‘It’s his stag, the bloody idiot. He needs better friends.’
Is he OK? The scene doesn’t look great. It’s Sonny surrounded by a group of teens in head-to-toe black trackies and puffa coats, all in those stages where their facial hair looks like they’re growing pubes on their faces.
‘I have a crowbar in the back if you want me to get it out?’ the cabbie asks, but I put a hand to the air. Surely they would have killed him by now if that was their intention. Unless they’re waiting for me to watch.
‘I’ll shout if I need reinforcements,’ I say, opening the door.
‘I’ll keep the engine running in case I need to make a quick getaway,’ he mentions, looking like this might be the most excitement he’s ever had as a cabbie.
I stroll over, trying to push my shoulders back so I look reasonably confident. Yep, I’m cool.
‘You Josie?’ one of the lads says in East London tones.
Sonny sees me and visibly sighs with relief.
‘I am… Angelo?’
Angelo cocks his head up to me, standing there in just a jumper and throwing some sort of hand signal up to me. ‘’Sup.’
‘Is that your coat?’ I ask. ‘Please take it back, you must be freezing.’
Angelo pretends he’s not. ‘Not as cold as him, though…’
I hand the young man his coat and throw the travel rug over Sonny, tag still on, trying to shield my eyes so I don’t see too much. I’ve seen enough wang tonight.
Sonny’s teeth are chattering and I rub his arms to try to warm him up.
‘Maaaaaattte… Angelo, lads. Thank you,’ Sonny says. ‘All you lads, you’re bloody lifesavers.’
They all do their head cocking action. I know Sonny is likeable, but it would seem there is no threat here. In the way that he does, my brother seems to have talked them round, amassing a small team of hype men in the process. Even the dog likes him as he’s snuggled into his lap. I get the bolt cutters out of the plastic bag and pull the cardboard packaging off it. The lads step back.
‘We thought he was a right wrong ’un when we saw him there and then we realised who he was,’ says one of the lads. I’m lucky that we didn’t get the aggressive machete-wielding sorts walking past this lamp post, but I’m also grateful that this lot just didn’t take photos, put them on Snapchat and leave. ‘He’s that G from the TV and my sister is mad in love with him.’
I look down at Sonny.
‘I told them I’d let them have some selfies and leave his sister a message if they let me use his coat and borrow his phone,’ he says to me.
I nod, just glad they didn’t blackmail him out of money and bodily organs. I open and close the bolt cutters. ‘Well, boys, I have it from here. You are all bloody stars. Your mothers should be very proud.’
That was maybe not the coolest thing to say, but it’s a comment that leaves them beaming as they all cock their heads to me again and fist-bump my brother before they go.
‘Come on, Titus. Leave him, don’t sniff him there.’ Titus is the dog. He looks like he was bred in hell, so I don’t attempt to pet him. Yes, Titus. Please don’t sniff there. Don’t eat my face.
Titus trots off with his owner as the lads all disappear into the night, waving as they go. Stay out of trouble, kids.
‘You absolute plank,’ I say, launching a hug at him as soon as they’re out of sight.
‘Thank god. I nearly crapped myself when I first saw them coming for me,’ he says, jogging on the spot to try to keep warm. ‘It’s flipping lucky they were nice enough lads.’
‘Well, we more than anyone should not be judging people on their appearances,’ I say, laughing. Whoever did this used a flipping padlock. And drew boobs on his chest in what looks like Sharpie. The blow-up doll looks traumatised.
‘How do you know how to work those?’ he asks me as I cut the chains off him and set him free.
‘We actually have a disclaimer section on our website that tells people how to free themselves from stuff if they find themselves in a tight spot. You’ll be surprised the number of people who lose handcuff keys.’ I unravel him and wrap the blanket around his icy cold skin.
‘What happened? Where’s Brett? Dad? Ruby’s brother? Did they do this to you? This feels very old-school stag do. You’re lucky they didn’t go after your eyebrows.’
He agrees, shivering uncontrollably. ‘We ended up at some mad rooftop party. I was so drunk. I lost everyone and then I got bundled in a van. I bet this was that berk from that film I worked on. I don’t even know where my stuff is. My phone, they didn’t tattoo my face, did they?’
