I was meeting Paul at the Galleon around six. I was early though, so I ordered a pint of beck’s and sat at the bar. I was reminiscing about my encounter with Sam, I hadn’t seen or heard from her since, she’d took my number but refused to give me hers. I knew she didn’t want to see me again, but this spurred my lust further. I usually lost interest in women once i’d came, shallow I know, but they always seemed submissive after i’d slept with them and that put me off. With Sam though, she was in complete control. I was just a cock that day and i’d enjoyed watching her riding me with complete discontent for my pleasures, purely focused on her own orgasm.
I was pondering going to her house when Paul walked in. ‘Sorry I’m late pal.’ He looked more tanned than ever, I was sure his family were foreign somewhere along the line. I bought him a drink and we sat in the corner. The bar was pretty busy now, full of that Friday freedom, the end of the working week.
‘Could use a hand on a few jobs this week mate, my apprentice has called in sick again.’ He complained
‘You should sack him you know, he’s useless’
‘You’re right, you any good with a brush?’
‘I could learn...anything’s better than that fucking pasty shop’
He laughed. ‘Tell you what, the little fucker’s off all week, work with me for a few days and if you like it you can labour for me until you find something else’
‘Really? Fantastic Paul’ I gushed
‘Don’t get soppy’ he smiled ‘get the drinks in’
I got two beers and two gins, we sat there and drank. I felt better now, I had some half decent work and a pal. I even forgot about Sam for the evening. We got drunker and rowdier, spending a fortune on the jukebox, much to everyone’s annoyance. We were putting the worst shite we could think off on, Cliff Richard’s ‘wired for sound’ even made an appearance. The locals weren’t used to this. At some point during the cartoon’s ‘ooh ee ooh ah ha’ someone came over and complained.
‘Fuck off!’ Paul was leathered now and laughing his head off.
The local though, had an ace up his sleeve. ‘You do realize I’m the landlord?’
‘I think we should leave Paul’
‘Why should we?’ He snarled
‘Because you just told the landlord to fuck off and everyone is staring at us’ I grabbed his arm and he nearly fell of his chair. As I got him out he stormed back in ‘We’ll be back you know’ He shouted ‘That jukebox is mine and you can’t keep me from it!’ I was smoking outside but heard every word, all of a sudden he came flying out the door straight on his arse. Another rather intimidating looking local was at the door ‘You better take your friend home.’
‘I think you’re right’ I smiled apologetically. The man seemed to know I was the poor bastard who had deal with him now.
I only lived round the corner so I decided to take him there. Thankfully I was on the first floor, so I wouldn’t have to carry him up the stairs, I wasn’t sure how he’d got so drunk, But I knew I had to catch up. I had a bottle of vodka in the freezer, but nothing to mix it with, neat it was. Vodka’s nicer out of the freezer, it goes into like an oil and actually has a taste. Paul was still singing the cartoons at the top of his voice. ‘Keep your bloody voice down, Paul’ I said ‘They can hear every word upstairs’
‘Oh cheer up’ he reached in his pocket and threw a bag on the table ‘Chop that up’
It was a bag of coke, finally! I hadn’t had any since I was back up north. ‘Where’d you get this from?’ I asked.
‘The missus knows some guy from work or something’ This was the first time he’d mentioned her all night ‘could she get me some?’ I quizzed
‘She rarely gets it to be honest, just get a line sorted’ He spouted. That was a no but hey, we had it now. I chopped two rock star sized lines up for us, I had mine first, choppers rights of course.
The coke brought him round. I talked, as I always do on coke, about my plans for the world and whether or not I’d liked Mamma Mia, I think I do. As I talked, I noticed he was texting, this always annoyed me. Texts seem come before the person you’re actually talking to these days. ‘Who’s that?’
‘The missus, she coming to get me, do you know the address?’ I told him and chopped another line in case she arrived before we got chance. ‘She can come in if she wants you know’ hoping he’d stay.
‘She seems pretty pissed off, but she might do’ We carried on listening to Fleetwood Mac on YouTube and talking endlessly about how good an album ‘rumours’ was. In between cigarettes, we snorted and in between snorts, we drank. I’d drifted into my own world when a knock at the door scared the shit out of me. ‘That’ll be her’ he slurred ‘I’ll see if she wants to come’ He stumbled with great difficulty to door and I wasn’t hopeful he’d return. I heard some bad noise and the sounds of a disagreement, then a car speeding off. I assumed they’d gone, so I put Fleetwood Mac back on and sat back. To my surprise though, laughing his tanned little head off, he came back in. ‘Sean, my good man, Three lines please’ He slumped down on the couch
‘Three?’ I asked, confused.
‘Yes, three’ She said with a smile. My balls shot into my stomach. It was Sam.
© Copyright 2016 Damon Standish. All rights reserved.
Short Story / Literary Fiction
Short Story / Literary Fiction
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