Page 24 of Loving Netta Wilde

‘I can put it out if it bothers you,’ said Doogie without looking at him.

‘It doesn’t bother me. I used to smoke it all the time. I’ve done drugs.’ What in God’s name made him say that? Was he one first-class nob, or what?

Doogie gave him the side-eye. ‘Well done.’

Frank squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. Doogie was still there, smoking his joint, sipping his beer, looking cool. He on the other hand just looked like a total dickhead.

Doogie slid the tin across the table to him. Frank opened the lid. Inside was another ready rolled joint next to the lighter. He stared at them, his fingers hovering. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘No problem.’ Doogie flipped the lid closed and went to pull it back towards him.

Frank felt himself shrinking just a tiny bit. He couldn’t back out now, could he? ‘No. I was just saying, I’m a bit out of practice.’

Doogie let go of the tin. ‘Knock yourself out then, bud.’

Frank lit up, took a drag and coughed. Shit, this stuff was strong. He took another. Not so bad. After the third, he was actually feeling quite mellow. ‘Netta didn’t tell me you liked to smoke this stuff.’

‘She didn’t tell me you like to paint Scottish beaches either.’ He was clearly referring to the place they’d last met. Frank didn’t like the way the corner of the man’s mouth was turned up, like he was well aware he’d got one over on him.

‘It was just coincidence. The other fellas I was with wanted to go there. I didn’t know you’d be there.’ That was only half of a lie. He’d guessed Doogie might be there after he’d agreed to go.

‘Got it.’ The look on him. Like he knew Frank was talking shite. Jesus, this guy was infuriating. ‘I don’t like to.’

‘Huh?’ Frank took another draw on his smoke.

‘I don’t like to smoke it. I hardly touch the stuff these days. I just needed a de-stresser.’

Oh. So, things got to Doogie the man too? He was a mere mortal after all. ‘Anything you want to talk about?’

‘Nope.’

‘Okay then. So, we’ll just sit here and de-stress together, will we?’

The man opposite remained silent. Infuriating. Fucking infuriating.

‘About Scotland. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to Netta. I haven’t mentioned that we’ve met before. I’ve been meaning to?—’

‘Mate, she already knows.’

‘You told her.’

‘Didn’t need to. She already knew. Cheers for the beer.’ He stubbed out his smoke with his foot and went back through the garden gate with Spike at his heels.

Netta already knew? Shit.

He awoke to the sound of music coming through the open window. Steele Pulse, at a guess. Frank was lying on his bed. How he got here, he couldn’t remember. He didn’t even remember finishing the joint, but he must have done. His head was booming, and he felt sick. He needed to drink something fresh and clean. Tentatively, he eased himself off the bed and went down to the kitchen.

He felt marginally better after he’d drunk a pint of water. Well enough to look for his phone and his dog. The phone was on the worktop, so not too hard to find. He noticed he’d missed two calls from Netta. She’d left a message asking if he was having dinner with them tonight. The French windows in his studio were still open. He must have left them like that when he crawled off to sleep. The music was coming from Netta’s garden. All the family was out there, including Geraldine and Arthur. Fred was sidling up to his new friend Spike, and Netta was doing the same with her old lover Doogie. He’d been betrayed on all sides.

He was aware of someone behind him, but he didn’t turn round. A few more steps and Colin was next to him, watching what he was watching. ‘You feel it too, don’t you?’

‘What?’

‘Inadequate.’

Frank looked out at Netta and Doogie. They looked so damn good together; you couldn’t feel anything but inadequate. For a brief moment, he had a window into Colin’s world. He almost felt sorry for him. But then he remembered that this was the way Colin operated, sowing seeds to make you doubt yourself and others, and the window closed. He was not going to let that man into his head. He was going to go out there and he was going to show Colin Grey and everyone else that he was more than fucking adequate. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’ He turned to look Colin in the eye. And what an eye it was,bloodshot and surrounded by purple. ‘What the hell happened to you?’

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