Angel Kiss (7 page)

‘Hi, Jacki,’ he said.

‘Hey.’ I was so surprised by his arrival that I didn’t have time to get anxious about it. Nick looked like he hadn’t got much sleep, but still managed to look irresistible.

‘What’s the story?’ he said.

‘Nothing much.’

‘Are you going to the table quiz in the parish hall tonight?’ He took his guitar off his shoulder.

‘I don’t know; maybe,’ I said. I remembered Mum mentioning something about it the previous week. The idea of it hadn’t exactly excited me.

‘Well, if you do go, you can be on our team if you want. Sarah has to work so we’re one short.’

I was suddenly most definitely going to the table quiz in the parish hall. I hoped that he hadn’t noticed my face light up.

‘OK … well, I’ll most likely be there,’ I said, as indifferently as possible.

‘Right so. It starts at eight.’

I nodded. There was silence. Nick looked away, glancing awkwardly around the garden.

‘Do you want to sit down?’ I asked, moving my patchwork bag so that it didn’t separate us.

‘Sure.’ He leaned his guitar against the end of the bench.

‘Your mum was telling me you’re pretty good at guitar,’ I said, desperate to keep the conversation going.

‘I’m all right, I guess. I play lead in my band. We were playing a gig in Sligo last night. I’m just back from there now.
Haven’t slept in ages, as if you couldn’t tell.’ He smiled, then yawned and looked as if he might collapse from exhaustion any second.

‘OK, so I won’t take that personally then,’ I joked. I wanted to add that I hadn’t really slept either. But I didn’t want to get into that. This was way too important. I was alone with Nick. I had to make the most of it, not start talking about supernatural nonsense. He didn’t seem the type to believe in that kind of thing.

‘What kind of guitar do you have?’ I asked, steering the conversation towards something we had in common.

‘An electric one, called a Fender Strat,’ he answered, punctuating each syllable as if he were talking to a two-year-old.

‘I have one of those too. I’ve been mainly playing acoustic lately though.’

Nick looked shocked. ‘You play guitar?’

‘A bit.’

‘How long have you been playing?’

‘Nearly five years now.’

‘Are you in a band?’

‘I’ve been in a few, but not at the moment.’

‘Concentrating on your solo career?’

‘I suppose I am,’ I said with a laugh. This was going well.

‘What’s your favourite band?’ he asked. He frowned and I knew a lot hinged on my answer.

‘Ooh, that’s a tough one …’ I knew what he was doing – he was testing me. It was a way of separating the actual music lovers from the posers, i.e. the people who wore Ramones T-shirts but couldn’t name any of their songs.

‘I guess Thin Lizzy would be pretty high on the list,’ I said.

‘Class.’

‘What about you? What’s your favourite band?’

‘Metallica,’ he said, without hesitation.

‘I’m not a hardcore fan,’ I said. ‘But they’re unreal live.’

‘You’ve seen them?’

‘Yeah, I saw them in Marlay Park a few years ago.’

‘Me too.’ He smiled again. A perfect smile, I decided. He had nice teeth. And I noticed he hadn’t shaved. I liked his rugged look. But I had to remind myself he was with Sarah.
Get a grip – he has a girlfriend
.

What followed was an intense conversation about iconic rock stars and guitar amps and distortion pedals. I had talked about them with countless guys in the past, so the words just fell out of my mouth. All I was thinking was how adorable Nick looked in that T-shirt, and how cute his smile was, and how much I desperately wanted to touch his lips with mine. Over the past few days I’d tried my best to stop fixating on this guy, who I barely knew, but now I realized that I couldn’t fight it. It was official: he was just too perfect.

‘What are you doing down here by yourself anyway?’ he asked.

I had to force my thoughts back to the conversation.

‘I was just writing some lyrics.’

‘Really? Can I see them?’

‘No. I mean … they’re not finished yet … You can see them when they’re finished.’ I was reluctant to hand them over: they more than hinted at a sense of unrequited love. There was no way he was going to find out my true feelings, whether he recognized the inspiration or not.

‘OK …’ He yawned again and stood up. ‘Well, I hope you can make it tonight.’

