by Nick James
THE MISPLACED MAN
by
Nick James
Copyright © Nicholas Plumridge 2018
This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved in all media. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the author and/or publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
For permission requests, please contact: [[email protected]]
Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at [nickjamesauthor.com] or [Twitter @NickJam50890645 ]
Produced in United Kingdom.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Acknowledgements
My thanks to my wife and family for their faith and help with my first book.
Also, a big thank you to all those I have encountered who provided invaluable inspiration for this story.
Prologue
Friday, 27 March 2020
Barking, London
Finally, another day is done, I thought as I took the lift to my apartment. It was six months nearly to the day since I started my new job at Shimmering Dreams. My probation was finally over, but what I didn’t know was that my life was going to be turned upside down.
My name is Sam Blades. Originally I had a middle name, but I got rid of that. It was the one thing my younger brother held over me, the little shit! May he rest in peace. I always liked my name once I changed it. It made me feel like a 1920s American private investigator, chasing tail and drinking every day. Happy thought, but the truth is I am a mediocre computer programmer who trained online. I still managed to get a job at the above company – not the job I applied for, but a job nevertheless.
I am twenty-six years old, six feet tall and weigh…well, none of your business! Let’s just say I can run, and my stomach stops bouncing within the five-minute mark. I have black hair with flecks of grey. Once again a family member, whom I have already mentioned, used to joke that I started going grey at conception. The git. Again, may he find peace while at rest.
The lift taking me up to my flat on the twentieth floor was, for once, playing some decent music, ‘Jumpin’ Jack Flash’ by the Rolling Stones, which I was destroying with my humming and occasional singing.
Bing. I reached the dark hallway to my flat, which I share with my girlfriend who is from Hong Kong. Over £1000 a fortnight to live in the Bates Motel of old London Town. Her parents were in law enforcement – the ‘don’t ask, we won’t tell department’. All three moved over here when China took control of the country. Please don’t typecast them, but they opened a certain type of takeaway in Birmingham.
Anyway, as I said, I share my two-bedroom flat with my girlfriend of three years who is called Bunny Li. I know, right? But they do love their funny names in our ex-colony, so I gave her a fun nickname of Fluffy as a term of endearment.
I remember the first day I called her that. We had just spent the night together. Bunny was wearing just my shirt cutting some toast in the kitchen when I walked in like the stud I am… Ahem! ‘Morning, Fluffy, sleep well?’ I called out with a shit-eating grin on my face, but that, my friends, is where it went wrong.
Ever been stabbed with a butter knife? To this day, I remember the look of fury on her beautiful face as she threw the dirty knife at me.
I could smell the butter as the smeared knife made a hole in my shoulder. Did the medics at A & E sow some Lurpak inside my bloody body? I know what you are thinking, that she was sorry and rushed to my aid? Nope. Bunny just stepped over me, fetched her clothes and got dressed in front of me. I might have been bleeding, but that was the sexiest sight I have ever seen. The last words I heard before passing out were, ‘Never call me that again…round eye.’
So that was it, until she turned up the next week for our regular date night. Moral of the story for me: never upset Bunny when she has a weapon and call her by her given name only, even though she has a 101 names for me and my body parts. Her favourites and very anti-PC are ‘whitey’ and ‘round eye’, but I do love that crazy bitch.
I made my way down the corridor towards my flat, pulled the keys from my pocket, opened the door and stepped into my dark home. As the front door closed with a bang, I danced down the hall turning on the lights twirling as I sang, ‘I’m Jumpin’ Jack Flash. It’s a gas, gas, gas…oofff!’ Suddenly, my lights were turned off.
My eyes started to flutter and a lump on my head was throbbing. As I lay there dribbling on the grey carpet, I could only hope it was a surprise sex game with Bunny. Although she hated surprises, I reasoned, trying to rationalise what had just happened. When she felt the tingle, you either joined in or just got taken for a ride – but this was not her style.
‘On your knees now,’ barked a gruff voice behind me.
I groaned. ‘Sounding a bit rough there, Bunny, have you started smoking again?’ I answered back with a chuckle before colourful and painful lights flashed through my head. ‘You know smoking stunts your growth,’ I continued. With that, I was given a kick to the ribs. Conclusion, never say such things to a woman who is angry and only five feet tall.
‘On your knees…now,’ the voice came again. This time, the person grabbed me by the hair and pulled.
‘Fuuuuckkkkkk, dude, okay!’ I managed to get onto my knees. Then my imagination kicked in. If he had said, ‘Open your mouth, pretty boy,’ this book would have stopped here!
The room seemed to only have my desk light on, so it was quite dark. Whoever it was must have dragged me into the lounge. I pitied his poor back. I could see the city lights through the window and, being November, it was dark as arseholes out there.
‘Right,’ the voice continued. ‘Hands behind your head and link your fingers…now!’ he barked again.
This time I decided to behave myself and complied.
‘Okay, now cross your ankles.’
