The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To (4 page)

‘I don't want to be the cause of a row between you and your bird, mate,' Greg said trying to be diplomatic. ‘If this is gonna cause problems for you...'

‘She'll be all right. She's got no choice, I wear the trousers in my house and she'd better fucking realise that.' Brain paused to light his cigar using a lighter he had found in one of his pockets. ‘I'll knock the fucker into her. Fuck her. Bitch does my head in!' Brian said with a mixed look on his face, smoke bellowing from both his nostrils. It was as if he got some kind of enjoyment from disrespecting his girlfriend, the mother of his child.

‘Hey, listen, mate, I just don't want to upset anyone or cause any shit for you at home. Anyway, we can always do it another time, if that would make things easier?' Greg was trying to calm Brian down a little.

‘Things have never been better, mate. She should know me by now. If she doesn't like it, she can always do what she normally does – nothing,' Brian laughed. ‘Anyway, it's been decided, right. I've told her now. If we don't go down my local, well, she'll think she's won and I can't let her think that she wears the trousers, can I?' Brian said in a tone that suggested that the matter was closed – his male pride was on the line.

‘It's your round when we get there then Brian,' Greg smiled, as he gave Brian a friendly shove, ‘Come on, drink up.'

‘OK, mate…
Lager, lager, lager, lager, SHOUT! I'll have a whiskey drink, and a cider drink, a lager drink…
I've forgot the rest of the words.' Brian laughed, halting his tone deaf singing. ‘I'm gonna have a piss before we go, mate,' Brian told his new drinking buddy as he swaggered away, back in to the building, heading in the direction of the men's toilets.

Greg decided to wait outside, watching the city types boasting and bragging how well their prospective careers were going. The suited young men eyed up the women as they gulped down their imported bottled beer whilst sucking on their Marlboro cigarettes. The women sipped down their large glasses of French wine whilst knowingly flirting with the bulging wallets.

Brian returned, almost losing his footing when he missed the step down as he exited the building. To Greg's surprise, he handed Greg a pint of lager.

‘I thought we were going.'

‘One for the road,' Brian said, slurring his reply. ‘Can I ask you a personal question?'

‘Yeah, why not?'

‘Why are you being so friendly to me? You aren't fucking gay, are you?'

‘You bumped in to me and then called me over Brian. Maybe I should be asking you that question?' Greg replied.

Brian froze, his manhood in question, he did not know what to say.

‘I'm only fucking about!' Greg said laughing loudly.

Brian joined Greg's laughter. ‘You had me going for a minute there!' Brian said, still laughing. It took the two men a few minutes to stop laughing.

‘What do you do for a living then?' Brian asked.

‘I'm a civil servant,' Greg replied.

‘What the fuck does one of those do?' Brian asked.

‘I can't tell you that, mate,' Greg said whilst gulping a mouth full of lager.

‘Why can't you tell me?' Brian seemed shocked that his newfound friend would not tell him what he did for a living.

‘If I could I would, mate, but I can't,' Greg said feeling this could drag on and become a bit tiresome.

‘How can you say that? Work's work,' Brian seemed to think that Greg did not trust him. ‘Civil servant… don't make me laugh.'

The truth of the matter was that Greg's employment grade did come under the civil servant umbrella, so he was telling the truth in a roundabout way. It was Brian who was bullshitting about his job, though it did not bother Greg. It was unimportant.

‘Put it this way – if people could just simply get on with their lives, abide by the laws of the land...'

‘What do you mean – the laws of the land?' Brian said, hijacking the conversation. ‘You fucking Old Bill or summit?'

‘OK, for instance, I bet you drop litter all the time.' Brian nodded his admittance. ‘Well, littering the capital is a criminal offense. Don't get me wrong and, no, I'm not Old Bill or anything like that, but it's my job to make sure our capital is kept clean and a nice place to live. Without the dirty lazy fuckers my job would be much easier, but it's not, so I just get on with it and keep smiling.'

There was a long silence.

