Collected Stories

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Book: Read Collected Stories for Free Online
Authors: Hanif Kureishi
Tags: #genre
said Roy in a low voice, realising he’d left the champagne in the pub. ‘Shame he’s so fucked now.’
    ‘He has some nice ideas.’
    ‘How can he get them down? He’s been dried out three times but always goes back on.’
    ‘Anyhow, I’ll see what I can do for him.’
    ‘Good.’

    ‘I meet so few interesting people these days. But I’m sorry to hear about your condition.’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘It happens to so many.’
    ‘What happens?’
    ‘I see. You don’t want it to get around. But we’ve worked together for years. You’re safe with me.’
    ‘Is that right? Please tell me,’ Roy said, ‘what you’re talking about.’
    Munday explained that Jimmy had told him of Roy’s addiction to cocaine as well as alcohol.
    ‘You don’t believe that, do you?’ Roy said.
    Munday put his arm around him. ‘Don’t fuck about, pal, you’re one of my best video directors. It’s tough enough as it is out there.’
    ‘But you don’t, do you?’
    ‘He predicted you’d be in denial.’
    ‘I’m not in fucking denial!’
    Munday’s eyes widened. ‘Maybe not.’
    ‘But I’m not – really!’
    Nevertheless, Munday wouldn’t stop regarding him as if he were contriving how to fit these startling new pieces into the puzzle that Roy had become.
    He said, ‘What’s that white smear under your nose? and the blade on the table? You will always work, but not if you lie to my face. Roy, you’re degrading yourself! I can’t have you falling apart on a shoot. You haven’t been giving one hundred per cent and you look like shit.’
    ‘Do I?’
    ‘Sure you feel okay now? Your face seems to be twitching. Better take some of these.’
    ‘What are they?’
    ‘Vitamins.’
    ‘Munday –’
    ‘Go on, swallow.’
    ‘Please –’

    ‘Here’s some water. Get them down. Christ, you’re choking. Lean forward so I can smack you on the back. Jesus, you won’t work for me again until you’ve come out of the clinic. I’ll get the office to make a booking tonight. Just think, you might meet some exciting people there.’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘Guitarists. Have you discussed it with Clara?’
    ‘Not yet.’
    ‘If you don’t, I will.’
    ‘Thank you. But I need to know what’s happening with the film.’
    ‘Listen up then. Just sip the water and concentrate – if you can.’
    Later, at the front door Munday shook Jimmy’s hand and said he’d be in touch. He said, ‘You guys. Sitting around here, music, conversation, bit of dope. I’m going back to the airport now. Another plane, another hotel room. I’m not complaining. But you know.’
    The moment Munday got in his Jag and started up the street, Roy screamed at Jimmy. Jimmy covered his face and swore, through his sobs, that he couldn’t recall what he’d told Munday. Roy turned away. There was nothing to grasp or punish in Jimmy. 
    *
     
    They stopped at an off-licence and drank on a bench in Kensington High Street. A young kid calling himself a traveller sat beside them and gave them a hit on some dope. Roy considered how enjoyably instructive it could be to take up such a position in the High Street, and how much one noticed about people, whereas to passers-by one was invisible, pitied or feared. After a while they went morosely into a pub where the barman served everyone else first and then was rude.
    Roy’s film would be delayed for at least eighteen months, until Munday was in a stronger position to argue for ‘unconventional’ projects. Roy doubted it would happen now.
    For most of his adult years he’d wanted success, and thought he knew what it was. But now he didn’t. He would have to live with himself as he was and without the old hope. Clara would be ashamed of him. As his financial burdens increased his resources had, in a few minutes, shrunk.
    As the dark drew in and the street lights came on and people rushed through the tube stations, he and Jimmy walked about, stopping here and there. There seemed, in London, to be a pub on every corner,

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