Lesson in Betrayal

by Katsura

  *

  Playing cards and watching the boxing had become something of a Saturday evening ritual for Judas, Ewan and Vinny.

  Tonight, however, there was no Vinny. Just Judas and Ewan.

  Without Vinny’s constant jokes and attempts at hilarity, things weren’t really the same. Ewan was never much of a talker and Judas considered just going to bed rather than sitting there and pretending that nothing was wrong. Everything was wrong.

  Eight o’clock and nothing is well.

  “You never thought of cosmetic surgery, Ewan?” Judas was playing patience at the table. Ewan was not much of a poker player so he was just engrossed in a silent boxing match as usual. If Vinny wasn’t here to lighten the mood there was no harm in Judas having a bash at it.

  “Now why would I want to do that?” Ewan was clearly amused, and not offended by Judas’s jibe. He let out a small laugh. “I’m pleased with what Mother Nature gave me.”

  “Yeah?” Judas smiled and flipped some cards over. “They broke the mould before they made you, that’s for sure.”

  Again Ewan laughed. He reached for a can of beer and opened it, tipping it forward when it frothed out over the can and splashed his shoes.

  “Well, Jude. If it wasn’t for guys like me making guys like you look better, you’d get half the action that you normally do.”

  Judas dealt another row of cards. “I have been lacking in the action department these days. My cock is refusing to co-operate with my mind. I’ve actually started thinking about stuff other than sex. It’s frightening. Do you know that if you stretched a human being’s DNA end to end, you would reach the moon? Or maybe even get to the moon and back. Some crap like that anyway.”

  “That is seriously scary, Jude.” Ewan sipped some beer.

  “How’s it scary?” Judas began to clear up his cards as the game had bored him. He should have known. He was never a patient man. It was all in the title. “It’s just a fact.”

  “Not about the DNA” Ewan scoffed. “You not getting your dick up. Have you tried Viagra?”

  Judas looked playfully insulted. “Fuck you. I can still get it up. Just…well, it doesn’t seem to want to these days.”

  Ewan smiled. He approached the table and took the place that Vinny usually filled.

  His shortfall in the looks department was an insult to Vinny’s memory and Judas had the urge to ask him to move, but he didn’t.

  “Jude. Can I say something?”

  “You just did.” Judas smirked.

  “Funny.” Ewan tapped his fingers on the table. “Don’t you miss him?”

  “Vinny?” To say the name had been unnecessary. It was obvious who Ewan was referring to. ”Course I do. He’ll come back. He’s just sore at me.”

  “I’ve never really known Vinny to be sore at anyone. Just Fergie and he is a twat.”

  Ewan nodded as if confirming his own evaluation of Fergus. “You need to go make it right, Jude. Whatever went on between you and him, and you know me, I have an open mind. But Vinny is young and whatever went on…well you should go and fix it.”

  Judas stifled a laugh. “That’s what you think? You think me and Vinny had a, what would you call it, lover’s tiff? Hey and that implies I am old.”

  “Maybe.” Ewan nodded. “I was never into speculating but if you can fix it you should.”

  Judas took a deep breath. “Vinny let me down. Let us all down.” He tried to give the appearance that he was certain about things, in an effort to make what he said seem fair. But he knew in his heart that it wasn’t. “He’s gone off with his tail between his legs and what can I do? He wronged me. Us. He knows it.”

  “So Fergie is not the only one.” Ewan looked Judas in the eye.

  “Not the only one to what?” Judas looked back.

  “The only one that’s a twat.” Ewan seemed resolute, as if he had gone over what he was about to say many times. “I don’t care a fuck about what Vinny did to let us down.

  In my mind, he could never do that. He is a decent fucking guy who would do anything for anybody. You of all people should know that, Jude. He took the fucking rap for you.

  Or did you forget that?”

  Judas gritted his teeth. “Of course I never forgot it. What kind of an asshole do you think I am?” Ewan had never spoken out of turn to him before and Judas was torn between the thought that all he was saying was right, and the desire to smack him in the mouth for his cheek. Ewan was far stronger, however. Smacking him in the mouth when he was in such a mutinous mood was maybe not a good idea, so Judas resisted.

