by steve higgs
‘I ended up spending half of last week with Hotstuff. With you away, she was getting herself into bother. Did she tell you about the spiders and the snakes?’
‘She did.’
‘What about spiders and snakes?’ Jagjit wanted to know.
‘I’ll tell you later, mate.’ Said Big Ben before turning his attention back to me. ‘So, I rescued her from a gang of kids on the Magdalene Estate, then went with her to rescue a client that was being stalked by the voodoo priest dick and ended up staying at her place because the client said she felt safer with me around.’
I thought about for a second, ‘You mean you shagged her.’
‘Well, obviously, but I prefer to think of it as really close protection. Anyway, that was Monday night and after that the whole week slipped by without me getting another shag.’
‘I still don't see how that is my fault.' I stated, taking another sip of my drink.
‘Because to start with, I figured that it was only fair to give you the time you needed to finally pluck up some gumption and give Amanda a seeing to. I know how much you like her. You have been a mooney-eyed kid since she turned up last month.’
I opened my mouth to protest, but around the table, all the others were nodding their agreement. I stayed silent.
Big Ben continued, ‘Then I discover she has a boyfriend. Some rich butthole, but she let it slip that she hadn’t got around to sleeping with him yet. So where does that leave me? She isn’t interested in you because she is dating someone else, she isn’t sleeping with her boyfriend because of goodness only knows what reason. So, I figure I might as well remove all the charm suppressors that have been stopping her from throwing herself at me, vagina first, like any sensible woman would, but having done so, nothing happened. I swear that girl is broken. I thought it might have been shark week, but then she stayed a night at my place when the spiders were rampaging hers and she didn’t bring any feminine products with her, so it wasn’t that either.’
He lapsed into silence. I gave him a minute.
‘I still don't get it. What does Amanda's ability to see what a scumbag you are, have to do with you sleeping with Patience for the second time?'
‘Oh yeah. Lost track of what I was saying there a bit. So, Tuesday night no action because I am with Amanda. Wednesday night no action because I am with Amanda again but this time she is dressed as a man and all the girls stay away because they assume I am gay. Thursday night I spent getting tortured and beaten. By the time today had rolled around I had gone three days without sex. When was the last time you went three days without sex?’ he asked me, then indicated the question was open to the rest of the table.
‘Right now, actually.’ I replied.
‘I'm married.' Replied Hilary. When we looked at him to clarify his answer he said, ‘I hardly ever have sex.'
Basic had no answer and Jagjit was grinning because he now had a girlfriend and I was willing to bet they celebrated the sun going up and going down by visiting each other’s private places.
‘Weak. Just weak.’ Big Ben said shaking his head. ‘In contrast to you shandy-sniffing, lightweight excuses for men, I last went three days when I was fourteen. By last night I was starting to get the shakes.’
‘You can’t get the shakes from having no sex.’ I replied, calling his bullshit.
‘How would you know? You can’t go cold turkey if you never get any turkey to start with. Patience offered me no-holes-barred action and I took the deal.’
‘Wait. The expression is no-holds-barred.' Pointed out Hilary. ‘It comes from wrestling where, in some bouts, there are certain holds that one cannot apply to an opponent…' he saw our expressions and realised he had misunderstood the premise.
Jagjit leaned over and whispered in his ear.
Big Ben grinned.
Hillary caught on. ‘Oh.’ He said quietly, his cheeks flushing.
‘Anyone want to go to see the fireworks at Leeds Castle tomorrow night?’ Big Ben wanted to know.
‘Maybe. Let’s get back to the bit about you getting a girl pregnant first though, shall we? How did you even find out? I thought you always sanitised their phones to remove your number before you left?’
‘I do. Remember the Big Ben business cards?’
‘Yeah. For all your vaginal needs. Isn’t that the marketing strapline you use?’
‘Yeah. Works like a charm.' He boasted, then remembered his plight and looked unhappy again. 'Well, I hadn't thought that thing all the way through and it had my number on it.'
