by Ian Woodhead
Angela had heard all the rumours about what her new boss was like on the first day of her shift this time last week. Even her new friend, Marlene, had sworn blind that most of the rumours were true. She had winked at Angela and told her that the size of it was definitely true. She just gazed in disbelief at the slimy, auburn skinned man prancing about in those silly Cuban heels and decided that it was all just one big wind up. They probably told the same story to all the new starters.
That warm fuzzy feeling between her legs had started to disappear; where the hell was he? Men weren’t supposed to take forever in the bathroom, that was the woman’s role. She ought to be horrified that she was impatiently waiting for a man old enough to be her father to come back to screw her senseless. Bernard told her earlier how he would be forty-eight next month. Bloody hell, her dad was only forty. Angela should be ashamed, and she giggled to herself; she wasn’t though.
Her boyfriend, Dave, was supposed to be out on a stag do tonight. Angela felt a twinge of guilt about her antics, but she swiftly smothered it. She knew for a fact that he’d probably end up sleeping with some pissed up tart he’d pulled at some nightclub. She’d heard from more than one of her mates that her Dave wasn’t very faithful. Ironic really, considering how crap in bed he was. Maybe that was a bit unfair, Bernard had over thirty years of practice to perfect his techniques. Oh, where the bloody hell was he? She had started to get cold.
Angela whipped the covers back, climbed out of the bed, and grabbed the man’s dressing gown. If he thought that Angela was staying in there any longer, then he had another thing coming.
She opened the door and stepped into Bernard’s office. She ran her fingers across the top of his white leather sofa and smiled, it was on this where the man had successfully seduced her into bed.
It was still a bloody mystery how he’d managed to pull it off. He’d sat her down at three in the morning, then smiled and actually apologised for his abrupt behaviour all night. It was surreal. Angela felt as though she was sitting next to a completely different person. That stone-faced bastard who’d gone to town on her throughout her shift was nowhere to be seen, instead this utterly charming man sat beside her, regaling Angela with humorous quips about the other staff members and their regular customers. He’d begged her not to leave just yet and to give him another chance.
He’d then pressed a cold glass full of a clear but fruity liquid into her hands. She didn’t have a clue what it was, but the stuff flowed down her throat like rich ambrosia. Somehow, they’d started kissing and those gentle hands of his massaged her in ways she’d never dreamt of. When he’d whispered that he’d wanted her into Angela’s ear, she knew she just had to go to bed with him.
The office door was wide open. She padded over and peered out. His office was located at the end of the corridor, directly above the club. The toilets were the next door to the left, Angela smiled and stood in front of the door and loosened the cord around the dressing gown, and she couldn’t wait to see his face light up when he opened that door.
She spun her head around at the sound of a shark crack emanating from downstairs.
“What the hell was that?” she murmured.
There wasn’t anyone else in the club, not yet anyway. The only person close by was that weird old cleaner and he would be busy sweeping up outside. Angela then sighed when it clicked. Bernard must have gone downstairs to grab a bottle of wine for after he’d finished ravishing her; he mentioned earlier that he had no booze left up here. Angela wandered over to the stairwell. They still had nearly half an hour before her work mates showed up.
She started to go down the stairs, that gave him plenty of time to roger her stupid over the bar. That would give her something to smile about the next time she was serving the customers.
It felt a little strange walking through the deserted club clad in just the owner’s dressing gown. She paused in front of a mirror beside the fruit machine and gazed at her reflection. Angela smiled and brushed her hand across the downy zebra striped material, the pattern complemented her full figure well. She looked better in it than Bernard would, and no doubt a lot better than any of the other women who’d most likely worn this dressing gown before she had.
Angela was willing to put down her next wage that Marlene had worn this dressing gown at some point in her time at the club. The petite lass might come over all respectable and principled, but Angela wasn’t a fool; she could almost smell her distinctive perfume on this gown. Just at that moment, Angela felt a stab of jealousy, thinking about her Bernard groaning as that woman rode him like a wild stallion. Yeah well, that was in the past, this is the present, and pretty soon that man wouldn’t know what’d hit him. She also intended to make sure that his wandering eyes would stay fixed on her alone.
