The Candle Dancer / The Way That You Found Me Read Online Free

Fortune
,’ said Selima, swinging her feet onto a chrome chair. She’d finished her shift and taken off her apron.
    ‘I don’t like that,’ I said. ‘At all.’
    ‘
Velvet Underground
was the best name ever,’ Selima said, chewing her pencil stub. ‘Forever taken, like
This Mortal Coil
. What do you think, Benjy?’
    He shrugged. He didn’t look interested, but then, he never did.
    ‘We’re a
rock
band,’ I said. ‘I’m not into eighties dream pop.’
    Milk had live music on Fridays. Unplugged, mostly. Acoustic folk, Billie Holiday rip-offs, stuff like that. Even though Selima worked there and theoretically we’d have an ‘in’, Jackie would never let us play. My electric violin would send her into meltdown.
    ‘I like
The Lean Look’d Prophets
. Shakespeare. Benjy likes it, don’t you?’
    ‘Too boysy,’ said Selima. ‘And pretentious.’
    ‘And
This Mortal Coil
isn’t pretentious? Names get cool over time.’
    ‘And we’d have to be
lean
. The first thing they’d say, looking at me, is: shouldn’t their lead singer be a bit leaner?’ said Doll, pinching her soft upper arm.
    ‘You’re the leanest one of all of us. Anyway, I thought
I
was going to be the lead singer,’ I said.
    ‘I’m off,’ said Benjy, getting up.
    ‘But Bree Breslin’s on soon!’
    Benjy laughed. ‘I’m not staying for
her
, Doll. You know I won’t.’
    ‘Me neither,’ said Selima, jumping up and throwing her bag over her shoulder.
    ‘You won’t leave me, will you?’ Doll clutched my arm. ‘What if Richard comes in? I can’t be
alone
!’
    ‘She’s good, Doll, I’m just not into her.’
    ‘Please. I’ll buy you a cocktail. My shout.’
    ‘You don’t have any money.’
    ‘Well, I’ll borrow it from you and pay you back. I will! I promise!’
    I shook my head at her, smiling.
    ‘Ok, have I got this right: you’re borrowing money from me to treat me to a cocktail?’
    ‘Yep. And let’s get some more hot chips. I’m starving!’
    Richard did come in, with some gorgeous girl. We ignored him and drank our cocktails. Breslin, a tiny woman with tiny dark eyes and ice blonde hair, sang “Fever” and “Black Magic Woman” with her chanteuse’s voice of smoke and honey. Doll swooned over her, borrowing more money to fund the twenty-dollar drinks, while I sent the occasional, agonised text to Benjy who unsympathetically texted back:
sucked in, Suzanne
.
    My pay (I had a part-time job at the IGA delicatessen) was running out fast, but when I saw Richard sending Doll furtive looks I decided I didn’t care. My presence would get Doll through the night. I loathed Richard. To me he was a living cliché: a corporate banker by day who loved lady-boys at night. No doubt he’d one day get a wife and family and keep his habits secret.
    Anticipating this moment was why Doll had bleached her hair, I thought. She was offering herself to him again, outdoing the girl he’d come in with, even outdoing Bree Breslin. She leaned back in her chair and laughed with me. The fluttering fingers and slightly widened eyes let me know that she was aware of scrutiny, and not just from Richard. A light above struck her in all the right places: brow and clavicles and cheekbones, her nose casting a shadow like a soft, dark butterfly. Again and again, her shapely lips met the rim of the glass.
----
    It was late when we stumbled outside. The street lights made a blurry, twinkling floss above us. We walked down Elgin Street, clutching at each other and giggling. Ahead we saw a dark shape on the footpath that people were stepping around: an old man, drunker than we were and probably homeless. I wanted to step around him too. Doll wouldn’t let me.
    ‘Oh, let’s stop for this poor fallen angel.’
    She made me help her move him up to a nearby bench. At times like this I remembered she was male: she crouched in her stiletto heels and slid her hands under his armpits and lifted with barely a grimace. I took his feet. His coat fell open