Michael & Julia In the, part 3

In the off-license

Michael held the door for Julia, after entering the shop himself. She stopped just inside the door, but he walked straight in. Julia noticed Michael relax the hunch he had adopted walking through the rain, as she relaxed also.

Beers, wines and spirits covered the shelves of the off-license. The ubiquitous rack of sweets was somehow missing. The only compromise to intoxication was a row of dusty bottles containing mixers. No crisps even. There were three staff, all behind the counter, one standing watching a film on a quiet black-and-white television set, one sitting in a chair reading Nineteen Eighty-four, one sitting on a cushion reading an Alpha Flight comic of which there was a pile next to him. There were three other people in the shop, customers, two girls and one man.

By Julia’s reckoning the two girls were only over drinking age by virtue of their make-up. They had obviously just got in from the rain and were shivering in their sparse clothing. One of them had just emptied her purse into the hands of the other. Julia watched as she took back a five-pound note, put her purse away and moved to the nearest shelf to scrutinise the prices. The other girl shifted all the money to the palm of her left hand and began counting it with her right.

The man at first appeared to be pacing the floor restlessly, but without purpose. When Julia looked closer she could see that he had something in his hand which held his attention. He would take a few paces, pause looking at the object, then move in a different direction. It was a mobile phone. Eventually satisfied the man pressed two buttons and held the phone to his ear.

“Hello it’s me.”

“Yes I’m sorry, I know it’s late.”

“I’m in our favourite off-license.” He stole a glance at the totally oblivious staff, foolishly hoping they had heard what he thought of as a compliment.

“What can I bring you? How about some of that port you like? Warre’s is it?” The man called to the counter with the phone still to his ear, “Excuse me.” There was no response. “Excuse me, do you have Warre’s? Warre’s port?” The book reader looked up, blankly, but in the right direction. He blinked and pointed.

“Wine’s over there.”

“Can you tell me if you have Warre’s port? I can’t go over there or I’ll lose my signal. Can you tell me please?”

The man returned to his book.

“Excuse me.” The man now spoke to Michael. “The staff aren’t very helpful are they? Perhaps you could look at the wine shelf for me? I’ll lose my signal if I move. Warre’s port I’m looking for. It’s a light green label. Sorry what was that darling? Sorry it’s a white label with black writing on it. Plain looking my wife says.”

“Sorry mate I’m just here buying lagers.” Michael was affecting stupidity.

“Yes but could you just look over there.” The man pointed awkwardly, not wanting to change his position. “At the wine section.”

“No not wine, lager. Yeah?” Michael held up the four-pack he had selected. “You don’t get wine in cans, not big cans, only small cans, and bottles. This is lager.”

The man’s eyes searched left and right. The girls were out of his view, there was only this thick, and possibly drunk young man in front of him, except then he noticed Julia. The man looked at Julia, Michael followed his eyes. Julia could see his dilemma, the possibility that the idiot in front could actually help him would probably lost if he spoke to the transvestite by the door. Which would he choose? Clearly prejudice was at work, Julia decided that if he could overcome it and ask her she would help him. The man allowed his roving gaze to settle back on Michael.

“I can see that that is lager, but I want wine.”

“Well it’s just there behind you.” Michael feigned perplexity.

“Yes but I can’t go over there because I’ll lose my signal. So would you please look for me?”

“Five quid.” Michael held out his hand, stepped within reach of the man.

“What!?”

“Come on, you’ve got a mobile phone you’re not poor. Besides your wife’s going to rip your nuts off if you go home empty handed. Fiver please.” Michael smiled horribly.

“I haven’t got a fiver.”

“How are you going to buy port then? They don’t take credit cards here you know.” Michael turned and walked to the counter, Julia joined him there as he put the four-pack on the counter. The book reader put it down to take their money - they paid half each, and to make an announcement.

“We’re closing.”

The girls came to a hurried decision, brought three different cans to the counter and deposited a pile of change. The man with the phone was in distress.

“Excuse me, sorry. You do take credit cards? Barclaycard? I mean Visa?”

“No, sorry. No credit cards.” said the member of staff, deliberately loudly, so that it would be audible over the phone. The man started talking frantically.