‘Making you easy to find.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Do you even remember her?' Hilary asked.
‘Of course. I keep a journal. She was the super-hot redhead on September 9th. I met her in the coffee shop on Fremlin Walk.’
‘You don’t know her name, do you?’ Jagjit said.
‘It’s Bethany.’ He replied, exasperation creeping into his voice.
It was my turn to ask a question, ‘Did you know her name before she told you what it was today?'
‘Nope.' He said proudly. ‘That's why she is listed as the super-hot redhead. Just then his phone pinged. It often did that and usually, it was a woman looking for sex. He often left the pub on a Friday night with a woman waiting outside his apartment for him to get there. As he looked at the screen his expression changed from one of mild curiosity, wondering what the message might be, to one of dread. ‘I don't believe it.'
He put the phone on the table face up so we could see it. Hillary, Jagjit and I all leaned in to read the screen. Basic leaned in as well, but I think he only did it because everyone else was. I wasn't sure if he could read.
Hi Ben, It’s Britney. I need to meet with you. I think I’m pregnant. The text message read.
‘Oops.’ Said Hillary.
‘They say problems come in threes…’ Jagjit added.
Big Ben locked eyes with him. He wasn’t seeing the funny side of this.
‘Soooo. How about the fireworks then, buddy?’ I interjected to break the tension.
‘I’m going to the gents.’ He announced standing up.
‘And I am going to the bar.’ I collected the empties as Big Ben wandered away. ‘Same again all around?' I confirmed. There were nods in reply and a thumbs up from Basic.
At the bar was Natasha, waiting to serve me.
‘Hello, Tempest. Are you well?’ she asked as she took the empty glasses
‘Yes, thank you, Natasha. Are we friends again?’
‘Same drinks, yes?' she enquired, dealing with business first. She was dressed much the same as always with one of those miracle bras that made her ample breasts defy gravity and a top that showed off a surprising amount of them. Her hair was getting longer, her natural, lustrous brunette locks falling over one shoulder to hang lower than her boobs. She positioned two glasses to begin pouring drinks, then glanced back up at me. She had made me wait a few seconds before answering my question. ‘That, I think, depends on whether you still think you deserve a second chance and what you might do with it if there was one.'
From below the bar, Mr. Wriggly had grabbed a bugle and was calling reveille to his two small round friends.
I was flapping my lips and failing to speak as usual. Mr. Wriggly was getting cross with me. If he had a foot he would kick me in the two friends sitting just below him. It was an idle threat, but I put my brain into gear and formed a response anyway.
‘Whether I deserve a second chance or not, is not for me to decide, but I will say that I feel we will both miss out if we do not pursue a second date.’
‘A second date?’
‘I am counting lunch in Rochester as the first date. We were alone, it was nice, we kissed. It felt like a date to me.’
‘Are you trying to get to date three, Tempest?’ she asked, a single eyebrow raised.
My cheeks felt warm. ‘That’s not really how I do things, Natasha. I am not looking for a date because I want a particular outcome. I would like to talk to you about wha
t I do want if I can entice you into coming out for dinner with me.’
‘Well, I don’t know, Tempest. It might have to be something special if you want to entice me.' She was teasing me. She finished pouring my beverages.
‘And take one for yourself.’ I said as I handed over thirty pounds. ‘When are you free?’
‘How about Wednesday evening?’
‘I am always free, lady. If Wednesday works for you, then I will make dinner reservations and will pick you up.'
‘Well, you have my number.’
‘No, I don't actually. That was the problem. You wrote it on a note and I don't know what I did with it, but I never saw it again. I'm not even sure I took it out of the restaurant with me after you handed it over.'
‘Oh.’ she said, her face colouring slightly. ‘I thought that was just some crap excuse you came up with for not calling me.’
‘No, I am genuinely stupid. I lost your number and had no way of getting it. I don’t even know your last name and the Landlord, bless him, is very protective of you. I near enough begged him for your number and he wouldn’t give it up.’
