Monday. He’d collar the man on Monday. There was only so long he could allow the man to avoid him. If that was what he was doing.
• • •
After bathtime they dried each other off and then reclined on the bed. A kiss from Alexis led to the inevitable response and they made love again. Then they both slept.
Kenny woke with a start, realising his stomach was grumbling. He stirred Alexis and they both dressed for dinner. Fortunately, Alexis was not one of those women who took an age over getting ready. If anything, Kenny was the slower.
In the dining room, they were the last to be seated and were placed by a window. Being late spring, light remained and painted the tip of the hills opposite a delicate pink. The waters of the loch were motionless, as if covered in a sheet of ice.
Alexis studied the view for a long moment and turned to Kenny. ‘This is good for the soul, no?’
Kenny smiled in answer and studied the menu. The waiter approached after a decent time had elapsed. Kenny ordered the lamb and Alexis the monkfish.
‘Why did you never marry?’ Alexis asked while they waited for the food.
‘I prefer my transactions to be more open,’ Kenny answered. He and Alexis never spoke about these things, and normally he would have backed off from this type of conversation with a smile, but on this evening he was more relaxed than he had been in a long time.
‘If you don’t mind me saying so, Kenny, what you just said is complete b.s.’
Kenny laughed. This woman could say almost anything to him and he’d be fine with it.
‘I’ll tell you if you tell me how you came to sell your body,’ Kenny said.
Alexis looked into the distance. ‘I like men. I like sex. I ran out of work. I kind of... slipped into it.’
Kenny wondered how much was being left unsaid. He opened his mouth to speak but a waiter appeared at his side with their food.
While they ate their meals the conversation moved on to safer ground. Kenny talked about his family visit nearby. Kenny talked and Alexis listened. Occasionally he would try to steer the conversation back to her, but she carefully deflected each of his questions with a question of her own.
Once the meal was over Alexis touched each corner of her mouth with her linen napkin and took a sip of wine.
‘Kenny, darling,’ she said ensuring she had his attention.
‘Mmmm?’
‘I have a proposition for you.’
14
Mason Budge liked the small, blue Toyota. It was reliable, barely noticeable and with this version being a 1.4 diesel engine it could go fast enough for most of the driving he needed to do.
It was effectively anonymous, just like him.
He’d followed the whore down to this godforsaken part of the country. Hills and heather, he thought, who fucking needs them? Give him the cold, wet, grey city streets and lines of street lamps any day of the week. He looked at the clock on the dashboard of the car, from there to the weakening light in the sky and shuddered at the thought of the darkness to come.
His boss didn’t know where he was. If he did, he would freak, quickly guess at his reasons and then fire him. Mason shrugged. He could get a new boss any time. People with his particular talents were few and far between in a small country like this. A few phone calls and he would be back in work in jig time.
Another thing to like about this country was the cute phrases they came up with. He admired inventiveness with language.
He hadn’t realised that this road was effectively a dead-end and when the car he was following had driven up the road to the hotel he had stopped himself just in time from following them.
The man presented an interesting challenge. Mason watched him as he carried the whore’s overnight bag to the hotel door. He was a handsome man and fit, and he walked with an assurance that could only come from knowing how to look after himself. Mason could recognise a fighter from any distance. Men who were less sure of themselves often worked a swagger; a loud sort of body language that shouted, Don’t mess with me. Those kind of guys were easy targets to a man like Budge. No, this fellow had something else, something that only another fighter would recognise. This was a man not to trifle with and for that reason Mason was desperate to have a go. He then spent a very pleasant thirty minutes thinking up ways to hurt them both. Other people daydreamed about winning the lottery, he loved to pass the time thinking up ways to hurt and humiliate. He would tie him up and rape her. No. That was too straightforward. He could tie her up and rape him.
What was this man’s angle with this woman, anyway? He had looks and, judging by the car and clothes, he had money. Why would he need to pay for it? Maybe his wife didn’t understand him; his mother hated him. Maybe he had all the social skills of a shrub.
Everyone had a reason, right?
Except him. He had the loving parents and the two-point-four siblings growing up. His gramps, however, read him like a one-page advert; got it right when he paid him – yes, paid him – twenty thousand bucks to leave town. Surely, his life savings. He looked him in the eye and said, ‘Some people are just born bad, little buddy, and you are one of ’em.’
Born bad. He liked that. The old fella’s way with words had earned him a stay of execution. He had the notion of killing the old fucker there and then and then finishing off the rest of the family. Doing a Columbine on their asses. He could have and often thought he should have. Ducks in a shooting gallery. Fish in a barrel. And it would have taken as much effort but that kind of action was so over and too short on the career trail for his liking. Most of those dumbasses shot themselves once they got the hurting out of their system. He had much more in the way of pain to be doling out.
He thought back to the man with the whore and shrugged a whatever. He had given up on trying to understand the motivation men had for the things they did. He had come across many crazies in his time and taking a prostitute out for an overnight at a country hotel ranked pretty low in his weird-o-meter.
