Sixteen Shades of Crazy. Rachel Trezise
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was supposed to be a drug dealer, a comprehensive school dropout with a string of petty convictions and a frothy-mouthed pit bull terrier. But he knew what Ellie was thinking. A chord plucked in her stomach.
‘When Iraq decided it was going to start selling oil in euros, Uncle Sam did his nut.’ He reached into his pocket, took a packet of cigarettes out. ‘Notice how the first thing the troops did was secure ownership of the oil wells?’ he said. He lit a cigarette and passed it to Ellie. She took it with trembling fingers and watched as he lit one for himself, the Zippo’s flame dancing in the wind. She took a long drag on the cigarette, filling her lungs with the delicious nicotine.
‘That’s the first thing they did,’ she said as she exhaled, ‘stole the Iraqis’ oil.’
‘Hang a banger, mush,’ Rhiannon trilled. ‘Let’s chill out a bit, is it? Who’s gonna do a joint? We don’t talk about politics round ’ere.’ She took a lump of pot out of her bag and tried to pass it to Johnny. Johnny looked blankly at Rhiannon and then turned back to Ellie. ‘It’s tantamount to a war crime,’ he said.
Rhiannon’s mouth had fallen open, a hunk of violet tongue perched on her bottom lip. For a fraction of a second it looked as if she was going to cry. She said, ‘Fuck ewe ’en,’ her whole face turning into a snarl. She rummaged through her bag, looking for fag-papers. Under her breath she said, ‘I’ll do it my fuckin’ self.’
‘Have you finished that can, babe?’ Andy said, tapping Ellie’s leg. ‘Because I’ve got to go, I’ve got the car.’ He might have sensed the malice in the atmosphere, but more than likely was offended by the mention of cannabis. He wouldn’t condone drug use in a public place, not in a children’s park. Ellie wanted to stay, but any excuse she made would sound suspicious. She shook her lager can, realizing she’d finished it without noticing. He took it out of her hand and threw it in a black bag that Siân had reserved for the group’s litter. He took Ellie’s hand and lifted her up. Her body felt weightless, as if it wasn’t a body, but a soul, cleaving away from its carcass, leaving its shell on the ground.
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