Jam by Jake Wallis Simons Page A

knee. ‘She’s a proper lightweight.’
    â€˜This traffic,’ said Dave, updating his status as he spoke. ‘This fucking traffic. Do you think there’s been a prang?’
    â€˜More than a prang,’ said Stevie, ‘to have been completely shut down like this. It must have been shut down. Completely.’
    There was a pause.
    â€˜Do you think we could get the piece of meat to perform?’ said Stevie. ‘Pass the time?’
    Dave giggled. ‘You dick. We’d get properly arrested. People can see through the window, you dick.’
    â€˜Look,’ said Stevie, pulling a blanket off the back seat. ‘We could get her under here, couldn’t we? Bish, bash, bosh. ’
    â€˜You’re a nutter,’ said Dave, ‘as I’ve said many times before.’
    â€˜Come on, live a little,’ said Stevie extravagantly. ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Who dares wins. She loves it, anyway. And a man could do with a bit of relief. Fucking bored. Captive audience.’
    He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out his Nokia and cursed.
    â€˜What?’ said Dave, smiling.
    â€˜Who you with?’
    â€˜Vodafone.’
    â€˜Cunts, the lot of them.’
    There was a pause while Stevie, smiling conspiratorially, pressed some buttons. Then he held the device up, showing the screen to Dave, waggling it from side to side.
    â€˜That’s a new one,’ said Dave. ‘You didn’t text me that one. When did you take it?’
    â€˜Just last night, mate. Not bad, eh? I’m going to make it my wallpaper.’
    â€˜I thought you said you weren’t going to take any more.’
    â€˜Not in so many words. Anyway, I couldn’t resist. Make hay when the sun shines. Look at her there. Sexy as fuck.’
    â€˜Did she know you were taking it?’
    â€˜Course she knew.’
    â€˜Doesn’t look like it.’
    â€˜It’s not her phone, anyway. It’s mine. It’s up to me what I put on it. And I think she looks fucking hot in this one. Butters, but hot. What she got to complain about?’
    Dave tried to piece this logic together, but his brain had lost its agility. For no reason he laughed, the noise peaking and then dying away. Then he gazed out of the window, unaware of the minutes as they passed. The world was muffled and spinning slightly, which he found amusing. It had been a strange trip, that was for sure. A strange, strange trip. Neither of them had expected to have Natalie land on their plate, so to speak – she had been up for anything, at least at first – and Stevie was picking up the ball and running with it. Dave, at times, found himself feeling sorry for the skinny little black girl with the oversized breasts. For allher posturing, she was unsure of herself. Still, they were nearly home. If this traffic would only clear.
    Stevie wasn’t a bad lad, just boisterous. They’d known each other since they were eight, but it was only at university that they had become friends. At school, it had been dangerous to be friends with Stevie. There’s always one kid who attracts attention of a negative sort; Stevie was that kid. From the very beginning he was branded gay, teased mercilessly, often ended up bruised and sore on the floor of the toilet. One day the principal bully was caught in the act and expelled. Then the physical attacks diminished, but the best he could hope for was to be allowed to be on the outside looking in; often he was unable to do even that. And the names, of course, never stopped. Gaylord, Bumboy, Lord Anal. Refuses to talk about it now.
    Dave rested his head back against the soft, soft headrest and felt as if he was sinking into a pool of feathers. He could see the driver of the car next door tilting back her seat. He could see a figure emerging from a car, stretching, craning his neck, getting back in. He began to wonder about something, but he couldn’t take anything