They’d be up in their room right now screwing their asses off while he was sat in this shitty little car holding his dick. His boss was to blame. He shouldn’t have asked him to ‘punish’ the woman in such a way. Ever since his time with the whore, he couldn’t get her out of his mind. The defiance, the hate, the will to live in her eyes and the feel of her body under him were an intoxicating mix.
He felt his groin stir, closed his eyes, pressed down on his erection with the heel of his hand and replayed the attack in his mind. He grew even harder and groaned. What he would give right now to plunge deep inside her. He gave himself a mental shake, he would have her again. And again. Soon. Some things were better if the anticipation was allowed to build.
15
Kenny woke early in the pitch black and reached for Alexis. She mumbled and turned over, facing away from him. He spooned into her, pushing his arousal against the silk of her bare backside, hoping she would take the hint. She mumbled again and burrowed deeper under the quilt.
He smiled. Thought how this was like being married. He didn’t mind. The girl needed her sleep.
Turning over onto his back, Kenny realised he was wide awake. Because of the blackout curtains he couldn’t judge what time it was so he stretched across to the bedside cabinet and pressed a key on his phone. His phone lit up to show it was six-thirty. Like that was a surprise. He closed his eyes and judged if he could get back to sleep. Nope. That wasn’t going to work. Wide. Awake. His running gear was in his luggage. He’d put that on and go for a jog along the side of the loch. That would beat his usual background of Glasgow’s streets. Then by the time he returned maybe Alexis would be up for some more. He grinned.
The receptionist offered a smile behind a yawn when he went downstairs.
‘Been a long night?’ Kenny asked, his eyes automatically going for the badge. ‘…Davie.’ Davie’s face was lined and long, his hair grey and sh
ort and his eyes sparked with good humour.
‘That’s me just started for the day, sir,’ Davie answered. ‘People are beginning to stir. We have a few fishermen staying over and they’ll be hoping to catch a couple of hours on the loch.’
‘Never did get the fishing thing,’ said Kenny as he stretched out his left calf.
‘Never did get the running thing,’ said Davie with a grin.
‘Yeah,’ said Kenny, feeling himself respond to the man’s good humour with a grin of his own.
‘Did you sleep well, sir?’
‘Very well,’ answered Kenny, resisting the comment about not much sleep being had. His grin amped up a few notches. Davie raised his eyebrows and smiled.
‘Romance is good for the soul, is it not?’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘If you don’t mind me saying, sir, it’s written all over you.’
‘Do you share the love of a good woman, Davie?’
‘Married ten years. Started late. And been wondering every day since why I waited so long.’
‘Right,’ said Kenny, feeling his grin fade. This was a conversation he didn’t want to go any further. Next Davie would be asking him when he was getting married and if they had any plans for kids. Jeez, it was just gone six o’clock and his life story was up for grabs. ‘Man, it’s too early and I’m too sober for this conversation to go any further.’ He turned and walked towards the door. Realising he had been a little short with Davie, he turned back and offered the man a wave.
‘You have a good day.’
As the words issued from his mouth, Kenny was thinking, Holy fuck, O’Neill, you have a night of passion and you come over all American.
• • •
‘Smirr’ was the Scottish word for the constant, light rain that coated his skin within seconds. As he stretched, his even breathing was like a whisper in his ear. He ran on the spot, looking around himself. The sky was overcast and mist hung above the waters of the loch, stretching up the wall of the far hills. The world was in soft focus; picture-postcard perfect and Kenny had rarely felt so alive.
He stretched some more by the hotel door. He looked along the building. Everything was clean and precise, understated and classy, from the wood used for the door to the urns of fresh flowers placed along the wall. Good choice, mate, he congratulated himself and then set off for his run.
He reached the bottom of the hotel road and looked left and right. Left took him back along the loch towards Balquhidder; right took him God knows where. He turned left, thinking it would be nice to stand once again in the places his father took him all those years ago.
As he ran he thought about Alexis. She’d still be snuffling in her sleep, pleased to get the bed to herself. He recognised that their relationship was not the norm. He also recognised that his feelings for her were too strong and that they were not reciprocated. What did Alexis see in him? A punter who didn’t repulse her? A set of male genitalia with a wallet?
The previous night over dinner she attempted to take their relationship on to a different level altogether. Kenny grinned when he remembered his response.
‘Let me get this right. You want me to become your pimp?’
‘God, that is such a horrible word,’ replied Alexis.
‘But it’s the right word and the answer is no.’
‘It’s not the right word. After that...’ – her face twisted as she remembered the attack – ‘...evil prick had his way with me I just to feel that I need someone to protect my interests.’
‘So what happens between us? I like the fact that...’
‘You looking for some free booty, Mr O’Neill?’ Alexis grinned.
‘That’s the point... I like to know that I can call you when I feel the urge, hand over the cash and we can...’
‘That won’t change, Kenny.’
