popular,’ Trevor stepped away from the table and poured another beer. ‘If a lady friend of mine doesn’twant to wait to get where we are going…’ I waved away the beer Trevor offered me. ‘I can’t help that. I might not be all pretty like Andrew here, but some lasses consider me to be pretty exciting.’
I tried not to laugh too hard; one of Trevor’s first arrests was for having sex in his car while he was still driving. He made the local paper, along with a minging barmaid. I think it’s only the fact his dad has some money and because Trevor’s such a likeable bastard that he’s not in jail.
I met Trevor through his younger brother, Devon, in school; I don’t really spend time with Devon now though, but we get along well enough. It’s just more fun to be around Trevor; he doesn’t care who or what you are.
‘Trev,’ Bobby shook his head, ‘that girl was lucky she didn’t need a dog licence.’
‘Hey man, Sally is a nice girl with a sweet voice, like,’ Trevor said, tackling Bobby into the wall. They tumbled around,slapping each other in the face, laughing all the way. Happy they weren’t going to end up on top of my computer, I just watched the show while I put the finishing touches to a contest piece.
‘Trev!’ I yelled to Trevor, who had pulled his pants down and was pushing his arse into Bobby’s face.
‘What?’ he yelled back. Bobby pushed Trevor off and scrambled away, wiping his face even though there wasn’t anything on it.
‘I need you to sign my dad’s name on this entry form.’
Trevor yanked his jeans up and walked over to me.
‘I can’t believe your dad won’t sign these permission forms,’ Trevor said, taking the pen I offered him.
‘What are you doing?’ Bobby said, beer back in hand.
‘Well, Andrew here enters these design contests, like,’ Trevor said as he looked over the permission form in his hand. ‘Art stuff, graphics, like. There’s money involved, so if you aren’t legal yet you need to have a parent sign off on it. But Andrew’s dad is a tosser who thinks these contests and festivals are a waste of good money and won’t sign off on them.’
‘Waste of money?’ Bobby asked.
‘Yeah,’ Trevor said, ‘these things have entry fees so you don’t get yobs with markers thinking they are great
artistes
,’ Trevor threw up the hand with the pen in it, ‘flooding the judges, so that real artists don’t get noticed. Andrew’s already won a few of these, even making some money.’
‘But why won’t your dad sign the forms for you,’ Bobby asked, ‘if you’re making money with it?’
‘Because his dad’s got a stick up his bum,’ Trevor said as he signed a name with a flourish. ‘Charles A. Cooper,’ he announced.
I looked the signature over. It was spot on, including that stupid scribble that passed for an ‘r’. I nodded at Trevor, who smiled. If Trevor had an ambition, it was to become a forger. But then again, he didn’t need any more legal trouble.
‘And this,’ I said as I put a CD in an envelope, along with the form, ‘goes out in the post tomorrow.’
‘You can buy the next keg,’ Trevor said. ‘I figure if I keep on helping you out Andrew, you’ll eventually hit it big, and then I can be part of your entourage like in those rap videos.’
‘I hate that crap,’ Bobby chimed in. ‘Just people talking. Anyone can do it.’
‘Hell no,’ Trevor said, ‘They get
paid
to talk. Besides, I figure Andrew would have people playing violins 24/7 by the pool.’ He looked at me, a deliberate pause. ‘Hey Andrew, come with me; I need to get another keg out of the shed.’
Trevor slapped me on the shoulder, pulled me out of my chair and pushed me along. Bobby took a step to follow, but Trevor waved him off.
The yard was pretty clean, only a few kid’s toys for the various nephews who visit, cluttering up the place. A shed and a row of rubbish bins sat in the back. Trevor opened the lock and rolled a keg over to me on
I tried not to laugh too hard; one of Trevor’s first arrests was for having sex in his car while he was still driving. He made the local paper, along with a minging barmaid. I think it’s only the fact his dad has some money and because Trevor’s such a likeable bastard that he’s not in jail.
I met Trevor through his younger brother, Devon, in school; I don’t really spend time with Devon now though, but we get along well enough. It’s just more fun to be around Trevor; he doesn’t care who or what you are.
‘Trev,’ Bobby shook his head, ‘that girl was lucky she didn’t need a dog licence.’
‘Hey man, Sally is a nice girl with a sweet voice, like,’ Trevor said, tackling Bobby into the wall. They tumbled around,slapping each other in the face, laughing all the way. Happy they weren’t going to end up on top of my computer, I just watched the show while I put the finishing touches to a contest piece.
‘Trev!’ I yelled to Trevor, who had pulled his pants down and was pushing his arse into Bobby’s face.
‘What?’ he yelled back. Bobby pushed Trevor off and scrambled away, wiping his face even though there wasn’t anything on it.
‘I need you to sign my dad’s name on this entry form.’
Trevor yanked his jeans up and walked over to me.
‘I can’t believe your dad won’t sign these permission forms,’ Trevor said, taking the pen I offered him.
‘What are you doing?’ Bobby said, beer back in hand.
‘Well, Andrew here enters these design contests, like,’ Trevor said as he looked over the permission form in his hand. ‘Art stuff, graphics, like. There’s money involved, so if you aren’t legal yet you need to have a parent sign off on it. But Andrew’s dad is a tosser who thinks these contests and festivals are a waste of good money and won’t sign off on them.’
‘Waste of money?’ Bobby asked.
‘Yeah,’ Trevor said, ‘these things have entry fees so you don’t get yobs with markers thinking they are great
artistes
,’ Trevor threw up the hand with the pen in it, ‘flooding the judges, so that real artists don’t get noticed. Andrew’s already won a few of these, even making some money.’
‘But why won’t your dad sign the forms for you,’ Bobby asked, ‘if you’re making money with it?’
‘Because his dad’s got a stick up his bum,’ Trevor said as he signed a name with a flourish. ‘Charles A. Cooper,’ he announced.
I looked the signature over. It was spot on, including that stupid scribble that passed for an ‘r’. I nodded at Trevor, who smiled. If Trevor had an ambition, it was to become a forger. But then again, he didn’t need any more legal trouble.
‘And this,’ I said as I put a CD in an envelope, along with the form, ‘goes out in the post tomorrow.’
‘You can buy the next keg,’ Trevor said. ‘I figure if I keep on helping you out Andrew, you’ll eventually hit it big, and then I can be part of your entourage like in those rap videos.’
‘I hate that crap,’ Bobby chimed in. ‘Just people talking. Anyone can do it.’
‘Hell no,’ Trevor said, ‘They get
paid
to talk. Besides, I figure Andrew would have people playing violins 24/7 by the pool.’ He looked at me, a deliberate pause. ‘Hey Andrew, come with me; I need to get another keg out of the shed.’
Trevor slapped me on the shoulder, pulled me out of my chair and pushed me along. Bobby took a step to follow, but Trevor waved him off.
The yard was pretty clean, only a few kid’s toys for the various nephews who visit, cluttering up the place. A shed and a row of rubbish bins sat in the back. Trevor opened the lock and rolled a keg over to me on
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