Animal

by Paul Jones

  *

  That following evening at 7.04, the doorbell rang, which sounded to Will like an air raid siren. Stacey had arrived, and accompanied with such an intruding, offensive noise, it could only indicate bad news. With butterflies fluttering in his chest, Will dashed off to answer the door.

  Outside, Stacey stood there looking even more fragile than she did the last time he saw her. Reading her negative body language made his heart sink, but he tried not to show it.

  ‘Come in,’ he told her catching the scent of her Ralph Lauren perfume as she followed him through. Will told her to have a seat on the couch while he stood leaning against the window table. He didn’t even offer her a drink or anything as he just wanted to get down to the nitty-gritty.

  ‘OK, Stacey, lets not beat about the bush any longer, do I go to the station and buy my one way ticket back home or not?’

  Stacey coughed to clear her throat, ‘Will, I haven’t come here to give you any promises about a possible future with you. Your aim was to come back here to Llandudno to try and pick up where we left off, but that’s never going to happen.’

  The word, never, boomed in Will’s head like someone had just dropped an atom bomb on to his city of hopes and dreams.

  Stacey continued. ‘So many things have happened to us in the meantime, too much water has past under the bridge. We’re completely different people now.’

  By now Will was already mentally packing up his backpack.

  ‘Basically, what I’m trying to say is that we would have to start completely from scratch all over again.’

  Perhaps it was because he was wondering what time the next train back to Warrington might be, but Will totally missed what Stacey was trying to say.

  ‘Say again?’

  ‘We should start again from scratch,’ she repeated.

  Suddenly sunshine burst through the dark clouds, and he nearly sang halleluyah. He double checked ‘You’re telling me you would like to start again?’

  Her eyes softened for the first time since he’d been back. ‘Why not?’

  Will felt like giving her a massive bear-hug, but had to control himself, so he just stood there like a fool not knowing what the hell to do.

  ‘But, Will,’ she warned, ‘short steps, OK? One step at a time.’

  Will struggled, but managed to say. ‘Whatever you want.’

  Now, he asked if she would like a drink, and she agreed.

  Stacey stayed with Will for about another hour. They talked about everything, the past, the present, but left out the future for now. The future, they decided, was something that would unravel all in good time.

  At the end of the evening, Will insisted on walking her back home, and on the way, she innocently asked where he was last night when she called round. Jokingly, Will accused her of checking up on him already, and told her he was only helping his old mate train some students, that’s all. However, he didn’t tell her exactly what they were training for.

  Finally, Will left her at her hotel with the promise that they would meet up again in a couple of days. On his way back to his flat, Will felt like he was flying through the clouds, and in his excitement, he quickly sent a text message to his mate Geoff, which said… LUKS LIKE I’M STAYING A BIT LONGER, THANKS TO STACEY.

  CHAPTER 15

  The Broadway, Boulevards night club, stood on Mostyn Broadway Road. Formally, called the Grand Theatre, it was primarily a play house in its hey-day. Built with a red brick facade topped by low semi-octagonal towers, it once seated about a thousand people. In 1980 it finally closed as a theatre and was reopened as Revivals night club and later changed to the Broadway Boulevards.

  It was Friday night at the Boulevards, and at around ten-thirty pm all the revellers were queuing up so they could party until the early hours. Standing on the door in their black crombie jackets, were Tom, Charlie and Nigel. All three were busy herding the flocks of people through, checking handbags, and looking for anyone carrying knives or drugs into the nightclub. Outside the temperature must have been touching freezing, and yet there were so many young girls in skimpy party tops waiting to get in.

  ‘Jesus.’ Tom muttered to Charlie as they let another partygoer through. ‘Aren’t these girls freezing their tits off or what?’

  ‘They must be like packs of ice when they get home, mustn’t they?’

