Page 28 of Electric Boy

“The very same, sir.”

“You’re joking!”

“I am not.”

“I’ve been waiting ages for that. It’s come out weeks ago. I was tempted to go round one of our competitors’ and see if they’d gotten it in. We’ve really got it? You’re not taking the piss?”

“Would I do that to you, Jules?” Rahul put a hand over his wounded heart. Time to put the plan into motion. Easy does it, Rahul, try not to spook him. “I was thinking I could pop round yours and we could have a listen. Roll up a couple of spliffs, lie back, let the music transport us to tune town. You know, like the good old days.”

“Yeah. Yeah, all right.” Julian was grinning, proudly displaying the gap between his two front teeth. “I’ll pick us up a case of Fosters from Tesco’s. Maybe get some Happy Snax. Only I’m a little short this month.” He bit his bottom lip with feigned sheepishness. “You wouldn’t mind rustling us up some takeaway, would you?”

“You know I’ve always got you covered, small fry.”

“Cheers.”

“So, tomorrow at five then?”

“Yeah, all r -- did you say tomorrow?” A little crease formed between his eyebrows as his thought processes sluggishly engaged.

“At five.”

He deflated slightly. “Sorry. I got something on for tomorrow night.”

“Five isn’t night, is it? What time’s your whatsit?”

“Seven.”

“Well, there you have it. The record can’t last two hours, can it?” Though, knowing Ferry, it might just.

Julian smiled with more honest sheepishness. “No, I guess not. But I was going to try and get ready early…”

“It takes two hours to get ready? What do you have on? A gig without me?”

“Well, no, but --”

“That settles it, then. I’ll come by at five, be out before half past six, and you’ve got a full half hour to get ready. Now, do you want that takeaway to be gyros from Myros’ or curry from Murry’s?”

“Who do you think I am? Curry, obviously.” He was so delighted at the prospect of curry that he was momentarily distracted from the scheduling conflict and the fact that he’d be rushed to ready himself in only half an hour. If there was one thing Rahul knew about Julian, it was that he could not make himself presentable for a night out in less than an hour and a half -- one hour at the most, if he’d already showered earlier. But luckily for Rahul, Julian didn’t realise this or start to worry about it until closing time was upon them, and by then it was too late for him to back out. Check and mate.

* * *

The shop was closed the next day, as it always was on Mondays, and Rahul arrived as promised at Julian’s with two takeaway bags of curry and a baggie full of marijuana recently acquired from his flat mate Kwambe.

It took several firm knocks for Julian to answer the door, which he did in a frazzled state. Judging by the flatness of half his hair and volume of the other, he had been caught right in the middle of teasing it. It seemed he had been trying to get ready before Rahul’s arrival rather than after. Fiendishly clever, especially for Julian. Then again, he had always been a savant when it came to style.

“Ready for a night of magic?” Rahul pulled out the record from under his arm. Julian was momentarily hypnotised by the album cover, a moody black and white affair that put Rahul in mind of his father’s old jazz records.

Then he seemed to snap out of his daze and declared, “Not night. Afternoon. Evening, at most. I’ve got to be out by seven, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Rahul pushed past him into the dingy flat, walking around the corner and into the miniscule living room. He set the takeaway on the coffee table and the album on top of the record player by the telly. “Second the record’s over, I’m gone, baby. Like lightning. Like a flash. They call me The Streak. They never see me coming, they never know when I’m gone.” He shot finger pistols off into the air.

“Watch where you point those things, Roy Rogers.”

“Roy Rogers? I’ll thank you not to compare me to such a plebian. I’m Clint Eastwood, if anything.”

“You’re ‘The Good’ are you?”

“The Bad, and the Ugly. I’m a triple threat.”