  “You are the kind of asshole who is too fucking stubborn to go and make it up to a guy he owes his life to.” Ewan rested his hand on Judas’s forearm and Judas was reminded of how he’d wished that he had touched Vinny’s arm the last time that he’d saw him.

  Judas stared down at Ewan’s misshapen knuckles against the fabric of his shirt. “I wouldn’t know where to begin.” He sighed as he felt Ewan give his arm a squeeze.

  “You begin by go finding him. Telling him whatever it was that he done was not worth losing him over.” Ewan’s voice had that calm and reasonable quality again. “You tell him that we both miss his ugly wee face and that your dick has gone on strike because of him.”

  Despite everything, Judas laughed. He lifted his face and looked into Ewan’s eyes.

  “You think he will forgive me?”

  Ewan grinned, which made him look happy but not any more attractive. “You are a fucking idiot, Jude. Stop wasting your brain cells on science and get a fucking clue, man.”

  *

  Of course Ewan was right. There was only one way to bring Vinny back and that was for Judas to stop the self-pity and actually go and get the wee bastard. He had walked back and forth in front of the brothel a few times then he decided that he wasn’t yet ready for this and headed off down the road towards the pub. A few swift halves would maybe give him some of the courage that he so badly needed.

  Les, the owner of the pub, was at the bar when Judas walked in and he lifted his head, clearly expecting Judas to order a drink. Owen MacIsaac was seated on a bar stool with an almost finished pint in his hand so Judas thought better of ordering now and decided to wait and see if Big Callum’s henchman would leave first. There was no love lost between himself and MacIsaac and he didn’t fancy listening to the man’s sarcastic jibes at the moment. MacIsaac, who was always so full of himself, looked up and smirked. He caught Judas by the sleeve as he tried to pass him unnoticed. It was a vain attempt. Wherever he went, people noticed him.

  “Bitch,” MacIsaac leered, “you been keeping a low profile these days?”

  Judas shrugged his arm free. “I don’t think I like that name anymore. I’d prefer it if you didn’t call me that. It’s Mr MacGregor to you. But if you are very nice to me, I’ll let you call me Jude.”

  MacIsaac snorted and it was obvious to Judas that the git would likely always call him bitch, especially since Judas had requested him not to.

  “Whatever you say, bitch.” MacIsaac grinned. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Why?” Judas didn’t like the way MacIsaac was eyeballing him. As though the man had got one over on him somehow.

  “Can’t you guess?” MacIsaac gave a throaty laugh. He wiped one hand across his mouth and his sovereign rings glinted even in the dim light of the bar.

  Judas put both hands on his hips and stood up straighter, firstly to make himself look more threatening and secondly to give a sly glimpse of the gun that he was carrying in the inside pocket of his jacket. MacIsaac was far more built than Judas.

  Without the gun, Judas knew that if MacIsaac wanted to hurt him right now, he easily could. “Oh I don’t know, Owen. You fancy me and are looking for a date? I’ll check my diary. I warn you though, I’ve got expensive tastes. No fish supper for me. Something swanky. Sushi maybe? And if we end up fucking afterwards, don’t bother to send me flowers. I can’t stand the fucking things. Jewellery is okay but nothing tacky. I car
e about my appearance. Those rings you wear, fuck sake, man. What you living in the seventies?”

  Owen laughed more and he reached out and patted Judas on the cheek. “You always were a humorous little cunt. You got a real big mouth, MacGregor.” He shifted on the bar stool and his coat fell open to show that he too was armed. There would be no shoot-out between them, however. Not in a public bar. Even though Judas suspected that MacIsaac wouldn’t be looking for him for any pleasant reason, he never showed any fear. It was obvious this was a precursor to Judas’s imminent demise, but he wouldn’t give MacIsaac the satisfaction of looking bothered about this.

  “I do,” Judas grinned, “but I’d hardly need that on our date if what they say about you is true.”