In the mirror’s reflection, she caught sight of a dark shadow moving beneath the bar; Bernard must be searching for a couple of clean glasses. She giggled to herself, he won’t find many down there, and Angela washed them up. She might not be well up with all that cleaning malarkey, but there was one particular activity that she did excel at. She might not have the experience of Bernard— at seventeen, she’d only been having sex for three years—but Angela was a quick learner, and it hadn’t taken her that long to work out what males desired.
Angela crouched down and hurried over to the bar where she unfastened the robe again, got onto her knees, and crawled towards the opening. Then she heard a noise that almost stopped her heart. The toilet upstairs flushed, followed by a door slamming and the thudding noise of heavy footsteps.
She let out an involuntary gasp. Oh Jesus, if Bernard was still up there who the fuck was down here? Angela heard a single low moan before hearing something scraping across the bar above her. She had no time to react before feeling a hand on the top of her head and fingers grabbing her hair and pulling her up. She came face to face with a wasted looking male teenager. He brought up his other arm and anchored his hand round her throat.
Angela was caught fast, his grip held her too tight to struggle; she looked into his wide, staring eyes, hoping to see some hint of compassion but those dead orbs might well have been made from glass. The youth tried to pull her over the bar, and she saw his mouth opening wider. Oh Jesus, the insane bastard wanted to bite into her!
He forced her head down onto a metal drip tray, then leaned towards her exposed cheek, moaning. Her hands reached up and attempted to push his head away. It was no use, the man just pushed them away as if they were no more worrisome than a pesky fly. Her hand brushed past a forgotten beer bottle, and in desperation she snatched it up and smashed it into the side of his head. The lad loosened his grip but didn’t fully release her; in panic she jerked her head back, feeling the intense pain on her scalp as he dug his fingernails in.
She staggered back; Angela’s euphoria dampened by the sight of the youth following her. Oh Jesus! What was he on? She glanced at the smashed glass spread across the bar; the bottle’s impact should have knocked the bastard into next week.
Angela tried to shout for Bernard but could only manage a single croak. He’d already stumbled out from behind the bar; the youth blocked her way back to the stairs, so she turned and bolted toward the kitchen.
She daren’t risk a glance behind, but Angela didn’t have to; the sound of his laboured breathing as the youth lumbered after her was enough to know that he hadn’t given up. Angela burst through the double plastic doors and stepped into Dominic’s domain. As the doors swung shut behind her, she then did look back. The lad wasn’t there. She peered through the scratched plastic and finally spotted him, he was staring into the aquarium built into the wall.
He couldn’t have forgotten about her, could he? That just wasn’t possible. Angela stepped away from the door, unable to believe her good luck; she looked up and silently whooped for joy, the first employees should be arriving any moment. How she would explain herself when they found her in here wouldn’t matter as long as they dealt with that bastard out there.
“Please make it Douglas to get here first,” she murmured.
Angela put her hand to her scalp, grimacing at the spots of blood sticking to her palm. There was no pain at all now, that that bloody weird. She traced a deep groove along her scalp with her index finger, still no pain.
Her finger went straight into her mouth. That overpowering sense of fear had disappeared too, the only thing she felt now was anger. Angela did feel a little hungry too, but she could sort that out with a little more of her blood. She dug her finger into her head wound whilst trying to think of something she could use to dispatch mister fish lover out there. If only Dominic hadn’t locked away his utensils, he had a huge assortment of knives that would easily deal with that fucked up young man.
She placed her dripping finger back into her mouth and sucked it dry before pushing the digit back into the wound, gouging out some more of her flesh. Angela then remembered a perfect weapon she could use on him, and it was almost within reach. The walk-in freezer had a dozen meat hooks hanging from the ceiling, one of them would be ideal.
