Black Girls and Bad Boys: Changing his Tune Read Online Free PDF Page A

was probably
asleep in there anyway.
    Angelique got up and tiptoed over to the door. She put her ear up
against it, but she couldn’t hear anything. What trouble could he get up to in
ten minutes?
    As quietly as possible, she slipped out onto the landing and down
the stairs. She didn’t want to go too far, so she took refuge in the kitchen
and dialled the number. It felt wrong to turn on the light. She stood just
inside the doorway in the dark. The ringing phone sounded deafening in the
silent house. He wasn’t close enough to hear her, but waiting for Eleanor to
pick up still made her heart pound.
    ***
    N oah stripped out of his clothes and got into bed, but he wasn’t
tired enough to go to sleep. He listened to Angie moving about next door. Why
couldn’t she just turn in for the night and give him the chance to tiptoe
downstairs?
    He rolled over and stared at the photograph on the wall. It was an
aerial shot of the house. The house he might not have for much longer. Closing
his eyes, he tried to think his way through the minefield he’d laid for
himself. There was no way he’d be able to get the album done, get through a
tour and make enough money to hold onto this place if he was still drinking.
Not to mention the other stuff.
    So why not give in and get clean?
    Because it’s too hard.
    He rolled over to lie on his stomach. He had the shakes again.
Everything ached. He needed that bottle. If it wasn’t in the shed... No. It had
to be there. He was pretty sure John hadn’t checked down there. But what if it
wasn’t?
    Maybe it would be for the best. He’d come out of the clinic a new
man, but as soon as he’d caught a whiff of some guy’s whiskey it had been back
to square one.
    Which proved that leaving these things in someone else’s hands – in
Angie’s hands – wasn’t the answer. If he couldn’t do it alone, he wouldn’t be
able to do it at all.
    He rolled onto his back, the sheet sticking to his sweaty torso. He
couldn’t do it. He needed that drink. He could taste the bourbon already – sweet
and smooth as he rolled it around his mouth, with a touch of fire as it slid
down his throat to warm his belly. And then there’d be the pleasant fog inside
his head. All he’d have to do was take another sip and his money problems would
fade into the background.
    No. He could fight it. He didn’t have to take a drink. He threw the
covers off, but then he started to shiver.
    Getting out of bed, he pulled on a dressing gown and paused to
listen for sounds of movement next door. He couldn’t hear anything. Maybe she’d
finally gone to sleep.
    He crept over to the door and opened it a crack. If she was awake,
he could always say he was going to get some food.
    But the room was empty.
    He stepped through the door. After all that fuss she’d made, where
the hell had she gone?
    It didn’t matter. He’d take the opportunity to nip down to the shed.
If he found the bourbon, he wouldn’t drink it. He’d pour it onto the grass and
go back to bed. Perhaps he’d be able to sleep if the possibility of a drink
wasn’t there in the back of his mind.
    ***
    “A ngelique?”
    “Yeah. Sorry for calling so late.”
    “It’s not that late and that’s what sponsors are for. How are
things?”
    “Weird. I started that job today.”
    “And?”
    She let out a loud breath. “He’s a handful.”
    Eleanor laughed. “No more than you can cope with though?”
    “That’s what I thought, but I nearly had a panic attack this
afternoon.”
    There was silence on the other end of the line.
    “I haven’t had a drink.”
    “But you’ve been thinking about it.”
    “I haven’t been like this in months. I don’t know what’s wrong with
me.” The panic started to well up inside her again, pricking at her insides.
Her breathing got faster.
    “Angelique, listen to me. Take a breath, okay? Take a deep breath.”
    She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Her heart carried on
stuttering and she battled to blow out a