Cog in the Machine

by Nigel Shinner

  Almost, because whether he went to his studio apartment from work or the pub, he would still be going home alone. Nobody would be waiting for him. Nobody expected him home.

  Those twelve years had stolen more than just time. They had stolen opportunities; chance meetings, happy accidents and all those events that brought people into a life. No workplace romance. No one-night stands who hung around. No regular supermarket shoppers, always in the same aisle, on the same day, buying the same things.

  The realisation of all those missed prospects was demonstrated to him in that beer garden.

  On another bench was someone he recognised. A guy from his schooldays – was it Tim or Tom – Birkett? He couldn’t really remember the guy’s name, but the face was definitely that of a pupil at the same comprehensive on the outskirts of Bristol.

  The man was sitting with a woman, clearly his wife, and their two children; two boys, one about six or seven, the other a few years older. They looked happy; a solid family unit.

  There was a flicker of recognition from the father and husband, but it was a fleeting moment from another time. Attention was returned to the family.

  A shadow fell upon the table.

  Dom glanced up.

  “Drinking alone?” Georgia McQuillan, still dressed in her work clothes, stood at the end of the bench.

  “Only because I have nobody to drink with.” It was a loaded statement. Dom hoped she’d offer to join him.

  “That’s generally how ‘alone’ works.” Her wit and sarcasm was legendary in the workplace but she seemed to have toned it down now she was off the clock.

  “If you join me, I won’t be alone.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think my date has just walked in.” She acknowledged a thickset man in rough work clothes and pointed to an empty bench. The man took a seat on the bench, a pint of lager in his hand.

  “Dates straight from work – whatever next?” Dom was bemused.

  “It’s a quick meet and greet. I may not like him. Anyway, enjoy your drink.” And without waiting for a reply, she joined her ‘date.’

  Dom finished his pint and left the pub. Suddenly, the thought of heading home to his empty flat seemed like a comedown after such a good day. There wasn’t anything else he could do instead though.

  He went home via the off license for a four-pack of dark fruits, and the Chinese takeaway for some rice and ribs.

  If he was going to be lonely, he might as well be lonely with some grub in his belly, and a little drunk too.

  Chapter 21

  Every morning started with a briefing. Sometimes it was business-related, sometimes it was pleasure. This time it was a little of both.

  “So how did it go?” McQuillan asked.

  “The guy still has it.” Richards was trying not to be too enthusiastic about the driving skills he had witnessed the previous evening.

  “Do you think he’ll go for the plan?” The plan was meticulous.

  “He wants to drive. I could see how excited he was to get behind the wheel again – I think he’ll go for it just for the chance to drive.”

  McQuillan nodded in satisfied agreement. “We’ve got a week to get him even more prepared if he needs it.”

  “I don’t think he needs it. He’s a natural.”

  “Good.” There was more agreeable nodding from McQuillan as he searched his mind for reasonable questions to ask his right-hand man, “Do we have a vehicle in mind?”

  “Several – I’ll give him the best chance of success, don’t you worry about that.”

  “I’m sure you will. But if we can tip the balance in our favour, you’d better make sure you do it. You know – give us an edge.”

  Richards smiled firmly. “I think Dom Carver is all the edge we need.”

  Chapter 22

  After what had turned out to be a boring dark fruit-flavoured weekend, Dom was glad to get back to work.

  Saturday morning had been reserved for shopping. The afternoon had been promised to Bob and a few pints at Wetherspoons, which served as the highlight of the whole weekend, as he’d spent the evening watching DVDs before falling asleep on the sofa.

  Dom had a good rapport going with the manager of the charity shop just around the corner from the flat. He had suggested a few movies from the one pound section. This week was Denzel Washington week. Starting at eight in the evening, Dom had put on three very different films; Unstoppable, Inside Man, and The Equalizer.

  Although he enjoyed a good film, and couldn’t really fault any of his choices, he thought that his life could be moving in a very different direction if he could just find an opportunity. Currently, drinks with his dead mother’s boyfriend and a favoured selection of second-hand films seemed to be the pinnacle of the routine he was falling into.

  Except for that car…

  He smiled whenever he thought of that car. Of the control, the speed, the sheer power of being alive and in control of that car.

  He sighed. He’d spent most of Sunday in bed too, wasting a perfectly good day with thoughts of all the things he could have been doing instead. His mind was firmly behind the wheel of Richards’ BMW, or any car for that matter. Like a reformed junkie who had been given a free hit of his particular poison, Dom wanted more.

  Monday hadn’t come soon enough.

  As Dom strolled across the car park, the morning sun just edging the ambient temperature upwards, he caught sight of the high lacquered finish on the performance vehicle, reflecting all manner of images towards him. It was a beacon calling out, fogging his mind and reminding him of the thrill he felt on Friday evening. The addiction had been awakened.

  A typical Monday morning consisted of three hours of building wooden skid frames for the heavier items to be dispatched that week. It was easy work, no heavy lifting but repetitive. It took hardly any brain work, and that left his mind free to dream about cars, and how badly he wanted one.

