by Ian Dyer
‘A fee?’
‘Aye, Simon, a fee.’
‘What do you mean?’ But Simon knew the answer before he even asked.
Bob shook his head, ‘For an edu-cay-ted feller, you don’t half ask some stupid questions, Simon. You know, a fee, a payment for using the lake. For catching what they think is their fish. Now most won’t argue with em, you saw the size of those big bastards. Christ, they could wrench the legs off a bull without breaking sweat. Especially Lawrence. He was the biggest one and the one that does the talking. But I don’t take none atheirshite. As said, I got the ear of the Chairman, and they know that so they leave me be. Anyone else and it’s either money, fish or both.’
Bob drove the car into the driveway and he eased it to a stop right next to Simon’s electric blue wonder and in the exact same spot it was in when they had left.
‘And I suppose they don’t like southerners as well?’ Simon said as he got out of the car and closed the door.
Bob did likewise and then leaned on the roof of his car. ‘Guess again.’
Simon shrugged.
‘Well they don’t give two shits if yer southern, western, eastern or bloody Chinese. All they care about it that you is fresh meat, if yaknow what I mean?’
‘No I don’t…’
And then he did. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Hang on, you telling me that they would have wanted me to…err… how can I put this? Oh yeah, you telling me that they wanted me to be their little piggy, is that what you are saying?’
Bob winked and moved to the back of the car and opened the boot. Simon was left standing by the passenger window. Was he shocked? Not really. Why would he be? It was the preverbal cherry on top of the cake if you looked at it that way.
Bob unpacked the fishing stuff and closed the boot. Simon turned to Bob and he realised something then. It was only a small something, but it was a thing that made their bond of friendship that little bit stronger.
‘Did you just save me from a potential arse raping, Bob? If so, how can I ever repay you?’
Bob consoled Simon by patting him on the shoulder a few times. ‘Repay me?’ he said taking hold of the cool box that stored their catch, ‘Well, you can carry that stuff back to the garage and put it all back fer starters. Then you can clean the waders. And if you still feel like yawant to repay me further from saving yafrom a good seeing too, you can make sure you mention not a word of it to Barbara.’
Nodding, Simon picked up the fishing boxes and watched the old man walk to the house. ‘Whatever you say, Bob.’
Clean Yourself Up, Piggy
1
Lucy had been napping when Simon walked into the bedroom after completing his chores. She slowly came around as he undressed but didn’t say anything and Simon was grateful for that. He went and took a shower not really thinking of anything but getting clean. When he got back she was sat up on the bed; her head propped up by two pillows. The fading light from the bedroom window made her hair turn from brown to auburn. She was wearing the tight jean shorts he liked and a thin white vest top with a matching bra underneath. Back home, this sort of garb would have turned some heads and she probably wouldn’t have gone out like it. But here was different. Heads would turn, not because she looked stunning and had more flesh on show than Lady Godiva, but because they thought she probably looked out of place, lost, and like old man Rowling had stated last night, ugly; they wouldn’t give two shits.
As Simon dried himself he asked Lucy what her day had been like. She only shrugged, said she had been to see old friends and went to visit places where she grew up and then asked Simon how the fishing trip had been. He didn’t answer straight away but continued to dry himself though it felt like every time a bit of him finally dried it got covered in a thin film of sweat again. It was hot tonight. A breeze from the open windows helped too cool the air a little, but Simon knew it had been a mistake to take such a hot shower and now he sat on the small wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom naked, and he thought about what had happened during the day, he couldn’t help but smirk.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘Nothing,’ He said stretching out his legs so that his balls touched the cold wood of the seat sending a little shiver up his spine.
‘So did you have fun? Did you and dad get on okay?’
‘Yeah, really good. After last night’s chat we kind of got everything out in the open, if you know what I mean. He taught me a few things about fishing and how to set a rod and all that jazz. Plus we caught us a fair few. I got the first one which was surprising.’
