Ghost Boyfriend

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Luckily, as I head out of the house closer to where I'll take the tube, a cab is offloading an old grainy man onto the pavement and I hurry to it, calling. "Excuse me? Are you heading out to Notting Hill?"

Of course, it's a stupid question. Cabs never tour the south roads at night but this driver nods, pulling open the back door for me to hop in. As the cab moves off, I'm more relaxed with myself and doze off to a nice little slumber, ignoring the constant vibrations of my phone which is probably just Mum and Dad already stressing their old selves out.

I awoke to a shrill shrieking in my eardrums and as I sit up, the boy's red face is the first I see but I pay him no mind and glance around instead. We've arrived. Notting Hill looks so much more glamorous at night with the lit-up bars and shiny people. I've always belonged here and I didn't mind paying double the fare and tipped the driver generously as I get off.

I turn left onto Virgo street, feeling all the more pleased with myself. I used to share a flat with Mag but now that I've moved out someone else must have taken the slot...or not. I hope not. Mag's been my best friend for ages. We first met at a social gathering in Kents when she got stood up by her celebrity boyfriend (she's lucky on that one) and wanted to just go on one night stands for the rest of her life since according to her 'Real relationship sucks'. I later learnt she just came out of a rehab centre and as a celebration, her parents bought her a flat in Notting Hill and she's been dossing in it ever since.

And to think she's just nineteen... with a flat...no supervision... it's so spiteful. She isn't very bright and neither works or study but she gets a large amount as pocket money tipped into her account at the end of each month which she wastes on parties and window shopping. I'm envious of these but it's just a tad. As I've always believed better things would come to me.

So as I let myself past the threshold, I'm attacked by a strong stench of liquor and also being jostled to the floor upon turning, I see Mag staggering as she reaches out for me, wiping her eyes and peering blindly. "Peter? Is that you? Oh my gosh!" she squeals, jumping in the dark. I smile up at the man standing beside her as we all go in.

Turns out Mag had one her weekend parties and I've missed it. The f**k! I arrived just when it all ended and I'm stagged. I love parties. It's one of the reasons I don't complain about how she spends because I'm a huge beneficiary in that aspect.

"I can't believe I dropped after the storm!" I sulk, tossing my bag into the wardrobe and plopping down on my butt. The man is staring at me intensely. He's a new one, perhaps Mag's thirtieth this month.

"Well," she belches despicably. "There's some liquor in the fridge if you care for some." the putrid smell saturates the air. "What brings you here?"

"Just thought I'd come to pay you a visit," I sit beside her and fiddle with my fingers. Extending a hand to the very European man, I babble. "I'm Peter Collins! Mag's best friend."

He doesn't say anything, leaving me hanging as he stares down at my hands in contempt. I retrieve them, deflated. Perhaps he's a moron or a very cruel person. Ugh, so much for socializing.

Mag laughs, head thrown back as though possessed. I looked away, feigning tired and mugged. I don't want to be here, I realize.

"I'm Felipe," his deep velvet voice croons, causing me to swoon around. He's got a fair hand out and I don't hesitate to take it. "Nice to meet you," he smiles.

I notice his features enhance with his smiles, his smooth forehead beams like butter's been rubbed off it. His smile is rictus and he's also one of those golden blonde men. He must be quite a catch for Mag. She's snoring loudly now, with one foot high up in the air and her head lolled back.

We stare into each other's eyes and I swear there's a spark that surges to the surface. We're suddenly drawing closer, our lips quivering for contact and I'm giving in. At the heat of the moment, the hallucination boy appears suddenly between us and I jerk away in fright. "Ugh great. I'm a doctoring student. What about you?" I'm hot. I feel burnt. What was that all about?

He's puzzled but doesn't comment on the freaking out of the kiss. "Artist. I'm an upscale artist back at Derby."

Derby, that's a bit dull but whatever. He's cute and handsome. That's what matters. "That's pretty lucky..." I trail off, lost for words. Mark's grinning, poking my sides without success, his fingers swishing through. "This is no time for kisses!" he howls like a banshee. "He's the one who can draw my murderers! Ask him! Ask him!!"

I roll my eyes and blurt. "Felipe? Can I ask you for a favour? It's important."

He's sucking on his lower lips. "Sure, anything."

We move to the farthest end of the room with cups of liquor and pull out chairs to a table. He reaches out to the top shelves, getting out a paper and artist pencils.

"So," he gives me a once over. "Two guys. Nothing I've never heard of before. Do you have a history with them?"

Clearly aware of where this question is driving at, I improvise quickly. "They're my long lost brothers and I'm thinking about hiring a private investigator to search for them with this drawing. But I'm pretty bad at these things so maybe you can help."

"No problemo. Shoot!" he sips from his cup, pencil poised over the paper and I look up at Mark.

"They're both sleek and handsome, one sporting a clean-cut beard - probably the eldest. Brothers."

"Slim-built and handsome and the eldest has a beard," I say to Felipe.

"Uh-huh," he nods, sketching two human figures. "That'll do?"

"Perfect!" Mark grins. "The eldest is dark-haired while the other is blonde. They both have livid blue eyes and pointy noses,"

"Large blue eyes and pointy - "

"No, no not large eyes," Mark says, peering over Felipe's shoulder. "They're moderate in size and pulls you in."

"Not too large," I muttered apologetically. "Moderate and gleamy."

"Okay..." Felipe is already rubbing out and sketching smaller eyes with a deep blue shade. "Like this?"

Mark is mesmerized, dark clouds visible in his eyes. "And their dressing," he mumbles. "The eldest wears a black suit while the youngest deals on casual fits. His name is Franco."

I relay these and for another ten minutes, Felipe sketches and rubs out, eyes focused, soft dark hair falling over his forehead hiding a part of his eyes. Gradually, the picture comes to life and Mark gasps. "Yes! It's them! They're directly involved in my murder."

"Nice job," I compliment as we all survey the exquisite piece of art. "Who knew you'd be such a pro!"

"You like it?" he asks uncertainly, eyes softening at me. "I guess it's beautiful."

"Of course," I jump off my seat, throwing my arms around his neck in an embrace. "It's lovely. Thank you,"

He stiffens at this and I pull away in embarrassment. Got ahead of myself back there. He frowns at the sketch. "These two looks nothing like you."

"Stepbrothers," I muster, adding quickly. "They're family too."

"That's so kind of you," he smiles at me, then gets up at once. "Guess I'll have to dash off now."

"That's okay," I sigh. "Thanks for everything."

He holds my gaze for a moment, silence building up around us both - a blanket of divinity. He takes up my hand and gently kisses it, never looking away and says thickly. "I'll see you tomorrow, Peter."

When he's gone, I'm buttery all over and sink onto the bed in happiness, Mark sprawled out on the table surveying the sketch which I snatch away from him.

"Hey!" he whines. "I was looking at it too,"

I chuckle and glance at the two figures carefully. They look glossy and civilised, not capable of murder or anything dirty. Appearances are so fake, nothing original is in vogue these days.

Gross.