‘I really want to believe that raw cannabis is going to cure you, but I have to say, it sounds really far-fetched.’
‘First off, marijuana is only one of the things in a whole host of measures that I will be taking. Cancer cells need an acidic environment to grow. So I’m also going to keep my system alkaline. And I’m going to cut out GMOs and pesticides, go vegetarian, completely cut out stress, etcetera. Here, look at this.’ I open my bag, flicking through the papers to find the article I am looking for and put it into his hand. He looks at it eagerly.
‘Check this out,’ I say. ‘Even though US federal government officials consistently deny that marijuana has any medical benefits, the government actually holds patents since October 2003 for 26 methods using cannabinoids as antioxidants and neuroprotectants.’ I point my finger at the paper and say, ‘See, US Patent 6630507?’
He looks up at me, almost believing, but not quite.
I grab both his hands. ‘You have to believe me. I can do this.’
He sighs heavily.
‘Even people suffering from end-stage cancer have benefited,’ I say.
‘OK, Layla. OK. I’ll get the marijuana for you.’ He stares at me. ‘And I’ll join you in your new diet.’
‘Oh, my darling. You don’t have to do that. You’ll hate it. My diet will be filled with alfalfa grass, sprouts, kefir, and all manner of horrible stuff.’
‘What the hell is kefir?’
‘It’s an organism that you put in milk to sour it and turn it into a probiotic food.’
He winces at the thought.
I laugh. ‘Hey. I don’t need you to go on the diet with me. I need you to eat what you want and be happy. When you are happy, I feel happy. And when I’m happy my body is happy.’
‘So. You’re gonna cook separately for me?’
‘Why not? My food is going to be mostly raw anyway.’
‘But you’ll have to smell my food.’
‘So what?’
He nods slowly. ‘No. I wanna do the diet with you.’
‘It won’t make any difference to me.’
‘It’ll make a difference to me. We eat the same or I don’t eat at all.’
‘OK.’ And I have to blink back the tears.
THIRTY-SEVEN
BJ
This morning I watched her tick the box on our calendar that held the sacred information: 60 days left. She turned to me bright and so full of hope. So I went to work. I called her a few times. She seemed fine. But when I return home at 7:00, she is in bed.
I rush to her. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing. Just a twinge.’
‘What kind of a twinge?’
‘It’s normal. Even Lily used to get little twinges and stuff. Don’t worry, the baby is OK,’ she reassures.
I lose it then. She mistakes my expression of blind rage for fear. ‘Don’t worry, darling. There’ll probably be many more such days.’
‘What the fuck is the matter with you?’ I roar. ‘How can you do this to yourself?’
Taken aback by my fury, she tries to fluff over the utter madness of what she is doing. ‘Darling,’ she says. ‘I’m all right. Really. I’m only lying in bed to ease the stress on my cervix.’
‘Of course you are. Obviously, you don’t want to go to the hospital and get a real doctor’s opinion.’
She shifts. ‘No, I don’t.’
‘That’s just great,’ I throw at her. In complete despair, I leave the house. I hear her call out to me, but what’s the fucking point? She’s just going to explode my head with more nonsense.
I get into the car, start the engine, and drive blindly. In the end, I find myself driving to one of Dominic’s clubs. The valet jumps into my car and radios the staff in the reception. They wave me through. At reception there are more wide smiles, and of course, there is no entrance fee for me to pay. A pretty girl lifts the curtain and I enter Heat Exchange. The housemother comes towards me with a large smile.
‘We haven’t seen you for a while,’ she says softly. ‘We’ve had a really nice blonde girl join us. Anastasia is Russian. Beautiful body.’
I nod and she leads me towards a booth. It is early and there is hardly anybody in it. A girl is on stage gyrating. She has long dark hair. Something about her reminds me of Layla. I quickly look away.
I sit in the booth. A waitress comes. ‘The usual?’ she asks.
‘No. Get me a bottle of rum.’
‘Of course.’
A blonde girl, obviously Anastasia, sashays towards me. She is bite-your-arm-off beautiful and there is only one way to describe her body. Roger Rabbit’s girlfriend’s statuesque. She stops in front me and strikes a pose to show her body to its full advantage.
‘Hey, big boy,’ she says throatily.
‘Hello.’
‘You want a dance?’
‘Sure,’ I say and put a twenty pound note on the table and push it a few inches away from me.
She smiles, takes it, and pushes it into her garter. And then she starts dancing. At first keeping her distance and then getting closer and closer until her breasts are either a hair’s breath away from me or accidentally brushing me. She times her five minutes with precision.
‘Do you want to buy me a drink?’
‘Why not?’ I signal for the waitress.
‘A glass of champagne,’ she tells the waitress and turns her glance back to me.
‘So, you have a clubs of your own?’
I nod.
‘If I need a job, I can come to you?’
‘No. I don’t deal with that side of the business.’
‘Of course. You are too busy.’
I find I can’t be bothered to talk. I let my eyes travel down her body. She gets it straight away. ‘You want to go to the VIP room?’ she asks.
‘Sure,’ I tell her. We walk to the VIP room together, Roger Rabbit’s girlfriend and me, but inside I am dying.
Layla
I dream that I am bleeding, that blood is gushing out of me. I try to staunch the flow with my hand and it oozes between my fingers. I feel myself become lighter and lighter and I float out of my body. I look down at myself, a corpse. I want to reach out and touch my own body. In my dream I think, this is what I will look like when I die. Then I wake up. I look at the alarm clock. It is almost midnight and BJ is not home. I call his phone, but it is switched off. I leave a message and call his manager. He has not been there all night. I try
all the other places he could be. No luck. So I call Jake.
‘Am I disturbing you?’ I ask softly.
‘No. What is it?’ There is a wire of panic in his voice. In the background I can hear music.
‘I can’t find BJ. Is he there?’
I hear the relief in his voice. ‘He’s not here.’
‘I’m worried about him. We … we argued. He stormed out.’
There is a moment of silence. Then Jake’s voice comes on. It is calm and business like. ‘I take it you’ve already tried all his restaurants and clubs.’
‘Yes,’ I reply holding the phone with both my hands.
‘I think I know where he is. Don’t worry. It’ll be all right. I’ll call you a bit later. Get some rest, OK?’
Jake Eden
I end the call and look at my phone.
‘What’s wrong?’ Lily asks worriedly.
I turn towards her voice gratefully. God, I cannot imagine what it must be like for BJ. If it was Lily I’d have to … I walk up to her and kiss her. ‘That was Layla. BJ is MIA and she’s worried, but I think I know where he is. I don’t know how long this will take so don’t wait up for me, OK?
‘I will wait up for you.’
I smile. ‘Wear something special for me.’
‘You bet.’
‘Right, I’m off.’
‘Give him a big kiss from me,’ Lily says.
‘You’ve always liked him, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I’ve never forgotten that he saved your life.’
I don’t say anything, but memories flood back into my mind.
There is no traffic on the roads and it takes me less than an hour to drive down to the coast to where the old smuggler’s network of caves are. I know BJ used to go there many years ago. Once I stumbled upon him. We were still enemies then, but he was very drunk and he offered me a drink. We shared a bottle, but he was so plastered I don’t think he has any memory of that night. If he has, he’s never referred to it.
As soon as I turn off the road and drive down the dirt track, I spot his vehicle. I stop the car and text Layla.
Found him. All is well. Will make sure he gets home safe.
My poor sister must have been watching the phone like a hawk. She texts back almost instantly.