I do not own Skins. I know. Madness, right?

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11. Bad Cake

Katie

I had been at my desk all day, but I hadn't done a lick of work. At least not the work I was supposed to be doing. I'd spent the morning drinking coffee, daydreaming and procrastinating, attempting to work up the necessary enthusiasm to do my job. In the afternoon I had given up pretending and actually started writing my imaginary thesis instead. Within minutes I was completely engrossed. I had sketched out an outline, written an introduction and whiled away a couple of hours on the net, pulling up images and watching videos for reference. It was like someone had flicked the nitro switch in my engine and suddenly my brain was turbo-charged. Without even realising it, I was happy. It wasn't until my Mum stopped by to invite me over for dinner that night that I clocked I was wasting all my energy on a fantasy. What the fuck was happening, that I was starting to prefer my fake life to my real one? There was probably some syndrome for that, like when spies and coppers get in so deep that their cover seems more real than their reality.

Anyway, if there was a syndrome, then I had definitely got it, cause as soon as Jenna left, my brain flipped right back into my alias. I had a show at the weekend, and I was actually looking forward to it. When I was back at Fitchtastic, I missed the simple camaraderie of Effy and her boys. Despite the obvious complications, working and hanging out with them was actually fun. Even the shit bits were made better by the banter and the sense of unity. They had an infectious happiness born out of the fact that they loved what they did. I tried to remember a time from my childhood, when my Dad had been doing it simply for the sheer joy of making shit explode. I decided there must have been one, even though the evidence was now deeply buried.

Exactly how deeply buried became evident later that night, when it became clear that the dinner invitation was not motivated by my loving parents wanting to spend time with their eldest daughter. They wanted to find out what I knew.

"So, have you found out any more about that French lot?" said Jenna as she was dishing out the vegetables.

I rolled my eyes at her.

"Subtle, Mum," I replied.

"Well we've no need for secrets," she answered jovially. "We're all family here."

"Yeah, well only one of them is actually French for starters," I said tersely. "And she's half English."

"Oh well, let's not worry about her then," said Dad. "Tell us about the guy in charge."

"For fuck's sake, Dad," I sighed. "Last time I looked it had been the twenty-first century for over a decade."

"No Katie's right, let's talk about her," said James. "Is she fit? Maybe I should come with you on one of your missions."

"As if she's gonna be interested in some nerdy little loser who still lives at home with his mother," I spat at him.

Jesus, sometimes, Fitch men, I swear…

"There's a recession on," whined James. "It's harder for young people to start out on their own these days."

"Now, now kids let's not fight," soothed Jenna. "I'm sure Katie's got something interesting to tell us."

"Yeah luv, what's their business plan, their plan of attack?" asked Rob.

"I'm not sure they have one," I shrugged. "They seem to be doing it just because they love it. They don't seem too concerned about making huge amounts of money from it."

"Then maybe we haven't got too much to be worried about," said Rob. "If they're just a bunch of kids that don't know what they're doing. Maybe that May Fest thing was just a fluke."

"I wouldn't bet on it," I said.

Oh Katie, why the fuck don't you think before you speak?

"What do you mean?" said Rob.

"Nothing," I said, shrugging. "Just maybe they're not as dumb as you think."

I could see he was prepared to let it go, his own masculine pride allowing him to dismiss the threat more easily. But my mother was a different creature altogether.

"Don't think you can pull the wool over my eyes, Katie Fitch," she said, fixing me with an intimidating glare. "Tell me what you meant by that remark."

Even ninjas could not escape my mother's scrutiny. There was no way I was getting out of this. Oh what the fuck, it's not like there was anything they could do about it now anyway.

"You know that rally launch we tendered for?" I said.

"Yeah, it sucks that we didn't get that," moaned James. "That would have been cool."

"Yeah, well guess who did?" I said a little too smugly.

Dad slammed his fork down on the table.

"See this is the kind of thing I'm talking about," he said angrily. "That gig should have been ours. We can't let these people carry on stealing all our work. We're going to have to do something about it. Find a way to knobble them somehow."

"What!" I said incredulously. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Language Katie," said Jenna. "I'm sure you're father's not talking about anything illegal, but business is business. We at least need to find out how they're getting all this work."

