Episode 9 - Gabe

A smoky backstage encounter and the lure of an after-hours party. Pol is drawn to the enigmatic Gabe, while Brid plays it safe. But is Pol playing with fire?

Pol and I lingered at the bar, waiting for the band to come out after the gig. Michael was the first to appear, carrying a guitar case in one hand and his cap in the other. When Polly spotted him, she threw her furry-sleeved arms wide open and screamed, ‘Hello you!’

‘You came!’ Michael exclaimed, his face brightening. ‘And you’re still here. So you must have liked it?’ He was looking at me as he said this.

‘You were fabulous,’ said Pol, ‘but you know that already. Now, you promised to introduce me to Gabe. Is he still here?’

‘He is, come on – he’s back here.’

Michael led us behind the stage and down a dim, cold corridor. Gabe leaned against the peeling wall at the end, one foot casually propped up behind him. As we approached, he flipped a Zippo and lit the cigarette dangling from his mouth. Surrounded by a cloud of smoke and framed by the light streaming from the door opposite, he looked every inch the iconic rock star.

‘Hey Gabe, this is Pol; remember the girl I mentioned?’ said Michael. Gabe nodded at her with a small smile.

Pol beamed at him but said nothing – a very rare occurrence.

‘And who’s this?’ said Gabe, nodding towards me, cool as you like.

‘Funnily enough’, said Michael, turning toward me with a wide grin, ‘I don’t know.’

‘No, you don’t’, I replied, smart as a whip.

Michael’s smile fell as he glanced at Gabe, who gave a slight sneer. I felt a flush of embarrassment for Michael as he flinched and quickly pushed his glasses up his nose.

‘Brid, my name’s Brid.’ I said in an attempt to rescue the situation.

Michael’s smile widened again as he cocked his head. ‘Interesting name; I’ve never met a Brid before; where’s that from?’

‘Can’ you guess’ I said.

‘Ireland probably. I can see the Colleen in you, all those freckles.’ His twinkly eyes, big smile and slightly posh accent were definitely working their magic.

There was a bustle as the other two band members joined us in the corridor.

‘Are we going to this party then?’ said Gabe, crushing his half-smoked cigarette with a steel-toed boot.

‘Party? Yes, please!’ Said Pol.

I wasn’t so enthusiastic. It was already late, and I was on a deadline. After Diana had said about Pol’s benders, I felt uneasy being Pol’s partner in crime.

‘What party?’ I asked Michael.

‘There’s a squat party above the old shopping centre on Lewis Road,’ he said. ‘You should come; it’ll be a good one!’

‘No, can do’, I said. ‘On deadline, I’m afraid, I need to do my write up tonight. Another time, maybe?’

‘Another time definitely,’ said Michael. ‘And this time I’m gonna get your number.’

He was persistent; I had to give him that. Blokes didn’t usually ask for my number straight off the bat, if at all. More often than not, it was a tentative or dutiful ask the morning after, just as I was about to leave. I rarely gave it.

I asked Pol, now deep in conversation with Gabe, for something to write with..

‘Things seem to be going well’, I whispered, raising my eyebrows toward Gabe.

‘I know. He asked where I got my necklace, and, well, what a bloody question. When I told him, he said that was one of the most beautiful things he’s ever heard. Can you believe it? He’s so amazing.’

Pol held up the locket that she always wore. It was old-fashioned and ornate, accompanied by a small key on its chain. Unlike most of her possessions, it truly meant something to her, having been left wrapped in the blanket she was found in as a baby. She said it was a miracle it hadn’t been nicked over the years, but Pol protected that locket as if it were her ‘precious’. She believed it channelled her mother’s spirit, a talisman that protected her and brought her luck. No wonder Gabe’s response was such a big deal.

‘He completely changed when we got talking, I can’t believe he’s so lovely.’

I looked at Gabe, who was staring at Pol, his gaze soft and curious.

‘You’ve obviously got the touch, girl,’ I said as I tore a piece of card from the inside of my fag packet, wrote my number with the bright green eyeliner Pol had given me, and handed it to Michael.

He checked it before slipping it into his jeans pocket. Then, taking the pencil from me, he took my hand and wrote his number inside my arm. I could feel the heat radiating from him and sensed my heartbeat getting louder as he took his time, carefully scribing each number onto my now alert skin.

‘What kind of number is that?’ I asked, noticing it was too long.

‘It’s a mobile number,’ he said, digging in his pocket and pulling out the smallest phone I had ever seen. ‘You know, for a cell phone.’

‘Bloody hell, you really are posh.’ I said.

At that moment, Pol grabbed my hand from Michael, raised a knowing eyebrow at the number and let out a sort of delighted squeal before whispering, ‘I bet he’s good in bed.’

Then, twisting away, she flung her feather bower over my head and danced behind me, placing her chin on my shoulder. ‘You are both coming to the party, right?’

‘No can-do, Pol, I’m on a deadline.’ I said, pulling a feather from my lips.

‘Boring,’ she sang in my ear. ‘Surely you can come out to play first?’ She turned me to face her, pulling her best ‘pretty please’ flutter face.

‘Seriously, Pol, I wish I could – but you know how it is. A gal’s gotta work,’ I said, placing the bower back on her shoulders and heading back to where we’d left our coats.

‘Spoilsport,’ Pol shouted after me, sticking her tongue out.

‘Don’t worry, Pol – Michael will look after you, won’t you, Mikey?’ I shouted in his direction. Despite needing to get home, I was unsure of leaving Pol unchaperoned.

‘Why yes,’ said Michael, bowing towards Polly. ‘Tonight, Pretty Polly, I’ll be your fairy godmother, and you shall go to the ball.’

Pol smiled and sauntered across the room to fetch her coat. ‘And here’s hoping I manage to nab Prince Charming whilst I’m there,’ she stage-whispered loud enough for Gabe to hear as she threw him a flirty look.

‘Sorry, I can’t come, Pol. Will you be okay, though? It feels a bit weird leaving you with blokes we hardly know?’ I said as we picked up our stuff.

‘I’ll be fine, Brid, you know me. Besides, you do know Michael.’

‘No more than you do. Are you sure you don’t want to come back?’

‘As if’ she trilled, ‘You know how much I fancy Gabe. There’s no way I’m letting a chance like this go by. And it is not just fancy; it feels more important than that.’

‘What do you mean?’ I asked.

‘There’s something between us. I feel something when I’m around him. And I don’t just mean fanny throbs.’

I laughed despite myself – Pol always could make me laugh. Although I thought she was being overly dramatic as per, I had to admit there was something compelling about Gabe – those intense black eyes and his deep voice. Even his gruffness had a sort of thrill to it. So, I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t think she was heading for disaster. While we’d had a few drinks, she didn’t seem drunk; just keyed up, which I put down to being in the same room as Gabe. Besides, I knew there would be no dissuading Pol once she set her mind on something.

‘Promise me you’ll look after yourself?’

‘Alright, Mum’, she said with gentle sarcasm, ‘I promise. But no need to worry. It’s the Polmeister you're talking to here. A street kid with the wits of an alley cat – and the morals to match,’ she added with a cheeky grin.

‘Here’s hoping you have the nine lives of one too.’ I said.

Then, after planting a glossy smacker on my cheek, she made her way back to Michael, who was waiting by the door. Michael turned and mouthed, ‘I’ll call you’ as they headed out, leaving one of Pol’s bright pink feathers floating to the floor in their wake.