Read Nico for Free Online Page B

a case in the back.
    After five minutes we stopped for another fag.
    â€˜But yer must’ave some ulterior motive for climbin’ aboard The Good Ship Nico? Lemmesee … it’s not the rock’n’roll cos yer know too many chords, an’ it can’t be the drugs cos yer’ve always got yer train fare’ome …’
    â€˜It must be the sex then.’
    â€˜Good grief … yer can’t be serious. Sex? This is a junkie group. Yer do this when yer can’t do anythin’ else.’
    â€˜Then we’re both free to pursue our separate interests,’ I concluded.
    Toby struggled up the path putting all his weight behind the massive flight-case that housed his drum kit. Echo and I watched him anxiously.
    â€˜Don’t just fookin’ stare … give us a bit of shoulder.’
    We shoved the reluctant crate up Echo’s garden path, the silly little castors getting stuck in every dip and hollow. Finally we reached the back of the truck. We needed a ramp. The thing was impossible to lift. We needed proper men.
    Demetrius appeared. ‘The shape of the legs is unimportant – but a finely turned ankle, that’s the thing, n’est-ce pas , gentle-men?’ He was towing an overstuffed leatherette suitcase on runners with a stick attachment – the kind of thing old ladies have. Under his right arm he carried a Bullworker. He dropped the Bullworker onto Toby’s flight-case and parked his suitcase alongside.
    â€˜It’s somehow deeply satisfying to see the working classes lathering up a good sweat. Like shire horses. I exempt you of course from this, James, though for some unaccountable reason you wish to align yourself with the lower orders.’ He sniffed his Vick inhaler. ‘Breasts and buttocks for them , eh?’ He nodded at Toby and Echo. ‘But the ankle, the asterisk, the footnote to the sonnet that is woman …’
    â€˜Get that fookin’ bag of shag-mags an’ dirty drawers away from my gear … Now!’ Echo snapped.
    â€˜You want to know why you people will never be anything?’ said Demetrius, snatching his bag. ‘Can’t take a joke.’
    â€˜Want ter know why yer’ll always’ave dirty underwear?’ said Echo, ‘’Cos yer shit yerself when someone looks yer in the eye.’
    The stand-off was broken only when Mercy, Echo’s youngest, came up to us. She was about seven. Beautiful. Skin a soft golden colour. She was carrying a bunch of lily-of-the-valley, which she gave to Toby.
    â€˜Thank you, my little dear.’ Toby bent down and kissed her on the forehead.
    There was something other-worldly about the child, but anyone who spent their days playing among gravestones would be that way. She had power. The little girl could even subdue Demetrius, and he was an angry mountain in whose shadows the natives trembled. Or so he liked to think.
    After we’d finished Toby, Echo and myself stared at the van, loaded to the gunwhales with crap. Demetrius was indoors being fed by Echo’s wife.
    â€˜The suspension’s gone – before Faticus Omnivorus has even sat in it,’ Echo sneered.
    We crawled across town, Demetrius at the wheel. We had to pick up Nico and Raincoat the sound engineer. Echo kept his head down and his hat over his face, so none of his friends would recognise him.
    The van chugged into Sunnyview Crescent. Echo grabbed Toby’s lily-of-the-valley and hopped out. ‘I’ll get her.’
    â€˜Creep!’ said Demetrius.
    We waited.
    â€˜Purra tape on,’ said Toby.
    Demetrius rattled through the pile in the glove-compartment. None of them had names or titles. How was anyone supposed to know? He chose one of his own: A Golden Hour of Conway Twitty.
    I began to feel nervous. Strangely, it had never really hit me before that we were illegal. I started to make a mental list of the possibilities: possession of controlled substances;