I opened my mouth and said, ‘Shouldn’t you say Simon says first? Oofff!’ Another kick to the ribs. I really don’t help myself.
‘Ankles, now!’ he shouted, losing his cool.
I did what I was told…for once. Finally, I had my faculties back and realised this wasn’t fun times with Bunny. I had to focus and keep my mouth shut… ‘I don’t have any money or drugs,’ I pleaded, even though I could have done with some at that moment – drugs, not money.
I felt something metal and cold placed on the back of my neck. Oh shit! I caught the reflection in the lounge window of a figure standing over me. He was all in black, wearing a balaclava and with what might be a gun pressed against me.
‘Where do you work?’ he asked, press
ing the possible gun harder into my neck.
‘Shimmering Dreams.’
‘How long?’ he demanded.
‘That’s a bit personal— Oooff.’ Ouch! Whatever was against my neck was metal. ‘Six months.’
He sighed. ‘Good. Now, what department?’
I saw my fish looking at me; our eyes locked. Swim for help, little buddy, I thought quickly, which looking back wasn’t the best thing to pin my hopes on. Maybe I had concussion.
‘Stop looking at Nemo and answer me!’ he spat angrily.
I gave him a confused look using the reflection. ‘Who the fuck is Nemo when he’s at home?’
‘Your clown fish, dickhead, from the movie,’ he said and pointed to the small tank on my sideboard.
That’s when I caught sight of the pistol with a silencer. Thank you, Arnie, for all your knowledge. Even though I realised that this was life or death, I chuckled. ‘Who the fuck calls their fish Nemo? That’s stupid.’
He pressed the pistol harder against my neck. ‘Everybody who bought a clown fish! What’s yours called, then, knob rot?’ he asked impatiently.
‘Fred…ooofffff,’ I said as he hit me again. ‘Fucking hell, man, just don’t kill me, please!’
He gave a gruff laugh. ‘Scared, are ya?’
‘Well, yeah. Bunny will be pissed off if you dirty her carpet…ooofffff.’ But then the pressure on my neck went away and there was only my reflection in the window. ‘Cool, I scared him away,’ I murmured to Fred. Then I felt warm fluid splash on the back of my head. ‘Bugger, why does this shit keep happening to me?’
Chapter 1
Thursday, 19 September 2019
‘Neo, follow the white rabbit!’ I shouted at the TV as I tucked into my breakfast of champions: red bull and pickled onion Monster Munch. I was happily lounging on the sofa watching my favourite film The Matrix. Not only that, I was watching my girlfriend, Bunny, run around getting dressed for work. It might just be me, but there’s nothing sexier than watching a woman getting dressed or undressed, mostly the latter. It’s still great to watch with my main man Neo. She must have felt my eyes lingering on her nicely rounded bottom.
‘Are you getting dressed today?’ she said sharply while zipping up her dress.
I gave her a confused look. ‘Baby, I am dressed,’ I replied, splaying my arms out wide.
She then started to button up her blouse. Awwwww, bye boobs.
‘Boxers and a T-shirt is not being dressed, Sam, now is it?’ she said, placing her hands on her hips and giving me a piercing look.
‘I’m letting my skin breath, hun. I need to be relaxed for my interview today,’ I explained earnestly while trying to give her my sad puppy dog eyes.
Bunny slipped on her heels, which boosted her height to a massive five foot three. ‘Bullshit. Get your arse up and clean the flat,’ she growled, picking up her handbag and leaning in for a kiss. ‘Okay, don’t fuck it up at the job agency. We know how you get,’ she said, grabbing my ear with her nails and squeezing.
‘Fuuuuuccckkkk! I promise, I promise!’ I squealed like a little girl.
She released me; her brown eyes locked on to my green ones. ‘Don’t…fuck…it…up,’ she reminded, and then kissed me on the nose before heading to the front door of the flat. ‘Love you! And if you do mess it up, I’ll use my tools on you. Byeeeeee!’ she sang. The door closed muffling the end of her farewell.
Well, that sealed it. I’d better get my arse in gear and get ready because she sounded serious. The last time she used her tools on me was after I’d bought her a Hogwarts uniform to go as Cho Chang for a party. I winced at the memory of that night. In the end, I had to go as a Muggle and Bunny was a Death Eater who liked to use her fists.
Oh yeah, and that did surprise me when we first got together. How many of your girlfriends or wives have leather catsuits with a cape on it? I tell you, sometimes I feel like the luckiest man in the world; other times, I feel like a dead man walking! Anyway, enough, time to get ready, but then I let my eyes drift to the TV. ‘Damn, Trinity, you are fine!’ I called out.
I then ran off to the shower while deciding what clothes to wear. Well, what I really mean is what clothes Bunny has left out for me to wear. Once again, Bunny, where is the trust?
As I showered, my mind drifted from doing naughty things to Trinity to my interview at the job agency, and then finally wondering what Bunny’s bank would say if they found out that she had impaled me with a butter-coated knife. I gave the scar a sniff still imagining I could smell old Lurpak.
