Owning Jacob - SA Read Free Page A

Photographing live gigs was even worse. Ben had tried it for a while when he was scrabbling to find his feet after graduating, but soon gave up. When it came down to it, he wasn't interested enough in music for it to be worth the grind.
    He was on his fourth or fifth beer when Colin materialised at his elbow. 'Come on, I'l introduce you to the band,' he shouted, leaning closer to be heard above the thumping beat.

    Doing his best to look enthusiastic, Ben fol owed him through the crush of people. Empty glasses and bottles were spil ed over a pair of tables pushed together in a booth, where twice as many people as it could comfortably hold were clustered around the four budding celebrities at one end.
    Colin greeted them familiarly. If he was aware of the condescending looks he received he gave no sign. He was stil a few months shy of thirty, but his suit and neatly cut, already thinning sandy hair made him seem middle-aged even in comparison to Ben, who was only two years his junior.
    He reeled off their names, which Ben made no attempt to remember. 'They're going to be massive,' he enthused, aiming the comment at the band.
    There were self-congratulatory smirks. 'Yeah, that's right,' one of the band said. 'Massive.' Colin seemed not to notice the parody, or the sniggers it provoked. He clapped Ben on the shoulder. 'Ben's a photographer. He's here to take a few pictures.'
    Ben was uncomfortably aware of becoming the focus of attention. He felt his anger rise as the patronising looks were switched to him. You arrogant little pricks, he thought, staring back with his own fuck-you smile. Then Colin said, Til see you in a bit, Ben,' and with an encouraging squeeze on his arm left him standing there.
    Ben silently cursed him. And himself, for not guessing that Colin would think he was doing him a favour. He would have left as wel , but before he could one of the band spoke.
    'So you want to take our pictures, then?' It was the same one who had ridiculed Colin. He had been introduced as the singer. Even slouched back in his seat he was obviously tal , good-looking in a gangly sort of way, with a tight black T-shirt and mop of thick, dark hair. Despite the club's dim lighting his pupils were shrunk to pinpricks, a sign that he had been celebrating with more than alcohol.
    'Not real y,' Ben answered.
    The singer pointed at the camera hanging on its strap.
    'So why the fuck have you got that round your neck? Is it a necklace, or what?' There were laughs from around the table. Teah, that's right,' Ben said, turning to go.
    'Hey, come on, man, you're here to take some photos, aren't you? How about this?' The singer sprawled back in an exaggerated model's pose, pursing his lips.
    Ordinarily Ben would have grinned and walked away. But the beers he had drunk had added to his already bad temper.
    And he had drunk them on an empty stomach.

    'Get fucked,' he said.
    The mood around the table instantly changed. The singer sat up, no longer smiling. 'Don't tel me to get fucked, arsehole.
    Who the fuck invited you, anyway? You just come here to scrounge free drinks, or what?' Ben careful y placed his beer on the table. 'Fuck you, and fuck your drinks,' he said, which would have been a fine exit H line if the singer hadn't picked up a glass and thrown its contents in his face before he could move.
    The table erupted with laughter, but his first concern was for his camera. It wasn't in a case, and liquid was dripping from it. Whatever had been in the glass smel ed of blackcurrant, and if there was one thing worse than getting a camera wet, it was getting it wet with something sweet and sticky.
    'You stupid bastard!' he snapped, taking it from around his neck, and as he did the singer snatched it from him. The strap snagged on Ben's head, only briefly, but enough to jerk the camera from the singer's grip. Ben tried to catch it but missed.
    It struck the edge of the table and dien bounced to the floor with a terminal crash.
    'Oops,' the singer said