‘But do I get mates’ rates?’
‘Mates’ rates? This is a new one on me.’ Alexis paused and took a sip of her wine.
‘It means... never mind what it means, I don’t like it, Alexis.’
‘Okay, Kenny, let’s go over it one more time. You value the service I provide, yes?’
‘Yes,’ said Kenny and looked into Alexis’ eyes, thinking she had never looked so beautiful.
‘Do you agree that other men might also value such a service?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you not also agree that this sort of service keeps sex for sale off the streets and makes it much more...’ – she considered the right word – ‘...palatable?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you not also agree that if I were to take on a stable of girls like myself and the service was marketed in the right way that it could make a lot of money?’
‘Yes.’
‘And as the manager of such a service would you not also be in a position to make a lot of money?’
‘Yes, but...’
‘Whenever I hear someone say the words “Yes, but” I know they think I am right but they just don’t want to face it.’
‘Not if it comes with the size of the but I have.’
‘Oh, I dunno, Kenny.’ Alexis’ smile sent a flicker of pleasure straight to Kenny’s penis. ‘Your butt is just the right size.’
‘Anyway,’ – Kenny fought down his answering smile – ‘you couldn’t describe me as a man who was shy of making a few pounds, nor one who is shy of the legal process in doing so. However, I do have some scruples. I don’t deal in human misery; drugs and prostitution are definite no-no’s.’
‘Well, good for you, Kenny.’ Alexis sat upright in her chair. ‘We all need to draw the line somewhere.’
‘Don’t get sniffy with me, Alexis. I just–’
‘You are just a hypocrite, Kenny.’ She leant forward in her chair, nostrils flaring. ‘Ignore your emotional needs by paying for sex if that’s what does it for you, but don’t pretend you are not part of the problem...’
‘Wait a wee minute here.’ Kenny always believed the best form of defence was attack. Whether that was in a physical fight or verbal one it didn’t matter. ‘Why this? Why now? Is this something to do with the man that attacked you? Aren’t you really just looking to take advantage of my muscle?’
‘Aren’t you just looking to take advantage of the honeypot between my legs? We both have something the other wants.’
‘I’m confused,’ said Kenny. ‘Where is this argument going?’
‘Hopefully to a resolution that benefits us both,’ Alexis said and leaned forward on to her elbows.
‘Can we sleep on it?’ Kenny asked. ‘My gut reaction is no, but I need to think through the implications.’
Alexis took a deep breath. Swallowed as if forcing herself to lighten up. Kenny read something else tightening her fine features. Was it fear? Was there something she was hiding from him?
This question came back to him as he ran. How long had he been meeting Alexis... and why had she come up with this now? Surely there was a link to the man who attacked her.
He got his guy to rape me.
The text: Lesson learned?
Kenny had tried on several occasions to dig into the facts of those statements and gotten nowhere. Alexis wasn’t being totally up front with him and he had to find out the truth before they took things any further.
There was also the matter of his mother’s death. He had achieved nothing there either. Harry Fyfe had produced a little background knowledge but nothing more. As soon as this weekend was over he needed to get back on the case.
The road took a dip and then a small climb. Kenny enjoyed the variation and stretched out his legs, pushing up the work levels. Another bend and he came across a car parked in a passing spot. He tutted. Not the done thing in these small roads. This was a single-track road. The passing places were there so cars could pull over and let cars coming in the
opposite direction drive past. If some numpty parked there, it could cause a problem. Must be a tourist, he thought.
It was a blue car. He ran closer. A blue Toyota Yaris. He reduced his speed to a walk. When he arrived the day before he was worried that just such a car was following him. Could it be the same car? Surely there were loads of these cars on the roads, but two of them down such a quiet road in the space of a few hours? Must be the same one.
The windows were slightly steamed up, suggesting that whoever was it in it had been there for some time. He didn’t believe in coincidences. He’d have to check this out.
He could see a man-sized shape through the window. The driver’s seat had been reclined all the way back. The driver had his head facing away from him and looked as if he was fast asleep.
Kenny knocked on the window.
The head turned round and faced him. The man sat up, pushed open the car door and stepped out on to the road.
‘Don’t think you should be parking there, mate,’ said Kenny, aiming for a friendly tone. ‘Could cause an accident.’
The man stretched extravagantly. Yawned. And stretched some more. He was wearing jeans and a checked shirt. Around five feet ten and slim. The man rubbed his eyes and peered at Kenny.
‘And you are?’ he asked with a smile.
‘Just a concerned punter,’ answered Kenny, not completely taken in by the smile. ‘You really shouldn’t park in these spaces. If two cars came along here at the same time, there would be nowhere for them to go.’
‘You’re right, dude,’ the other man said, rubbing his head. ‘I got lost late last night and wasn’t sure where else to go.’
‘American?’ asked Kenny.
‘Canadian,’ the man replied while still smiling.
‘Sorry. You must get that a lot.’
Beyond the Rage Page 8
