Don't Give Up, Tom Drake

Don't Give Up, Tom Drake Part 7

Sixteen

3rd May

The Sun could not shine any brighter, thought Drake as he leaned back on the bench and soaked up the golden rays. He was waiting for Marlowe to arrive. It was one o'clock on the dot.

'You get your bike?' asked Marlowe as he sauntered along the path to join his new friend.

Drake shook his head. 'No luck. There's a friend of a friend who has contacts in the TV world. You know, dramas?'

'Yeah, I believe I've heard of those,' Marlowe's sarcasm came flooding out.

'Yeah, well, anyway, he tried, but no one wanted to hand over a prized possession to a total stranger with no money to spend.' Drake was still enjoying the Sun on his face all the time he spoke.

Marlowe sat next to him. 'You don't seem too upset. I thought you were desperate to get one of those?'

'I was,' Drake sighed. 'I am. It's just you've got to know when to admit defeat.'

Marlowe took a moment to consider what Drake had just said. 'Do you? Do you have to admit defeat?'

Drake turned his attention fully away from the Sun and looked to Marlowe, who was freshly shaven and as handsome as ever. 'Well, just like everything else in this world, if you haven't got the cash, you don't get the stash.'

Marlowe laughed at Drake's choice of words. They were unusual for him. It was then, Marlowe noticed the biker jacket his friend was wearing. 'What's with the jacket?'

'You like it?' Drake leaned forward to give Marlowe a better view and to show him the back.

'Rocker, hey?' Marlowe feigned coolness.

'You like it?' Drake repeated.

'No,' Marlowe sniggered. 'It's a piece of crap!'

Drake folded his legs, offended and leaned away. 'Don't hold back, Marlowe. Say what you're thinking,' he moaned.

'What, you want me to lie to you?' he replied, his time in London seemingly not having taught him an ounce of tact.

'Well, no,' Drake stuttered. 'Not lie. No. But you could have been a little more subtle.'

'Italian.' Marlowe defended his attributes. 'Subtle is not one of my forte's. You want subtle? Go see a priest.'

Drake laughed and stood up. Taking off the jacket, he threw it over the arm of the bench and sat back down. 'There,' he said.

'What did you do that for?' said Marlowe. 'It's your jacket.'

Drake shook his head and considered getting away from the American. 'You said it was a piece of crap!'

'That doesn't mean that you have to discard it, does it?' Marlowe was once again relishing in an argument. 'If I were to conform to everyone else's opinions of my dress sense, then I'd be locked up for creating a public disturbance. I'd be nude!'

Nodding, Drake considered replacing the jacket on his back, but then realised that he wasn't that fond of the jacket anyway. He had bought it on a whim. 'You're right,' he said. 'It's not me.'

'Is the girl in the flower shop, she still in there?' Marlowe grinned, pointing to his head, a naughty glint dancing in his eyes.

'Yeah,' Drake also grinned at the thought of Evie. 'She's definitely still in there. She's not the type of girl you easily forget about.'

Marlowe burst into song, 'It must be love, love, love!!'

Several passers-by noted the singing vagrant, but none made eye contact and none of them smiled. 'It wasn't that bad a rendition, was it?' asked Marlowe, referring to the lack of encouragement.