Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune by Neneh J. Gordon Page A

face him. “Why do you want to torture
yourself like that? It was bad enough at lunch. I saw the way you kept looking
at that can. I found it hard and I hadn’t even drunk any of it.”
    “I know.” At least she was talking to him now.
    “You’re just setting yourself up to fail.”
    “But there’s no point pretending that stuff isn’t out there. When I
go on tour, I’ll be surrounded by it every night.” Now he’d actually got some
new material down, the reality of going on the road was starting to hit home.
It was scary.
    “So deal with it when you get there. After you’ve had some time to
build up your defences.” She took a couple of steps back to him. “No one
expects you to be able to handle everything straight away. It takes time.”
    He remembered the way she’d left the restaurant. If she was still
struggling after two years, what hope did he have? “I just want to be better,
you know? I just want to click my fingers and be like other people around this
stuff.”
    Hesitantly, she put her hand up and almost touched his shoulder. She
pulled away, then finally brought her palm to rest on his back. “I know. It’s
not fair.”
    Tears stung at his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. He wasn’t
going to cry. Not in front of her. “How come I don’t get to sit in front of the
football with a few beers? Why don’t I get to drink champagne at my wedding?”
It hit him then, all the different parts of his life that were affected by this
thing.
    She pulled him closer and he smelled her perfume – rich and fruity.
He told himself to hold back, to respect how much she hated to be touched, but
he needed some comfort. When he laid his head on her shoulder, she held him
stiffly and gingerly rubbed at his back.
    They stayed like that – their bodies barely touching while she
stroked him awkwardly, shushing him like he was a small child. It took him a
few minutes to pull himself back together.
    He straightened up, ready to apologise for falling apart like that,
but then he looked into her eyes. It was a long time since he’d been with a
woman – even longer since he’d been in a relationship – but he knew what he saw
in Angie’s wide, brown eyes. Need.
    He hesitated, afraid of what he was thinking of doing. Her full,
plump lips drew his eye. He was lost. Kissing her was inevitable, no matter how
bad an idea it was. He moved closer, lowering his face to hers.
    “Noah! What the hell is going on?”
    Almost jumping away from her, he looked up and saw John striding
across the grass towards them.
    Folding her arms around herself like a shield, Angelique watched
John come closer and lost all ability to speak.
    “I only came over here because I was restless. Thank god I did.” He
blustered over to Noah. “I’ve thrown all those wasters out. Please tell me you
haven’t been drinking.” He took him by the shoulders and looked him in the eye.
    She dared to hope he hadn’t noticed what he’d interrupted.
    “I haven’t had a drink. Or anything else.”
    “Tell me the truth. I need to know what sort of damage control is on
the cards.”
    “John, I swear I haven’t touched anything.”
    Finally, he looked over at Angelique. “You. You’re fired.”
    “Wait a minute, John. She didn’t—”
    “No. She let that lot throw some wild party and bring a load of
alcohol in the house.”
    “But she—”
    “Forget it.” He turned his attention back to her. “It’s late, so you
can stay tonight. But I want you gone in the morning.” Pointing his finger in
Noah’s face he added “And don’t think I didn’t see what you two were up to out
here. That’s not what I hired her for.” He turned on his heel and marched inside.
    No room for argument. John had spoken.
    She headed for the door.
    “Angie, wait.”
    She stopped. “You heard what he said. I’m fired.” It was her own
fault. She should have followed her instincts and got rid of Dave at lunchtime.
“Just... Keep doing what you’re doing