“Darling I’m doing the best I can. The staff won’t do anything and none of these people will help me. They’re all so self-”

“But it isn’t my fault. There’s-”

“Threatening to rip my nuts off isn’t going to - Hello? Hello?”

Michael and Julia left the shop as the man began to remonstrate with the staff about licensing hours, and the equivalence of Switch and cash.

In the street

Michael led the way to the club.

“It’s about twenty minutes. I like to keep the things I need within easy reach - The Three Vikings, Club Venice, a choice of cinemas.” He looked at Julia quickly “And of course an off-license where one can bait the middle class.”

Julia concentrated on avoiding the puddles left by the rain, which was now a light drizzle. She was worried about Michael’s change of character in the pub. From depressed and quiet when accusing her of attacking him to lively and playful in the off license. She glanced at him sideways. Michael was trying to restrain a smile the way that city people do when walking in public. As she returned her attention to the pavement Michael laughed quietly and muttered.

“Not wine, lager yeah?” He laughed again then repeated the phrase louder and with a slightly different emphasis and added “See? It’s lagers yeah?”. His voice changed “I said something about big cans too. Can you remember it? It was very funny.” Julia looked to see if Michael was really asking her. He was not, he had already moved on. Now he was experimenting with posture also. He held the four-pack up in front of himself with his right hand. As he walked he adjusted his arm and pulled his face into different expressions intended to convey a certain character. Julia smiled as she realised he was not practising as such, but playing to himself.

Michael’s last presentation of the character, which he did three times before resuming normal walking, was to hold the four-pack with his arm straight and twist it from side to side whilst saying “La-gers...Yeah?” Finally he lowered his arm and laughed again.

“So Julia.” Michael said as soon as his laughter faded. “You didn’t help the guy find his port.”

“What?” Julia had been caught by surprise. She had thought Michael completely wrapped up in his routine.

“He wanted Warre’s port? But couldn’t look because he’d lose his signal in the wine section?” Michael prompted her. “You didn’t help him.”

“No. But, well.....” Feelings and half arguments crowded in on Julia. Michael laughed at her sudden inarticulateness. She looked at him crossly. “I don’t have to justify myself to you Michael.”

“Of course not, I didn’t say you did.” Michael smiled to annoy Julia. “I just said you didn’t help him. Why should you? You don’t know him do you?” Michael paused, then added, non-rhetorically, “Well do you?”

“No. But-” Julia stuttered, falling into Michael’s rhythm almost without volition and allowing him to continue.

“No.” Michael echoed her. “Might as well ask by what right he could request your help.” Michael remembered that the man had not actually asked Julia and hastily added “Or anyone else’s for that matter.”

Julia felt herself carried along, yet somehow wanting to disagree.

“Would he give anyone help? I doubt it.”

“You don’t know that.” Julia tried to stand against the tide. “You’re making assumptions about a person-”

“Oh for God’s sake.” Michael interrupted, adopting an impatient tone “We’re all over eighteen aren’t we? I think that’s a fair assumption about him, don’t you?”

“Yes but-” Julia started, too tentatively and Michael cut her off again.

“Well then.” Michael started speaking a little slower “Look, you did one on him, I did one on him. It was a con, a game, a routine, like a sketch on TV. Only it’s more enjoyable to do it live than to watch isn’t it.”

Julia was confused. Michael’s speech made her ask herself why she had chosen not to help, and enjoyed watching and not helping. Julia felt that she would have helped if asked. This did not answer Michael’s point which was that she had not offered. Or was this Michael’s point? He had said that she did not have to justify herself to him. There was something challenging in Michael’s tone, rather than his words, to which Julia felt she had to respond.

“I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“I’m not getting at anything. Can’t I say anything without you thinking I’m getting at you?”

“Is this about me being on the attack?”

“You said you weren’t on the attack, and I agreed. Well.....” Michael paused for thought, but could think of nothing.

“Do you think we’re competing here?” Julia stopped walking. “Michael?”

Michael stopped and turned to face her. “I made a few remarks.” He spread his arms, turning the palms of his hands towards her (causing the cans in the four-pack to clonk against each other). “It’s just a bit of discussion. Sparring. There’s no need to get heavy.” Their eyes met. Julia’s probing expression contrasted with Michael’s open protestation of his innocence.