  “A wee word of warning…Judas,” MacIsaac’s eyes looked directly into Judas’s eyes, “be careful what you say. Don’t piss off a person who will one day decide exactly what is going to happen to you. The person who can decide…will it be quick? Or painfully slow…”

  Judas smiled. “Well I heard with you that it’s always quick. Anyhoo, Owen.” He patted MacIsaac’s beefy arm, “You been working out? Nice. Call me, baby.” He held his fingers up to his ear in an impersonation of a telephone then walked on to the gents as though it had always been his intention to go there, the mirrored panels on the door showing MacIsaac staring murderously after him.

  Once inside the tiled lavatory, Judas stood with his back against the door. It was inevitable that at some point the Campbells would come looking for him to exact some kind of revenge. It had only been a matter of time. After what had happened at the lockup, and Fergus’s later unexpected visit to Judas’s flat, Judas was pretty sure that it wouldn’t be young Mr Campbell who would personally do the business. Fergus had his chance then. Nice that Big Callum had sent MacIsaac. He was pretty high up in the Campbell ranks, so at least he felt thought of as important enough to merit death by someone of note. How humiliating to be killed by Rasputin. But despite how the thought amused him, from now on, he would need to be a little more careful.

  Although he had come to the gents just to get away from MacIsaac, Judas realised that he did actually want to pee. It wouldn’t do to go and pour his heart out to Vinny while hopping erratically from one foot to the other. He wanted Vinny to think that coming back to the fold was a sensible idea. Not that he ran the risk of being roped into some insane gangster version of Riverdance.

  Once in front the urinals, Judas freed his cock from his pants. It was a small and predictable satisfaction that came from spraying a jet of urine over white porcelain.

  Usually, he only frequented such places to hook up with some stranger for sex, but it was only out of habit that he turned his head to the side as another man came across and stood next to him. Used to checking out the anatomy of any potential cottager, Judas’s eyes travelled down to the cock that was held between the fingers of the guy next to him.

  His eyes widened.

  To see an erection held out as though for approval was normal practice for those in pursuit of a clandestine fuck. This dick was not hard, just the most massive that Judas had ever set eyes on. He stared brazenly at it, unable to help himself. Judas never liked it up the ass. That was a big no for him. He liked to be in control and his limited experience of the act had been a painful one. But if anything was needed to further discourage him from a bout of boisterous buggery, it was the vastness of this whopper of a willie.

  The guy next to him coughed and Judas snapped out of his trance and looked from the cock to the somewhat familiar face.

  “Cain.” Judas breathed the name. He felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of animosity and hastily put his cock back in his trousers and pulled up his zip. Cain finished peeing and then did the same.

  “So,” Judas struck up a conversation as they each washed their hands, “I would normally say how’s it hanging, big man, but I’ve just seen and I would say it was…pretty well hung.”

  Cain looked clueless as he turned off the tap and began to dry his hands on a paper towel.

  “Have you seen Vinny at all?” Judas dried his hands too.

  “Yes.” Cain nodded.

  “Well I mean recently,” Judas looked at him indulgently, “not, like, ever.”

  “I saw him last night.” Cain walked towards the door, “and I will see him again at lunchtime.”

  Judas nodded and lifted his chin. “Be nice to him. He means a lot to me.” He resolved to go home after this and not bother to go to find Vinny. His encounters with Cain and MacIsaac had lost him what little courage he’d had, and the urge to have a drink, all in one go it seemed.

  Cain didn’t respond. He walked out of the toilet in silence and Judas stared after him with an ache in his stomach just as if someone had kicked him there.

  *

  The blank spot on the gravel driveway made it obvious to Hugo that Fergus had carried out his threat to have Hugo’s little car taken away to the scrap heap. The poor vehicle seemed to have been spared its undignified fate as it had been used to bring the whore back to Hugo’s beautiful home but now it was gone and Hugo sighed miserably.

  It would be practically impossible for him to have any freedom at all without transport.

