Boy2Girl Page 7

  This was hardly relevant, I pointed out to Mr Durkowitz, since Gail’s estate consisted of a tepee, a few mystic beads and the car that was destroyed in the crash that killed her.

  ‘Actually not,’ said the lawyer. ‘Your sister was rather wealthier than even she knew.’

  And in flat, lawyerly tones, he revealed the bizarre truth. Tod Strange, the pop musician of the group 666, to whom Gail had been briefly married, had died from a drug-related ‘accident’ six months before Gail’s death. He had no family and the court decided that his musical royalties should pass directly to his ex-wife.

  ‘Heavy metal turns out to be somewhat profitable,’ Mr Durkowitz continued.

  He was right. Two million dollars was now added to Gail’s estate. We needed to set up a trust for Sam. The other million was for us to spend on his upbringing.

  I needed to sit down.

  There was more. ‘The 666 back catalogue is a big seller,’ said the lawyer. ‘Royalties are currently running at around three quarters of a million dollars every year.’

  ‘Good old 666,’ I said faintly.

  ‘There was one other thing,’ said Mr Durkowitz. ‘Nothing for you to worry about, but, while looking into all this, I discovered that Sam’s biological father, Anthony Lopez, has recently been released from jail. He has no claims on either Sam or on the money, but I thought that it was only right that you should be aware of the situation.’

  Mr Burton

  Mary and I talked it over until well after eleven o’clock that night and finally decided that we should wait a while before breaking the news to Sam.

  It was a tricky call. On the one hand, Sam had every right to know that, thanks to his mother and the late Mr Tod Strange, he was now a wealthy boy. On the other, life was confusing enough for him right now and he had his new school to deal with.

  We didn’t think any more about Mr Lopez. He had shown no interest in his boy in the past so why should he now?

  Crash Lopez

  I’m an instinctive, live-for-the-minute guy, but I have my habits, my routines. So when I’d spent a little time in the local penitentiary – and I’ve got to admit that’s happened a few times down the years – I’d always do the same thing.

  I’d go to a bar, buy myself a drink and ring my ex-wife, Galaxy, to check out how it’s hanging with my little family. It was true that I hadn’t actually seen them in person since the misunderstanding which led to my marriage going down the toilet – I had people to see, deals to do – but, no matter where I was, old Galaxy and my boy Sam were never far from my thoughts.

  But this time when I rang, some stranger picked up. He said that there’d been a car crash and that Galaxy was, as he put it, ‘no longer with us.’

  ‘No longer with who?’ I said.

  ‘As in, she’s gone to a better place,’ said the guy. ‘What you talkin’ about? What better place? San Francisco? New York?’

  ‘She’s dead,’ said the guy. ‘There was a car crash thing on her way back from a party.’

  Dead? Dead? I hung up, went back to the bar, bought another drink, then another. I felt sick to my stomach at the news – Galaxy may have been kind of a screwball, but she was my kind of screwball. For an ex-wife, she meant a lot to me, that girl.

  And soon there were other questions spinning round and round in my head. If Galaxy was gone, where was Sam? What happened to the kid? Who’s got my son?

  Ottoleen Lopez

  Money? What money? No way is that the reason Crash goes on this big mission to find Sam. The fact that a couple of million bucks is at the end of this particular rainbow hardly even occurred to him. He’s a family guy. I respect him for that.

  Charley

  Let’s be honest here. That whole best-pals stunt she pulled on Sam’s first day was pure Elena. Much as I love her, El likes to be at the centre of things.

  After the last lesson, she put on that distracted, slightly distant air that Zed and I have learned down the years can mean only one thing. El has a plan – personal, private and maybe a bit shifty. When she has to break the news of this plan, the opening move is always the same.

  ‘Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you.’ She frowned as if suddenly remembering something. ‘Sam’s coming back with me.’

  ‘Great,’ said Zia. ‘It’s all back to El’s place.’

