Chapter six: Silver Spoon Cool

The morning after was excruciating, Rowland woke up in a small puddle of his own drool, his neck aching from the position he had found his body in when he had passed out. But thankfully in his own bed, he half expected Charlotte to be next to him as; to his knowledge he had left with her.

He sat up and immediately hated himself for it as he felt the jar of ants that which replaced his brain, holding himself accountable for the drinks he had; wincing at the light that was cast by his phone screen which was on full brightness. He turned it down and finally took a look to see the time which flashed thirty minutes past seven. Rowland shot up faster than any man would be able to in his intoxicated condition and did a clumsy speed walk towards the door to the bathroom on the other side of the flat; resisting the urge to piss himself almost tripping over his own feet. Feeling the jar of ants slosh angrily with every move.

'A Fucking hangover on a weekday, Rowland...really! '

He thought, cursing inwardly for such a novice move for a working class man like himself. Hovering over the toilet bowl, finding some relief in life yet still not sure if whether he wanted to puke or have breakfast while wondering if he even has time to so much as think about breakfast. On his way out of the bathroom he stopped halfway through the threshold once he noticed Nick laying face down on his stomach with his one arm dangling over and onto the carpeted floor with a beer bottle next to the back of his hand, and by his black and red stripped-socked feet; his Sandy boots placed neatly against the aged couch, his puffy red sailor gear lay on top of him.

Rowland continued to the small kitchen sink and took a mug and two asprens along with him hoping that the water might do him justice and the pills might sooth or even cure his headache.

The sound of Rowland's activity must have woken up Nick as he stirred, tipping the (hopefully empty) bottle over as he grew conscious of his long limbs, he twisted his body on the couch to face the busy Rowland.

" Morning, bright eyes. "

He said; groaning as he too felt the ants of fire and by judgment of his one black eye, the hangover was the least of his problems.

"Holy shit bro, your face.", Rowland raised concern, Nick lightly touched his face until he reached his left eye which was a bright purple and blue; wincing once he found the source of Rowland's shock,

"Oh shhhit. ", laughing a little at the pain. He sighed:

" You should've seen the other guy. "

" Usually, it's the person who got their ass kicked who say that.", Rowland found the time to say while running across the living room jumping between bedroom and bathroom as fast as his body would allow him. Nick sat up to put his shoes on revealing a worn out Rolling Stones 'sympathy for the devil' concert T-shirt; stretching just before he did so. He recalled the night before:

"Remember that chick last night...dark skin, buzz cut, gorgeous lips...", he said trying to jog Rowland's memory.

Rowland stopped for a moment, raked his aching brain and thought...

"Yeah.", he finally arrived at the memory as he carried on walking.

"Well, turns out she had a boyfriend or an ex...", Nick sighed, "... or something and I had to snuff him out."

He said this as he stood with the sliding door agape, striking a match and lighting a half smoked blunt that was left in Rowland's ash tray by someone; his dark round rimmed shades already on.

Rowland had stopped for a moment and processed the sentence: "Wait...you killed him!? ", to Rowland, it didn't seem impossible or irrational for a drunken spout to get out of hand and even though it was the topic of homicide; his tired mind wasn't really registering the conversation as he simply thought out loud.

"What? No...", Nick sniggered; "... although I should have. Fucker almost keyed my car. Little bit... ", Nick said, tailing off as he reached under his sunglasses and played around with his left eye like a curious child with a puzzling look of laughter and wincing pain riddled in his smile.

"But snuff out, though..?" Rowland pressed.

"Okay, I...hit him so hard he saw the curvature of the earth.", Nick over embellished sarcastically.

"Whatever floats your goat, bro.", Rowland laughed; finding it hard to believe that he won that fight. Grabbing one of his jackets and hopping towards the door with one sneaker on.

" Hey er... Do you know when Charlotte left?", Rowland asked now standing by the door, preparing himself mentally and physically for the treck.

"She and a few of the ladies decided to crash at her place.", Nick replied, finishing the roach. Correcting Rowland's earlier statement of her ever being there.

"What, need a ride? ", he suggested.

