High Street Drifter

But when the sun comes up to light the skies

I see the Aegean heaving into a great bloom

of corpses...Greeks, the pick of a generation

scattered through the wrecks and broken spars...

Aeschylus: Agamemnon

Ron and Maxine, Key Plaza Sports & Leisure Centre bar and assistant general managers respectively. Both of them suited-up, spray-tanned, bleach-toothed. Both of them wearing the same solid gold wedding band...

A seasoned interview tag-team...He took notes and smirked while she did the talking - a thick redhead, fit looking for her age, her features a weird marriage of bone-china delicacy and wolfish depravity. Brisk and brittle of manner, the same manic condescension as the counsellors and social workers I remembered...A fucking odd pairing. Even I could tell that they were a mismatch on every possible level...

'Ten years military service...' She looked up and smiled. 'Were you overseas?'

'Two tours in Afghanistan. Helmand...'

She didn't know what that was, nor did she care. Why should she? The war had been light entertainment to them...Scrolling yellow tickertape, a bulimic presenter's jewel-encrusted poppy, a home makeover show where they cripple proofed a TBI's gaff...

'Training could stand to you. The members bar can get lively...'

'Nothing to the last place I worked in, believe me...'

'The...' She checked my CV. '...Artesian. Why did you...?'

She didn't need to know the truth. Efficiencies, I told her. The place had been losing money and I had been last in...

She took the note that Ron passed her. Black nail polish, the hint of a wrist tattoo...

'It's been a difficult few years all round...Okay so, that's fine...Is there anything you'd like to ask us?'

I offered up some weak stuff about gym rates for staff members. She said a reduced tariff came as part of the package.

'Thanks again, Paul.' We all stood up, shook hands. 'We'll be in touch...'

I knew straight off that I had the job. The place had a bad rep and they were stuck. They couldn't afford to be choosy, no less than I could...

Maxine used to come into the bar on her breaks. Always sat up at the counter. Black coffee, five sugars, arch chit-chat...Torn sachets and granules left in her wake, red stains upon the rim of her cups...

But she was the boss's lady so I behaved myself. Besides, Ron wasn't entirely the worst of them. He'd lighten up when we had a drink together at the end of our shifts. Liked to hear about my time in the service...

One night, we got to talking about birds...

'That Stella on reception, fucking hell...' He pursed his lips. 'Divorced. Making up for lost time...You hearing me?'

'Been there...'

'Already? You jammy sod...'

One confidence deserved another. He told me about him and Celie, the brewery rep. Lowland Scottish bird, a stuck-up bitch. He'd been fucking her for over a year...

'Maxine don't know?'

'Don't get me wrong...She's my missus. I respect her for that. But a man's got his needs, hasn't he?'

They used a Travelodge by the flyover. The stunts this bird was into, apparently...

'Married to some hedge-fund cunt. They have each others permission...Their lifestyle, she calls it...'

'Nah, that's a mug's game. Always goes tits up...'

'She says they've never been happier...'

He pulled two more pints. Was I hearing him right? Maybe Maxine had been talking to him about me. Maybe she'd been talking to Stella. They used to work out together...

'Been meaning to ask you, mate...You get any more of that...?' He touched his nostril, sniffed. 'We're at this dinner party at the weekend. Friend of Abby's from college, her folks...Charles and fucking Di, no, I'm serious, that's their names. Max got friendly with them. Need all the help I can get...'

'Should be something by Friday.'

'Sweet as...'

I cruised for a bit after we left. Parked up on the edge of the common and watched a dogging party do their thing through NVG's. I recognized the bird. Lynn, an escort I'd been with, a talented fuck...Her Gambian husband pimped her out. Slave to the pipe in every sense...

She says they've never been happier...

I took my place among the mopes; chucked a fifty in the bin. I was a regular...

'Hello GI...'

A chink symbol tattooed on the slack tit wrung out of her leather basque...I was the only one there with a hard-on. Each one of the others channelled Ron, the same wanker's mixture of appetite and bloodlessness...

'Maxine...'

I said it under my breath, watching Lynn transfigured within the flickering of LCDs. Maxine's eyes, her tongue, her Chalkhill suss...A soldier's bird, born to follow the drum, and yet there she was, fucking squandered on him...

'Maxine...'

I tailed off as I squeezed out my load against Lynn's cheek. Her head bobbed in affirmation...

'Fuck me, you been saving it up, GI...?'