‘Wow.’ She said and she smiled a little sweet crooked smile. ‘That’s great. I’m glad you two are getting on. I know it’s been hard for you, for me too and this place has some odd ways about it, but maybe we just got here at the wrong time.’
A little bird outside in one of the trees that lined the road sang a song. Another bird, perhaps its mate sang back and soon there was a little duet going on between the two. Simon lifted his legs and wiggled his feet and toes. They were red around the tips and his ankles looked slightly swollen and were also a little red.
On the bed Lucy was sat twiddling with a strand of her hair. It was something she always did but it didn’t signify anything in particular. It was just a habit. And then he remembered how she had been last night in the bar, how dismissive of him when he wanted to leave. God, that seemed like a lifetime ago, and Simon couldn’t really think of all the things that had happened since then. Had they even talked about that? He couldn’t remember.
‘Is everything okay with you?’
She stopped twiddling her hair and let it drop to its natural place. Lucy looked at him and Simon wished he could read minds for her face gave away nothing.
‘Yeah,’ she replied and Simon clenched his fist against his thigh.
‘And that’s that, is it?’
‘Well yeah, I suppose. I’m good. Dads well. You two are getting along and I think me and dad have patched things up.’
‘Patched things up? You’ve barely spoken since we’ve been here.’
‘I got some time with him last night. After you left. We had a good talk. I let him know what I felt and he let me know what he felt, in his own sort of way, you know how he is. We aint ever going to be the Hallmark card father and daughter. Shit, I don’t think we will ever get anywhere close to that, but at least we have something now. Something I can’t describe. It’s a feeling… I don’t know…it’s hard to say with words, plus I aint very good at this kind of thing, you know that.’
She plucked that bit of hair out again and started twiddling with it, curling it around her first finger over and over again.
But Simon knew what she meant. It wasn’t that complicated really.
‘Family.’ Simon said.
‘Family.’ Lucy said.
And then Simon remembered the O’Hagan’s and what their family got up too and he must have given something away then as Lucy surprised him with, ‘You met the O’Hagan’s today, didn’t you?’
His balls went up inside his stomach, shrinking away like frightened mice, and his anus scrunched down in the creases of his bum. Simon nodded.
‘Was it the brothers you met?’
‘Yep, well not quite. They were there, waiting at the car when we were on our way back but your Dad went over to them and told to me wait some distance off. They talked, but I don’t know what they talked about. He mentioned something about a fee so I guess it was that. Big guys.’
Lucy slid off the bed then, walked over to the chest of drawers and took out some pants, a pair of socks, a t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts. As she did this she said, ‘You know why he did that, right? Told you to keep yer distance?’
‘Oh yes.’ Simon said and didn’t need to explain further.
Lucy placed the items on the bed and she laughed. Simon laughed too, even the two birds outside laughed along with them and when Lucy stopped laughing Simon stopped laughing but the birds kept on singing and so Simon guesse
d they weren’t really laughing at all and when Lucy turned to Simon her eyes were narrowed and her gaze was firmly locked onto him like a Lioness stalks her quarry and Simon knew then what she was thinking, he didn’t need no sodding telepathy to tell him what thoughts she had going through her mind; they were pulsing from her, seeping from her skin, from her pores, from her eyes and from her mouth in silent hot hard waves of lust, want, need and desire.
She fucked Simon as he sat on the wooden chair that she used to sit on whilst her mother brushed her hair and sang her songs. She fucked him hard, didn’t take off her clothes so his cock rubbed harshly against the jean shorts and her cotton panties which he had to pull to one side. Her panties were soaking wet.
He didn’t last long. But it was long enough for them both and when she pulled his sore cock out she placed one hand down there to stop anything oozing onto the carpet and with her other hand she slapped him across the face and then caressed that spot whilst all the time her eyes were on his.
They were both breathless and hot and sweaty.
