Persona - A Disturbing Psychological Thriller (2 page)

‘Come on,’ Dave persisted. ‘What happens after arrest?’

Ryan sighed. This was irrelevant. It always was - he would suggest something, Dave would object, and then he’d do it anyway. And he’d always get away with it. ‘You go to court,’ he said, just to wind Dave up.

‘And before court?’

‘… Bail?’

‘Oh come on,’ complained Dave, ‘you’re taking the piss.’ The seat creaked as he fidgeted. ‘DNA’s taken! And once they’ve analysed the swab, who d’you think’s going to be knocking on your door?’ Ryan shrugged. ‘The police! And you, my friend, face an allegation of murder.’ He sat back, satisfied, trying hard not to breathe in too much of the putrid air. The garden reeked of tar and beer. It was a disgusting environment and he only drank there because Ryan liked it.

Ryan checked his gelled black hair with his fingers. Dave flapped about everything. Intricate analysis was needed before any decision. But Dave believed himself sensible and everyone else incompetent.

The late August sun was making Ryan irritable. A group of blokes were drinking at a table in front of him, but none of them would dare to stare him out. ‘And you, my friend, are living in the past,’ he said to Dave. ‘You have too much faith in the police. Don’t paint a picture of efficiency. They fucked you in the arse; they ended your career. You owe them nothing.’

Dave broke eye contact. It was a sensitive issue that still affected him. Anyone else might’ve been tactful. ‘I’m just warning you before you drop yourself in it,’ he said. ‘D’you really think you’re going to get away with it?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘I don’t think you’ve thought all this out.’

Ryan laughed and watched a cigarette burn out on the ground. ‘I’ve spent many hours thinking about it,’ he said.

‘So...’ Dave began warily, ‘have you achieved any of these objectives yet?’

‘No.’ Ryan finished his pint and banged the glass on the rotten table. ‘But that’s about to change.’

3

The Newt was an old-fashioned pub with squeaky floorboards, a low, cream ceiling supported by huge black beams, and a thick, polished mahogany bar-top with a wavy edge. Its walls were dotted with black and white photos of actors and actresses who had starred in classic movies and beneath each of them was an excerpt of their dialogue, professionally engraved into the plaster and then coated with black ink. Nonetheless, The Newt attracted a young market with its huge selection of mixed drinks. It was two-for-one night and there was hardly room to breathe.

Col had to shout to be heard over the music. ‘When I was a boy my dad wanted me to be a professional footballer.’ He made eye contact with each of the three girls sat with him and Dave. ‘He’d wake me up at four every morning and train me in the back garden for an hour and a half.’

The brunette gawked at him and leaned forward. ‘You really went through
that
when you were so young?’ Col nodded. ‘Why did your dad stop?’

‘My right foot broke. Instead of a normal football, I had to use a medicine ball to make me strong.’

‘Oh my God!’ shrieked the petite blonde, slapping her hand over her mouth.

‘He had me train in a t-shirt all through winter so I’d become immune to the cold. After every session he stuck my hands in his armpits to warm them up.’

The brunette smiled at him. ‘You’re joking with us, right?’

‘No,’ Col laughed.

‘Didn’t your mum do anything about it?’

‘Fuck all. She knew my dad was off his head, that’s why she married him - he made her laugh.’

‘At your expense apparently! What an ordeal.’

‘It toughened me up. I didn’t learn much at school though – I was too knackered to stay awake!’

‘Where’s your dad now?’ asked the blonde.

Col stared at her as he downed his beer and then exhaled. ‘What colour’s your minge?’

Stunned silence ensued for seconds until the girl who’d said nothing so far blurted, ‘Jesus! We’re just going to the Ladies,’ then got up from her seat and began to push her way through the crowd. Her friends followed her.

Dave spoke through his fingers. ‘Jesus Christ, Col, we aren’t going to stand a chance with any women if you talk like that! It’s not sane
to them.’