"Um, because they're good?" I said sarcastically. "It's called competition people. Backbone of the capitalist system. You have a product, they have a product. If people like their product more than yours, then you're just going to have to make your product better. I mean, Jesus. Catch up. Our website looks like it's been designed on Windows 95 for starters. And your displays, they're old fashioned. You need to move with the times. The modern audience is more sophisticated. They've got the whole world at their fingertips. They're entertained by layers of sophisticated technology in their own homes. The live experience has got to top that, to bring them the kind of excitement they can't find anywhere else."

"See, now we're getting somewhere," said Jenna to Rob. "Katie knows what she's talking about from working on all those fashion shows. What is it that makes these kids so good?"

Dad stared moodily down at his plate.

"You were there Dad," I said.

"Well the design was quite clever, I suppose," he grumbled.

"It was fucking awesome," I said.

"But they had all that funny music with it," he moaned. "I didn't like it."

"Yeah, but the audience did," I insisted. "They were dancing."

"Yeah well they were all hyped up from that funny show beforehand," he muttered. "And the water made everything look twice as pretty."

"Yeah well I've also seen her do a regular three grand blaster that would have blown you out of the park," I said. "Effy believes in what she does, and that's the difference."

"Effy is this French girl?" quizzed Jenna. "She's the designer?"

"Yes, and before you go all homo ignoramus on me again," I said, cutting Dad off before he could diss her abilities. "She trained with Thierry."

That shut him up. It shut everyone up. The only pyro guy that everyone knew by first name only. I didn't feel guilty for telling them. It wasn't a secret that Effy worked for him. It was plastered all over their elegantly designed website. And why wouldn't it be? It carried weight.

"How well do you know this girl?" said Jenna.

Not as well as I'd like to, came the involuntary thought. I had to look away to regain my equilibrium, but my mother caught my frown.

"I know it's difficult, dear," she said. "But I know you don't want to see the family business in trouble. I think you should make friends with this girl. Find out what makes her tick. Like you said, it's competition, and even in sport people do research on their rivals."

I looked back to see Jenna sporting what she must have thought was a winning smile, but the truth was, she had missed a fabulous career opportunity as a blackmailer. Of course my family mattered to me. We had it hammered into us our whole lives. Fitches stick together.

"Fine," I said reluctantly. "I'll go to the rally with them."

"There's my Katie," said Jenna proudly.

Truth was, Effy had already asked me to help out at the gig. So now I was not only lying to Effy and the boys, I was also lying to my family. How the fuck did I get mixed up in this again? Oh yeah, by throwing my fucking weight around and losing my job. Maybe I should just punch myself in the face next time. It would be about as effective. I readily accepted James's offer of a cheeky spliff in the garden after dinner. For a while we sat silently and smoked, watching streaks of red fade out in the slowly darkening sky. For all he could be an annoying little prick, like a faithful dog he also knew how to just shut up and be there for you sometimes.

"It's gonna be a good summer," he said eventually.

It's going to be a fucking confusing one, James, I thought.

"So, this Effy?" he said. "Exactly how fit is she?"

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So there I was again, in full secret agent mode, wrapped up in my Michelin man firing suit. Seriously, if I was going to continue this subterfuge, I was going to have to get one of my own that fitted me. I could come to terms with being some kind of fucked up double agent stuck somewhere between Le Coeur and the Fitch family, but I couldn't cope with looking this shit whilst doing it. The show was down in Cardiff bay near the docks. Apparently the May Fest woman used to work for Cardiff Events, and she had been singing Effy's praises to her old teammates who had passed on the recommendation to the rally people. The event was some kind of time trial thingy, where they did laps round a dirt circuit instead of being out in the countryside, but it was connected to some big international race, so it was quite a big deal. Effy had been pretty much all business since we had gotten here, but that was understandable. The racing people wanted it to be macho and spectacular, but the site itself was pretty difficult. For one, the audience were sat all around us, so there was no off-site fall-out zone, everything had to burn out within the track itself. Add to that the fact that we were next to some big fuck off oil refinery and we couldn't afford to make any kind of mistakes. She had to balance out the wishes of the client with some pretty hardcore safety issues. I hadn't helped with the fusing cause I'd been working for Dad, but one look at the rigging plan and the amount of stuff that was coming out of the boxes let me know that she was pushing it to the edge. There was going to be a fuck load of material crammed into a pretty tiny amount of space.