He hoped I could make it. When I like a guy, I tend to examine every word that comes out of his mouth with the determination of a profiler interviewing a suspect. He hoped I could make it. Perhaps things were not as bleak as they had originally seemed. He gave me another irresistible smile and headed back down the path towards the gate. He looked back once, and I really hoped he didn’t catch me staring at him.

Once he’d left the garden I read the words of my new song again.

Yes. I’d definitely made the right decision not showing it to him.

It started to drizzle so I gathered my things and put them in
my bag. I was glad the oak tree provided some shelter. I wanted this moment to last, so I closed my eyes.
He loves me, he loves me not, he really hoped I could make it, he loves me, he loves me not.
I stayed there for a few minutes, lost in my thoughts.

It was just a slight summer shower, so when it was easing off I got up and followed the path round to the water fountain on the other side of the oak tree. I watched the raindrops splash into it, joining the water that trickled down through the grey stone. The sound of the water had a wonderfully calming effect. I noticed there was a little brass plaque at the bottom of the fountain. Stepping closer I could see that the engraving on it read:

There was that name again. If there was a fountain dedicated to her, she must have been very special.
Her family must really miss her
, I thought as I left the garden and headed back to the caravan.

What does one wear to a Friday night table quiz in a parish hall?
I wondered. I’d already spent almost two hours that evening trying to answer the question, and now I was running out of time. I wanted my style to be distinctive but understated. It was important to make an impression on Nick, but it should also look effortless. At the moment it looked like my suitcase had exploded, as I flung clothes all over the caravan.

‘Jacki, will you come on? We’re going to be late,’ said Mum.

‘OK, OK, I’m nearly ready.’ Mum had got dressed in five minutes and looked perfect. She hardly spent any time on make-up whereas I couldn’t go outdoors without eyeliner I felt so bare without it. My eyeliner had gone missing now and it took me about ten minutes to find it. And I still couldn’t decide what to wear. Nothing looked right, nothing matched. Hannah and I usually got ready for important things together: we’d made a pact after the leggings incident of 09. They’d looked good in
Teen Vogue
, they’d looked good on the hanger, they had not looked good on me. After Hannah experienced a similar incident with denim hot pants, we’d made the pact. Mum was no help – she just said everything looked lovely. Maybe I could visit Dublin for a weekend soon … Hannah could come
shopping with me. Clearly I desperately needed some new clothes.

I finally settled on my skinny jeans and white tank top with the gold detail and buttons down the front (top two left open). I quickly brushed my hair, lined my eyes black and slipped into my grey boots. I stuffed only the essentials – my purse, my phone and a stick of blood-red lipstick – into my black shoulder bag.

I stole one final glance in the bathroom mirror before following Mum out of the caravan on to the damp grass. It hadn’t rained again but the sun was still hidden behind grey cloud. A light breeze carried us down to the village. Mum pulled her pink cardigan tighter round her shoulders as we dodged the puddles of rainwater dotted along the winding road. Avarna was beautiful in the daytime, but it was lovely in the evening too. It was so peaceful.

‘You can be on our team if you want,’ said Mum. ‘A few other teachers from the school are going too.’

‘It’s OK. I already have a team.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Nick from the shop asked me to join his. They were one short.’

‘Nick from the shop, eh?’ Mum stopped walking and gave me a quizzical look.

I couldn’t stop my cheeks from going red.

‘So that’s why you took so long to get ready.’

‘He has a girlfriend,’ I said, walking ahead.

‘Minor obstacle.’

‘Mum!’ I squealed, and we both laughed.

As we neared the parish hall the village was buzzing. Throngs
of people headed for the hall, located on the curve of the main street. It was hard to miss with its bright red window frames and doors. A large plaque with the numbers 1878 told us when it had been built and the courthouse sign informed us of its original function. I tried to imagine the trials that had gone on here in the past.