Julia broke the moment by dropping her gaze and resuming walking the way they had been going. Michael watched her and fell into step as she passed him. They walked for thirty seconds in tense silence before Julia stopped and grabbed Michael’s arm. As soon as he stopped walking and turned to look at her, Julia put her arms around Michael’s neck. Pulling herself close she kissed him on the lips. Then she parted her lips slightly and pulled at his upper lip, then his lower. Michael got over his initial surprise and opened his mouth, tilting his head so they could kiss fully. Julia responded similarly and presented the underside of her tongue which Michael tasted with the tip of his for a moment before they were lost entwining and roving. They kissed for a long few seconds before Julia pulled back slightly and opened her eyes into Michael’s.

“Did it really feel like I was attacking you?” She asked quietly.

Michael mumbled a don’t know almost incoherently, his eyes flicking downwards.

“I didn’t mean it to. I just wanted to know ..... something. To know you, and not just your routines and games.”

A huge distance showed behind Michael’s eyes as he said “Did you find anything?” He seemed close to tears and Julia hugged him more closely. Her head dropped forward to rest on his shoulder. She felt a light kiss on the back of her neck.

“Oh Michael.” Julia had no other reply. It was too much for her to find Michael’s concerns about himself the same as her own.

“Still want to go to the club?” Michael said it very quietly, almost straight in Julia’s ear.

Julia leaned her head back, releasing her hug slightly. “Yeah.” She said, her voice up-beat. “Club Venice!” Julia’s voice became louder as she released him completely. “Let’s go!” She grabbed his hand, turned and pulled him into a run.

They ran along the dark street splashing and laughing, Michael struggling to keep up.

In the queue

Michael had to say “whoa!” three times before Julia would allow them to stop. She released his hand stood, bent over, with her hands on her knees recovering her breath. Looking up she saw Michael stumbling to a wall for support, whilst he recovered. Julia got her breath back first and stood up straight.

“What’s up? Can’t hack the pace? Too unfit?”

Michael shook his head, but could not speak.

“Come on, come on.” She said, assuming her coaching voice and clapping her hands twice for emphasis.

“We should’ve gone left there.” Michael managed, breathlessly.

“Oh OK.” Julia looked back at the junction they had just crossed. “Ready then?” She assumed a running stance.

Michael propelled himself from the wall. “We’re nearly there. We can’t run the last part.” He started walking.

Julia walked next to him. “Why not?” She asked, taking his hand in hers.

“Not allowed.”

“Oh.” They both laughed a little.

Julia noticed a few people walking into a turning further up the road. She supposed, correctly, that this was their destination also. They reached the turning a few minutes later. It appeared to be an access road to the back of a factory, except that factories don’t usually have doormen, and factory workers usually wear overalls.

The queue was about ten people: short, as Michael had predicted. At the front was a group of goths, half of whom were wearing little more than underwear and half of whom seemed to have donned the costumes for two Hammer House of Horror extras at once. The two girls from the off-license were next. At the back was a pair of women, what Julia noticed about them was the slogans on their clothing. One of them had on a pair of black CAT boots. Around the heel upper of left boot was written the word “dyke”, whilst the right read “boots”. The other woman was wearing a white windcheater with the words “Girl Attack” printed in black across the shoulders and “Hurt Him tour” in grey lower down. Julia had heard of the band, vaguely. As Julia and Michael took their place behind them in the queue the woman in the jacket turned her head. She looked Julia up and down, then glanced at Michael. She showed Julia a brief twitch of smile around the corners of her lips before turning back. She whispered to her companion who then turned to take a brief look for herself.

There were as many people hanging around as there were in the queue. Julia wondered why, aloud. Michael explained that Club Venice was members and guests only and that every week there were people who turned up hoping to persuade a member to take them in as a guest. Members were allowed two guests each, but most turned up with just one friend so there were always plenty of opportunities.

They had been waiting a minute when the door opened. The goths at the front huddled forward only to be disappointed. The door was opening for somebody to be ushered out by a doorman who returned inside. The person was an attractive young woman in a knee length white dress and white court shoes. One of the two doormen explained the situation to her. It appeared that she had sneaked past them, saying she was a member, only to be ejected inside. The doorman was not pleased by this deception.

“‘Smile prettily and walk past’ doesn’t work on these guys.” Michael said quietly.

