Chapter Nine
That Night
Saturday 4th July 2009
‘I can’t wait to break out,’ Kwame said, gesturing widely with his arms, breaking invisible chains that Anika felt too. Though less so sitting next to him. ‘I’ve got shit to do.’
‘Yeah?’ Anika asked. ‘Like what?’
Kwame’s eyes shone with ambition, coyness, excitement. He let out a low rumble that ramped up into his words. ‘I dunno exactly how yet, but I’m gonna put my name out there, you know? My ideas. I write short stories sometimes. And I’ve been getting into music a bit.’ Anika nodded. ‘I’m nowhere near where MC Zaya is, but I’ve been—’
‘Stories?’ she asked, unable to let that slide.
Kwame looked a tiny bit bashful. ‘Yeah, man. Just for myself. Walter-Mosley-type vibe, but, like, set round here, now. Garage, not jazz, get me?’ He chuckled to himself. Anika had heard of the author, but she was mostly excited to learn about this side of Kwame.
‘Yeah! That sounds cool. Like, I love books and I love music even more,’ she said, then internally berated herself for sounding so basic.
Kwame grinned. ‘Me too. Well, if I ever need another set of eyes – or ears – on my stuff, I’ll let you know.’ Anika smiled into her lap at the mere prospect. Then she felt the gentle press of his elbow nestling into her side, a slow nudge. His face, soclose again. ‘What about you?’ He sucked in air, resetting on her again. ‘What is the one thing you’re going to do before you shuffle off this world and all that?’
‘Before Idie?’ She turned to him and he nodded, inclining his forehead so close to hers they were almost touching – his inquisitive posture. He seemed unaware of its effect on Anika. ‘Er …’
‘Sorry, man,’ he said softly. ‘I dunno, death’s just never scared me much. Maybe it just doesn’t feel like something I can wrap my head around.’
Anika understood. She quirked one corner of her mouth at him. ‘Yeah. I don’t think we’re really meant to understand it or how would we get anything done?’
‘Innit.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘You haven’t answered, though. What do you want out of life? What would you do, if you could have whatever you dreamed of?’
Anika tittered quietly to herself, fingers working her bag strap again.
‘Louder, man. I can hear you thinking it! I just can’t quite make it out,’ Kwame said to her, laughing.
‘OK. I’d love to do something to do with radio. But not on air, more behind the scenes probably. Just to do with the music, without talking and stuff. Or, like …’ Was she really going to say it? ‘I’d love to be a DJ. I mean, playing in clubs, playing a whole set. Not that I’ve ever been to a club.’ She emitted another embarrassed laugh as Kwame crossed his arms, leaning away from her.
‘Yeah? On the ones and twos.’ His tone wasn’t mocking, his words a statement. She’d never voiced that ambition to anyone before and her cheeks heated. ‘Why?’ Kwame asked, as though he really just wanted to know.
Anika played with the bag’s zip, thinking, then her finger stilled as the words spilled from her. ‘Because playing records …choosing the right record for this mass of people, and them all feeling the same thing? That’s powerful, right? There’s a unity to it. Everyone who experiences music feels something and it’s usually the same feeling. Shared.’ She can feel the sense of wonder lifting the features of her face. ‘Being able to do that – it’s like being some kind of magician. Connecting people – connecting myself to them, too. Maybe? I don’t know. Can you tell I spend a lot of time on my own?’ She laughed again, but Kwame just looked at her, nodding silently. ‘I just know music is powerful,’ she added in a whisper. To distract herself, she stretched her ears to the song now playing outside the door. She was amazed when the playlist switched to a new, slow Maxwell number: ‘Pretty Wings’. She listened for a moment to the vocalist singing about how one day he won’t be remembered by the person he’s singing to. Would Kwame remember her?
‘It’s my birthdaytoday, you know,’ she whispered, and then continued quickly. ‘It’s today I actually turned seventeen. I still feel like a kid, though. Like I said, I’m in my own world a lot.’ Without thinking, she pulled her legs up and crossed them. Only after she’d done it did she realise her knee was now almost fully resting on Kwame’s thigh. He looked at it, then at her, but she didn’t move. His eyes twinkled. He let her be quiet again and she drew another breath to speak into the space. ‘It’s like, I don’t want company, but I do. A balance would be nice. Sometimes I think I come off like I don’t need it.’ She gave a droll laugh. ‘That filmNever Been Kissedwas on telly last night and I was like, is that what my life will be like when I’m old too?’ She laughed more, partly out of awkwardness, and partly a blossoming, faint sense of freedom. ‘Cause I’ve already hit seventeen and—’
‘Hang on a minute. You saying you’ve not been kissed? Like, no lip action, never?’
‘Jeez, all right,’ Anika said with a self-conscious smile. His eyes were narrowed to letterboxes again and he leant back asthough he needed to assess her. Her face heated once more, then the warmth travelled through her whole body.God, Anika, you haven’t even had anything to drink and you’re out here humiliating yourself.
‘Nah, man,’ Kwame was saying, as he had before at the mere hint of her being self-deprecating about her accent. ‘Like, that doesn’t make sense. You’re …’ For once he seemed self-conscious himself. ‘Nah,’ he said again. His eyes met hers, travelling down to her lips and back up. ‘Come here,’ he told her.
‘What?’
He folded his own lips in for a moment, moistening them, and his lids lowered. ‘D’you wanna rectify that?’
Chapter Ten
Thursday 5th July
Anika awakens from her nap later that morning to the scent of an expensive amber perfume. Cracking her eyes open, she sees her mother biting her lip and watching her from the end of the bed. Nella’s head is swathed in a silk-blend headwrap, her glowing brown skin offset by the light blue swirls in the matching fabric of her sleeveless shift dress and accented with a perfectly applied pinkish lipstick. Standing there with her back so straight, her hands clasped in front of her, Anika’s mother looks regal and expensive after upgrading her financial status via her latest marriage. Not that Nella had ever been less than beautiful and poised. Always that little bit out of reach.
Anika’s heart swells at the sight of her.
‘Oh,’ Nella says as she sees her daughter blink and sit up. She sighs out a breath that seems relieved and steps closer, smiling. ‘Hi, darling.’
