinder side of Zack hated himself for ever having had anything to do with this girl. He knew she was fragile, he knew that right from the start, and now here she was in a thousand pieces and he was entirely to blame.

She looked beautiful again tonight he decided, like a little fairy with her mysterious smile, she had a lovely body too, firm and slight and boyish.

“Don’t waste your time with me, Susan,” he said, “you need someone who can make you happy and I can’t make anyone happy, I wouldn’t know how. I don’t even make myself happy half the time.”

Susan didn’t believe this and so pretended she hadn’t heard. “Was it the film?” she said, as though keen to clear this up.

“What film?”

“
My
film, in East Finchley,” said Susan, earnestly.

“No, it wasn’t the film,” said Zack, stifling a smile, “not at all.”

“I know you wanted to see the football and it was unfair of me to make you miss it,” said Susan, thinking this would be a step in the right direction.

“Susan, look… I’m not very nice to people,” said Zack, privately acknowledging the understatement.

“But you are,” said Susan, “you are to me.”

“Especially women, particularly women,” said Zack ignoring her, “I got screwed up pretty early on.”

“So let’s fix it,” she said, glad to have something to latch onto.

“It’s not that easy to fix, believe me, I’ve tried.”

“But I don’t understand why you don’t want to be with me anymore. What did I do?” said Susan, exasperated.

“Nothing, you did nothing at all. After a while, I just want to move on. That’s me I’m afraid, what can I tell you…”

“And will you be like this forever, till the day you die?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised… old habits and all that.”

What Susan wanted, thought Zack, was to be with someone for good, for someone to love her as much as she loved them, but she was one of those people who would never achieve what they most desired because she just did not know how to play the game. She was too much, too little, too open, too closed, too passive, too demanding, too manic and too dull, always too much, and always, always at the wrong time.

“Do you hate me?” asked Susan.

“Of course not, why would I hate you?”

Susan looked at him. “Do you hate yourself then, is that what this is all about?” she asked, surprising Zack with the insight.

“Probably,” said Zack, “probably.”

“I read somewhere that you have to love yourself before you can love anyone else.”

“Who knows?” said Zack, unwilling to get into any kind of philosophical discussion here, “who knows?”

“So if it doesn’t make you happy being the way you are, why be like that?”

Interesting question thought Zack. “Well…” he said, trying to be as honest as he could for once, “it makes me happy for a while I guess, and maybe… being happy for a while is as good as it gets.”

“What can I do to get you back?” asked Susan, still with a tinge of optimism in her voice.

“Nothing,” said Zack, “when things like this die, there is no resurrection.” Zack allowed the sentiment to hang in the air for a moment, then he struggled up from the chair, took a couple of very uneven steps and chucked himself across the bed.

When Zack woke next time it was to the sound of frantic banging on his front door. It took him some time to remember where he was, who he was even, the pills having worked their magic. He heard shouting as well, and more banging, but it clearly had nothing to do with him this racket and Zack hoped whoever was responsible would just go away. Then the noises changed in nature. This was a new sound, like a battering ram smashing against his front door and what sounded like a small army setting siege to the place. As their clomping footsteps got louder invading his space, he looked up to see a bunch of uniformed policemen surrounding his bed, plus a rather handsome Alsatian straining on its lead.

“Are you Zack Fortune?” said the man in charge.

“Don’t tell me my road tax has expired.”

Not one of the policemen found this funny, not one.

“Get up out of bed sir, please,” the policeman continued.

Zack obliged, still very groggy, his legs not quite rigid enough at the moment, causing him to slap a hand on the wall for support. All of the policemen had gloves on Zack noticed, what was all that about? One of them gave him a white jump suit and indicated for him to put it on. As soon as Zack had obliged he was led away, most of the policemen remaining in his bedroom where they began to search.

Zack and the two more senior policemen ended up in the living room, standing awkwardly, a frosty formality between them. Zack could not think what they were doing here, he just hoped that when they realised their mistake they would at least replace his door, because doors like his did not come cheap.

“Mr Fortune…” said the policeman but just as he was about to continue, he spied the polythene envelope containing the pink and white pills on top of a stack of books. Shit, thought Zack, shit, shit, shit.

“What are these, sir?” said the policeman, whose lifeless eyes had lit up suddenly.

Zack thought for a moment. “Can I phone a friend?”

“Sam, listen…”

“It’s 3.15 you bastard… are you aware of that?”

“I’m in one heap of trouble, mate.”

Sam groaned. “What kind of trouble?”

“I’ve just been picked up by the cops…”

“What!!!”

“On suspicion of rape.”

It was 5 o’clock on Saturday morning and Jason Heart was pacing up and down in his room. He had taken all his documents to Emerson Buildings yesterday, just as Zack had told him to but as he stepped inside reception he was met by the old black bloke, Patrick, who had seen him through the window crossing the road and had got up to meet him at the door. Already Miss Betty and he were ganging up, (or so it seemed to Jason), and despite saying he had permission to find Zack Fortune, wherever he was, the envelope was taken from him and he was asked to leave.