‘I’m the only one that gets to fuck you, piggy.’ She said in that voice that isn’t quite Lucy and isn’t quiet Barbara.
‘Yes.’ Simon panted not liking what he heard but liking it all the same and all thoughts of where he was and what he had done swirled about him like it always does when the sex was quick and fierce and painful and sweet.
‘Now go and clean yourself up, piggy.’ And as she moved away from him she smeared the hand that had cupped his stinking semen across his chest making the hairs there matt together like wet Velcro.
He stood quickly, repulsed, though still horny, but Lucy was already enough of a distance away not to be near him.
‘You dirty bitch.’
Grinning like the lion that ate the cat that got all the cream she said, ‘Yeah, but you fucking love it.’
And she was right. Weren’t they always right? And so Simon went back to the bathroom at the other end of the hallway and had another shower and listened as Lucy walked by the door and went downstairs.
It was then that Lucy was taken.
2
Simon found himself standing in Bob’s front garden totally naked and dripping wet, his flaccid penis swaying in the cool summer breeze like one of the trees that lined the road and he was looking about for any sign of who or what had taken his Lucy, but he couldn’t see anything, he couldn’t hear anything except for the bloody fucking crickets and the beshitted birds squawking and tweeting like mad men demanding food in their cells. There were tyre tracks and the pebbles of the driveway were scattered all a sunder but as for a signal as to where the people had gone that had taken Lucy there was not a jot and Simon screamed and cursed to the sun and the clouds and the beshitted birds and the crickets that wouldn’t shut up and tell him where his Lucy was, and to tell him who took her and fakristsake how he was going to kill everycuntingoneofthem if they didn’t shut up and tell him what he needed to know
Simon looked back to the house when he had finished mouthing off, he needed Bob’s help, but right now Bob was no good to him because he was lying unconscious on the floor; half in the house half out of the house and a little trickle of blood ran down from his nose onto the hessian doormat that said WELCOME in faded black letters, and there was a blood stain that would never shift and would be there forever more.
A little fly with yellow and black stripes buzzed Simon and it landed on his shoulder and so Simon scrunched up his face and hunched his shoulder and twisted his neck to get a better look at the little hitchhiker. It was also a little reminder to him that he was naked.
‘Do you know who took my Lucy? Where they took her?’ The little fly flapped its wings but didn’t fly away. If it did know where she was then he was being quiet about it.
‘Guess not. You aint no good to me then.’ Simon swiped at the little feller but the fly was too quick for him and it took off and flew about his head as if to mock the tall pink sack of meat and Simon went over to Bob then. He checked that the old boy was still breathing, he didn’t have to check that hard as he could hear the snores before he even knelt down though as he knelt he saw his little penis swaying back and forth and a sudden urge to teabag the poor old unconscious man at his feet took over him.
‘I need to put some clothes on.’ And as quick as a flash he did just that and as he ran back down the stairs, making sure that his phone was in his pocket as well as his car keys and wallet, he saw that the old man had come around and he was sat on the doormat rubbing the back of his head.
‘What the fuck happened? Where is Lucy?’
Bob shook his head, perhaps trying to shake away the cotton wool feeling being out cold leaves behind. ‘They took her.’ He said sleepily.
‘Who’s they, Bob?’ Now he was stood behind the old man who remained on the floor rubbing the back of his head. Bob sniffed and then spat out a wad of bloody phlegm. ‘I thought it were good between us. We had a deal.’
‘What are you talking about? Good between who?
‘Actually, who cares, I just want to know where she is. Can you tell me that Bob or are you going to sit there like an idiot?
‘It’ll do yano good, lad.’
‘Yaknow what; fuck it. Fuck you. Fuck them, fuck em all, Bob. I’ve had it up to here.’ Simon did the necessary action with his hands pointing to the top of his head and then ripped his car keys out of his pocket. ‘I’m going to get the police and fuck what you think about it.’