‘Come on, we'd better drink up and get going,' Brian said, still having difficulty digesting Greg's speech. Greg simply smiled, remembering what he was doing there in the first place.

‘I don't care what you do for a living. I think you're a good bloke. It's just that I'm still none the wiser to what you do,' Brian said shaking his head, ‘but fuck it, I think you're an OK guy.'

Greg acknowledged Brian's sad attempt at an apology with a single nod of the head. Brian thought that he had offended Greg and was trying to think how he could tell him that he didn't mean to upset him without sounding soft.

‘Listen, mate' Brian said, ‘I'm sorry if I said something wrong… I'm just not very good at trusting people.' His words caused him to choke a little.

‘Forget it, listen, I'm not gay and I'm not Old Bill. Let's get out of here and you can take me to that boozer of yours.' Greg smiled whilst brilliantly hiding his disgust for the man.

Brian did not have many friends. Well, the truth was that he did not have any and that was no surprise when you think of what a nasty person he was. He had told so many lies throughout his life that even he was not sure what was fact and what was fiction anymore.

Brian tried to put on a hard man image and sometimes he got away with it. This was only because of his size. He was no athlete but he was tall, around the six-foot mark. A morbidly obese man, his body odour stuck to him like chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe. Personal hygiene had always been at the bottom of his priority list, alongside his long-suffering girlfriend and his child. It was evident that this man had never done a single day's physical exercise in his life. His diet of junk food, beer and nicotine had taken its toll – poor health was the result of this lethal cocktail. He was trying to quit smoking and had now turned to rolling his own cigarettes and only smoked cigars when he was out drinking to portray his fake image. The only reason he decided to roll his own cigarettes was so that he had more money for booze, not to boost the household economy.

His job did not give him a good income. He was not a sales supervisor. Sadly, he was still doing the same job as when he started. He chose to wear a shirt and tie to work to keep up his bullshit image. Once he got there, he would put on his overalls and get cleaning. That was why he found it difficult not to be envious of other people, the city types. He would see them in The Globe Tavern throwing their money about, buying huge rounds of drinks, never seeming to worry about the vast amounts of money they were putting behind the bar. This was also why Brian was such a bastard to his girlfriend. Brian was the kind of guy that blamed others for his own failings in life. Brian's parents knew that he would never amount to much, so in a way, they could say that he had never disappointed them. They kept their expectations low. They had feared the worst for their son, anything else would be a bonus. Their son had never paid them a single bonus.

Brian's girlfriend was as much of a loser as he was. Her name was Sharon; she was nineteen, eleven years younger than Brian. She was as useless as Brian. Sharon could not cook, clean or do any domestic chores, not that she ever tried to. She was lazy and did not bother with cleaning or the upkeep of their home. Sharon was like a lot of young mothers. All she needed was a kick up the backside. She needed to raise the bar, set her sights higher. Sitting around the house, smoking cigarettes and watching daytime television was as high as her bar got. It was this that infuriated Brian so much. He did not love her and she did not love him, they were both too naïve to understand the true meaning of love.

Brian met Sharon and got her pregnant in record time. They had met at a party Brian had gate-crashed. Sharon was stoned. Back then, she smoked copious amounts of pot. The drug had left her in her own zone and not completely aware what was going on in the real world. Brian saw her as easy prey. Taking advantage of her drug-induced slumber, he forced himself on her and, nine months later, a reminder of that night popped in to the world. Brian, to his credit, chose to stand by the mother of his child, though regretted his decision every day. Getting Sharon pregnant was a complete accident, just another statistic. Brian only stood by Sharon because she was his first real girlfriend and his first real sexual experience. His naivety regarding unprotected sexual intercourse had bit him on the arse. Sharon had always chosen to blank the experience out. In the eyes of the law, she could have cried rape. Brain was a very lucky man. He could be in prison now, not freely living his sad life.