Rigging the site had been pretty much like any other gig, but thank fuck the weather had been smiling more kindly on us this time. But the day we were putting the live in, the cars had arrived and were running some practice laps around the track. I don't know the first thing about cars, I've always been more about the boys that drive them, and if you'd asked me beforehand about coming to a show like this I would definitely been more about hanging out in the VIP area and drinking champagne than anything else. But being out there amongst them, you could feel the power of the engines, and by the time the evening came around I had begun to understand why people got excited by this kind of stuff. It was a late night event to fit in with American TV schedules, and we were firing literally just before the race started. The minute we were done those beasts were out on track, and fuck me did they go fast. We had four stations dotted around the arena, and me and the boys were manning one each, armed with a battery to hand fire in case anything went wrong with the system. Not that we were expecting it to, but we had to be on station from the start cause there would be no running across the track once things had kicked off.

My station was tucked right into the apex of a tight hairpin, and all my material was packed pretty tight. One thing was for sure, it was going to be pretty damn exciting in there. I was in the back of the truck sorting out my helmet and radio when I saw Effy walk past. I hadn't seen much of her all day, and I was missing the excitement of our contact.

"Hey," I called out to her. "You doing ok?"

She jumped up onto the tail lift, but then it looked as though she stopped herself from coming any further, hovering outside the truck instead of joining me.

"Yeah, ok," she mumbled. "Bit edgy, but you know…"

"You'll be fine," I said, walking up to the back of the truck.

I saw her body tense, and that's when I realised that her cooler demeanour was not just professional preoccupation. I hung back, not wanting to impose my physical presence upon her. Neither of us were stupid. We both knew that the attraction problem had lingered on far longer than we had anticipated, and if Effy's way of dealing with it was to give us a little bit more distance than usual then I was fine with that. The times that we had shared at that festival had proved to us that what we had was more than lust, and we were still both working out our mechanisms for coping with it. Effy was trying to cool the physicality between us, and I had started dating. Not with much success so far, but at least I was trying. It was sure as hell better than sitting at home moping over her.

"It's going to be a fucking sick show, babes," I said. "Those racing dudes are going to be coming in their pants."

Effy sniggered at my words and her eyes came up to meet mine. Once again we managed to find some kind of unspoken communication. I tried to tell her that I understood. That whatever she was doing was because she was trying to find a way for us to be friends. And that's what I wanted too, and I was cool with what she needed. And in that moment it was true. I loved her, and that was way more important than instant gratification. It might be fucking difficult, but we were both smart, and we both had a will to make it work. I had faith that somehow we would find a way. Effy gave me a brief nod, but her eyes were smiling and that was all I needed to know that we understood each other. This problem was not going to disappear in a puff of smoke, but we were both grown women not hysterical teenagers. And we had something even most actual couples struggled to find. A bond of trust.

Apart from the small fact of one of us being a fucking professional liar, that is.

"I gotta…" said Effy.

"Yeah," I replied, and we went our separate ways.

Out in the field, ready for the go, I was hyped. The atmosphere round the circuit was amazing. You could sense the excitement of the crowd, and the music they were driving out was designed amp it up even further. We got our standbys and the cars began revving up in the background. We would give them three and a half minutes of full on pyromania, and then the first drivers would explode onto the track. The music kicked, and the roar of the cars made my heart pound as the first lifts of pyro rocketed their way into the sky. I burst out laughing as a fan shaped volley of candles erupted into life just a few metres away from me. Seeing it this close up was definitely re-kindling my love for pyro, there was no way you could fail to be excited by this. Because of the site the material was mostly ground based stuff, candles, cakes and mines rather than shells, but it was still pretty damn chunky. Another whopping bang and I turned to watch the flames searing out of a monster cake I had barely been able to lift whilst we were unloading, but it was only a couple of seconds before I realised things were not as they should be. Stars started raining down around me, and exploding when they hit the ground. What should have been happening high above me, was happening right in my face.