  The automotive fantasy continued right up until lunchtime. He was even thinking about what kind of car he’d like to drive as he headed for the canteen, the daydream distracting him so much so that he nearly walked right into Georgia.

  “Sorry!” he blurted. She was the last person he was expecting to see on the warehouse floor as the lunch siren bellowed.

  “It’s ok.” Georgia, wearing a tight pair of business trousers, a short-sleeved black blouse and the obligatory hi-vis vest, seemed almost as surprised to see him. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

  “Will it have to go into the health and safety report?” The business was overrun with HSE red tape at times. Dom was hoping his sarcasm would be well received.

  “I think we can let it slide just this once.” She smiled.

  “How did your meet and greet go the other evening?” In his head he was being polite, but in truth he hoped she hadn’t had a good time.

  “I kinda wish he hadn’t shown up.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “Most dating apps are for single guys looking for quick hook-ups, or taken guys looking for no-strings action. Let’s just say he was one of those and leave it at that.” If she was disappointed, she hid it well.

  “Dating in the modern age is just a click away. I don’t really get it.” Dom chuckled at his own ignorance.

  “I suppose you’re more of an old fashioned kinda guy?” A hand flicked her long straight hair away from her face.

  “I suppose.”

  “Hit them on the head with your club and drag them back to your cave, maybe?” she teased.

  “Never fails, but the paperwork is a killer.”

  “I bet.” Georgia’s head kinked to one side as though she were pondering an important question. “Look, tomorrow a few of the guys are going to the pub down the road for a leaving party – you should come along and meet some of the ‘upstairs’ people.”

  “I don’t know - I won’t know anyone at all.” His mind searched for a good reason not to go, but there wasn’t one to be had.

  “You’ll kno
w me.”

  “Should I bring my club?” he asked, tentatively.

  “Only if you think you’ll need it.” She winked and walked away.

  He watched her go, the clip-clip-clip of heels against the hardened floor echoing into the rafters, accompanying her departure; her arms swinging, her hips swaying. For the first time that day he thought of something other than cars and how he could fill the emptiness of his weekends.

  Chapter 23

  The working day couldn’t end soon enough. Dom wasn’t thinking about work or cars or driving. He was thinking about the tall attractive woman who had asked him to tag along on a celebratory night out. It might just be a few drinks. It might have been Georgia just being nice and trying to include him. Over the last twenty-four hours or so, he had built up the possibilities into life-changing events. Such was the power of his boredom.

  Preparation was the key. Dom knew it was more than likely that he would be smelling of grime, oil and probably sweat by the time five o’clock swung round, and that was not the image he wanted to display. He figured he could get home, get showered and changed, and back in the pub within thirty minutes. It was fine for the office staff to go out straight from work. Their business outfits were pretty standard. Dom, on the other hand, would be a walking advert for the company in his logo-bearing work clothes.

  Clock watching aside, he was out of the door as the siren sounded, pacing the pavement to his front door as though he were late for a crucial appointment instead of a casual drink date. Within a minute of his key hitting the lock he was in the shower. Clothes preselected the night before were hung up and ready.

  After a rapid towel dry, he was making good time.

  Dressed in a white and blue striped shirt, a pair of dark denim jeans and some fashionable brown lace-up boots, he looked like he’d made some effort. A quick spray of Calvin Klein and he was good to go.

  *

  Walking into the pub, he checked his phone. It was five-thirty exactly. He recognised a few faces huddled around the small dark wood tables that made up the main area of the bar but he couldn’t put names to those faces.

  A few acknowledging nods later he was at the bar and ordering a pint of cider.

  He was just taking his first sip when a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

  “I thought you weren’t coming.”

  He spun on his toes, so grateful that he had been invited when he saw the person who owned the voice.

  “Wow! You look nice.” He cringed the words were said. While he’d needed to pay the compliment, it was a pretty poor attempt.

  Georgia, who he hadn’t seen all day, was wearing black heels, black leggings and a low-cut red lace top with a matching vest beneath. The outfit, while discrete, showed off her figure. The shape of her calves, thighs and behind had nowhere to hide, while a good bra and a lack of any other material made her cleavage the focal point of the whole ensemble. Dom knew he was not the only man in the building to notice that. A few women did too.

  “Thank you. You look nice too.” Her tone was playful, yet sarcastic.

  “I didn’t think I should just show up in my work clothes,” he explained.

  “Probably for the best. It’s nice to see you in something other than work wear.”

  “I didn’t know you took that much notice of my appearance.” Dom was fishing but not using his best bait.

  “It’s part of my job,” she said, deadpan.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Any discrepancies in the dress code and the punishment is quite harsh.”

  “How harsh?” Dom played along.

  “Well, if you are not dressed in full company attire, you will be beaten with sticks for half an hour and made to wear a silly hat for the rest of the day.”

  Dom burst out with laughter, more for the serious expression still etched across Georgia’s face than the comment.

  “I’ll make sure I’m appropriately dressed from now on,” he said.

  “What, and spoil my fun?” she chuckled. The serious face vanished.