Col had stood up and was scanning the pub for other women, unperturbed by the situation. ‘Dave, I’m not interested in snob bitches. I won’t be someone I’m not. They don’t like who I am, they can fuck off.’

‘Why do you care whether they like you or not? All that matters to you is that you get sex.’

Col glared at him. ‘I’m not shooting my load into any bitch. You have to earn my cum.’

Dave nodded and smiled. ‘Great. What a wonderful attitude. I predict that we’ll pull nothing tonight.’

‘Yeah we will.’ Col patted him on the shoulder. ‘They won’t be fit though.’ He continued looking around and then smiled. ‘That’s who we want, over there, two chicks with a pitcher. Big drinkers, big birds, they never fail. Come with me.’

In front of Col were two women who, he’d decided, were in no position to pick and choose. That was what he wanted - less effort. It worked for both him and Dave. Dave couldn’t pull for shit, so a bird happy to settle for anyone was ideal, whereas he himself wanted quick sex and knew the mere thought of shagging him would make either of them wet.

He moved up to their table. ‘Alright girls, I’m Col. D’you mind if we buy you another pitcher?’

‘Not at all, Col,’ slurred the girl with short, black hair. ‘I’m Fay, this is Stacey.’

Stacey needed to shed about three stone, he quickly calculated. Her face was shaped like the moon, big dimples dug into it when she smiled and her blond hair was probably as false as her self-esteem. Nice brown eyes though, and big baps.

Fay, he thought, was the uglier of the two - a good four stone surplus baggage, and like most fat birds she had rosy cheeks, bright eyes and an annoying, high-pitched voice, which gave the impression that she was content with the state of herself. It made him sick.

‘Great. This is Dave.’ Col handed him a twenty. ‘Get two pitchers in mate.’

Dave took the money to the bar. He hated the initial process of getting to know women. He couldn’t think of things to say, so he was content to leave Col to tackle the embarrassing part - he’d had more practice. The bar was full, so he waited for an opening.

Col sat down. ‘Just finished work?’ he asked both of them.

‘We ’ave.’ Fay again. She was taking the lead.

He looked at Stacey. ‘What makes you come?’

Glazed eyes bore into his for seconds, then her shiny red lips parted and she turned to her friend. They stared at each other incredulously and then burst into laughter. Col could tell they were both drunk.

‘You know how to work the charm, don’t you?’ Stacey replied.

‘I’m not into bullshitting. You can ask
me
anything you want-’

‘Okay,’ Fay jumped in, slamming her glass on the table. ‘When did you last ’ave sex?’

‘If you have!’ Stacey squealed.

‘Don’t you worry, Stacey, I know what I’m doing and I don’t disappoint. Since you ask, two weeks ago.’

‘So you’re single?’ Stacey sniggered. ‘You surprise me!’

Col laughed. ‘Well, some women like to be pampered, some like it rough. Each to their own. What do you like?’

‘In bed?’ Stacey’s eyebrows lifted.

‘In a relationship.’

Stacey’s intoxication meant that Col had to endure irritating pauses before she responded. ‘Oh, you do know the difference.’ She looked away, and then said incisively, ‘I like to feel special.’

‘I’d make you feel special,’ he said.

‘In return for what...dare I ask?!’

‘Commitment.’

‘Ahh.’ Stacey focused on her glass and then carefully clamped her fingers around it, concerned that she might knock it over. She took a sip then said, ‘I bet you’re a real softie at heart.’

‘No, not really, but I’m faithful.’

‘And sadistic?’

Col held her gaze. ‘Yes…’

Dave placed the pitchers on the table.

‘Thanks…’ Fay said, forgetting Dave’s name. ‘So are you a clone of this animal?’ She nodded towards Col.

‘I like to think not,’ Dave replied, sitting down and handing Col his change.

‘Are you sadistic?’ asked Stacey.

‘Jesus! Are you talking about sex already?’