It was one of those time slowing down moments as my brain raced trying to figure out what to do. A cake is a large cardboard box packed to the brim with up to a hundred-odd tubes, each one of them containing a shot that would go off in sequence. The fusing was internal so once you'd hit the first one there was no way of stopping it till it was done. They are kind of like those 'display in a box' things they sell to the general public for bonfire night. But where those are little fluffy kittens of a thing, this bitch was a hungry feral tiger and she was fucking roaring at me. The shots should have a lift charge that takes them high out of harm's way before a second charge bursts the stars to create the effect, but occasionally the fuckers can get damaged in transit. They are shipped all the way from China, and if they are dropped too many times, stored the wrong way up or if they get wet and are dried out again the lift charge can get knackered, and what goes up comes down again before the delay has run its course. And that's what was happening to me now.

The first instinct is to run, but I was trapped in the apex of the hairpin, and I was scared of falling down the steep banking onto the track and still being there when the cars kicked off. I couldn't shut the cake off and I knew it had at least another forty-five seconds to run. This was different to getting pasted with a few sparks and bits of debris, and for the first time on a site, I was actually fucking scared. There was only one thing for it. I dropped to my knees and crumpled into as small a ball as I could manage, pulling the neck of my suit up tight and making sure I covered my hands. I was going to have to wait it out, knowing that those forty-five seconds were going to feel like an age. Instinctively, I closed my eyes, even though I knew they were protected by my visor, but they shot open again at the sound of Effy's voice. I hadn't put an earpiece in, but even above the noise I could hear her screaming from the radio where I had dropped it a couple of feet away.

"Katie, are you alright? Katie? Katie, answer me fuck it. Katie? Merde."

She sounded so desperate. I wanted to comfort her but there was no way I was moving until this multi-coloured rain of fire had run its course. Suddenly my body caught up with the situation, and whatever chemicals it manufactures to deal with panic started flooding through my brain and I actually began to feel quite calm. I relaxed my foetal position slightly and began to watch the radiant chaos unfolding around me. I took a few hits to the body, but my suit was doing its job. There was nothing more that I could do other than enjoy the ride. The noise got louder and I could sense that the cake was reaching its finale where it would set off several tubes at once. Not long now. The world went bright as the final lift kicked out of the tubes, and I got fucking pelted with crap, but a huge adrenalin surge rushed through my body. It was over. I had won.

Effy was still yelling into the radio.

"Katie? Oh God Katie. Katie if you don't answer me in the next ten seconds, I'm going to stop the show. Putain de…."

I leapt over and grabbed the radio, depressing the call button as I rolled.

"Don't you dare," I growled triumphantly. And I've told you before, stop calling me a whore."

"Oh fuck are you alright?" she said, and I could hear the massive relief in her voice.

"I'm fine," I said as another bank of candles went off beside me. "This shit looks fucking awesome from in here."

"Are you sure?" she said worriedly.

"Mint as a box of After Eights, babes," I told her. "I'll see you on the other side."

I turned my attention back to the pyro and laughed like a drain throughout the rest of the show. My own body had gotten me high, and Effy's muscular display was fucking thrilling me. By the time she ended the show with three massive mine lifts I was practically jumping up and down for joy.

Most of the derig was going to have to wait till the morning because of the race. The cars were already speeding round the track and we couldn't exactly start lumping loads of dead pyro to and fro. But I still had to pull out the wires from the slave box to bring it in, and check for any live. I had just decided to move one of the cake boxes out of the way, when a car came roaring towards me at incredibly high speed. For a second I was convinced that it wasn't going to make the corner, and would plough right up the bank towards me. Another powerful adrenalin surge kicked through my body, but this time I dropped the box I was carrying and ran like a girl. Of course the driver was skilled and he steered the powerful machine around the bend without a doubt. I let of a joyful string of expletives to celebrate my survival. Fuck me, I was buzzed, and I was totally getting off on it. If I wasn't careful I was going to turn into one of those people who have to jump off tall buildings for kicks.

I took the slave box, and slung a rack of unfired candles over my shoulder before making my way over towards the section of track where I knew there would be race marshals to help me across safely. I waved my hands to attract their attention, till one of the guys saw me and made his way over. He stood with me whilst a couple of the powerful vehicles came surging past.

"Jesus," those things are fast," I said as they flew by.

"That's kind of the point," he grinned.

