Chapter Two: Matthew

Matthew opens his eyes. Matthew opens his laptop. Human and machine wake up simultaneously. He logs onto Facebook. There are fifteen notifications; mostly from events he has promised to attend and group alerts he does not care about. There is one new message occupying his inbox, sent at 03:00 am from the girl he met on the night bus.

Hey You ☺ x

Matthew ignores the message but decides to give the girl a chance and he glances over her profile. She was relatively attractive on the bus, all the goods were there but the rain and the harsh lighting and blurred alcoholic vision made it appear as if she had put herself through a car wash. Her Facebook page contains a lot of over-exposed photos of birds in the sky, trees in bloom. Her profile picture does not do anything for her. The flash makes her skin look tangerine, her eyes look demonic and she is pictured licking the frosting off a gigantic cupcake. Matthew is bored of this girl.

He types a new name into the search bar: Madeline Wade. Matthew and Madeline are not Facebook friends anymore but for some reason he still has full access to her profile. He clicks on the same photo album that he has clicked on every day for the past year: Ibiza 2010 – Girlz On Tour!!! He scrolls through hundreds of snap shots; big jugs of cocktails, Madeline and her friends on a banana boat, Madeline’s friend Izzie singing karaoke in a pink afro and then he finds the photo. Matthew’s dirty little secret photo. He was not there when it was made, he had not taken it, it was not meant for him in anyway but it always sent a wave of hormonal lust from his brain to his gut and straight down to his penis.

Madeline was lying on a rock in the sea; she wore an emerald green bikini. The pose was slightly bizarre, it looked uncomfortable: one arm hanging over the rock face, the other draped across her toned stomach but resting accidently against her bikini bottom. The title of the photo said: Wannabe Vogue. There were about ten “likes”, all from mutual friends or guys Matthew had not heard of. But that did not matter; what matters are her hand resting just above the bikini brief. What matters are her nipples poking through the triangles that covered her breasts. What matters are her legs and how they are spread, ever so slightly apart and because Matthew had seen what was between those legs his imagination was accurate and vivid. He could make out the mounds and curves if he just looked close enough.

Matthew’s hand moves beneath his stripy pajama bottoms. His penis is insanely hard. Harder than the time he slept with Sarah Fraser, a fellow thespian from his course with beautiful sunlight blonde hair but terrible vegan breath and much harder than the time he slept with his best-friend Susan. A 4:00am calculated mistake that had not yet ruined their friendship, luckily, but now his penis throbbed and he proceeded to move his hand up and down it, slowly at first, then much faster, almost violently whilst focusing hard on Madeline. Madeline on the rocks. Then, as if orchestrated a loud bang at the door erupted as come squirted across his lap.

“Matthew! Matthew!”

Shit. Today was Sunday and he had completely forgotten. His leisurely plan of videogames and masturbation was going to have to be put on hold.

“Matthew! Open up!”

“Yes, coming mum!”

Matthew darts up right and in a quick succession of movements shut his laptop, slithers out of his stained pajamas and puts on jeans and a white t-shirt that smell sort of clean.

“Matthew!”

“Yes, I’m right there”

He runs out of the bedroom, shuts the door and runs through the corridor. A snappy inhale. A quick exhale. He opens the door to welcome his mother and cousin Billy.

“What took you so long!”

“Sorry, I was just tidying the place a bit”

“We all know that’s a lie”

Claire walks into the flat like a detective entering a fresh crime scene; she carries out her usual inspection, the mildew on the walls and the dust along the banister. Matthew lives with one other boy, a music technician who landed himself a job at Sony so he is rarely at home these days. Matthew’s mother drops by once a week and carries out sole cleaning duties.

“Right Billy, hopefully when you get to Matt’s age you’ll take better care of the place you’re living in”

Billy does not reply. He is taking it all in, this bachelor’s paradise: the Manchester United rug, the boob mug and the ashtrays. Matthew does not feel particularly close to Billy, six years stands in between them but Billy is an aspiring actor and since Matthew had graduated from a prominent drama school he sees him as a bit of a role model. Matthew feels uncomfortable with the teenager’s adoration, mainly because he had not booked a job in months.

“You alright Billy?”

“Yeah”

Claire returns from her bathroom inspection.

“Well I would ask if anyone wants a cup of tea but knowing you there aren’t any clean mugs. I think we should go out, get you some fresh air Matthew. You boys can grab lunch and I’ll do a few errands.”

