Shock Factor

The next morning Nickey woke up. It was Monday morning and the alarm clock screamed at her. She never thought she’d be running the rat race, but a shop and a daughter put paid to that. She still dreamed though.

After taking Zekkia to pre-school, leaving her with her friends, Nickey was ready to open the shop. She really needed someone to open up in the mornings. Stix, which was the name of the shop, used to open at nine, but now she wasn’t back in time, pre-school started at nine. So nine thirty it was.

When Stix opened at nine, it had been because Dookie, or Shaun, which was his real name, had been there to open up while she took Zekkia to pre-school, or vice versa.

But she’d had a thought niggling in the back of her head ever since she’d found out she was pregnant. Shaun had gone around, proud to be a daddy, and had been the perfect father. She’d noticed straight away. Shaun had jet black hair, she had blonde hair, and Zekkia had light ginger hair.

When Zekkia was two, they’d had a huge argument. She told him what she’d been wondering and he couldn’t take it. But he still came back, every Saturday, to take his daughter out for the day. Daddy Daughter Day. She loved her daddy, and was too young to understand what had happened.

That Saturday had been a normal one, the Sunday too, and the Monday was seemingly normal as well. That was, of course until Nickey’s friend Alex ran in through the door, waving a piece of paper, and nearly hyperventilating. She stopped for breath, and gasped out her message.

“Green – Day – Live – in – central.” She paused for breath, handing Nickey the scrawled note she’d been waving. “Competition – details – backstage!”

Then Alex fell, gasping for air, to the floor. Nickey picked up the bag Alex had dropped on her way through the door, and took the inhaler from it, and threw it to the panting woman on the floor, who breathed her thanks before taking it.

Nickey looked at the note. After turning it around a few times, she finally decoded the mess that was Alex’s handwriting. It said that Ugly Phil had said that afternoon, when they played Green Day’s new single on Kerrang! radio, then you text in gig followed by your name, and after the song they would call 3 winners.

So she turned the radio on. Alex stayed all day; she had nothing to do. Nickey secretly wondered if all she knew was her apartment and the shop. They had a quiet day, except for when two kids came in, obviously bunking, and laughed a lot when ‘I don’t like Mondays’ came on the radio. They smelt of greenie.

At lunchtime, Nickey told Alex to wait at the shop, and closed for lunch. She turned the radio on in the car, and drove off to collect Zekkia. They were on the way home when In The Sun came on, and Nickey grabbed her phone. By the time she got back, the song had nearly finished.

She walked into the shop, smiling at Alex, who looked excited. Zekkia danced in the middle of the floor, and Nickey put the phone on the table. Alex stared at it, then at the radio, then back at the phone.

The song faded out. Then the voice of the radio man buzzed through the speakers. Nickey couldn’t for the life of her remember his name. Alex looked like she was about to hyperventilate, and Zekkia had stopped dancing.

“That was Green Days new single from In The Sun, their latest album. It’s a title track, so it’s called, erm, In The Sun! So now we played it, we’ve got so many texts from people wanting to go, backstage, to the Green Day gig this weekend! I’ve got a long list of phone numbers; let me pick one at random…”

First he phoned a man called Marcus, who said he’d been a fan since they’re first album, 10,39 smoothed out slappy hours. He sounded like a so-so kind of guy. Nickey realised she had her fingers crossed.

The next number he phoned was a woman, her name was Macy. Turned out shed been a fan since American Idiot. Even though that was when Nickey had heard of them, she wondered if Macy had been a teenie.

Lastly the man on the radio dialled the last random number he picked. It seemed an age before the ring sounded through the speakers. Nickey actually jumped when her phone rang.

Alex was dancing around the shop with Zekkia, singing In The Sun loudly, and Zekkia got half the words wrong, as she was trying to sing the words to Wind The Bobbin Up at the same time.

Nickey’s hand trembled as she answered the call. It wasn’t a number on her speed dial. Alex and Zekkia stared. None of them were even listening to the radio; the mobile was on speaker.

Nickey’s hand trembled. She wondered if Tré remembered her. A mans voice spoke back, brightly. It was a clear voice.

“Hello, Nickey?”