An uncle of Brian's owned their family home, but had since emigrated to Spain. His expat uncle had let them live there because it served his double edged business sword. The first was mainly through pity and it made perfect business sense. They lived in the property more or less rent-free. His uncle was pleased that someone was living in the house. The property being occupied would deter would-be vandals and potential squatters. Though, as time went by, Brian, being the simple-minded man that he was, erased this from his memory.

Greg looked at his watch and thought that this would be their last drink as time, as well as licensing laws, would not permit them to have another in this particular pub. He had already agreed to accompany Brian to his local watering hole in Swiss Cottage.

‘Have you seen the time?' Brian asked.

‘Yeah,' Greg answered. ‘I've had a thought, mate. Haven't you got work in the morning?' Greg asked, pointing out the obvious.

‘Yeah I've got work, but I drink seven nights a week. Getting to work has never bothered me. I'm always up before the alarm. It doesn't matter how slaughtered I've been the night before,' Brian replied while giving a belly laugh, ‘I never miss a day's graft. The place would grind to a halt if I wasn't there!'

‘All right,' Greg replied, his thoughts were elsewhere. They had moved on – jumping slightly as to what
The Ultimate
had planned for Brian and whether Sharon would be strong enough. She did not have a choice; adaptability was man's strongest attribute. Greg would make sure that her test was carried out and he knew she would pass with flying colours. He would make sure that was indeed what was going to happen.

‘All right you poof?' Brian said laughing, ‘We can carry on when we get to my house. I've got loads of beer in the fridge!' Brian said.

Greg knew that Brian was just being a glutton, and that he never drank for enjoyment. After all, he was a slob!

Greg only planned to walk up to the door of Brian's house, not go inside, as he did not want to meet Sharon. Greg would wait outside whilst Brian went in his house to obtain more drinking money.

Brian was talking, though Greg could not hear a word of what Brian was saying as he was too wrapped up in his own thoughts.

‘Are you fit then?' Brian asked.

‘Yeah, always, mate, let's get out of here. I'm knackered!' Greg replied.

They both stood up at the same time and made their way to the exit. Greg let Brian take the lead and tried to dictate the pace from the rear to stall him and give himself more thinking time.

‘Come on, mate. What you fucking about at?' Brian said.

‘I'm right with you,' Greg replied.

They both made their way across the busy main road and into the train station.

‘Don't bother getting a ticket, I never do,' Brian said, with an element of excitement in his tone.

Brian walked straight through, passing the guy collecting and checking tickets and Greg followed.

‘Tickets?' the ticket guy asked.

Brian did not even look, though Greg glanced back.

‘Where are your tickets?' the ticket guy asked again, though this time he was more aggressive – shouting and demanding to see their tickets,

Greg stopped. Brian had seen that Greg had stopped, so he stopped as well.

‘What you doing?' Brian asked.

‘I'm going to shut this fucker up!' Greg replied.

‘Listen, mate, I don't want any trouble, but if you want to travel on the train, you've got to pay,' the ticket guy said.

‘You lot really piss me off!' Greg started, his state of mind blurred his clarity. ‘Who do you think you are?' His anger was building. ‘Why don't you just leave people alone, but no you can't. Some idiot tells you to wear a uniform and you think you're the fucking law, don't you?'

‘No,' replied the ticket guy, ‘I'm just trying to do my job, mate. I must remind you that all these stations are covered with CCTV cameras so please don't do anything stupid. Now, are you going to buy a ticket before you travel on the train. If you don't, I'll have to report you to the London Transport Police.'

‘What you stop for?' Brian asked. ‘Come on let's buy a ticket and fuck off.'

‘Come on let's go. I've had enough of this idiot!' Greg replied.

‘Don't forget your ticket!' the ticket guy said sarcastically.

They decided to buy their tickets, though Greg did have to pay for Brian's. It was the mention of the CCTV that changed Greg's mind. As he was purchasing their tickets, the two men heard a train approach one of the platforms.

‘Come on, I think this might be ours,' Brian grunted.

Both men hurried their way down the two flights of stairs, with Greg having to slow his pace in order for the morbidly obese Brian to catch up. As they drew closer to the platform, they noticed that it was indeed their train.