Page 7 of Rhymes with Metaphor
Joel looked past Reg at the unrolled, torn toilet paper accordioned across the vanity.“I see.”
“You wouldn’t understand,” said Reg.He gathered up the toilet paper, wound it carefully, and stuck it in his trouser pocket.“I was blocked.”
“How much fibre have you been eating?”
“Reg!”Abigail shouted excitedly from downstairs.“Where are you?”
“Up here!”said Reg.
“You’ve got to come and meet Flat Mary!”
“Flat Mary is waiting,” said Reg to Joel.
It was clear from Joel’s expression that he, like Reg, didn’t know what the fuck that meant.
Reg made for the stairs, Joel stepping back neatly so that Reg didn’t touch him as he passed.At the head of the stairs, Reg glanced over his shoulder.Joel was still standing in the hallway, looking at him.
Flat Mary, as it happened, was a newly arrived party guest and friend of Abigail’s.He had a respectable track record, apparently, composing electronic music.The reason Abigail was so excited to introduce him to Reg was because Flat Mary had read Reg’s poetry chapbook,Player.
Reg’s hand was engulfed by Flat Mary’s, which had the texture of a raw ciabatta dough.
“Pleasure,” said Flat Mary, with a DJ-smooth voice.“Your chapbook is some pretty ero shit.”
“Ero?”
“Erotic, man.”
“Oh,” said Reg.“Right.”
“Has anyone ever set your poetry to music?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“I’d like to use your lyrics,” said Flat Mary.“Assuming you’re okay with that.”
“Isn’t that a great opportunity, Reg?”said Abigail.
“Look,” said Reg, “I’m really not sure.I’d need to listen to your music first and see if it’s suitable.”
“I get it,” said Flat Mary.“Make sure our brands mesh.You’re welcome to be part of the process.I could compose something from your new material.What have you got in the works?”
“Various things,” said Reg.
Flat Mary took a card out of his wallet and slipped it into Reg’s pocket.“My music’s on my website.Maybe it’ll inspire you.”
He sounded so much like an ad that Reg found himself suppressing a laugh and tried to disguise it as a cough.Abigail, who’d absented herself after the introductions, returned with a drink, which she pressed into Reg’s hand.
“Cold Crash,” she said, by way of explanation.
The glass was bone-chillingly cold, and it contained a liquid that was alternately clear and billowing white, with small, purple spheres bobbing in it.
“Are those fish eggs?”said Reg.
“Ribena ice balls,” said Abigail.
Reg sipped it cautiously and tasted kirsch and cream.As he held the glass, the purple spheres began to melt, pinking the cream.
Juliet brought Joel downstairs and settled him on the couch with a plate of cake on his lap.Reg overheard her say, “You’ve been studying for twelve hours straight.You need a break.”