  ‘Hey, maybe it would be better if it was just me and her this time. We, er…we don’t want to crowd her.’

  ‘Crowd her?’ I said. Elena has many talents but excuse-making is not one of them.

  ‘Yeah, on her first day. Besides, I want to give her a present. It’s kind of personal.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ I said. ‘You just want her to be more your friend than our friend.’

  ‘Hello,’ said Elena. ‘Just how old are we?’ With an irritating little smile, she went off to find Sam.

  Matthew

  We were waiting at the gate for Sam when he came out of the main building, chatting away to Elena as if they had known each other forever.

  He was about to walk by us when almost as an after-thought he wandered over and said, ‘I’m swinging by El’s place. I’ll catch ya later.’

  ‘Couldn’t you do that some other day?’ I said, flashing a fake smile in the direction of Elena, who stood waiting for her new pal about ten metres away. ‘My parents will really want to know how you got on on your first day.’

  ‘I’ll tell ’em later,’ said Sam.

  I dropped my voice. ‘What about changing back? How you going to manage that?’

  Sam patted his bag. ‘Got the stuff here,’ he said. ‘Lighten up, guys.’ He winked. ‘It’s what you wanted, isn’t it? A spy in the house of the enemy.’

  ‘Come on, Sam,’ Elena called out. ‘You can hear the latest Shed news later.’

  ‘Cooomiiiing,’ Sam responded in an irritatingly girly sing-song voice, and was gone.

  Elena

  Here’s something that Elena Griffiths sussed about Sam Lopez, way before anyone else. She was shy. She may have come on like Little Miss Confident on that first day, but underneath she was quaking like a leaf in a gale.

  It takes someone who understands shyness – i.e. me – to see that quite often the more you talk, the more scared you really are.

  That whole period thing at lunch had tipped me off. Sam was actually blushing when Charley went on about having started. That was why I made that comment about her being a bit lacking in the boob department. I wanted to show her over here in England, we believe in sharing. We are there for each other.

  ‘If you want to talk about your mother, that would be fine,’ I said in my most sympathetic voice as we made our way home.

  ‘That’s OK, thanks,’ said Sam.

  ‘I’m a really good listener. Everybody says so.’

  ‘I’m sure you are.’ She smiled gratefully. ‘But…maybe some other time.’

  ‘Just say the word,’ I said, only slightly hurt that my new friend was keeping her most important feelings to herself.

  When we reached the house and went to my room, she seemed shyer than ever. I had started getting out of my school clothes when I noticed that she was just standing there, like frozen to the spot, staring out of the window, as if where she came from no one actually undressed in front of someone else.

  So, to make her feel more at ease, I got into my everyday clothes and gave her the present I had been thinking about since lunch. I reached into my top drawer and there, at the back, was the item of clothing that, only twelve months ago, had meant so much to me.

  ‘What is it?’ she said, squeezing it nervously.

  ‘It’s a bra. Enhanced. Padded. It’s really good until you get your own. Try it on.’

  She was blushing. ‘Maybe when I get home,’ she said.

  ‘No.’ Firmly I started unbuttoning her shirt but she stepped back.

  ‘OK, I’ll do it,’ she said.

  She turned her back to me, took off her shirt and slipped the bra over her shoulders. For a few seco
nds, she fumbled hopelessly with the hooks. Laughing, I slapped away her hands and did it myself. ‘You’d better practise this at home,’ I said.

  The bra was in place. Still with her back to me, she put her white school shirt on. Then she turned around slowly, her eyes closed.

  ‘Much better,’ I said.

  She opened her eyes and looked down. ‘Wow,’ she said. ‘I’m seriously stacked.’

  Mr Burton

  Looking back on it, I suppose that there was something rather different about the atmosphere that night. Matthew had returned alone. He always needs half an hour or so lolling about in front of the television to recover from school, but on this day he seemed moodier than usual.

