by Steve Liszka
Before getting in his car, Paul turned to face his brother again. ‘I know you said you’re going to do this your own way, but just in case things don’t work out, do you need a piece?’
Lenny thought about it then shook his head. ‘Nah, I’d probably just end up blowing my own cock off.’
Paul laughed. ‘Yeah, you probably would. See you around, bruv.’
Mac
It turned out that Mac was his real name, well, kind of. Paul was good to his word. He arranged to meet up with his dealer three days after the brothers’ reunion. Lenny had been there, too, along with Jimmy and Bodhi, watching from a distance as the exchange of money and narcotics took place. Mac had chosen the location; the race course car park, the same place he had met with Wesley and Jimmy to take back possession of his money.
His real name was Neil MacDonald. They had found that out by following him out of the race course, staying just far enough away to avoid arousing suspicions. The journey had taken them north on the A23 up to Crawley. Lenny had cursed his petrol gauge as they made the trip; he wasn’t expecting to do any real miles that night. They tailed Mac back to his home; a large mock-Tudor detached house in a respectable suburb just outside of town.
Early the next morning, they returned and followed his Nissan pick-up as it made its way to his place of work, a few miles away. That was where they discovered his real name, on the sign outside his yard; MacDonald and Son Building Services. He didn’t have sons, as far as they had been able to tell in the time they had been following him, just twin teenage daughters who luckily got their looks from their mother, a glamorous big-haired woman with at least ten years on her old man.
They saw nothing for the first few days that made them suggest there was anything untoward about him. Every day, he left the house at eight o’clock sharp, dropping the twins to their sixth-form college before heading to the yard. Some days, he’d leave after an hour or two to visit the job that seemed to be consuming most of the company’s time. The large Victorian house in the middle of town was, from the looks of things, being converted into flats. Jimmy reckoned that if he’d got it for the right price, and knowing the persuasive skills of Mac that he most likely had, there was a tidy profit to be made. After work, he would go straight home to his wife, doing nothing that came close to resembling criminal activities.
It was only on the fifth day of watching him that they saw something that piqued their interest. He left the house the same time as every other morning, but after dropping off the girls, rather than heading to the yard, the car turned in the road and headed back on itself.
Riding in Jimmy’s car (they had swapped motors every day to stop Mac from getting suspicious), they tailed him as he drove back down the A23 to Brighton. They didn’t know why, but there was a feeling amongst the firemen that this would be the day.
When Mac pulled up on the seafront and got out of the car with a briefcase in his hand, they were even more certain they were onto something. After standing next to his motor for less than thirty seconds, he was approached by a young, good looking guy in a suit that looked like it cost more than the amateur spies earned in a month. With no more than a nod, the briefcase swapped hands and just as quickly as he appeared, the younger man strolled off towards town. Mac got back in his car and quickly drove off, but his stalkers were no longer interested in him, it was the other man who had seized their attention.
After less than a minute’s walk, he stopped next to a brand-new Audi T4, slid the case into the passenger side, then got in and drove away.
‘That’s it,’ Jimmy said, banging on the steering wheel. ‘We’ve got the bastard now.’
It was nearly six o’clock when office wanker, as he quickly came to be known, finally left the building on North Street. That morning, he had parked his car outside one of the high-ceilinged buildings on Regency Square and disappeared inside with the briefcase.
Two minutes later, they saw him standing at the window of a first floor flat, staring out at the sea. Five minutes after that, he re-emerged and, carrying his Gucci man bag, walked swiftly towards the town centre.
With the rush-hour morning traffic having ground to a halt, Bodhi got out of the car and followed him on foot, hanging just far back enough to not look like a wallet snatcher. He tracked him to his place of work, a twelve-storey building, housing a mix of new media start-ups and more traditional companies. Bodhi knew the building well; he done a familiarisation visit there with the crew when it had first opened three years earlier. He knew that without a swipe card he would be unable to get past the guard on the lobby desk and discover which office their man worked from. It didn’t matter; they knew where he lived. Lenny had wanted to break into the flat and find out what was in the case, but Jimmy told him it was unnecessary. All they had to do was wait, and they’d soon find out who the man was and what the fuck he was up to.
