Chapter 15

Marco looked around him. It was 1am and the living room was filling up steadily. He could feel the pill beginning to take effect. This was the part he loved the most. The people, the music, he shut his eyes and concentrated on the music. No talking. Just listening and having people around him. The jostle of people rubbing past him, putting their arms around his shoulders. Crying out to the DJ when the music started lifting. This was it for Marco. He felt like he belonged.

Another Saturday night. Like so many before it. Every weekend the Hetley converted into a residential club and its living room squeezed full of familiar faces. At first Marco had been nervous selling pills to people. But now he was used to it. And he was making a fortune. More money than he had ever made at the Bistro and for what. Two or three nights work. It was hardly work. He was being paid to Party and help his friends have a good time.

‘Hey Marco, how’s it going, can you help me out for three.’ Marco opened his eyes and focussed on the small Australian standing in front of him. Boardy. Graham Board. He was one of his regulars. One of the dozens of people who came to the Hetley week in, week out. Who lived their double lives of dragging themselves off to the drudgery of work and reality during the week, only kept going by the thought of another party the following weekend. Marco led him into an upstairs bedroom, his small act of security, just in case anyone was there watching what he was doing. Fifteen quid. Two minutes work. He would have had to work for two hours to make that at The Bistro. Three if you included taxes. In a night like this he usually made about two hundred quid. Marco walked back down the stairs steadying himself against the banister as he approached the bottom. The hallway was full of people, some propping up the walls talking, others dancing, others sitting along, taking in the scene in their own private way.


Watching the party from the foot of the stairs, Marco found himself thinking about Matt. It had been months since he had seen him. He had meant to call him and explain what was happening and why he had left work. After a couple of weeks away Matt had called and asked what was going on; that he had heard Marco had moved out of the apartment building; was he depressed; did he need anything. Stupidly Marco had lied and said that his uncle had died and that he would have to go back to Italy for a few weeks and that he didn’t know when he would be back. He had known Matt probably knew he was lying about his uncle the moment he said it. Marco had never been a convincing liar. He wanted to be honest with Matt but he also knew what Matt would say or at least think if he knew what he was doing to make money.

For the first time since moving to London, or at least since the night out with Matt and the bitch Abi, he felt like he was a part of something. That he belonged. People knew who he was, they were happy to see him. They called him up, asked him out and every week he seemed to meet more and more people. He knew that what he was doing wasn’t exactly what he should be doing but at the same time he didn’t want to give up this new life. Not yet. Not now.

So what if he shared a room with three others, a house with thirteen others, and that he had to get up at half six to make sure there was enough hot water for a shower. It was worth it. This was his flat, they were his friends, he would have cued for the toilet for hours if it meant being a part of all this. And yet when he thought about Matt he felt guilty and ashamed. Matt had treated him like a younger brother from the moment Marco had arrived at the Bistro. He missed their conversations and their connection and yet he knew there was no way he could see Matt right now. Even if Matt didn’t say anything to him, which he probably wouldn’t, just seeing him would remind Marco of what he shouldn’t be doing. He wasn’t ready to face that reality.

He had broken a few dates with Matt early on and now they had fallen into a routine of phone calls every once in a while in which Marco was careful not to divulge too much and Matt, seemingly aware of what Marco might be up to, avoided certain topics such as what he was doing for a living. He knew where Marco was living. Not exactly where but he knew he was living in a Party flat and presumably knew what went with that.

Marco tried to shut the thoughts out of his mind and walked back down the hallway and into the crowd. He could feel the pill he had taken a few minutes earlier starting to take effect. All of the faces he walked past were familiar to him and smiled back at him as he walked past and into the living room. The Hetley had presumably once been a respectable Victorian detached home. The home to a nice hard working family which had probably spent evenings sitting quietly in this very room watching television and eating dinners, living a quite simple life. Now most of the windows on the ground floor had been broken and boarded up.
Now what had once presumably been home to serene Christmas mornings under the tree was home to three double beds and occasional dance floor.
Marco shut his eyes and tried to think of nothing. He focused on the music, his new friends, his new house, his new life. He smiled.