Candy Read Online Free Page A

cigarette was rimmed with crimson lipstick. Her eyes shone darkly, moist with black shadow and mascara, and although they looked unbelievably good,there was something slightly unsettling about them. I couldn’t work it out at first, but after a while I realized what it was—it was her pupils. They were really small, like tiny black holes, shrunken and empty. Like pinpricks of darkness.
    “What’s that on your fingers?” she said suddenly.
    “What?”
    “Your fingers.”
    I looked at my hands. “Where?”
    “There,” she said, touching the fingers of my left hand. I stiffened. Her touch was electric, hot and cold, like nothing I’d ever felt before. “What’s the matter?” she said, still holding my fingers.
    “Nothing…”
    “Does it hurt?”
    “No…”
    “What is it?”
    I looked down again, suddenly realizing what she was talking about. “Oh, that,” I said. “It’s just hardened skin—calluses…from playing the guitar.”
    “You play the guitar?”
    I nodded.
    She looked at me. “You any good?”
    “I don’t know. I’m all right, I suppose…”
    “You get fingers like this from playing the guitar?”
    “Yeah, you know, pressing the strings…”
    “What kind of guitar?”
    “Bass, mostly.”
    “Really? Are you in a band or anything?”
    “Well,” I said, starting to feel embarrassed again, “sort of…”
    “What do you mean— sort of? ”
    “Yeah, I am.”
    “What—a real band? You play gigs and stuff?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Seriously?”
    “Well, you know, it’s mostly local stuff. Pubs and clubs, school things…”
    I never liked talking about being in a band. It always made me feel so pretentious, like, Oh, yeah, I’m in a band, you know …as if being in a band is some kind of awesomely admirable achievement. I didn’t mind doing it—I loved being in a band—I just didn’t like talking about it. It made me feel uncomfortable—and, just then, I was uncomfortable enough as it was. Candy was still touching my fingertips, brushing them lightly with her nails, which was nice, but it was starting to get a bit too nice…
    “Any records?” she asked.
    “Not yet.”
    “What are you called?”
    I hesitated.
    “Go on,” she said. “Tell me—I might have heard of you.”
    “I doubt it—we’re called The Katies.”
    “Katies? Like the girl’s name?”
    “Yeah.”
    “Why?”
    I gently removed my hand from hers and wiped a drop of sweat from my lip. “Well, we used to be called Kate’s Bored—”
    “Bored as in boring?”
    “Yeah—it’s kind of a skateboard thing.”
    She looked puzzled.
    “Skateboard,” I said. “Skateboard—Kate’s Bored…?”
    “Oh, right. What’s the skateboard got to do with it?”
    “We play kind of skateboardy stuff…”
    “Fast and punky?”
    “Yeah, that kind of thing.” I had both my hands back now, and was feeling a bit more relaxed. “We were looking for a name when we first started,” I explained, “and someone came up with Kate’s Bored. It’s pretty stupid, I know, but we couldn’t think of anything else.”
    “Then you shortened it to The Katies?”
    “Not really, it’s just what they started calling us.”
    “Who?”
    I shrugged. “The kids who come to see us.”
    “You’ve got fans?”
    “Not proper ones…They’re just a bunch of friends who follow us around.”
    “That’s brilliant. It must be great.”
    “Yeah, it’s pretty good fun. I mean, we don’t get paid much or anything…not yet, anyway. We’ve got this big gig coming up…”
    I stopped talking then. Candy wasn’t listening to me anymore. She was sitting upright and staring wide-eyed over my shoulder.
    “Are you all right?” I asked her. “What’s the matter?”
    She didn’t seem to hear me. Her eyes were frozen and her face had gone white.
    “Shit,” she said quietly.
    “What? What is it?”
    “Don’t look around,” she whispered, hurriedly lighting another cigarette. “Don’t say anything. Just pretend you know what