That night, from the interior of Bodhi’s van, they sat watching his flat, trying to get an idea of their new friend’s habits. Jimmy had decided to stay home and spend some time with Jen and the kids. Neither of them minded; they were just happy he still had a life to go home to.
‘See this is what I should get myself,’ Lenny said as he sat in the back of the Westfalia, checking out the kitchen and fold-out bed set-up.
‘I could park it outside the club and then bring the chicks back and bang the shit out of them. They’d love it.’
Bodhi peered in the back and smiled at him. ‘Sure they would, big man, sure they would.’
It was eight o’clock, and they could see the lights go on from behind the curtains in office wanker’s flat.
‘Do you think he’s going out tonight?’ Bodhi asked. ‘Or do you think he’s got company coming over? He looks like the type who likes to be seen, to me.’
Lenny shrugged. ‘Maybe he’s just going to have a pot noodle and a wank.’
A hand-holding, twenty-something couple walked towards the building and stood outside the front door.
Bodhi pointed at them with a lazy finger. ‘I wonder if they’re here to see our boy?’
Lenny spun around on his swivel seat just as the love-birds entered the building.
Seconds later, the shadows reflecting on their man’s curtains told Bodhi that he was right. This was the beginning of a steady stream of at least a dozen visitors, mainly young and mainly good looking.
‘Looks like our boy is in for the night,’ Lenny said. ‘I think we might as well fuck the fuck off.’
Bodhi turned the key in the ignition and put the van into reverse. ‘I think I’m inclined to agree, bud.’
‘Hang on a fucking minute,’ Lenny said as another couple walked toward the house. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.’
When they had gone inside, Lenny and Bodhi stared at each other, not knowing quite what to say.
‘Please tell me,’ Lenny finally said, when he managed to find his words, ‘what the fuck Dylan and Felicity are doing here.’
Party Time
Felicity watched Dylan’s reflection take an age to button up his shirt.
‘Please can you at least try and pretend you’re happy about going tonight.’
Dylan’s eyes diverted from his button holes to her image in the doorway behind him. She was naked, with the exception of her knickers, and the towel wrapped around her head that made him think of an Indian Princess. He forced the worst possible attempt at a smile from his lips.
‘I know how you must be feeling,’ she said, ‘but don’t you think it’s time we moved on. You can’t keep dragging up what happened in your mind otherwise it’s going to drive you crazy…We’ve got to be mature about this.’
Dylan stopped what he was doing, one button short of his goal and turned to face her. ‘I’m sorry if I’m still feeling a bit awkward about going to your boss’ home and having to pretend that nothing happened, even though we all know what you got up to with him. But I guess that’s just me; immature.’
Felicity walked up to him and str
oked his hair. ‘Let’s not go through this again. You know I’m sorry, and you know I regret what happened. But it’s not him I love, and it’s not him I want to marry and spend the rest of my life with.’ She leant in and kissed his lips. ‘You’re the person I want, never ever forget that.’
She smiled and did up the last button on his shirt. ‘We’re not going for him. We’re going because everyone else at work is going, and if I’m not there, then people will be talking. Don’t let one mistake spoil what we’ve got.’
‘When you put it like that,’ Dylan said as he tucked in his shirt, ‘we should get going. The line between fashionably late and rude is a thin one.’
Even though he had met most of them before, the demographic of Felicity’s office never failed to surprise him. Most of her workmates were young and good looking, the opposite of what he’d imagined an accountant to look like. It shouldn’t have surprised him; if Felicity was gorgeous, then there was no reason that others in her profession shouldn’t be too. There were a handful of older, more normal looking people in the office, who weren’t part of the beautiful people clique, but none of them had turned up. Whether their self-consciousness had prevented them from attending, or they hadn’t been invited in the first place, Dylan was unsure.