  Tom hissed a laugh and checked the next reveller through. Further down the queue Tom suddenly caught sight of a Shakira (the Latin American singer) look-a-like in a spotty jersey blazer, and tight leggings. She was standing chatting to friends, then turned to gaze down the tail end of the line as if she was trying to search for someone. As she did this Tom was permitted the glorious sight of her bulbous arse, something he imagined that would make the perfect cushion for him to sleep on over winter time. And to emphasise that fact, he decided to share his carnivorous fantasies with his chum Charlie.

  ‘I bet she could keep you warm in the Winter?’

  ‘Boom, boom,’ Charlie replied.

  Trouble – A red alert came over in their earpieces which were attached to their radios in their pockets. Tom elected to stay on the door while Charlie and Nigel went in to sort it out.

  Moments later, both bouncers emerged dragging some unruly chap by the arms and then hurled him out into the street. The young man in a crumpled and torn cream flannel shirt, spun around to vent his drunken rage at the doormen. To everybody in the queue this momentarily took their minds off the cold lengthy wait.

  ‘I’ve still got a pint in there,’ he ranted.

  For a moment, Tom thought he recognised the guy from somewhere.

  Nigel, the ex rugby player took over. ‘Well you shouldn’t have hit that girl should you?’

  At that moment, the yob’s three other mates came out to see what was going on, and stood beside their pal. Feeling even more confident now, the lad pointed at the bouncers and threw another tantrum.

  ‘These bastards have thrown me out and won’t let me back in.’

  His three mates, all virtually dressed the same as one another, began to join in and heckle the bouncers. Sensing hassle, Tom halted the queue going in, and stood as back-up for his fellow doormen.

  Nigel raised his voice to match theirs. ‘Look you’ve attacked someone and gotten into a fight that you caused. You even tried to fight us. That’s three strikes, so you’re out.’

  All four knuckleheads barked in protest sounding like a pack of hounds, and then tried to get in Nigel’s face. Immediately, Tom and Charlie stepped in to create a protective fence between them and the louts. But as far as Nigel was concerned the four lads had already stepped over the line.

  ‘Right, all of you are barred. Now sod off.’

  The three bouncers then stepped back together and formed a wall by the entrance. Now that they had been given the shut-out, the lads continued with their shouting and posturing, and all claiming to be as hard as nails. Yet, none of them had the courage to step into the bouncer’s territory. This was their protective barrier, their domain so to speak.

  The four lads continued to slap their chests, and stick their necks out like chickens, all part of the bravado and swagger. Spurred on by the support of his mates, the lad decided to be the big man and challenge any one of the bouncers to a mano a mano.

  Nigel sneered at the challenge and shared his contempt with his comrades, while the lad continued to try and goad them.

  ‘C’mon, yer tosser, let’s see how hard you really are?’

  Nigel stepped forward and laid down the gauntlet. ‘Piss off now or you’re barred for life, the lot of you, and I’ll call the police.’

  Now the ball was in the lad’s court, did he have the brass gonads to step over that line and have a go? Watching Nigel’s back, Tom was itching to bulldoze in and totally obliterate this nobody, but he knew that would be playing right into their hands. Nigel then repeated the warning that he was going to call the police; surreptitiously laying the trap for
these dead men walking.

  The lad made a feint to see if Nigel would flinch, and show that he had a chink in his armour. But Nigel stone-walled him, and the lad’s ego started to deflate like a punctured tyre. Evidently, his bottle was beginning to go, and not wanting to lose face, he resorted to verbal threats instead. Stabbing out a raging finger he snarled.

  ‘You three are dead. You’re all marked.’

  Nigel simply stared through him and called him a silly tosser, while the lad’s head jerked like he was moving to an imaginary beat.

  ‘We’ll be sending some guys down to see you soon,’ he growled. ‘You three are already marked, some guys are coming down from the Wirrel to sort you out.’

  Tom stepped forward, his lip curling with fury. ‘Yeah, we’ll see.’

  ‘Go on piss off, you complete prat.’ Nigel waved him off, and the lad started backing away feeling vindicated by the threats he’d made.

  ‘Watch yer backs, lads,’ he added as he and his cronies swaggered off back towards town.