As we entered through the doors at the front of the building we could see groups gathered round the twenty or more tables across the floor. Whispers of gossip and bursts of laughter filled the hall. I could see Mary Reynolds weaving through the tables, placing a small stack of answer sheets on each as she passed. Quizmaster Joe Clancy was standing on the stage, surveying his audience. I spotted Nick at one of the tables at the front. Another guy sat across from him. I recognized Colin’s red hair immediately. The minute I saw them I felt a bit nervous but I quickly got over it. This was too important to screw up.

‘There’s Margaret,’ said Mum, waving over at the primary school principal. ‘Is your team here yet?’

‘Yep. They’re over there,’ I said, pointing at Nick.

‘Oh, I see!’ said Mum, raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Good luck. And I hope you do well in the quiz too,’ she added, smirking.

I rolled my eyes at her before strolling over to Nick and Colin. Nick was looking gorgeous, and had clearly got some sleep since I last saw him. He looked at me, and there was a noticeable second of silence – that momentary beat that every girl strives for, which can only be achieved through a perfectly planned outfit.

‘Hi,’ he said as his eyes subtly scanned my body. ‘Colin, this is Jacki.’

‘We’ve already met,’ said Colin, looking up to smile at me.
There were ink stains on his hand and he was doodling with a biro.

‘Oh, right. Take a seat.’ Nick pointed to the grey chair next to him before glancing around the hall and then he began texting furiously. I dropped my bag to the floor and settled down. Nick’s aftershave was almost overbearing, but so intoxicating that I wouldn’t have minded being suffocated by it. He was wearing denims and a Metallica T-shirt. A red hoodie hung across the back of his chair.

‘Four to a team, four to a team, twenty euro per table,’ shouted Joe from the stage. ‘Mary, will you see if you can get this to work?’ he said as he fumbled with the faulty microphone. Mary hurried up the wooden steps on to the stage. Joe stood beside a long table in the middle of the stage, where a chubby man was seated.

‘I didn’t think this would be your kind of scene, Nick,’ said Colin. ‘I was expecting to have to drag you here.’

‘Did you not know I was on our primary school quiz team?’ he joked, acting insulted.

‘Oh yeah, I forgot about that! But we’ll hardly win without a full team …’

‘I’ll text Chris and see what’s keeping him.’

‘When is David back?’ asked Colin, leaning back on his chair.

‘Tomorrow. I’ve told you, like, eight times,’ said Nick, without looking up from his phone. ‘Don’t worry, he got your comics or whatever it was you were looking for.’

‘Aw, savage. Did he get all the ones on the list? And did he get that DVD I asked for?’

‘I don’t know. I was only talking to him online for a few minutes.’

‘He’s so lucky. I’d literally kill to go to Japan.’ Colin picked up his phone and started texting.

‘Who’s David?’ I asked, wanting to get in on the conversation.

‘Our mate,’ said Colin. ‘His dad has businesses all over the place and is always going away. He had to go to some conference in Japan and David got to go with him. His dad is a bit of an asshole; David’s sound though. And his sister Carla is all right sometimes.’

‘He’s not an asshole,’ said Nick, dropping his phone down on the table. ‘Peter Mulvey is one of my dad’s best friends.’

‘Whatever,’ said Colin, turning to me and rolling his eyes.

‘Twenty euro, please,’ said the woman who had just arrived at our table.

Nick’s phone buzzed. He read the message and sighed. ‘Chris can’t come – he’s stuck in work. Looks like it’s just the three of us, so that’s going to be …’ Nick attempted the mathematics in his head.

‘Six sixty-seven each!’ I said. I loved maths. Maths and music were my two favourite subjects.

‘Eh … yeah,’ he muttered. We handed the woman our money.

‘David lives up near Nick,’ said Colin. ‘You’ll get to meet him when he gets back.’

‘Testing, testing,’ Joe’s voice echoed through the hall’s speakers. ‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome to the G. A. A. club’s annual table quiz. As usual there will be ten rounds and prizes will be given for the teams who come first, second and third. Alec McNamara, your local accountant –’ Joe pointed to the man seated next to him – ‘will be keeping
the scores tonight.’ Alec gave a nod to the crowd. A black calculator and a row of sharply pointed pencils were positioned neatly on the desk in front of him.