Then, there was Nick, the most preened peacock of them all. He was tall and good looking with a head of thick black hair and a muscular upper body. It was only the skinniest of skinny jeans he wore that gave the hint that his workouts focused solely on his chest and arms. His baby-chick legs looked like they had never attempted a set of squats.
Dylan had tried his best to mingle, smile and laugh in all the right places, but he couldn’t get it out of his head that he was hanging out in Nick the fucking Prick’s overpriced apartment. He was counting the minutes until Felicity was ready to leave. Hopefully, it would be sooner than later.
An hour into the party, he saw his chance at a brief escape. He had been politely nodding along to Dan, a Doctor Who obsessive, when the man excused himself to go to the kitchen for a refill without even asking Dylan if he wanted one. Seizing the opportunity, he sneaked through the open door onto the balcony for a moment of solitude. It was cold out there; the wind came off the seafront and smacked him straight in the face, but he didn’t care, he was away from them. He could see why the apartment earned its price tag; the unobscured view of the beach and the carcass of the burnt down West Pier made it prime Brighton property. Away from the beach on the street below, his attention was drawn to a van that looked almost identical to Bodhi’s. In fact, he was almost certain it was Bodhi’s.
‘Hey,’ a voice behind him said, ‘do you mind if I join you?’
Dylan turned to see Nick the Prick step onto the balcony, not waiting for an answer. God, Dylan hated him. If he wasn’t bigger than him and he wasn’t so shit at fighting, he would have punched the arsehole in the face. On the street below, the van started up and revved off down the road. It even sounded just like Bodhi’s motor.
‘Hey, man, how are you doing?’ Nick said. His voice, like everything else about him made Dylan’s skin crawl. He sounded like one of those models in the aftershave adverts who told you that life was for living.
‘Great,’ was the best Dylan could muster.
‘Listen, fella,’ Nick said with a smile, ‘I just wanted to say that I really appreciate you coming here tonight. I know it must have been hard after what happened between me and Felicity.’
Dylan shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, these things happen when drink is involved.’
Nick looked at him for a second too long before speaking again. ‘No, really, it took a lot of guts to come to the house of the man your fiancée cheated with. Not a lot of men would do that.’
If he were a fighting man, Dylan probably would have headbutted him in the nose at that point rather than do what he did, which was nothing. ‘I’m here for Felicity’s sake, Nick, not yours.’
Nick returned the smile, only with far more enthusiasm, then laid his hand gently on Dylan’s shoulder. ‘Thanks for coming anyway. It’s great to see you.’
A fighting man would have finished him off then and there.
‘Listen, let’s just it give it another half hour, then we’ll go.’
Felicity squeezed Dylan’s hand, then put her other hand on top of his for good measure. It was two hours after his encounter with Nick on the balcony. He’d wanted to leave, but he sucked it up, avoided telling her what had happened, and tried not to look too lost every time she went to socialise with her friends.
‘I’m proud of you tonight,’ she said, giving him a wink.
He didn’t know what to make of that. He knew he was a bit awkward in certain situations, but thanking him for managing to spend an evening in the presence of a group of adults without embarrassing himself suggested he was more of a social misfit than he’d realised.
They were standing in the doorway of the spare bedroom, and with no one around them to witness it, Dylan wrapped his arms around his fiancée and kissed her lips.
‘As I’ve been such a good boy,’ he said, seizing on her words, ‘maybe I’ll get a reward when I get home.’
Felicity jumped as his hand move up her skirt. ‘Maybe. Now move your hand before someone sees.’
Dylan gave her bum a squeeze before letting go.
‘Cheeky!’
They turned to see Felicity’s friend Amy standing next to them. ‘Dylan, you dirty dog, I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about my man,’ Felicity said, pulling him closer to her. Dylan’s face had turned scarlet.