He put his hand on the small of my back.

"Ready?" he said.

I nodded in reply.

"Go," he said, as soon as the next car had gone, and the pair of us headed across. I went as fast as I could, but he seemed perfectly calm. I expected him to leave me then, but he told me he would walk me back to our base.

"That was a pretty exciting display," he said. "Don't you get scared being out there in the middle of all them fireworks?"

"Nah," I smiled casually (as if I was going to reveal my moment of weakness to a stranger). "They're not so scary if you understand them. I'm more scared of the cars. Aren't you worried one of them's gonna hit you?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "I guess it's what you know, right? But I'm still pretty impressed."

I caught the sparkle in his eyes and smiled to myself. Still got it, Katie Fitch. Even in an outsized overall and a helmet, you still fucking got it.

"So maybe I'll see you in the bar later, yeah?" he said, before going back to his duties.

I had just dumped my crap in the back of the truck and walked round the side when I heard footsteps running towards me. Before I knew it I was bundled up into Effy's arms and I was having the life squeezed out of me. She was kissing me repeatedly on the top of the head.

"Nom de dieu, I'm so glad you're alright," she said breathlessly. "You are alright, aren't you?"

I didn't have time to reply before she launched into another tirade of breathless words.

"Oh fuck. I am so fucking sorry. Did you get hit? Yes, of course you did. Are you ok? Jesus. When I saw that low burster, I was like who the fuck is in the middle of all that shit? But all the lads checked in and then you didn't and I thought something had happened to you and I was so scared. I thought you must have been hurt. Why the fuck didn't you answer me? Bordel de merde. It's ok I'm not angry with you. Fuck, it just freaked me out, you know babes?"

It was the most words I'd ever heard her say in one go, and the whole ragged speech was punctuated with kisses. She kissed my forehead, my cheeks, my eyes and my ears, turning my head this way and that as if inspecting me for burn marks.

"Babes, I had my gear on. I'm fine," I protested, but Effy was not to be dissuaded.

"I am so fucking sorry. Are you positive you are alright?" she said. "Because I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you. Je tiens tellement à toi, bordel. I just couldn't fucking stand it…"

By this time she had me backed against the side of the truck, and my heart was hammering harder than it had ever been from the pyro or the cars, because her searching blue eyes were so full of love and she looked like she was about to fucking kiss me. Yet again, my body kicked into chemical production overdrive, and my brain was so alive with neurotransmitters I don't think I would have had the will to stop her. I stood there with my mouth partly open, breathless myself from the force of her assault, just waiting to feel her lips on mine. But the blessed sensation never came. It looked like she had stopped herself just in time.

We were frozen. Her words dried up, but Effy didn't stop looking at me with that volatile mixture of concern and desire. I should have pushed her away, but I couldn't fucking move. My body was craving her and my brain was too confused to override it. She tangled her hands in my overall and rested her forehead against mine. We inhaled and exhaled deeply through our mouths, breathing the same air, as if even by sharing the same atoms of oxygen, nitrogen and carbon dioxide we could caress each other and sneak our way round the forbidden nature of our love.

"Fuck," said Effy softly.

"I know," I replied, wilfully resisting the urge to wrap my arms around her and pull her closer.

Still we couldn't break the deadlock. I could see a mighty battle raging in her eyes. She was fighting with herself, and I suddenly wondered if Anna had fought this hard for me before she finally gave in to her desires. It was the thought of that pain that finally woke me up from my daze.

"Effy, I can't…" I said, unsure of whether I was saying I couldn't be with her or I couldn't stand to be without her a moment longer.

"I should…" she said, finally dragging her eyes away from my face and looking over in the vague direction of something she should have to be doing.

But that was as far as she got. Her hands remained tangled in the fabric of my suit, and when she turned back to me her eyes were still ablaze.

"Effy, one of us has to actually leave," I said. "I'm seriously failing here."

"You're right," she said. "I should go and speak to the client."

I could tell she was fishing for something strong enough to pull her away from me. She finally dropped my clothing, but brought her hands up to cup my face instead.

"Are you sure that you're ok?" she asked again. "It must have been so scary."

"For the hundredth time, I'm fine babes," I insisted. "I come from tough stock. All the women in my family are well hardcore."

