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drove his fist into the mirror. She saw his grotesquely fragmented face in the glass and ran.
    Jen opened her eyes. She was twisting the past. The actual scene had ended with Ben brushing his teeth; the conversation that took place after that was fictional - a search for answers, a desperate attempt to forestall the unbearable times ahead.
    Nothing further had been said. She would never speak with him again. Rest in peace, Ben.

 
     
    7
     
    Ryan was puzzled. Here he was, sat on a plastic chair in his own room, while Ginger lay on his bed smoking pot.
    ‘Don’t know what you’re missing, lad,’ Ginger said.
    ‘I think the cons outweigh the pros.’
    Ginger drew a long, smoky breath. ‘I beg to differ, my friend.’
    Ryan studied him. He felt intrigued; as if Ginger could teach him many things. He watched rings of smoke float around his tiny room, until they blended with the walls and ceiling, like a tablet dissolving in water.
    ‘There are times in this world when you just need to chill,’ Ginger added.
    ‘I think drugs are for losers,’ Ryan said boldly.
    Ginger laughed, baring his yellow-tinted teeth. ‘Just consider that for a moment… How much d’you earn?’
    ‘Enough.’
    Ginger’s indifferent expression suggested to Ryan that any response he’d given would’ve bounced off. ‘Well actors and musicians earn more than you could imagine,’ Ginger began. ‘Yet their lives revolve around drugs. Drugs nurture their creativity, inspire their work and reward them for success.’ He held up his joint as if it was an exhibit in court. ‘So is this little bastard really a bad thing? I don’t think so.’
    Ryan shrugged. ‘I’ve often thought that. I just don’t want anything fucking up my head.’ He caught Ginger’s eye. ‘I like to be in control.’
    Ginger smirked. ‘Really? Word is you’ve lost control. Keep clear of Ryan is the word around the manor.’
    ‘Well, you didn’t.’
    Energy bubbling in his voice, Ginger said, ‘I know you better than that, my son. You’re just confused. All that’s needed is a wee bit of guidance to realise your huge potential.’
    Ryan smiled. Ginger seemed to understand him. ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘There’s so much I need to do, but sometimes it’s hard to prioritise.’
    Ginger moved closer to him. ‘Don’t worry lad, that’s why I’m here - to organise. I won’t interfere with your brilliant mind. I’ll just provide a structure to your thoughts.’
    Ryan looked at him. ‘That’s very kind.’
    ‘Well guys like us need to stick together.’
    Ryan glanced at the floor and thought for a second. ‘It’s hard to know who to trust.’
    ‘Indeed,’ Ginger agreed. ‘A good friend is worth his weight in pot.’
    ‘Only geezers can be good friends?’
    Ginger looked deadly serious. ‘Oh yes… Fucking yes, Ryan. Don’t ever trust women. Confide in them, you salute the enemy. Just fuck ’em lad, nothing more. There to guzzle your cum and burp sperm, that’s all.’
    Ryan sniggered.
    ‘Use and abuse,’ Ginger said merrily. ‘Let’s turn this game around.’
    ‘Yeah, that sounds right.’
    ‘Course it fucking does!’ Ginger said, patting Ryan on the back. ‘’Cause I’m telling you! Remember, me and you are like peas in a pod, ’cept I’m older, so you can benefit from my mistakes.’
    Ryan suppressed a smile. It was a wonderful thing to have such a selfless, wise friend; someone who respected him and didn’t condescend, and someone he could turn to with complete confidence in a crisis. ‘Thank you, Ginger,’ he said sincerely.
    ‘Not a problem. Want a smoke?’ Ginger proffered the joint.
    ‘No.’

 
     
    8
     
    Jenny awoke to Sinead O’Connor’s new hit: Nothing Compares 2 U.
    She shot up, frantically pulled her denim jacket off the bedpost and fumbled around in the pockets. Oh God, his number, it was in here, I’m sure it was! But her fingers only poked at the cotton lining. How drunk must she have been last night?