The woman was persuaded of the implacability of the doorman and looked at the queue, assessing her chances with each individual.

“You can come in with me if you take your dress off.” Dyke Boots called. The Goths sniggered as the woman in the white dress blushed. “Oh go on.” Dyke Boots encouraged, but to no effect. The woman went to stand around with the other hopefuls.

A little while later the goths were let in. Michael and Julia moved forward as a couple wearing S&M leather gear under their light coats came to stand behind them.

“Hey Mike!”

Michael turned to look at the young man shouting to him. Julia was surprised because she always called him Michael.

“Well well, Mister Saturn.” Michael greeted the man who came to stand by them. Michael introduced Julia to the newcomer. Julia placed him in his early twenties. He talked in a lively and animated tone, about his job, TV, going out, and generally about his life since he had last seen Michael - apparently only two weeks since.

“Exactly two weeks ago” Saturn checked his watch “to the minute. Spooky eh? Hey is she trying to get in?”

Saturn was looking at the woman in the white dress, who looked back and smiled. Michael affirmed her status as the woman walked over.

“Are you looking to get in?” Saturn asked the woman.

She nodded vigorously without speaking. Still without saying anything she then made eye contact with Saturn, raised her eyebrows and tilted her head quizzically. With a single fast motion Saturn replied by drawing out his season ticket holder and snapping it open to show his Club Venice membership card. The woman closed and opened her eyes in slow blink, and softened her querulous expression with a refined smile. Saturn kept his eyes on hers as he turned his body to face the entrance and moved his left elbow away from his side to offer his arm. The woman straightened her head, then tilted it back to look at Saturn’s arm in mock disdain.

Julia looked away from the dumb show for a moment to check the size of the queue. It had grown even in the short space of time since she had last looked - clearly Michael had chosen his time well.

“I know it’s mine but I thought you had it.”

The raised voice came from one of the girls at the front of the queue. She and her friend had been about to enter, when a problem had arisen. They were now trying to establish who was the guilty party. Everyone near the front of the queue could hear their remonstrations.

“But we’re here every week.” This was directed at the doorman who shrugged.

“I’m not here every week, but I believe you. If you’re here every week you know the rules. No-one gets in without a card.”

“It’s your card, I thought you’d bring it.” Said the other girl, searching through her large draw string bag in spite of what she had just said.

“But I gave it to you.”

The woman in the white dress was wearing a small smug smile, all the more smug because it was small. It died on her face, to be replaced by a look of dismay that followed Saturn as he disengaged their arms and stepped forward.

“To the rescue.” He intoned, striding forward and presenting his card strongly. “It’s OK officer the girls are with me.” his affected deep voice made the doorman smile. He waved them in with a slight flourish. “Cheers Sat.” One of the girls made a sexy cherub smile for him.

The doorman watched them go in and, after a signal from inside, gestured the next two people forward. Dyke Boots showed a card as Girl Attack went in, then followed her. She paused in the doorway to offer the woman in white a last chance by looking at her and extending her right hand with the fingers extended and together. The woman looked away until the door had been closed.

Julia and Michael were now at the front of the queue.

“Excuse me.” Julia looked over her shoulder at Michael who was talking. “What size shoes do you wear?” His question was addressed to the woman.

“Seven.”

Michael turned to Julia. “Can you wear seven?” Julia nodded. “I think we solved the problem of your shoes. And not a moment too soon.” He turned back to the woman “You can come in with us now, if you’ll lend us your shoes.”

The woman looked down at her shoes, perhaps trying to remember how much they had cost. “Will you carry me?”

“What?”

“How can I walk with no shoes?” She asked, not unreasonably. “You’ll have to carry me in at least. On your shoulders.”

Julia looked at Michael to see if he would even look away from the woman to her. She did not detect even a flinch. “OK.”

The woman approached and Michael bent forwards, putting the beer cans on the ground. “No mate.” the heavy doorman advised, “you squat down on your haunches.” Michael did so. “Now you just stand over him. That’s it. OK now stand up slowly. Straighten your back straighten your back. All right?” The doorman co-ordinated and held out his hand for the woman to hold during her shaky ascent. Clearly he had done this sort of thing before, he certainly had the build.