Matthew felt relief; she had skipped his bedroom.

“Let’s do it”

Mathew lives in an ex council flat in Southfields, London. His parents reside in a five-bedroom house just a few minutes away in Richmond. They had insisted on buying him a nicer flat, more central, less moldy but Matthew wanted some responsibility in his life and he was happy to pay the rent from a few waiting stints and a commercial for a credit card company in Japan. However money was diminishing like quick sand and Matthew knew it would not be long before he would have to ask his dad for some extra cash.

Claire drives the boys to Wimbledon shopping centre and drops them off so she can park the car and buy a new coffee machine. Matthew and Billy walk up to the food court and order themselves some fries, chicken wings and large cups of coke. They sit silently as barbecue sauce covers Billy’s lips like gooey lipstick. He attempts to lick most of it off and gargles his coke. Matthew feels nauseous.

“So, how do I get into drama school?”

“Well, you apply, then you see what their requirements are audition wise, what they want you to bring in, how many monologues, what kind etc. Then you prepare and do your best on the day”

“But that’s what everyone does. There must be something more, something that will really set me apart, like is there a certain monologue they just go crazy for, will it help if I work out before? Should I come in costume?”

Matthew could not be bothered with these questions. He still could not quite believe that he had made it through drama school himself. He had done some acting as a child, starred in a few BBC period dramas but he knew his acting was not spectacular. His face was. His sixth form drama teacher raved about his raven black hair and chiseled jaw line. “Your face has been carved out of a Greek sculpture. There’s something Hellenistic about your cheekbones, so historical.” Madeleine used to nickname him “Moviestar”, she would send texts like: Hey Moviestar, what you up to? But this appraisal led to Matthew often waking up in the dead of the night by an alarming thought, what if everything he had achieved was purely down to the structure of his face, his hazelnut eyes and dark hair? What if there was nothing else to him? No substance, no intelligence. What if he was nothing but a pretty packaging? Matthew stirs these thoughts away with his straw.

“Look, it’s been awhile since I auditioned for drama school. I’ll ask around to see if the game has changed a little bit. Your best bet is to keep it simple but practice your speeches until they become second nature to you, also – ”

A tall presence casts a shadow over the Formica table.

“Matthew mate!”

Andrew Marvin. Coincidentally Matthew had gone to drama school with Andrew but Andrew, unlike Matthew had gotten an agent, a good one that supplies actors to big television shows and Hollywood films. They last saw each other at an audition for MixMax chocolate. Andrew, of course had gotten the part and his face was splashed all over the London transport system.

“How are you man?”

“Good. Congrats on MixMax dude. You’re everywhere”

“I know right? They’ve sold the rights to America so hopefully once people get to know my face I’ll be able to go out there and head for the hills.”

“That’s great news man”

“How are you? I saw you chatting at the audition with that chick, what was her name again…Daisy?”

“Yeah, yeah we hit it off. She’s a lovely girl”

“Oh I bet she is. Whose your friend?”

“This is my cousin Billy. We’re just talking about drama schools. Billy’s applying next year.”

Andrew’s face seems to cave in on itself, like he swallowed a fart. He was thinking what Matthew had been trying to suppress every since Billy had announced he wanted to become an actor. Billy is ugly.

“Look mate, I’ve got to run. Let’s have a proper catch up with some beers soon yeah”

“Sounds good”

Andrew turns to Billy and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Good luck with your auditions. Just be yourself. Later dudes”

And with an athletic pivot Andrew was out of the food court and up the escalator. Billy slams his coke on the table.

“I knew it was him! I knew I recognized his face from those ads. What a cool guy”

“Yeah he’s alright”

The boy’s lunch proceeded without any further interruptions. Mathew managed to advise Billy that he should wear blacks to the audition, not a costume and definitely not a wig. Claire soon returned carrying a coffee machine under her arm that looked more like a military tank. She drives them home and drops Matthew off, as Billy has to get to his tap dancing lessons. Once back in the confines of his bedroom, Matthew gets his laptop out. To his horror Madeline’s picture is still up there and he quickly clicks her away. He has a one-a-day policy, no more else it would be…too much. Matthew logs into his email. There was not much left of today, he will probably spend the evening on Fifa maybe watch that that porn film he had downloaded about the slutty robot seducing astronauts on Mars but before he embarks on his evening alone he begins to write an email, an email that he has been putting off for a long while:

Hey Suuz,