Col nudged him with his elbow. ‘They love it. They’re just pretending to be nice.’

Fay turned to him. ‘You’re very rude,’ she said, her face screwed up. ‘What makes you think we enjoy your company?’

‘Because, Fay, what you see is what you get.’

She looked him up and down. ‘You’re in love with yourself.’

‘At ease with myself.’

Fay shook her head. ‘Congratulations, what a wonderful guy you are, every girl’s fucking dream.’ Her face began to redden. Col reasoned that the fat bitch was jealous that he’d chosen her less pig-ugly friend over her. She was dying to slobber her lips all over his cock, but knew her mate had it lined up.

‘I knew I’d bring you round.’ He gave her a sexy wink. He thought he saw her legs twitch just a little bit.

‘Excuse me,’ Dave cut in. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, but can we talk like civilised people?’ He grinned awkwardly.

‘I was,’ Col said.

Fay turned to Dave. ‘What do you do?’

‘I work with computers. It’s not very exciting I’m afraid.’

As Dave and Fay began to talk about shit, Col re-focused on Stacey. ‘When did you last have sex?’ he asked.

Stacey looked around her, her head moving slowly as if underwater. ‘Last night...with my boyfriend
,
’ she lied.

‘Really? So why bother talking to me?’

‘Because… I find you quite sad.’

‘You must be bored then. Faking orgasms?’

Stacey face reddened. ‘No, my sex life is fine.’ She finished her drink, sat down the glass, and when she picked up the pitcher she couldn’t keep it steady and beer spilt on the table.

‘Let me do that,’ Col offered. He took hold of the pitcher and filled her glass.

‘Thank you.’

He met her eyes. ‘D’you think I could make you come?’ He imagined how he looked right now - the deep blue eyes, square jaw and forty-eight inch, solid, bronzed chest. She
must
have a wide-on.

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

Stacey poured beer down her throat. ‘Because you’re unattractive.’

Col nodded at her. ‘Why then, have a hundred women slept with me?’

‘Probably because you paid them!’

Col laughed and then looked away. ‘You know, we don’t live for long enough,’ he said.

Stacey hiccupped. ‘That’s not a bad thing in your case.’

‘There’s too much to learn in one lifetime,’ he explained. ‘We all die ignorant of something, some part of life is unexplored.’

‘Why does that matter?’

‘Because something you missed out on might have made you happier than everything you experienced.’

Stacey studied him.
Is there something there?
She wondered. She had sensed that there was more to him than the unsavoury character he purported to be. So many decent men felt the need to sell themselves as macho-types and louts because of the misconception that it impressed girls. When would they realise that no self-respecting girl would fancy someone like that?
What was it he said?
She was so drunk! Something about…‘Life being too short really bothers you, doesn’t it?’ she said.

She needed mental strength, a man sensitive enough to understand her insecurities and pick her up when she felt down. She’d had to turn down so many men because they wouldn’t be themselves, and it made her very sad.

‘Yes, it means I’ll be unfulfilled,’ he said.

She leaned closer, pushed aside her drink. ‘Because you must try
everything
?’

‘Fate has a place for us. If we don’t find it, we wander without direction and die without inner peace.’

She felt herself getting excited. This was more like it. This was humanity. She wanted to learn more. ‘And is that the same for everyone?’

‘No.’ Col shook his head. ‘Only a certain breed.’

Stacey could hear Col’s friend talking to Fay about the housing market in London. She glanced at them and noticed her friend blatantly eyeing up men at the bar. Stacey returned her gaze to Col and squinted her eyes in concentration. ‘So you’re still looking for your place?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m content, but there’s so much I’ll never know.’

‘I think your place is in a psychiatric ward, friend.’ She laughed playfully.

‘Thanks, Stacey. So are you fulfilled?’

‘Yes.’ She reached for her beer, but then decided that she couldn’t drink any more.

Col stared at her intently. ‘When you’re fifty, no one will want to sleep with you.’