Verve

I stepped out into the hall and I was closing my door when the man from upstairs shouted at me. He shouted something strange.

"Hey! My shit turn blue!" He shouted and so I stood there and pondered. I wasn't sure how to reply although I was certain he was addressing me. It's not everyday a disembodied voice from above shouts something like that at you.

"Okay!" I replied musically and then with a wary face and a head cocked to the side I waited for a second. No further messages came and so I headed down the stairs and fucking hell, his bike was on my bike. I grabbed it, really grabbed it like I was teaching it a lesson and then wheeled it over to the other side of the table. The tyres were both pretty much flat and I heard somebody bouncing down the stairs.

I didn't recognize Enrique straight away. He wasn't wearing his purple, blue and green tracksuit. He was wearing a white suit, a cool white hat and no shoes. I assumed he must work in a hotel. I'd assumed he worked in a hotel when I first saw him, but as a cleaner or something, seeing him dressed I assumed he must work in a hotel as a guy at a desk.

"Hey, my shit turn blue!" He said to me as I held his bicycle and he held onto the bannister. He was leaning forward but still on the steps.

"Yeah," I replied not knowing what to do with that. I looked down at his bicycle. "I heard you, hey, your tyres are flat."

"S'okay, I like it like dat. Blue, really blue, aye-aye-aye, like..." Enrique looked around for something that was as blue as his shit but there was nothing in the hall that he could see.

"You should leave your bike on this side," I said placing his bicycle against the wall.

"S'fucking amazing, man!" Enrique told me and I nodded, it sounded it. "S'okay?" He asked.

"I'm not a..." I said. "You gotta pump these tyres up, you'll wreck the rims," I said because although I wasn't a bike mechanic either I knew that. I also knew Enrique's bike was fucking riduclous. "Why don't you drive your car? That's your car out there?" I cocked my thumb towards the door, that's where out there was.

"Thas my baby, man!" Said Enrique stepping off the steps onto the tiled floor of the entrance hall. His feet must've been freezing. He danced for a bit and then stepped back up onto the carpeted steps.

"Why don't you drive it?" I asked.

"Can't man, s'too powerful."

"Too powerful to drive?"

"Si," he said nodding gravely. Enrique again stepped onto the tiled floor and came over to me. Danced over. Trying to not let his feet touch the floor. It was quite a sight as he was also grimacing and then when he was right in my personal space he just started talking. "One time I driving along and I have girls in the car, si?" I nodded. "Three girls and I drive and stop at de coloured lights, red, you know?"

"Traffic lights?"

"Si, I stop and this guy he pulls up next to me in a racing car, si?"

"Okay."

"He wanna race wid me and he... brum brum bruuuuuum!"

"Yeah." Guy who pulled up next to him was revving the engine. I could picture that.

"So I," said Enrique pointing to himself before grabbing the steering wheel which was nearly in my chest, "brum brum brum brummmmmm!"

I nodded, Enrique had done an extra brum and a longer, higher final brum. He was ready to race.

"Lize change to..."

"Green?"

"Si! Green, and de guy in the racing car he make it go! Whoosh!" Enrique chopped his hand forward but luckily he turned to the side or he'd have chopped my arm off at the shoulder. I watched the racing car race from the line. It was heading for the stairs. I nodded. "So I fucking..." Enrique was snarling in my face and gripping the steering wheel that wasn't there. "Grrrrrr!" He said. He then let go of the steering wheel that wasn't, his face relaxed and he stood straight and demonstrated the next part with his hand. His hand started off horizontal before he slowly lifted his fingers. "Car, flies in air, de front go up in air, e fucking spin," Enrique did a spin with his finger tip, "in the air and land, where was. Just fucking land. Ez too fucking powerful."

"Kin' hell," I said.

"De girls? Each girl different seat. Bof bof bof, different seat."

"Fuck," I said.

Enrique rubbed the side of his nose with the back of his left hand and then nodded.

"Can't you get it made, I dunno, less powerful?" I asked. I don't know as much about cars as I do bikes.

"Si, one day I take it to a garage." Enrique pronounced 'garage' 'garakka'.

"So you ride the bike?"

"I ride bike," we looked at the bike. What a fucking shit bike.

"Do you want me to pump the tyres up for you?" That would mean going upstairs to get my pump. I had time but didn't really want to.

"Nah, s'okay," he said. He nodded and looked around before opposite-fire-walking back to the stairs. "Dat!" He said pointing at my bicycle as he minced past it. "Dat blue!" He said. He was pointing to the red white and blue bands that decorated one of my bicycles tubes and then he was bouncing up the stairs two and a time.

At work I told Graham about the guy who flipped his car. Graham said he'd done that once.

"Fuck."