Angela hurried over and pulled the handle down, and she briefly wondered why her body didn’t react as the freezing air blasted out but pushed the doubt to the back of her mind when she spotted a couple of hooks at the back of the room. She rushed inside, eager to grab the first hook, not realising that the sub-zero had taken the first few layers of skin off the soles of her feet. As Angela reached up, the door began to swing shut. She turned and watched, suddenly remembering that the release mechanism on the inside had broken off last week. She shrugged to herself, she could wait for a few minutes. It’s not as if it was that cold in there.
Chapter Seven
Marlene crossed over the deserted road and stepped into the empty car park. Now, that was a little odd, where was Bernard’s car? She hadn’t expected to be the first ones to arrive.
Thomas tapped her on the shoulder, “I wonder where everyone is. Do you have a key?”
She shook her head, “I do, but I don’t have it with me.”
He took out his mobile phone yet again. Marlene suppressed a sigh; he hadn’t left the thing alone since they’d started walking. He must be the only person she knew who’d rather check his Facebook status instead of just enjoying the silence and the cool night air. It also riled her that once the phone had his attention, he’d stopped giving her shy glances.
“Well, we’re on time.” He pointed at a window on the upper floor, “Someone must be in, there’s a light on.”
She should have guessed that Bernard had been up to his old tricks again; either that or someone had decided to burgle the place. Marlene was willing to bet on the former. She also had a bloody good clue who could be with their boss.
“Come on Thomas, let’s go give that door a good banging.”
“What’s so funny?”
Marlene walked across the car park, trying to work out just how many girls that dirty old bastard had taken up there. Thankfully, she wasn’t one of them. The girls who Bernard fancied didn’t usually last that long after he got bored with them, there was always another set of pretty eyes and breasts to distract his wandering eyes. She had wondered on more than one occasion why Bernard had never tried to get her behind his office, but in a way she was glad that he hadn’t, Marlene valued her job too much to start ruining everything by jumping into bed with the boss. There was still that tiny voice at the back of her mind that occasionally popped up and calmly informed her that Barnard hadn’t even given her a chance to refuse his advances.
Thomas wandered over to a full bin bag and an old golf bag containing a couple of sweeping brushes and a shovel. “Does this lot belong to that old cleaner?”
She nodded.
His head darted from side to side, “I’m not too keen on him,” he whispered. “He’s a bit too creepy for my liking.”
“Join the club,” she replied. Thinking about Lester gave Marlene the shivers. He’d always been pleasant enough to her, but those nasty little eyes of his told her a different story, not to mention his horrible tongue; it always popped out to lick his lips whenever someone spoke to him.
Marlene brayed on the front door, eager to get inside. If Lester’s stuff was here, then he wouldn’t be that far away; he normally guarded all that mouldy old stuff in his golf bag with his life. The bag was his precious. Marlene giggled and wondered if Lester would get the gag. He did bear a remarkable resemblance to Gollum as well, only not as attractive.
She banged on the door again.
“I think that cleaner is round the back. Look, the gate is open. Shall we go have a look?”
It was a good idea, despite Bernard constantly telling him off; Lester had this annoying habit of propping one of the fire doors open so he could get to the water taps. They could get in that way. Marlene didn’t think the boss would mind too much. It would give him a chance to finish off the girl he was doing. Marlene thought back to last night; he was in a right mood with everyone, especially Angela, and she just assumed it was because of all the crap that had happened these past few nights, and then it clicked. She knew exactly who he would be finishing off. He was using his evil ogre role on that slip of a girl.
“Jesus, does he have no shame,” she muttered.
“Did you say something?”
“Come on then, let’s go round the back. I’ve started to get cold now that we’ve stopped.” Marlene banged on the door one last time. “Come on you daft old bast…”
Marlene gasped and jumped back as the door swung open.