A fox began to wail like a muzzein in the trees behind us. Hayya'alas-salāh...Hayya 'alal-falāh...I got out of there before I did something I knew I'd regret...

Maxine rang me in the bar the following afternoon.

'Paul, can you drop into the office if you get a chance?'

It was just her and the work experience girl up there. She turned off her headset and asked the girl to give us a minute...

'I got a call from Revenue. They'd had no contact from The Artesian regarding your redundancy. So I called The Artesian...'

I'd known it was coming. I held her accusing eye.

'I should give you your P45 now...'

'Do I get a chance to give my side?'

'Fine, let's...'

She sat back, the red of her uniform jacket fading into that of her chair.

'Who'd you talk to? Was he Irish?'

'Does it matter?'

'Fiachra. The manager. He had it in for me soon as he found out I was ex-service. He set me up. It was him was dipping the till, not me...'

'He says he's seeing a therapist...' Her shoe leather creaked. 'He told me he still has nightmares...'

'Him getting jumped had nothing to do with me.'

'I never said it did...'

I copped her smirk. She wasn't buying it.

'Bottom line is, Paul, you lied to us. That's unacceptable...'

'What would you have done in my place?'

'I'm issuing you with a verbal warning...Do you understand? Yes or no.'

Her hands were clenched together upon the desk. I nodded. It was a good outcome. No point in pushing it...

'Thanks, Maxine...'

'I haven't put any of this on file...I didn't think it served any purpose...It's a gesture of goodwill, Paul. We expect a similar courtesy on your part through your continued hard work...And openness, Paul. A working relationship is built upon upon it. There ought to be no grounds for potential misunderstanding...'

We shook hands. Both of us were reluctant to be the first to let go...

The complicity was a turn-on for her. The simple act of withholding, of putting one over on Ron...It was payback as a long game. He'd wounded her deeply at some point. She'd convinced him that she was over it...

He was drinking every night, getting deeper and deeper into the pony ching I scored for him. Celie had given him the elbow and the loss of her had hit him hard. He went on a fuck bender with a lookalike escort. Started tapping me up for loans...

Maxine knew something was up. She probed me for information but I kept shtum. The vibe between us was different now. Her authority was well on the wane.

I started taking liberties in the things I said to her. She used to get the mock hump and call me a sleaze, but it was clear she enjoyed it. I knew now that Stella had told her everything...She'd sold me to Maxine as a devil dog, a thing forever on the verge of going nuclear but always on an owner's terms. Afterwards, the muzzle could go back on...

I shoved the eight-ball along the counter to Ron.

'You ought to slow down with that.'

'You my fucking pilot light?' He handed me forty quid in dirty fivers. 'I'll have the rest on Saturday. Promise.'

'You promised last week as well. Look at the fucking state of this...' I sniffed the money. 'Smells like a glory hole.'

'Yeah, well I got these cheeseburgers, man...'

He laughed. I didn't.

'Paul, I'm good for it mate, come on...' He snorted, dabbed his gums. 'Sure you won't...?'

'Stick with this...' I tapped my glass.

'So we're cool then?'

'I want something tomorrow.'

'Paul, I...'

'Tomorrow. I heard you on the blower. You got money for Paddy Power...?'

'I'm trying to make it right, mate...I just need a break is all...'

'You'd better up your game then. Tomorrow. You listening...?'

He'd gone grey as mince. I'd seen the look before, on the faces of lairy little chavs who, without fail, went to pieces their first time under fire. Soldiers had bought it trying to pick up for their worthless arses...Still, I didn't want him spooked to the point of recklessness. A little sugar in the strychnine was in order.

'You think I need this grief, Ron? You're leaving me with no choice. You're smart, mate. You wouldn't have made manager if you wasn't. You'll figure something out...'

Maxine came in for a drink at the end of her shift the next day.

'That fiftieth on Saturday has been pushed forward a week.' Her rings sounded against her glass. 'You can have the night off.'

Her lips were drawn, like she was holding something in. I leaned on the counter, one arm on either side of her. One knee cocked, aligned with her crotch...

'What happened to, "Staff drinking on the premises looks unprofessional?"'

'Are you going to start on me now...?'

'It's always a pleasure, Max...'

The bar was teatime quiet, just her and the last of a party of indoor footballers who'd stayed to watch a repeat of Dream Team. I poured a coffee and sat with her.

'You driving?'

'Ron's supposed to be coming for me...'

'You can stop for another, then...'