  Nigel turned to Tom and Charlie, shaking his head with derision.

  For the rest of the evening, all of them had a bad feeling about the lad, and they kept a vigilant eye out for any passing cars that might be taking an unusual interest in them.

  Towards the end of the evening they caught up with Snoopy, the doorman’s secret grass, and asked him if he’d heard about any comebacks regarding the drugs. After all, he was the one who sorted out a buyer for their drugs.

  Snoopy was actually a fitting name for this strange looking young man. He was short in statue with big ears like radars, and most of the girls thought he was kind of cute and cuddly just like the famous cartoon character. However, all Snoopy could tell them was that it could just be a case of misidentity.

  Eventually, when the doorman knocked off for the evening at about 2.30 am, they paid particular attention when returning to Tom’s girlfriend’s car, parked on the prom. Fortunately, the coast was clear, and they made it back safely.

  As for Nigel, they made sure he got picked up earlier by his girlfriend, so he was alright.

  Back in the car, Tom and Charlie buckled up, and switched on the dashboard heater.

  Tom snorted apprehensively. ‘For the next few days or so, I think we better come in your car, and keep some tools in the boot just in case.’

  ‘Yeah OK, so what are we gonna do if it does have something to do with the drugs? You heard him, they’re sending down some guys from the Wirrel, that’s just outside Liverpool were we sold the damn drugs.’

  Tom thought about it anxiously.

  ‘Think we need the team as back-up just in case?’

  ‘Yeah, don’t really want to Geoff and the others involved but we’re not going to be able to fight them on our own even with Nigel. That’s if it is the drug gang.’

  ‘So what are you gonna tell Geoff?’

  ‘I’ll just tell him that we’ve heard that the Wilkinsons might be planning an attack against us so we might need the team’s help.’

  *

  Saturday night Tom and Charlie were marked down to cover the doors on the Wetherspoons pub. Nigel however, would remain at the Boulevards with his own weekend crew. This time they came to work in one of Charlie’s old banger cars, and they parked it behind the Wetherspoon’s building in the town hall car park.

  During the evening, nothing out of the ordinary happened, just the usual drunken dispute to sort out, or escorting some poor alcoholic off the premises. In fact, it was considered by all on duty to be one of the quietest nights they’d had in a long while.

  Last orders were about 11.30pm, and the process of winding down for another evening was well under way. Finally, after all the customers had been herded out, and the doors had been locked, Tom and Charlie stayed behind for their customary pint. They both remained there chatting with the other doormen and staff members until around 12.30am, then they called it an evening.

  Outside, it was a pitch black early morning, and at the taxi-stand nearby, there was only a trickling of night clubbers left. Tom and Charlie huddled inside their heavy crombie coats, their breaths immediately turning into mist, as they turned down the back street towards the town hall car park. Mid-way down, three figures suddenly appeared at the end of the road. Tom and Charlie stopped dead in their tracks, and looked at each other warily.

  Behind them, at the top of the road, blocking them off, three more figures appeared, and were silhouetted against the orange sodium streetlights. Now they were completely trapped, and facing a bit of a situation.

  Hearts hammering in their chests, and reading each other’s minds, they elected to continue down towards the first three figures en route to the car park. No words, no last minute plans were spoken between them, they simply accepted what was happening and continued on. However, the three facing them, began approaching, and closing the gap even quicker. Tom threw a glance over his shoulder to check on the other stalkers and they too were following behind. But what was even more worrying was that the ones behind, seemed to have something glinting in their hands, probably knives. Tom and Charlie unbuttoned their crombie jackets ready.

  Out of the dark hidden crevices of the side alley, two figures wielding baseball bats sprang at the first three assailants clubbing them unmercifully. Seeing that the cavalry had arrived bang on time, Tom quickly joined in to help.

  As for the rear assault, two more surprise arrivals were already dealing with them, and Charlie doubled back to give them a hand. Yet, seeing that the odds had changed dramatically, one of the stalkers suddenly lost his bottle and fled, leaving his mates at the mercy of these crazed vigilantes.