  Sam, on the other hand, was surprisingly chirpy when he returned about an hour later. He pronounced Bradbury Hill to be ‘A-OK’. When I told him that I was preparing his favourite pasta puttanesca for supper, he said, ‘Hey, neat.’

  I remember thinking that ‘neat’ seemed an oddly un-Sam-like word.

  Tyrone

  My mother has never had a great sense of timing. She seems to have this perfect instinct for the worst possible moment for her to go on one of her campaigns.

  Now, at the start of a new school year, with Operation Samantha going critical, she decided that a) I had put on too much weight over the summer holidays, b) I was probably well on the way to becoming a full-on criminal after the business at Burger Bill’s, and c) the amount of time I was spending with Jake and Matthew almost certainly meant that I was gay.

  So that night, we had one of our talks.

  I can take almost anything that life has to throw at me – except my mother’s talks.

  She made a special supper – or at least as special as the Kirov diet, which apparently keeps all the top ballerinas as thin as grass, will allow. Then, afterwards, she sat in the sitting room. She put on her special sympathetic face and spoke in her best sympathetic voice.

  ‘I was thinking, Ty,’ she said. ‘Maybe this term you should get out a little more.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I think I’ve been a little tough on you recently.’ Mum put on her loving-parent smile. Perhaps it’s time for you to spread your wings a little – socially, I mean.’

  I looked at her. Was this some kind of joke? Face it, I’ve never exactly been the wing-spreading type. ‘I’m OK,’ I said. ‘I go out with Matthew and Jake and Sam. I’m fine.’

  My mother frowned. The little vein in her temple, which throbs at times of stress, went into medium-throb mode. ‘I wasn’t referring to those boys,’ she said. ‘I meant…nice people.’ She held up a hand before I could interrupt. ‘I’m not criticising your friends. I’m sure they’re perfectly fine. In their own way.’

  ‘Mum,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you just come out with what you have in mind?’

  ‘I’m going to lunch with the Laverys on Sunday. I met them recently at a dinner – charming people. He’s a lawyer. Very…distinguished.’

  ‘Rich, you mean.’

  ‘They are quite comfortable, as it happens, but that’s not the point.’ She paused, and I waited to discover where all this was leading.

  ‘I believe they’ve got a daughter,’ she said casually. ‘Apparently, she’s a bit of a loner too.’

  ‘Mum, no.’

  But my mother was smiling mistily. ‘A lawyer’s daughter,’ she said. ‘Think of it.’

  Ottoleen

  I’m working at a topless joint in Pasadena when me and Crash get hitched up. He comes in looking for a guy called Harry Gatz, who used to own the place when he and Crash did some business together. Crash has had a small problem with the law and has been out of the loop for a while and now he’s back, looking for Harry.

  But Harry’s long gone. He has sold the place and headed east. These days it isn’t called Dirty Harry’s any more, but the Big Top.

  Crash takes all this kind of badly. Earlier that day he’s heard that his ex-wife has been killed in a car crash while he’s inside, he doesn’t even know where his kid is, and now Harry’s gone too. Harry, it turns out, owes Crash big time – in fact, the way he tells it, Crash has taken the rap for the both of them.

  So, like I’m saying, Crash is taking it kind of badly.

  It’s three in the morning. The place is dead. This little guy in a sharp suit and a tragic face has been drowning his sorrows all night. I’m bringing him his zillionth bourbon on the rocks when he looks up and says, ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a dive like this?’

  OK, so it isn’t the greatest come-on line of all time, but I’m lonely too, right? I notice something different about Crash. Normally when the customers at the Big Top talk to you they tend to look at your you-know-whats, but he looks me straight in the eye as if just because I’m a topless waitress doesn’t mean I’m not an interesting person in my own right. We get talking. A whole ships-that-pass-in-the-night thing happens.

  And three weeks later we’re getting hitched in Las Vegas. Who said romance was dead?