She checked her phone compulsively, her fingers skittish. The V of my spread legs twitched like a dowsing rod, picking up on her weird frequency.

'He talks in his sleep.'

'Who does?'

'Ron...Garbage, mostly. But your name keeps coming up...'

'Fancy..'

'And Celie...' She sneered, lowering her voice 'He thinks I don't know. Like she don't leave a stink after her...Don't mug me off. I'm not a fucking child...'

'That's none of my place...'

'I want you to hurt her. I'll pay you...'

Her eyes were hard beneath the ridge of her brow. Hurt her...Her narrow chin was crying out to be grabbed. She needed some sense slapped into her...

'You'll pay me...'

'I have a life insurance policy I can cash in...Ron doesn't know about it. I'll give you five grand...'

'Ten...'

'Okay, fuck it, ten, whatever...But I want this done, Paul. I fucking want it done right...'

I waved to Ron as he came in. He looked at us like he knew what was up. Like he was going to vomit...

It made the local rag. Police were urging householders to be vigilant in light of the especially heinous nature of the incident...They talked to Ron as a matter of routine. They were following up on Celie's contacts...

'You talk to her since?'

'The brewery gave her leave of absence...Gone to Switzerland, her and the bloke...A private clinic...'

I looked across at the new apartment blocks by the river as we were stopped at the lights. Electric gates, key and alarm codes, deadbolts...They thought they were safe in there, that they were keeping the evil out, but the flip side of no entry is no exit. They build their own cages...

'Five hours he had them in there, the copper said...No-one heard a thing.'

'Cold world, mate...'

The business had shook him. He'd cleaned up for about a week, paid off most of what he owed me. But he wasn't cut out for sobriety. What really bored him was his own weak-fuck absence. Penfold, Maxine called him. And to think that there had been a time when she'd prized a man's sensitivity above all else...

I took the back roads to avoid checkpoints. When we got to his house, he insisted I come in for a drink. There was a light on in one of the upstairs windows. Maxine liked to read in bed. A barman's woman had to get used to spending most evenings alone...

'She can't sleep these nights. With the sweats. And especially with Abby gone...'

They started arguing the minute she walked into the kitchen. He'd taken his shoes off, stunk the place out. She sprayed potpourri like a crazy woman and told him to change his socks.

'Wash your feet while you're at it...'

She waited until he was upstairs before turning on me.

'What the fuck are you doing here?'

'Do you always wait up for him? Do you make him Ovaltine?'

'You'll get your money...'

'You have to lower the tone, don't you Max? Can't help yourself...'

She leaned back against the cooker and tightened the belt of her robe. Thin white cotton, greasy at the lapels with chocolate and newsprint fingermarks...

'It's rich, that. Coming from a fucking psycho. What the fuck did you do?'

'What you asked me to.'

'I didn't want...'

'Yeah you did...Don't get moral, Max. It gives you wrinkles...'

'Drink your drink and go. I don't want you in my house.'

'See, I don't believe that either...'

Ron came back down barefoot. He stumbled twice on his way to the table.

'I can't find my slippers...'

'They're in the wash.'

'You having a drink with us, love?'

'Yeah, go on, Max. Seeing as you're up...'

She made herself a weak spritzer and sat down gingerly, like we were contagious.

'Busy?'

'The Board were in after their meeting but other than that...'

'And how are you Paul?'

'You know me. The last boy scout...'

She sneered. Scrubbed free of make-up, her face shone like scar tissue. She looked famished, anciently corrupt...

'You fancy a sandwich?'

Ron was talking to me but looking hopefully at her.

'Make it yourself. And wash up after yourself.'

'No, I'm good...'

We watched his incompetence in silence. It wasn't just the drink either. He couldn't even butter bread without fucking it up. Her gaze could have shivved a man...

'You're spilling it all over the floor, you tit...'

'Clean it up in a minute...'

He got salad cream mixed up with the foam at the corners of his mouth. Chewing slowly, vacantly, a chemical castrato being spoon-fed. Maxine flexed and relaxed her foot beneath the table. I buzzed off the poison she was leaking; the death rattle of her tolerance.

'You know what my mum said to me about him, Paul? First day she met him?'

'Fuck off Max, you hated your mum. Just like you hate everything...'

'Coxcomb...I had to look it up. I thought it meant something else entirely. Thought she was just being her usual cuntish self...'

'The shoe fits, sweetheart...'

'You know what a coxcomb is, Paul?'