‘Hey, listen, sex machine,’ Amy said. ‘Any chance I can borrow your woman for ten minutes? We’re making mojitos in the kitchen.’
‘Of course. You ladies go and have fun.’
‘Is that all right?’ Felicity whispered in his ear. ‘I don’t have to.’
Dylan laughed like the idea was ridiculous, even though he desperately wanted her to stay. ‘Don’t be silly, I’ll be fine. You go make cocktails, and I’ll see what the men are up to.’
In the lounge, four of those men were sat on the sofa huddled around Nick who was holding out his mobile phone for all to see. As they were facing the opposite direction, none of them had noticed Dylan’s arrival. When he got closer, Dylan could see they were watching a video of a blonde woman with massive breasts going cowgirl on top of some lucky guy. After a few seconds of her tits bouncing up and down, the camera spun around to show the identity of the person below her. Dylan almost winced as Nick smiled and gave a thumbs-up to the camera he was holding. It was only after the high-fives and pats on the back had finished that they became aware of Dylan, who had now manoeuvred himself into their view.
Nick looked up and smiled at him. ‘Dylan, take a seat, my man. Me and the guys were just talking about you.’
He gestured to the grey velour armchair that Dylan happily accepted. He hadn’t sat down all night, and his legs were killing him.
‘That’s funny,’ Dylan said, already feeling the anger from their earlier encounter building up in him, ‘’cos I thought you were watching a video of you banging some girl. Does she know you show it to your friends?’
Nick gave the others a “who the fuck is this guy?” look, then followed it up with a laugh. ‘You’re a funny guy, Dylan. I’ll give you that.’
‘I try my best.’
Nick looked to the others before starting again. ‘Yeah, we were just saying earlier what a cushy little number you must have being a fireman. What is it, four days on, four days off? You boys must be laughing.’
Dylan shrugged. ‘Yeah, it’s great.’
‘And I bet your ping pong and pool must be pretty awesome too.’
‘Not anymore,’ Dylan said, trying, but not particularly hard, to keep things pleasant. ‘They took them away from us, back in the day.’
He declined to mention that Central still had a rec room that would have put most youth clubs to shame. But that was the exce
ption. What he had said was true for the most part.
‘In that case, what do you guys do all day? I read somewhere that there are hardly any fires anymore. I think they said it was because of the way modern buildings are constructed or some shit like that. I wasn’t that interested, if I’m honest.’
‘That’s right,’ Dylan said, cutting through the spectators’ giggles. ‘We do have less fires, and building construction does play a part in it. But it’s also down to us spending a lot of time putting up smoke alarms and educating people about the risks of fire.’
Nick gave him a miniature clap. ‘Well done you.’
‘And even though there are less fires, it doesn’t change the fact that when you do have one, you need us there as quick as possible with the right resources.’
Nick nodded along as Dylan spoke. ‘No doubt. You guys do an important job, don’t get me wrong.’
‘And then, there are the car crashes and other shit we have to deal with.’
‘And all the cats you have to rescue from trees.’
‘That’s right,’ Dylan nodded to the guy sitting next to Nick who had interrupted him. Dylan thought his name might have been Dave. ‘Don’t forget the animal rescues.’
‘So, what about that strike of yours?’ Nick asked. ‘All sorted now?’
‘You could say that,’ Dylan answered. ‘Our pensions are fucked, and we’ve got to work for at least another five years. Happy days.’
Nick nodded, looked up to the sky, then spoke again. ‘Yeah, well, we’ve all got to do our bit, haven’t we?’
‘What’s that?’
‘You know, in these times of austerity. We’re all in it together, isn’t that what they say?’
Dylan laughed. ‘You know something, Nick, there are people out there who I would take that from. Doctors or nurses, maybe. Volunteers at a leper colony, perhaps. I wouldn’t mind them taking a cheap shot at what I do. But people like you…’ He looked around the room like the sight in front of him was about to make him sick.