  *

  They spent the next two hours just chatting about everything and anything. The other staff might as well have not been there. Dom and Georgia were too deep into their conversation, finding all their common ground. Both liked cars. Both liked older music. Both had lost their mothers to cancer. The differences were not worth mentioning. By the time the clock had ticked its way to eight o’clock, they were the only two left. The rest had moved on to the busier drinking establishments in the city centre, with plans to hit a nightclub or two until the early hours.

  “Did you want to get something to eat?” Dom asked, fully aware that he had downed at least four, possibly five pints of cider and was yet to eat a meal.

  “I could eat – what do you suggest?” Several glasses of pinot grigio had relaxed her stance and also her reserve.

  “There’s a Chinese, and an Indian, less than a five-minute walk from here – what do you fancy?”

  “Makes no difference to me. You choose.” She eyed him carefully, deliberately as she spoke.

  “Indian it is, then.” Dom raised his glass, sinking the last remnants of his cider.

  Standing up simultaneously to leave, they approached the door. A man dressed in a black leather coat and jeans stormed in, nearly knocking Georgia over.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going,” Dom snapped, but the man had his back to them.

  The man’s head bobbed and weaved as though looking for someone.

  “I said-”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Georgia interrupted, grabbing his arm.

  The man turned to face the couple, unaware of the intrusion.

  There was a pause, then recognition.

  “Dom?”

  Dom couldn’t speak. It was the first time in ten years that he had laid eyes on his brother.

  Chapter 24

  “Vinnie?” Dom barely recognised his brother, he’d changed so much.

  The last time Vinnie had come to visit him in prison; he’d had a full head of waxed hair, a tight tee over a wiry frame and sharp eyes that saw everything. Ten years or so later and the passage of time had been cruel. A shaved head with enough stubble to show the hairline started halfway back across his scalp. The wiry taught muscles were now loose and barely visible. The saddest change for a brother to see was those eyes. Once so sharp, laser-focused and alive. Those eyes were no more. There was a dullness, an absence of the fire that used to burn within, that made Vinnie seem almost like an entirely different man.

  Dom had seen eyes like those before. Prison was littered with strung-out inmates whose recreational outlets had robbed them of more than just the time they seemed so desperate to pass.

  “That’s right, it’s your baby brother,” said Vinnie, with no joy in the statement.

  “How’ve you been? I was hoping to see you, but Bob said-”

  “Don’t worry about what Bob said,” the younger sibling cut in. “Bob’s always been full of shit. You shouldn’t always believe what he says.”

  Dom was silenced and felt embarrassed for his colleague.

  “He just said you hadn’t been around,” Dom said, eventually.

  “That’s because I couldn’t take any more of his self-serving sympathy. You’ll tire of it too, just you wait and see.”

  “He means well-”

  “Oh does he? Anyway, who’s this little lady?” Vinnie switched his dull focus to his brother’s companion.

  “I’m Georgia!” Georgia stated, holding out a hand.

  “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Georgia.” Vinnie took the hand and held it longer than was absolutely necessary.

  “So how have you been? Did you want to get a drink? Have a sit down and a chat?” Dom was firing out the questions, hoping not to strike the same nerve that mentioning Bob had hit.

  “I’m fine, Dominic, just fine.” There was no subtlety, only raw sarcasm. “I would love to stop and chat but I have other more pressing issues to deal with
at the moment. But thank you for asking.”

  “Ok, we’ll leave you to it then.” Dom shared a glance with Georgia.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I’m being so rude.” While the sarcasm had gone, it hadn’t been replaced with an ounce of sincerity. Indifference was as good as it would get for now. “How have you been?”

  Dom feigned a smile. “I’m good. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a flat-”

  “A flat eh? I hope it’s bigger than your cell.” Vinnie’s eyes glanced toward Georgia. It was evident the comment was intended to provoke a reaction. But it didn’t get it.

  “It’s much nicer than your cell, isn’t it?” Georgia cut in. She hadn’t seen Dom’s flat but she already had the measure of the antagonistic brother and hoped to quash his campaign.

  “Well, that’s nice isn’t it?” Vinnie continued. “And a job, you say? Where are you working? Nowhere that requires a police check, I hope.”

  “No. No police check. I work in the warehouse at Mach Tech, just around the corner.”

  “You ought to be careful, Dominic. Working for McQuillan is a dangerous business. He’s got a finger in every pie and he doesn’t like to share.”

  Dom could feel Georgia stiffen at the comment. Whatever emotion was running though her system, the level of restraint she was showing was impressive. She held her tongue and didn’t jump to her father’s defence.

  “It was good to see you, Vinnie, but we really must be off.” Dom extended his hand, expecting his brother to shake it. He didn’t.

  “Good seeing you too. Nice to meet you Georgia.” With that, Vinnie turned swiftly and walked toward the bar.

  An embarrassing silence between Dom and Georgia was again rudely interrupted.

  “Take care, big brother!” The words were shouted across the pub, making patrons look up and take an interest. “Be careful who you associate with.”

  The pair left the pub without another word spoken. The night was ended. Abruptly.