'Chickens, innit?'

'Fucking poultry...' She made it sound like the dirtiest word imaginable. 'We really ought to listen to our folks...They're never wrong.'

'You're embarrassing yourself...'

'If you say so, love. You're the expert, aren't you?'

He dropped what was left of his sandwich in the sink and lunged at her, not so much a snake as a Gummi worm strike. I managed to get my body between theirs before he could get to her.

'Fucking hell, Ron...' I dragged him out into the hall, gagging off his anus and skip-dregs breath. 'Go upstairs and smoke a joint. Sleep it off...'

'You see what she's like?'

'You married her...Let me talk to her. Sound her out. This isn't like you...'

'I swear to Christ, I'll fucking do her...'

'No you won't. Go to bed...'

He did as he was told. I went back to the kitchen where Maxine was sweeping up broken glass.

'I heard you...This isn't like you? It's exactly like him. He's probably crying up there. I'll get a bunch of flowers from the garage tomorrow. Or a chocolate bunny...At least I have that to look forward to...'

'Let me...' I crouched down and held the dustpan for her. 'You missed a bit...Over there...'

She picked up the shard and turned it over in her fingers before holding it to her throat.

'You think I won't do it?'

'You think I give a fuck either way? Here, you got to hold it like so...' I took her hand and moved the glass to her carotid. 'Artery. You bleed out faster...'

'Tell me what you did to that Sweaty cunt...'

Her teeth were grinding themselves to dust. I touched the pulse in her throat...

'You got to control the scene. Impose yourself on the terrain. Use it to your advantage...Him, he wasn't worth a...Fetched his own ties for restraints and everything...I didn't say one word, not one...She's not one to take no for an answer. Spoiled brat, farmer princess...They give it all that but they break in the end. You can feel it when they start to fall asunder...'

She dug her nails into my wrist and pulled my hand between her thighs.

'Like this...?'

The glass fell and shattered as we kissed, her face hitting mine like the ball of a flail. I lifted her up by the cunt and dragged her on to my lap.

'Don't stop. Go on...'

'She had no fight left in her.' I pulled her robe and vest from her shoulders and twisted a breast until she sucked the breath from my mouth. 'He had a fucking hard-on. Sick fuck got off on it...'

'Sick fuck...'

'Reap what you sow. Made her suck him off until she gagged on it, fucking her like a dog. She was wet. Imagine that. She couldn't help herself...'

I pushed two fingers into her and flailed, my other hand stopping her mouth. Her spit bubbled through my fingers.

'Easy...No rush...'

I took my hand away and kissed her with as much honey as I could muster. The sweetness throws them. They don't expect it...

'Keep it down or he'll hear us...'

'He's listening...' She sounded thrilled by the thought. 'On the floor...'

She rolled off my lap, bringing me with her. I arched my body so she could unbuckle me.

'He's listening... It's what he's wanted. Sick fuck...'

'Mug...'

I clasped a hand at either side of her head and kissed her, feeling her cunt stalk my cock. No hands, just the motion of her hips. She was a natural. Her feline grace smoothed me over like a painkiller.

'Fuck are you looking at? Stop it...'

'I don't want to.'

'You think I'm old...'

'You want to know what I think?'

She pushed up my shirt and gouged my back as I nuzzled her clit with the tip.

'The heat of it...' She sighed into my mouth, adjusting her hips. 'There, just there...Help me...'

Of all the things to say...She meant more than just, Pull your weight. I could feel the rage in her grip, the beserker Waterloo of a pitted animal. She was dying. Ron's presence was doing her in slowly, like the cherry laurel fumes of a killing jar. It didn't take a genius to work out what she was driving at...

'Fuck it, babe. Fucking rip it. Do me like you did her...'

She clamped my flanks in her thighs, hard enough to leave me winded. All that spin with Stella had paid off. The booze had me listless but she'd got my attention. She was no dilettante. I'd read her all wrong...

I peeled her arse from the hot laminate and pushed her legs back, shifting gear. The more heat I threw at her, the better she liked it. She was fearless. She wouldn't be cowed, not physically, not by a man...Her malignant joy looped back upon and enhanced my own. Her adamant pelvis, her puce and luminous thorax, her cappuccino shoulders juddering with impact...There's a limit to every man's resolve. Sometimes there's no shame in giving in...

'My back. Jesus Christ...' She oozed out from under me and thought better of trying to sit up. 'It's gone too quiet up there...'