‘Bless him.’
That is not what I had said.
From behind me came a fake coughing noise. The chaps wanted their drinks and were being dicks about waiting while I sorted out my life.
‘You go.’ Natasha said. ‘You are drinking, so this is not the time to talk properly. I will look forward to Wednesday. First though, give me your phone.’
I handed it over and watched as she created a new contact called Natasha Stow. She saved it and now I really didn’t have an excuse. I didn’t feel that I needed one though. I was back on track with Natasha, a woman I had been interested in for a long time.
I left her with a final smile and went back to the chaps, trying very hard to not look like the winner I knew I was.
I had snagged a bag of pork scratchings for the dogs to share. Their Friday night treat. I would usually split it three ways and eat a third myself, but in contrast to their trim waistlines after a week of getting far more exercise than usual in Cornwall, my waistline had expanded, and I was topping it off with several beers now. I was going to start a whole new regime tomorrow. I had already stocked my fridge and cupboard with the food I needed to be eating. So, while I gave myself the concession of a Friday night drinking with the boys, I didn't want to add to that with deep-fried pig skin.
The Dachshunds were climbing my legs to get to them anyway, so I upended the bag and watched them do a damned good impression of a Hungry Hippos game as they made the crispy treats disappear.
The chaps wanted to hear about my time in Cornwall. They had seen the news reports and the reporter I had met there was still covering it, her face being beamed around the world no doubt as the treasure was to be slowly excavated and catalogued.
I launched into a long-winded tale of my Cornish adventure and the beer flowed.
Something Jagjit and Hillary were talking about had caught Big Ben’s attention. He and I had been talking about his pregnancy dilemma, then he wasn’t listening because he was paying attention to them instead.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked.
‘I was telling Jagjit that he needs to establish dominance straight away when they move in together.’ Said Hilary. ‘I didn’t and have always been the one taking orders instead of giving them.’ He looked miserable.
‘Is that how you see it?’ I wanted to know. ‘Anthea rules over you? Shouldn’t it be mutual with both of you as equals?’ I had never been married but just as I could not imagine being subservient to a woman, I would equally have no wish to dominate her either. That didn’t sound like any kind of partnership to me.
‘That’s how it is. I let Anthea make some decisions, gave her the accounts to manage, that sort of thing and she just kind of took over. Before I realised it, I was operating to her schedule, doing what she told me. Fifteen years in I don’t see how I can change that.’
Big Ben was shaking his head. ‘Mate are you sure you don’t suck balls for a living? Women like to be dominated. Not in a manner that makes them feel diminished, but so they feel that you are their support, their strong arm to rely on, their big, manly man. Plus, in the bedroom, they all love to be dominated. Ever meet a lady that doesn’t love to be spanked?’
‘I’ve never tried.’ Admitted Hilary.
‘There you go, mate. You could change the dynamic of your relationship with a little playful spanking. Pin that lady against the wall, give her a seeing to she won't forget, and she will want you to take the reins.'
‘You have met my wife, right?' he asked.
Big Ben took a long swig of his drink and set it back on the table. ‘All ladies are basically the same, buddy.' He claimed knowingly. ‘Give it a try. What harm can it do?'
Hilary grabbed his glass while he thought about his answer. He opened his mouth to take a swig but stopped with the glass halfway to his lips. ‘I don’t know.’ He concluded.
The group fell silent for a moment and when the conversation picked back up the topic had moved on to rugby and who was going to win this weekend.
Later, at home, I settled the dogs onto their side of the bed and slid under the duvet on my side. As I laid down to sleep I thought about Natasha.
New Client, New Case. Saturday, November 5th 0815hrs
Saturday was one of the days when I habitually did not get up early to frequent the gym. I allowed myself the weekly concession of a night in the pub drinking on a Friday. I had done this even when I was in the Army, and even though I never had so much to drink that I felt groggy the next morning or had a hangover, it still seemed prudent to avoid thrashing my body with a gruelling workout when it was less than well hydrated. Going to the pub also meant that I was getting to bed later than I normally would, so I gave myself a lie in on a Saturday.