“The main act has just fucking cancelled,” he said. Bernard stepped aside and allowed them to pass him. Marlene caught the smell of whisky on his breath. She walked into the lounge; the first thing that caught her eye was the broken glass bottle. What the hell had gone on here? She saw the table shoved to the side and the over turned chairs and wondered if there really had been a burglary. She waited for Bernard to follow them in and pointed at the mess.
“Buggered if I know,” he said, shrugging “It’ll probably be that bloody cleaner, nosing around the fucking bar again”
He looked up at Thomas who made the mistake of smiling back. “What? Do you think this is funny or something?”
“Or course not, Mr. Crowley.”
“Well wipe that fucking gormless smirk off your face and make yourself useful. That means stop standing about like some fucking shop floor dummy and get this shit cleaned up.”
Bernard rubbed his forehead, “Please, Lord Jesus, save me from fucking idiots.”
Marlene watched him hurry over to the bar muttering to himself, this was not a man who’d just received his oats. Oh, this was just fantastic, just what she needed, yet another night of keeping her head down and hoping he’d have a go at another member of staff. Oh shit, Marlene really did hope that Bernard wouldn’t choose tonight to get rid of Thomas.
“Marlene, can I have a word?”
She pushed Thomas towards the cleaning cupboard then braced herself; Marlene had the feeling that he was about to offload a great big pile of shit onto her shoulders.
“What’s wrong, boss?”
He glared at her, “What part of ‘the main act has just cancelled’ did you not fucking understand? Get on the phone and start ringing round, we need someone else tonight and pronto, and for crying out loud, don’t book some rock band or an alternative comedian.” Bernard pored himself a Jack Daniels. “This place is going to be full of pensioners tonight after the bingo hall shuts. The last thing I fucking need is a rowdy crowd of old fuckers complaining about the lack of entertainment.”
She’d forgotten that it was zombie night. This was their busiest night, Bernard should be happy; he usually was when faced with the opportunity to make money. Marlene couldn’t remember where the name originally came from, it wasn’t the nicest of names to label them with, but after a few pints and gin and tonics down their throats they definitely acted like bloody zombies.
He downed the drink in one go, “I also want that young lad working
the floor tonight. His pretty face should be able to keep those old bags pacified when they get a bit rowdy later on.”
Bernard passed her the phone and stormed over to the front door. “Right, I’m going to have a quick word with that bloody cleaner.”
He gave that special look, the one he only used when he needed a huge favour from her, “Please Marlene, do your best; find me a good act for tonight.”
She nodded, “Leave it with me, boss, I’ll try to pull in a few favours.”
It sounded to Marlene that Thomas had been given a last minute reprieve. Her boss had a point there; the old dears would just pester poor Thomas to death. If he played his cards right though, he ought to make a bloody killing in tips tonight.
“Right, I’ll leave that in your capable hands. If you need me, I’ll be outside talking to Lester, which is something I should have done a long time ago.”
That old bastard was about to get both barrels. She almost felt sorry for him.
Marlene hurried over to the bar; as soon as he was out of the club she intended to pour herself a strong drink too, and she got the feeling that tonight was going to be one of those bastard nights.
They both jumped as a shriek pierced the air. Marlene swung around and watched Thomas stagger away from the open closet.
“Jesus, lad,” shouted Bernard, “You nearly gave me fucking heart failure. What’s got into you? Have you seen a mouse or something?”
Thomas turned and looked straight at Marlene, his face drained of blood, “There’s a young lad hiding in the cupboard, and I think he’s dead.”
Chapter Eight
His first thought when they pulled into the car park was, ‘where is everyone?’ Dominic rechecked the clock on the dashboard. They weren’t early, so where on earth were Marlene and Mr. Crowley’s cars? He kept the question to himself though, as he had no wish to disturb Douglas. He took his eyes off the empty car park and watched his friend trying to park the Beast in his usual spot; it pained him to see the vast amount of concentration etched upon his friend’s face as he performed a task that would normally take him just seconds.