The doorman looked at Julia. This was understandable, she allowed, after all the man with whom she had arrived now had a pretty young lady straddled across his shoulders. She gripped his head by the temples, and he held her ankles, to try to maintain their posture. Julia tried to meet Michael’s eyes, to exchange a look at least. He seemed not to be responding. Maybe it was because he was still a little unsteady, maybe it was because his view was obscured by the woman’s legs, bare since the white dress had ridden up in her mounting manoeuvre, maybe he was laughing too much or maybe he just chose not to.

Julia loosened the hi-tech fastening on the training shoe on her right foot and stood on one leg to pull it off. She hopped over to Michael and lightly grasped the shoe off the woman’s right foot, not seeking eye contact on purpose now. The court shoe fit and she repeated the operation with the left shoes. She considered the pair of trainers for a moment before unthreading a length of lace from one and tying it to the other. She hung them around Michael’s neck, meeting his eyes as she did so. Michael blew her a kiss. Julia blew one back and bent down to pick up the beer cans.

In the club

Julia paid for all three of them, showing Michael’s card which she had taken from his inside pocket. The building was a slightly converted factory. The ceilings were high, allowing Michael’s passenger to ride in comfort, and without danger. A corridor led into the large main room, which was divided into a dance floor, almost empty at that early time, and a seating area, filled with a jumble of all forms of chair and a few specimens of seated humanity. The woman and Julia both looked around at the industrial interior, filled with flashing coloured lights and loud tekno dance music, but Michael walked on across the seating area without looking.

On the other side of the room was a curtained portal with a member of club security standing in front. Julia showed him Michael’s membership card and they were allowed through. There was a broad staircase behind the curtain, obviously part of the original building, lit by clumps of red and white candles placed at irregular intervals along the floor and walls.

They climbed the stairs to a room perhaps a quarter the size of the main room downstairs. This room was lit by more candles, mostly placed on the large oblong tables strewn about the room. The music here was quieter, Ambient. The chairs around the tables were less diverse than those downstairs.

“Can I drop you off somewhere?” Michael asked, twisting his head upwards a little.

“That table.” the woman pointed.

It was close and Michael managed to reach it without collapsing. He lowered himself until the woman’s feet could be planted firmly on the table, then ducked his head and backed out. The woman turned around, still standing on the table and smoothed her skirt, smiling down at Michael.

“Find us before you go, and you can have your shoes back.”

“OK.”

Michael went to join Julia, who had already been joined by Saturn. Julia handed Michael a can as he approached then opened one herself after he took it.

“I always said Michael would only put a lady on a pedestal to look up her skirt.” Saturn joked. Julia noticed Michael reflexively turning to where the woman now sat on the edge of the table. Following his gaze she noticed that the woman had not crossed her legs, instead she sat with her knees together and both feet dangling.

The three of them found an empty table to occupy. The two girls who had got in with Saturn, sat down with them, as did a few more people.

They all knew each other very well and Julia felt she had little to contribute to their conversation. She was aware of Michael trying to bat something her way once or twice, and looking at her slightly more often, but allowed her attention to wander, returning to the talk from time to time. It appeared that Michael and Saturn were like a double act. Nobody talked across anybody, and everybody made comments on most topics, but when Michael and Saturn really got going the others stopped to listen.

The first thing Julia noticed outside the conversation was the woman in white being approached by a man with a four-pack. His clothes were stylish and completely black except for a single large white paisley on the back of his jacket, and a smaller one on the left breast. She could not hear their conversation, if any words were said, but could clearly see the man offering her a can he had separated from the others. She accepted. He did not pass the can, but, holding it upright around the top in his left hand, pressed it down on her knees. She parted her legs just enough to allow the can to pass between them onto the table. Without releasing the can, and using only the fingers on his left hand the man pulled the ring-pull then separated a beer for himself. He looked at her body as he opened his beer and took a deep draught. She looked at the can wedged between her knees for a moment before picking it up in her right hand and drinking from it. After a few more sips each the man placed a chair directly in front of her and sat down. Julia could not see whether her feet were resting on his knees or not.

Her attention was brought back to the table as they were approached by a woman wearing a bright red one-piece swimsuit, black stockings, black leather gloves and a black chalk-stripe waistcoat. She stood by one of Michael’s friends and leaned over him.

“Excuse me I think I’ve just smudged my eye shadow. Can you check?”