Bob moved his hand as if to block the way out of the front door. ‘I can’t let yado that, Simon.’ But he was too slow and Simon was through the doorway knocking the old man’s shoulder with his knee.
‘Whatever, Mr Rowling. I’m done.’ Simon muttered as he trundled across the driveway to his car. He actually had no clue where the police station was, if there even was one, but he wasn’t going to stay here with a thumb up his arse waiting to see what happened.
‘I can’t sit around here. I can’t do nothing, Bob. You may want to deal with this your way but I aint going to do that, Bob. I’m getting the cops and that’s that.’
Simon heard groaning but didn’t turn to look at him. He guessed the old feller was getting up, probably still rubbing his head but he didn’t really care. Simon pressed the button on his key fob, the four indicators flashed orange and the doors unlocked with a great mechanical clunk and he was just about to walk around to the driver’s side when he saw something shiny jutting from his front left wheel. Eyes wide and heart pounding and stomach churning he looked to the left rear and saw another shiny bit of metal jutting from the tyre only this time there was a great gash in the black rubber to go with it, and running to the other side, the side in between his and Bob’s car, he saw that the same had been done to those tyres too. Simon raised his hands to the air and then threw them down with such force that they went ever so slightly numb and he took in a huge lung full of air and held it. His face reddened and he believed that his head may explode if he didn’t breathe out. Then his vision started to blur a little but at least the feeling came back into his hands and he clenched them tight trying to hold back the bile that swelled in his throat.
He looked up; saw Rowling stumbling toward him still rubbing his head. Simon moved his eyes to the back of his car and saw that something was written on the back window. How he didn’t know; it wasn’t dirty, but it looked as if it had been dirty and the words had been smudged into the grime. Simon released his breath, held onto the words that wanted to flow forth like a breaking dam and slowly moved to the back of the car.
Reading what had been painted on his rear window in what looked like blood made him pull his fingers through his hair tightly enough so that his eyebrow and eyelids pulled up and he tightened his mouth into a toothy grimace. This time, when he took in a large gulp of air, instead of holding it and counting to 10 or thinking nice thoughts or going to his happy place where frogs leapt from lily pad to lily pad he let it all out with a great sigh.
‘Have you seen wh
at those bastards have fucking done to my car. Fucking pricks! It’s those lanky cocks up in that house, I know it, it has to be them. Look at that on the window. LOOK AT IT!’ Simon pointed to it with a shaking finger on the end of a shaking hand. ‘They’ve written Southern Nonce in blood on my fucking car. They can’t even spell Southern right neither. It aint got a V in it Bob, I can tell yathatfornothing! What do they want with her? What are they going to do with her?’
He took another breath, realised what this meant, and leant against the boot of his car breathing in short sharp bursts that stung his throat. The metal of the car was hot but he didn’t care. He muttered, ‘How am I going to find her now?’ and then cried.
3
Bob surveyed the car rubbing the back of his head and wiping his bloody nose on to his clean handkerchief. He seemed not to notice Simon’s outburst or the fact that he was crying which both angered and appeased Simon because his sobs were pathetic, but it still didn’t stop him from carrying on. Still lent over his car Simon wiped his snotty nose with his sleeve and did the same with his eyes. With his head hung in the middle of his crossed arms and his nose touching the cars hot bodywork he peered through a small gap and watched Bob. From behind his little peephole Simon could tell that Bob was eager to say something but was holding it back; which was very unlike him.
Sucking up the clear liquid that was still trying to leak from his nose and without raising his head so that his voice sounded as if he were in a cave, Simon said, ‘I need to borrow your car.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why, Bob. Your daughter has been abducted by those pig shaggers up there and I have got to go and get her. I don’t want to think about what they might be doing to her or why they have taken her I just want to get in your car and drive up to that house and bring her back.’ Simon lifted his head and his eyes were red and wet and a fresh trickle of snot seeped from his nose. He sucked it back in and wiped his face with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Please, Bob. Please.’