  Crash

  Something had changed while I was inside. Standards had fallen. Eight years before, a guy knew where he stood in life and in business. It was rough now and then, it was tough most all the time, but at least you knew where you stood.

  Do this, and you’re OK. Do that, and you’re not. Do that twice, and they may just find you floating face down in the local reservoir. It was an old-fashioned way of doing things, but it worked.

  Now it was different. My ex-business partner, a fink called Gatz, had disappeared. I could have gone after him and disappeared him for good, but that seemed kind of pointless. Besides, I never would have found the slippery little creep.

  One night with Ottoleen, the new Mrs Lopez, we got to talking about Sam. I told her that it was bugging me that I had no idea where my boy was. She asked me if I wanted to look after him myself and I had to admit that the idea didn’t grab me – I don’t have the kind of lifestyle that would suit a young kid. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know how old he was these days.

  No, I just wanted to know that he was OK and someone was looking out for him, to put my mind at rest. We talked it through. The next day, we headed west.

  Back in my old hangouts, I asked around. The word was that Sam had gone to Europe with some English sister of Galaxy’s who had turned up at the funeral. There was another rumour – something about a will, something about my old lady having been a lot richer when she was dead than she had been when she was alive.

  We got to thinking, Ottoleen and me. Life was kind of empty. The idea of my own flesh and blood growing up to be a little snot-nosed Englishman singing ‘God Save the Queen’ and wearing a bowler hat suddenly made my skin crawl. I began to get these feelings, these yearnings.

  The cash? OK, I admit it – if there was some cash coming loose, I’d have me some of that too.

  8

  Matthew

  The next day we discovered how seriously Sam was taking the whole girl thing.

  We met up in the park as usual. He slipped into the lavatory for his daily sex change. But when he came out, he looked a mess – even by the low standards of Sam Lopez.

  Something seemed to have happened inside his shirt. First I thought he had decided to smuggle a couple of footballs into school. Then he took off his jacket and undid his shirt.

  The three of us stared at him, dumbstruck.

  ‘Will someone give us a hand with these hooks?’ He said, twisting a hand behind his back.

  ‘Sam.’ It was Jake who spoke first. ‘You’re wearing a bra.’

  ‘Yup. An enhanced bra, if you must know. El gave it to me. She was worried that I might be hassled by other girls on account of my flat chest.’

  ‘You don’t think that’s going a bit far?’ Tyrone asked. ‘What, turn down the offer of free gazungas? Are you crazy?’

  I glanced at my watch. We were late again. ‘What do I have to do to fasten it?’ I said.

  Sam turned his back. There was this fiddly little clasp thin
g which I tried to hook up.

  ‘Hang on,’ said Jake. ‘You’re all out of whack at the front.’ He tried to correct Sam’s chest, as Tyrone stood by, laughing.

  ‘Get off my tits!’ Sam shouted.

  It was then that we realised that we were not alone.

  Miss Wheeler-Carrington

  Well! I hardly have words to express what I saw that morning.

  The same three boys that I had seen the previous morning bullying that poor little blonde girl, were at it again. Only this time they were – well, suffice it to say that their hands were in places that they should not be.

  ‘Would you mind telling me exactly what you are doing?’ I said in my most forbidding voice. The three boys jumped back, looking guilty and embarrassed.

  ‘It’s not what it seems,’ the fat one said.

  The blonde girl was buttoning herself up after her ordeal. ‘They’re sex maniacs, these boys,’ she said. ‘I tell you, ma’am, they just can’t keep their hands off me.’

  I was slightly surprised at the light-hearted tone of her voice, but I decided that, as a responsible citizen, I had no alternative but to report this incident to the authorities.

  Things have come to a pretty pass if one innocent girl can’t make her way to school without being…molested.

  PC Chivers

  As it happens, I do recollect a lady entering the station with a small dog – plump, waddling, with mad, bulging eyes. And the dog didn’t look much better!