  He knew of course that since Mikhail was still alive, Fergus would continue to have an affair with him, leaving him bereft of any attention whatsoever. The thought was a depressing one. He liked to fuck. Without his car he could hardly go anywhere to find anyone to fuck with, and since no one ever visited, he would be left to his own devices again. Judas MacGregor had let him down but that said, Hugo would still have had sex with him. There was no point in pretending that he could bear a grudge that would see him miss out on some satisfaction.

  A limousine parked outside the gate and a smartly dressed driver got out and stood by the door to wait for his passengers.

  “Fergus!” Hugo called out, his lips pursed. “There is a car here for you.”

  Clearly the car was there for Fergus and Mikhail. It was a no brainer.

  Fergus stepped in from the hall and he glanced out of the window before he turned his attention back to Hugo. “I’m taking Mikhail back home.” His voice was cold.

  “Oh?” Hugo tried to look less than thrilled. “I will miss his company.”

  “Don’t fuck with me, Hugo.” Fergus has such an expression of hatred on his face that Hugo felt his heart plummet to somewhere around his stomach.

  “Chance would be a fine thing.” Hugo said as he reached out and plucked a dog hair from Fergus’s coat. “Darling…I love you. I realise I don’t say it often enough but I do.”

  Fergus shrugged Hugo’s hand off his arm. “I don’t want to hear it, Hugo. Both you and I know why your words mean nothing to me. I want you to know that I’m a changed man now and you are bloody lucky that I am.”

  Hugo’s lips trembled. He forced them to. This was something he had learned to do in order to gain sympathy but it seldom worked on Fergus. It was unlikely to work on him now but Hugo tried it anyway. “Why would my words mean nothing to you? I love you, I mean it. You are my husband. The man who married me. The man I have spent my life trying to please. You don’t have to change. I have always loved you just the way that you are.”

  He had been right that the act would fail. Fergus looked nothing but bitter.

  “Can it, Hugo.” He walked out into the hallway.

  “When can I expect you home?” Hugo walked to the door just in time to see Mikhail pass a small bag to the driver, who had come up the stairs to meet them.

  Mikhail said nothing. He simply left with the driver.

  Fergus stood still for a moment. The way his eyes roved around the hallway had a very final air to it. Like someone taking a last look at something with the certain knowledge that they would never see it again. He seemed to commit the hall to memory and whether this was a good or a bad memory, Hugo could only guess.

  Fergus reached down and lifted a suitcase from the floor next to the hall stand. It was the same su
itcase that he had carried when he’d arrived here on his release from prison.

  Hugo’s lips parted and he struggled to find something to say. Fergus was leaving him. Why could he not think of anything to say?

  “I…I…” he stammered, “You never answered me. Darling when will you be home?”

  Fergus stepped outside. “When hell freezes over.”

  “But you can’t go! Fergus, please! What will I do without you?”

  Something seemed to amuse Fergus. A smile formed on his lips. “Frankly, my dear?

  I don’t give a damn.” He left and slammed the door behind him.

  Hugo stared ahead in disbelief.

  He took a few faltering steps along the hallway, but made it only to the staircase where he sat on the bottom step, a trembling wreck.

  “No.” He shook his head. “I won’t let him go. I can’t let him go. He is mine.” His fingers moved through the black waves of his hair. “I have to make him come back!”

  The door that separated Hugo from his husband, and a world that seemed to have no place for him anymore, looked more solid than it had ever done before. A great mass of wood and glass.

  A sentinel.

  Fergus’s ally.

  Hugo looked at it in fear, then still crouched as though sitting, he inched his way backwards up the stairs. He never took his eyes from the stained glass. The brass letterbox, wide and ready to snap like a cruel mouth.

  “You won’t defeat me.” He hissed at the door. “None of you will.”

  *

  Judas glanced at his phone.

  Another text from Ewan. This one, like the ten previous, simply read “Did you go see Vinny?”

  He groaned and then text back. “I’m on my way now, you ugly fucking nag.”

  It had to be done.

  Two hoods doth not a gang make, Judas thought in an uncharacteristically Shakespearean moment, no doubt brought on by the lack of sexual release. If this continued, he’d be writing poetry next. Who knew where this would end?