Today was like that, but I had added in the extra indulgence of getting a cup of tea and bringing it back to bed. The clock next to me claimed it was 0815hrs. I would get up soon as I had tasks to get on with. I had been away all week so had turfed my dirty laundry into the washing machine yesterday and into the tumble dryer last night as I went to bed. By lunchtime today I would have it all ironed and put away, would have cleaned the car and sorted out the house so that all was back to normal. It was going to take more work than I had expected though.
I had raced back from Cornwall last night in response to a message from Jane that suggested Amanda and Big Ben were in trouble. I couldn't raise anyone on their phones because, unbeknownst to me at the time, they were all being held captive by a crazy voodoo family. I had been able to hastily mobilize the police, mount a rescue and thankfully they were all fine, although somewhat the worse for wear. But the real shock had come once I was back in my house, had traipsed upstairs and turned on the bedroom light.
In my bed, was the client Amanda had stashed in my place to keep her safe. Amanda had forgotten to tell me she was here and forgotten to tell the client that I might come home.
She had screamed when the light woke her up and there was a man she did not know at the foot of the bed. I had screamed out of pure fright because she was screaming, and my poor sleep-deprived brain could not process the information fast enough.
Once I got my bladder back under control and managed to introduce myself, and once she understood that I was not there to do anything to her, I called Amanda and we cleared the mess up. It was the middle of the night and I really wanted to sleep in my own bed, but decorum dictated that I was on the couch downstairs until a more sociable time of the day. That had proven to be just after 0600hrs in Kimberly’s opinion. She explained that she had not been able to get back to sleep and had called a cab to collect her.
I had thanked her and wished her luck, then fallen into the still warm sheets where sleep had taken me in seconds. I had been tired most of the day despite staying in bed until almost noon.
The bedding she had been sleeping in had gone into the wash and the spare bedding was what
I was sleeping in now. I would rearrange it all, make the house look as I wanted it to look and then I would feel ready to run my business out of it and have my staff working here. It was not even close to an ideal solution, so among the tasks for today was contact Tony Jarvis and see how the rebuild of my office was going. I expected to be out of it for weeks, if not months and now I was back, I needed to look for somewhere more appropriate, albeit temporary, to work from.
I drained the last of my tea, swung my legs meaningfully over the side of the bed, argued with myself for ten seconds about the merits of getting another hour of sleep then reluctantly embraced the day. I had plugged my phone in downstairs to recharge overnight so didn’t hear it ringing while I was upstairs getting a shower and brushing my teeth.
When I arrived in my kitchen I saw the screen was lit and that I had four missed calls from the same number.
I pressed the kettle into service again and hit dial to call the person back.
I heard it pick up, ‘Hello?' a man's voice at the other end. I judged his age as thirties probably. An adult definitely and without the wobble that might suggest an older person.
‘Good morning. This is Tempest Michaels of the Blue Moon Investigation Agency. I have several missed calls from this number. How may I help you please?’
‘Mr. Michaels I am given to understand from your website that you investigate strange occurrences, things that cannot be explained. Paranormal phenomenon and such. Is that correct?'
‘Indeed, Sir. My firm specialises in solving cases others have dismissed, or have given a paranormal explanation. What is the nature of your enquiry please?' I had just returned home from a week away, so I had no live cases open and needed paid work. Amanda had just neatly wrapped up a case for Kimberly (my unexpected house guest yesterday) but had almost done it pro bono despite employing others to help out. I suspected the books would record a negative for it. Other cases had paid well recently and I would most likely have taken the case on if Amanda hadn't so I had nothing negative to say about her actions.
Before I had to prompt him, the man told me why he was calling. ‘I believe my stepmother used witchcraft to kill my father.'