"Well, since you're offering...I thought you'd never ask.", Rowland said dropping his shoulders in relief, opening the front door and signaling to leave; Nick closed the sliding door, ashed the roach on the bottom of his shoe as he hopped into a slow jog towards and through the door. Flicking the crushed garret onto the door across the hall upon passing the door frame, Rowland locked behind them. As they walked, they both stretched and yawned endlessly. Nick stretching and scrapping the dusty hallway ceiling with his fingertips as Rowland scratched and played with his thick hair as he has always done since he was a child simply finding comfort as he only had fifteen minutes to get to work.

"Hey, by the way... ", he thought aloud; "What the fuck were you doing at my house?", Nick looked dramatically offended, breaking his sudden character with a smirk;

"Rude, let it be known I got you home. "

"Were you even sober enough to drive? ", Rowland raised his eyebrow.

"Hey now, I got us to you're place in one piece."

"Yeah, but clearly not unscathed.", Rowland joked.

"Ah, I see what you did there.", Nick and Rowland laughed just before they winced from blinding sunlight, they couldn't remember the night before so well but it didn't seem to matter.

"Plus,", Nick continued: "After all that drama it was either your place or mine.", He said this last part through a bout of deep throated chuckles.

"What? ", Rowland asked.

"Oh, nothing.", Nick replied, as they made their way down, Rowland spotted (among a few other vehicles) a pearl white Dodge challenger GT with two black sports stripes, donning the classic vintage style.

Nick walked a bit faster than him, despite his black eye and massive hangover;

he still kept a certain beat in his step as he walked past a line of parked mundane cars, one of which was a black Beatle, which Rowland thought to be Nick's, and towards the white vintage beauty.

Rowland chuckled a little: " This is your car..? "

Nick looked at him as if saying 'yes and...' and unlocked the door. He got in and unlocked the passenger seat for Rowland who got in, who wished to ask how on earth he was able to buy this or what he really did or more importantly where exactly he came from, but he instead left it to his own tired imagination and got in in silence. Nick started the car and the Arctic Monkeys' 505 slowly started as the engine came to life;

"So, where you from? ", Nick broke the brief silence as he pulled out of the parking space.

"What do you mean?", Rowland asked,

"Well, I'm just curious because last night, at some point you were speaking...I don't know was it Flemish, and another language..? "

"Oh, heh...shitters.", Rowland muttered as he rested his arm on the edge of the window and put a hand on his face not only in shame but to shield his eyes from the harsh sunlight: "I have this thing er... Where I get really wasted and start speaking vernacular. I-I'm South African."

"Oooh.", Nick nodded his head.

"What? No dumb questions?"

" Like? ", Nick asked as Rowland half expected him to ask the redundant and typical question regarding the topic of a rural depiction of African culture such as loin cloths and animals roaming the streets freely (although on the rare occasion that did happen).

"It doesn't matter.", Rowland replied.

"You still have an accent... kinda British-South African, y'know. It's cultured."

"Er... Thanks?", Rowland chuckled awkwardly through his words not knowing how to react.

He didn't realise how drunk he must have gotten to have acted in such a way in front of a possible representative or even client, but judging by Nick's vague nonchalance, Rowland felt less embarrassed talking about it - though the small talk didn't suit him better.

"Then I'm assuming one of the languages you were speaking was Afrikaans and... ", Nick trailed off, " How many languages can you speak? ", he asked.

"Yeah well, I can speak about five and learning three, learnt most of the African languages from my mother's side.", Rowland rubbed the back of his neck, " I can get really...loud sometimes...When I get like, that...", Rowland said with a small and sheepish voice.

"Hey, you were living your best life, man. It was a celebration, was it not? I can tell you now, you definitely weren't the only one.", Nick stated with a smile, which reminded Rowland of the sole reason why he probably decided to lose himself the night before.

But, he still felt like an idiot.

"Well, shit I guess it was.", Rowland scratched his aching head and rubbed his temple.

"And apart from our chat with Siniqúe , we didn't actually get to know each other.", pictures of the night before with Siniqúe and Nick flashed through his mind, jogging the little bit of conversation he could remember; judging for himself if whether that was true or not. Figuring from what he could remember, that all they really talked about was what got them to love art and interpret the world's social acceptances, along with the occasional deviation towards childhood memories of cartoons and how television would never be the same.

"So,", Nick started; "De Vile...is that your real surname?", his eyes on the road as he spoke.