  Back at the bottom of the road, Tom seized his attacker in a head lock, coat still over the head, and charged at the concrete strut of the Wetherspoon’s building smashing the lad into it as hard as he could. All he could hear was a muffled cry and the body went limp, and sagged to the ground. Tom let it drop, then stomped on the lump just to be sure.

  Beside him, he heard the squawks of pain from the other attackers as they were being pummelled on the wet tarmac by the baseball bats. To Tom, it sounded like someone clubbing rolls of carpet. He then glanced behind to see how the others were getting on, and saw one of them being choked by a pair of nunchakus, while another was already cowering on the floor receiving a good kicking. Meanwhile, Charlie reappeared empty handed after giving up on the chase for the one who had chickened out.

  Satisfied that they had taken control of the situation, Tom took his coat back from his attacker, and that’s when he saw the gleaming blade lying on the ground. Repulsed by the thought that this piece of dirt was going to actually use it against him, he fished up the knife and gave him a few more furious kicks.

  Mike and Guy, who had taken care of the first three assailants walked over to Tom, baseball bats swinging from their hands, and exhausted breaths steaming from their mouths. Tom acknowledged them with a nod, and glared down at the three lads lying unconscious at their feet.

  ‘These bastards were planning to stick us with these knives. We should kill them for that.’

  The three remaining team members, Charlie, Brad, and Geoff jogged back down the street to meet them. Shaking with fear and fatigue, Geoff clutching his pair of Nunchakus blustered to everyone. ‘Come on, guys, we haven’t got time to take any pictures, let’s go! Police will be here soon.’

  Everybody except Tom followed. Tom however, still brandishing the knife as if he couldn’t let go of it for some reason, knelt down beside his sleeping attacker. The lad was about twenty, with wavy-blonde hair and looked like a harmless university student.

  ‘So you’ve found out who we are have you? Well I’ll give you something to remember me by, pretty boy.’

  He leant over and sunk the tip of the blade into the lad’s cheek, then sliced down over the hard cheekbone and into the soft fleshy jowl. Dark viscous blood instantly filled the wound and trickled down his face. The lad barely stirred. Satisfie
d, Tom stood back up and quickly repeated the act on the other two slumberous attackers beside him. From the town hall car park Geoff shouted for him to move, and just before he did, he uttered ominously to his fallen victims. ‘Next time, I’ll cut your sodding balls off.’

  CHAPTER 16

  Halfway around the Great Orme, on marine drive, Stacey called for Will to stop. Exhausted, she bent over hands on knees and thought this was the closest thing to death she’d experienced since that spaghetti bolognaise had given her food poisoning some years ago. While jogging around the Orme with Will she had fooled herself into thinking that she was still as fit as she used to be. Yet despite her near collapse, Will was still impressed by her effort.

  ‘Bloody hell, Stace, I really didn’t expect you to get this far.’

  He trudged over to her and leant against the stone wall. Her breaths settling, she straightened herself and sat up on the wall.

  ‘I’m spitting feathers, I’m gasping for a drink of water.’ She swooned.

  ‘Won’t take us long now, we’ll be back down the other side soon,’

  Stacey heaved one final breath and gazed behind at the spectacular view of the North Wales coast. However, despite the fact the skies were a bit dark and leaden, it was still an impressive sight. Stacey followed the landscape from the rolling Penmaenmawr mountains, right down to the rural towns and villages, of Llanfairfechan and across to Bangor and Holyhead.

  ‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ She cooed.

  Will threw a glance back and agreed.

  ‘Pity we weren’t fortunate enough to have places like this to jog around when we started courting.’

  Will smiled in accord.

  ‘Strange that two people reared from the same town, should find each other in a place like Warrington don’t you think?’ Stacey added.

  Will thought about it for a second, ‘Well they say that in order to open your eyes, you have to broaden your horizons. And as ironic as it sounds, maybe if we’d stayed at home our paths may never have crossed.’