Free My Best Friend Has Issues by Laura Marney

on.’
    He bent his knees and invited me to jump on his back.
    As I leapt on him the filthy water flowed over the soles of his flip-flops and between his toes. I held tight, my arms and legs clamped around him, my face against his.
    ‘Jesus,’ he complained, ‘will you stop that bloody squealing? It’s right in my ear!’
    *
    ‘Wow, nice place,’ Ewan said after we’d walked up the five flights. ‘This must be costing a packet.’
    ‘Indeed,’ I replied enigmatically.
    I showed him into the living room.
    ‘No, but really, how much is this place costing you?’
    ‘Nothing, it’s free.’
    ‘How d’you mean?’
    ‘I mean, it’s free. I’m looking after it for a friend who’s gone to Berlin for a few days.’
    Ewan looked confused.
    ‘Charlie said you didn’t know anybody in Barcelona.’
    ‘Well it goes to show that Charlie doesn’t know everything.’
    ‘And this “friend” just left you their flat, just like that? Just went to Berlin and left you the keys to a penthouse apartment, for nothing?’
    ‘Ah well, it’s not entirely for nothing. I have to earn my keep.’
    ‘Oh aye?’
    ‘A bit of gardening. Crop management and animal husbandry,’ I said. ‘Come and I’ll show you.’
    I took him out to the terrace and showed him the marijuana plants.
    ‘Ah,’ he nodded.
    We sat on the plastic chairs and looked out over the terrace towards the sea.
    ‘Sea view,’ I indicated, but it was too dark to see anything. ‘If you concentrate, you can feel the wind off the sea.’
    We closed our eyes on the stiflingly hot night and concentrated on the breeze.
    ‘The maria’s not ready yet,’ I said with a backwards glance at the plants, ‘it’ll be a few weeks before the buds are out.’
    ‘Just as well I brought my own then.’
    Ewan reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a lump of hash.
    ‘Not as good as home grown but you have to take what you can get when you buy it in a café.’
    ‘You bought that in the café tonight?’
    ‘Those boys don’t just sell flowers you know.’
    ‘Really?’
    ‘Whatever you want, if you know the right people: coke, eckies, grass, anything.’
    ‘Cool. Is your friend Sanj ”the right people”?’
    ‘Could be. He’s certainly well connected. Sanj’s uncle, Mahmood, runs the street vendors.’
    ‘Sounds dodgy.’
    ‘Och, it’s not like that. Mahmood keeps everybody in a job; he takes care of his community.’
    ‘Like The Godfather ?’
    ‘Kind of like The Godfather , only Asian. Mahmood’s more of a businessman than a gangster. And a successful one, he owns half the property in Raval. But it’s true, he’s shady. You hear rumours. I wouldn’t like to cross him. Nobody messes with Mahmood.’
    Ewan produced a tin containing tobacco and cigarette papers and began rolling a joint. He licked the paper and twisted the joint closed before handing it to me to light.
    Weeks ago, resisting the temptation to invite the buck-toothed Frank into my hospital bed, I’d decided that the first man I slept with would be gorgeous and sexy. Was Ewan a worthy recipient? The criterion, like my gloriously intact hymen, was tight. Since we’d been chatting I’d watched Ewan’s mouth closely, imagining kissing it. It was a small mouth, one that I’d previously compared to a cat’s arse, but I’d been unfair. His lips were full, pouty even, especially when he smiled. He smiled slowly, the left side of his lips curling slightly before the right, giving him a crooked smile. That was sexy, so was his gold hair and firm body.
    But good looks weren’t enough. The man who deflowered me would have to be a kind, considerate lover. I’d read enough in magazines to know what that meant. Ewan had shown kindness and consideration when I’d had my coughing fit. And he’d gallantly carried me across the dirty water in the street.
    Most important of all, my first lover would have to be discreet. Ewan scored highly here too. I doubted he would tell anyone, not Charlie