"Er... No it's DeWilliers...from my dad's side. But my legal surname is Machapela.", Rowland clarified, pronouncing the "ch" as a "k".

"Your parents split up? "

"Yeah, quite awhile back... Yeah. ", Rowland answered, feeling obligated to do so, as he continued:

"Kept the surname for the sake of the tag, which... Started out as a spiteful chant towards my so called father but, I got tired of being angry. Started taking pride of the name rather than literally demonizing it. The past is the past even if you don't really remember it..."

"Why? ", Nick asked.

"My dad, just up-and-left, man shit... I was angry, y'know.", Rowland said looking out the window, thinking about the jar of ants in his head for just the right amount of pain to stop him from delving into that thought. He continued:

"So what about you?", Rowland asked in the hopes of getting a better idea of who Nick was.

"I..." Nick sighed; "Never really knew my mom."

"And your dad..? ", Rowland pried,

"I... Have nothing to say about him.", and from Nick, that was that. He said nothing more,

"So, you're from Russia, huh?", Rowland asked in an attempt to ease the tension in the car.

'Should have started with that question.', he thought.

"Well, no. I was born here, that's why I don't have an accent. But I do speak the language.", Nick said.

"Oh, cool."

"Tsss, Yeah, about as cool as an actual refrigerator.", Nick joked sarcastically ,rolling his eyes behind his shades.

"You know what I mean, man.", Rowland rolled his eyes and looked at him.

"I'm just fucking with you.", Nick chuckled.

"Whatever, man."

The whole time they spoke, Rowland gazed out the passenger seat window.

And as they turned the corner at Rowland's stop, which was supposed to be the corner café. But unfortunately, to Rowland's surprise, Nick sped up, and past it.

"Er... That was my stop. " Rowland laughed awkwardly.

"Oh, did I not mention, I'm kidnapping you.", Rowland looked at Nick as if he was concerned about how much he was actually joking about that last part.

"Dude, don't fuck around, my boss is gonna kill me.", Rowland looked serious now.

"Just call in sick, say...", Nick flung his one free hand in the air as he thought, "You have food poisoning, that'll probably get you a few days off of work. "

"Why would I need a few days off from work.", Rowland raised his eyebrow in confusion, " And where the fuck are we going anyway? "

Nick rolled his eyes behind his dark glasses and sighed:

"If you must know, I found this really cool place, I think it would be really good for some... reference pictures."

"How do y-?", Rowland began.

"Charlotte told me about your art design plan thingy, and...", Nick raised his shoulders as he continued, " I didn't know if it was a secret between you and her or whatever but I figured it would make your life easier or at least help...whatever.", he plunked his shoulders back down and carried on concentrating on the road as he drove past the town's limits.

"Okay, where is it?", Rowland asked, curiosity getting the better of him;

"And... I just have to ask though, what did you think of the concept? Just an outside opinion, y'know.", Rowland asked this as if it were a secret, bracing himself for the "It's great, but...", sentence prefix.

Recalling the time sitting on the edge of the cliff with Charlotte; who lent an ear to him as he spoke about his possible idea - the 'house of flowers' the way she always has; sometimes even adding her input which to Rowland always improved them. He even remembered the small ant in his cup, swimming helplessly and found himself thinking of if ever the ant died or if someone tipped over the cup, or if he drank it. As he had misplaced it soon after, the cup that is.

"Personally,", Nick began, "I think the concept of physically finding beauty within ourselves, using death and the livelihood of flowers to tell it's story of it's delicacy...", Nick chuckled as he continued, "It's actually gonna seem like some hell of coincidence... But I think you need to see it. It's just some, half an hour drive from here.", Nick said as Rowland rolled his eyes in defeat and sighed deeply.

"Bro...", Rowland looked at him.

"Road trip?", Nick asked with a big pleading grin on his face.

"Do I even have a choice?", Rowland asked rhetorically but Nick answered anyway.

"Ha Ha haa! No.", he said with a straight face.

Rowland couldn't help but smile, completely forgetting that it was work he was worried about not so long ago. Suddenly welcoming the change of plans, though he wouldn't admit it.

"I should have walked.", he jabbed jokingly.

"C'mon, it'll be... Interesting.", Nick said, mostly to himself.