“It looks OK.”

“Thanks.” The woman walked of, brushing one gloved hand across Michael’s friend’s shoulders.

Julia leaned close to Michael and said quietly “In her place I wouldn’t call anyone’s attention to my make-up. They might see how much I was wearing and realise my age.” Michael sniggered.

At around midnight Michael suggested some dancing and they went downstairs. The dance floor was busy. A young man coming off the floor, soaked in sweat, paused to comment to them “It’s banging tonight mate, banging.” He had to shout to be heard over the music, which was indeed banging. Michael got deep into his dancing straight away, but Julia preferred to look around, moving into it gradually. The desk was in a corner of the room, flanked by floor-standing speakers on the two walls forming the corner. The enclosed triangle was where the energy was. Looking through a strobe of waving arms and flailing long hair towards the desk Julia could just see the DJ, wearing headphones behind the desk, as he was joined by another man. A cheer from the closest dancers was just distinguishable from the music as the newcomer picked up a microphone.

“Warm up?” he made the enquiry in a soft voice.

They cheered again.

“Warm up?”

They cheered louder.

“OK”

The MC unwound some flex for the microphone from somewhere to give himself distance. His head started nodding in time, then his whole body began to move. Julia moved closer to the front, finding herself next to Michael’s manic dancing. The MC moved more like a boxer than a dancer, bobbing lightly on his feet and holding his arms across his chest. He let the DJ wind the crowd up even more with the music. A few whoops were heard. Julia lost attention on the desk for a minute, but snapped back when the music suddenly ceased. The MC stood with his right hand holding the mike upside down above his head and screamed

“If you like it say play it faster!”

The crowd roared and the music came back. Julia and Michael danced crazy with the rest of the crowd.

After perhaps an hour Julia felt she wanted a rest, also she was starting to feel a little sleepy. She drew Michael to the side of the floor.

“I want to go back upstairs.” She had to shout to be heard.

“What already?”

“I’m feeling tired.”

“Oh. Do you want some speed?”

Julia was shocked at how casually Michael had asked the question. She had not realised Michael took drugs. Then she told herself that it was wrong to be shocked.

“Um. No thanks.”

They went to the curtain, where Michael had Julia admitted, advising her to crash at their table, before heading back to the dance floor.

Julia found the table. Some of Michael’s friends were still there, some of them were already crashed. She slumped, resting her head on her arms.

In the small hours

Julia was awoken by Michael pulling at her shoes. She was still sitting in the chair where she had slumped, her legs were bent and her feet were under the chair. She quickly twitched them under the table, out of Michael’s reach. Julia sat up a little straighter, intending to tell Michael to leave her shoes alone, because she was sleeping. All that she managed was the word “Michael” and some incoherent mumbling. Julia began to slump back to the table, slowly.

“Julia. We have to give her back her shoes.” Michael reached up - he was kneeling on the floor - and gave her shoulder a light shake. The shaking made Julia straighten up a little. She peered at Michael and blinked.

“My shoes.” She said, and began to slump again.

Julia was expecting to slump onto the table, a flat surface. Therefore when her arms came into contact with something lumpy she paused her slump. Julia’s hands felt a ridged composite, cloth and plastic. Her eyes opened and looked at a pair of training shoes. Her training shoes, she realised. Julia looked under the table. At the end of Michael’s suit trousers she saw a pair of white court shoes on her feet. Julia reached down and fumbled with them, eventually removing them. She pushed them back between her legs, under the chair. Turning back to the table, she saw a hand, Michael’s hand, removing the training shoes. She did not guess that it had been Michael who had placed the shoes to interrupt her. With all obstacles removed Julia made herself comfortable and went back to sleep.

Michael handed the shoes to the man in black, with a white paisley, and watched him take them over to a girl in white sitting on the edge of a table. He turned to look at Julia’s back for a moment before putting the pair of shoes on the table next to her. The shoes were still joined by the pair of laces that Julia had unwound. Michael hooked the laces over Julia’s right ear, vaguely thinking that this would make it difficult for anyone to take the trainers, or for Julia to forget them. Not that anyone would forget to wear shoes, he smiled, thinking it must be the speed.

Michael had been upstairs to get a drink of water, and to chill out. He now finished his drink and went back downstairs to dance again.