"I'm so sorry," she apologised again.

"I get it," I said. "It wasn't your fault. The cake was fucked. It happens. Now go."

"I just…" she attempted.

"Effy, go," I said, finally finding the strength to take her hands from my face and gently push her away. "I don't need you to say it."

She blew all the air out of her lungs, and reluctantly peeled herself away. Without another word, she turned and slowly walked off into the darkness. I watched her every step of the way, praying that she didn't turn round to look at me again, knowing that if she did it would be the end of both of us. I could tell she was having exactly the same struggle that I was, but somehow she managed to make it to the front of the truck and disappear from sight without weakening. I waited several seconds just to see if she would reappear, before banging my head back against the truck and shouting 'fuck, fuck, fuck' at every blow.

"Fucking hell," I said, rubbing the sides of my head with my hands. "Why the fuck couldn't I have met her when she was in her 'whore' phase?"

"You know, I still in my whore phase," came a cheeky voice from the tailgate.

"Jesus Christ, Cook," I snapped at him. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me? It's not going to end well for you."

"Well I didn't exactly sneak," he said, jumping down and walking towards me. "But ya did seem kinda 'distracted'."

Oh sweet shitting cuntfuck.

"How long have you been there?" I asked.

"Long enough to know why you won't fuck me," he grinned.

"Oh God," I exclaimed in dismay.

"It's ok," said Cook, giving my arm a friendly squeeze. "We've all been there. She is damn near irresistible."

"At least you got to fuck her," I moaned.

"Judging by the look on her face, I'd guess you'll be getting to fuck her pretty soon," he replied.

"No," I replied forcefully. "She's with someone. I won't do that. I won't make her cheat on him."

"Yeah well, as long as you've got a stick to beat her off with," he smirked. "I've seen that look before."

I had to smile at the thought of a sexually raging uncontrollable Effy coming for me, and a shiver ran down my spine.

"It was just cause she was freaked, because of the cake and all," I insisted.

"Yeah, I heard you got a proper pasting. You alright?" he asked.

"Least of my fucking problems right now," I shrugged.

"Yeah, Effy's way more dangerous than a piddly fucking firework," he smiled wickedly. "Good luck with that whole holding out on her thing."

"I can't give in," I smiled. At least Cook wasn't judging me, and it was a relief to have someone to share it with. "It's wrong."

"Well seeing as you're such a fine upstanding citizen," he said. "Any idea what the fuck you're going to do about it?"

"Move the fuck on," I replied. "I've already been out with a few guys, but none of them seem to have stuck.'

"Ah well that's where you're going wrong," Cook nodded sagely. "Clearly none of them are man enough for you. I, however, have got the answer."

"Really?" I said, humouring him even though I knew where this was going.

"It's in my pants," he said proudly. "Seek and ye shall find."

His ridiculous humour dissipated the last of the tension in my bones, and as I looked across at his optimistically boyish grin, I was suddenly reminded of how fit he looked with his shirt off. I felt happy in his company, I got on with him and he made me laugh. I had to do fucking something, and what did I have to lose? He wasn't the type to get all mardy if it didn't pan out.

"Ok then," I sighed.

"What?" spluttered Cook.

"Let's give it a go," I shrugged.

"Seriously?" he said, his eyes lighting up.

"I can't go on like this," I said. "And I do kinda like you…"

"They all come to the Cookie Monster in the end," he said, advancing on me.

"Hold your horses there, soldier," I said, putting my hand up to block his path. "You're not in my kickers yet. And reign in the ego or you won't be getting there either. Why don't you take me out? Away from all this? And we'll see how it goes."

"Fair enough, Princess," he replied. "I can work with that."

"And you're going to have to impress me, yeah?" I said firmly. "Waving your cock around in my general direction isn't going to cut it."

"Game on, Katiekins," he laughed. "Cookie likes a challenge."

Whatever I had let myself in for, it was going to be entertaining at least.

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What Effy says (though Katie doesn't know it, or I think she would have just kissed her anyway and to hell with the consequences). Again adapted rather than directly translated from the original English… thanks to blueeyedfrog who I interrupted on a night out for emergency interpretation.

Je tiens tellement à toi, bordel. - You are so fucking precious to me