An hour later I was all showered, shaved and striding down Barking Road while trying to avoid any dog shit landmines. As usual, the place was bustling. Even though I have lived here for five years, I’ve never got to know anyone. I moved here from my hometown ever since my brother died and left me a little bit of money. ‘Missing you, Silverback,’ I murmured.
My younger brother always dreamt of being a motorcycle racer. Trouble is, you need cash to even start thinking about it. So, he just plodded through life from job to job. He played football at the weekends; although, he admitted that he had no speed or fitness. He was six foot one, twenty stone, possibly six feet wide and covered in hair. Oh, and he had the turning circle of the Titanic.
So, he kind of introduced rugby into football. In fact, in a six-a-side game he fell over squashing two people, causing them to kind of leak dirty water. He always laughed at that. The thought of it always makes me smile and miss him even more. They called him Silverback because he was fat and hairy, but he was also very docile and friendly – unless you angered him, then the true Silverback came out to play.
I smiled at his antics as I passed all the people I didn’t want to meet, then suddenly I realised I’d arrived at my destination: Big City Jobs. This would hopefully bring a new improved life for Bunny and me. Although, the name of the job agency made me feel like I was going to a certain type of fetish club.
I walked into a small office still trying to shake the visions now filling my mind, and there I was stood in front of a petite blonde receptionist. Of course, I had to wait until she had finished updating her social media status with her extra scary talons.
Finally, she looked up and smiled. ‘Good morning, how can I help you today?’ she asked happily.
I checked out her left breast, I mean name badge. ‘Good morning, Tiffany, I have an interview arranged with one of your advisers. My name is Sam Blades,’ I said with my winning smile, and then chuckled at her name. I think we’re alone now, I sang in my head and fought against doing the dance. Damn you 80s compilation disc, I thought angrily.
‘No problem, sir, I’ll let him know you have arrived. Just take a seat and I’ll call you,’ replied Tiffany while staring at her phone.
‘Cheers,’ I said coolly, no longer wasting any of my limited time on the 80s has-been singer. I slammed my arse down into a well-worn seat. I scanned around and decided it looked better from the outside and on the website. It was the old dog shit painted gold syndrome; it looked good, but it was still shit. I chuckled at my own wit, which I spend a lot of time doing.
My phone buzzed in my breast pocket, so I took it out. It was a text from Bunny: Don’t fuck up, love you x.
Awwww, she does love me, I said to myself as I replied, Who are you? Stop stalking me. Where’s Johnny? Don’t hurt him, he’s just a child! X.
I could see that she was instantly replying, and then a picture came through. As it loaded I thought, boobs…come on, give me boooobs, Then the image appeared; I paled. No breasts, just a knife with butter on it. ‘Shit,’ I whispered. Love you, too. I’ll let you know how it goes, I replied, and that was it from Bunny.
Tiffany coughed making me look up. ‘Mr Anderson will see you now,’ she said with a smile, pointing the way to go.
My eyes went wide. I knew I was in The Matrix, and now I have a meeting with Neo? No fucking way, my mind screamed as I nodded to the poodle and followed her directions to the offices.
I saw the name on th
e door and nearly giggled with excitement, but then Bunny’s words of warning sang in my ears, don’t fuck it up. I took a deep breath and knocked.
‘Come in.’
At that moment I wished I had a white rabbit tattooed on my neck. I mused at the thought of having one. I shook it off and walked in happily, but then I dropped my smile. It wasn’t Neo. This man was short and round with glasses and curly ginger hair. I hate you, I thought before smiling and shaking his hand.
‘Nice to meet you, Mr Blades, please take a seat,’ said the name-stealing prick.
‘Thank you,’ I replied politely as I took the proffered seat. ‘May I call you Neo?’ I asked, grinning at him.
His face seemed to fall. ‘No, you may not,’ he said coldly.
It was then that I saw a little piece of the man’s soul die. I wondered how many times somebody had said that to him. Tough, I’m awesome, so fuck you, my mind told me. ‘Sorry, I’m just nervous,’ I lied to the ‘not Neo’.
He just waved it away like it was nothing.
Git!
‘Well, thank you for sending me your qualifications and references,’ the twat said as he flicked through the documentation in front of him. ‘Online courses, not prior experiences,’ he mumbled and carried on reading.
My eyes narrowed at him with contempt. I hoped he would go home to find his wife servicing a whole football team, and that those waiting their turn would make him take a number to even get near her. And, yes, I do have trouble with my imagination running wild. I tried to remind myself what he had just said. Ah, no prior experience. ‘Oh yes, sir, but I learn quickly,’ I said, imagining him seeing two players high-fiving over his writhing and overly happy wife. You may think my anger is misplaced, but you are not here. I am, so I feel justified.
‘Well, I think I may be able to get you an interview as a customer service adviser. It’s not what you really asked for, but you should be able to move up the promotional ladder if you’re good enough,’ the ginger-haired man said.
