by Unknown
“Come on David”, he screamed at himself.
“Yeah David, come on indeed!” Pe-ter yelled, his blonde perfect quiff moving for the first time as he imitated running next to David on the spot.
David began to run like he had never done before. His legs pummelled the black treadmill underneath him and for the first time he looked up at the screens showing even more men and women in perfect shape rubbing themselves against each other.
“Hey David, you’re done man”, Pe-ter said.
“No” David said in between deep pants. “Not yet”
David reached forward and pressed one of the array of buttons in front of him. And then something terrible happened. The treadmill began to hum loudly with the speed it picked up.
“Oh God”, David said aloud as his legs began to give way.
Pe-ter did his best but it was no use.
Smack.
David’s face hit the treadmill and he shot off the back into a stand full of pilates balls that began bouncing all over the gym floor. Silence followed and David looked up at the pre-fab ceiling and the concerned face of the mighty Pe-ter.
“Are you ok man?”
David felt every muscle for breaks but more painful was the mortal embarrassment. He awaited the laughs from the rest of the gym, the smirk from Pe-ter, but it never came. Instead the Swedish champion grabbed David’s wrist and held it aloft.
“Look at this people. Now that’s effort! All of you take note!”
People began to clap. David felt his hand raised and realised this was the first time this had happened since he had held his hand up to answer a question at school. It felt fantastic.
Pe-ter beamed down at him and he smiled back. This man was terrific, the gym was terrific. He felt empowered.
*
Lucas let the cigarette fall from his fingers and lit another one. He noticed his finger was going yellow on the nail. Despite the hangover, he was looking forward to today. Looking forward to it more than he had looked forward to anything job related in quite some time.
The commute had been much the same.
“Please mind the gap”.
Assuming anyone dim enough to be on the tube before seven was a commuter was there any need to remind them at every stop? He had made eye contact with a blonde in the same carriage, the sole highlight. The hangover had lessened thanks to Nurofen, he had been up late painting. Two canvases now resided at his house, done within a week. He didn’t like them at all but he had still fucking done them.
Him being fired had been nothing more than a formality. His boss Murray whom he had beaten had called and told him he was.
“Lucas, you know I have been looking forward to this”.
“Is that so?”
“Well yes. Yes indeed. You…are….fired”.
“Thanks, when is my last day?”
A long pause ensued. What? No remorse. No shame and no sorrow.
Lucas had even said, “I know, I’m not”.
Lucas pictured his face changing a plethora of colours.
“Now you listen….” But then he held his tongue. His boss, ever the wimp.
“You can come in this week but don’t you dare tell anyone why you are leaving.”
“That’s fine”, Lucas had said, “I just really want to collect some files so I can brush up for the rest of my life on what has been a thoroughly fantastic career opportunity. Oh, and I left a Tracker bar in my desk and I am hungry.”
The phone had clicked off. Lucas had done as requested, said nothing, got drunk a lot but that wasn’t against the ordinary. People had looked at his swagger, despite him always having had one and questioned, was he the one to get the promotion? Surely not, he least of all deserved it. And that day to quit was finally here.
Lucas though couldn’t go quietly into the night, he was not the type. He didn’t hate the individuals, or in fact the career. Some birds though were never meant to be caged.
“Morning Lucas”, the receptionist said.
Always sulky, or was it sultry? Surely she wanted to fuck him? One of the few regrets he would have was having not.
He winked, bit classless but he couldn’t make it any more obvious to her short of dropping his pants and plopping his cock on her keyboard. Perhaps she was like that, needed it served up buffet style.
He pressed the lift button and got in with Scott. The same ‘fuck please don’t talk to me look’.
“Well hi there Scott!” Lucas said clapping his hand on the back of the smaller man.
“Hello….” Scott managed looking like his wholegrain wheaten free Cheerios were about to end up on the floor.
“Great day no?”
Scott paused.
“Not really no Lucas”.
“Huh, what’s wrong?”
“Its…my, my…expenses”.
My god this man is terrified, Lucas thought. He probably gets out the shower, sees his reflection and screams.
“Your expenses?”
Scott was not learning how to live but practising how to die.
“Yes…well it’s a bit awkward really” Scott went on.
“I doubt I haven’t done worse”.
“No” Scott agreed, “I have heard that”.
“Well?” Lucas said, it was like taking down a virgin on the first date.
“Did you see the Fisher account result?”
“Yes I did, 28 million flipped overnight. Was that you?”
Scott was silent for a moment, “Well…yes”.
“Jesus Scott, I had no idea! Why didn’t you tell anyone, shout about it”?
“Not really my style. Anyway. I happened to see the two chaps that I did the deal with the other day just in the street. I thought, well, you know, I knew them and not to mention they had just spent 28 million. Well, I decided, though it was wrong, to take them for a drink at The Savoy. At the bar”.
Scott hung his head and mumbled, castigating himself.
Lucas scratched his eyebrow, “Sorry Scott, I don’t really understand the problem.”
“Well the expenses department called me up on it, said it was a recession. Then my boss, Murray, he complained to the senior partner and now I have to go and explain my actions”.
Lucas was silent.
“I know, I know, I was so very wrong…” Scott stumbled.
Lucas felt very hot. Perspiration that tasted and smelt of wine covered him in an instant. He leaned against the lift and unbuttoned his shirt, he needed air.
“Are you ok?” Scott said.
“Fine.”
Lucas took some deep breaths, craving a cigarette.
“Listen to me Scott. You were right. You were right you hear me?”
Scott managed to nod.
Lucas took a final deep breath as the lift pinged open.
He strode off down the corridor leaving Scott alone. In fairness Scott thought though, he had been right to take them for a drink.
Conversation halted as the door almost came of its hinges. In the room were Murray and his biggest client, Fisher.
“Now listen here. I am tired of you treating everyone like shit. May as well change the name above the fucking door of this rats nest to Middle Management Inc.”
Murray said nothing but stared. His eyes seemed to fuzz with rage. Fisher actually laughed awkwardly with the palpable tension in the room.
Murray went to speak but again Lucas shot in faster.
“Oh Fisher. By the way. This company is bust. There’s nothing in Murray’s pockets but lint”.
And with that he was done.
Like being utterly pissed Lucas felt there but not. He walked down the corridor for the last time, one-time employees pointing and staring at him. He hadn’t shut the door before his outburst.
As he reached reception he turned to the secretary and gave her an envelope. “Give this to Murray”.
Inside was a post-it note with four very simple but very poisonous words intended for the care of his one time employer Murray, ‘I fucked your daughter’
. He hadn’t but by god it would make for an interesting dinner at the Murray house that evening given she was eighteen.
Lucas laughed aloud and lit a cigarette as winter closed in on this city he would soon leave behind.
Stepping off the pavement he was almost knocked off his feet by a girl wearing Converse shoes. He had noticed that as he had stumbled.
“You look pleased with yourself,” the creature with sapphire eyes said to him as Lucas straightened himself.
“Just told my boss I fucked his daughter”, Lucas laughed back.
“Really? Well aren’t you the model of employment”.
“Nope. Just quit.”
“Interesting introduction. Drink?”
“Do I look like I would say no?”
“That’s why I asked. Come on.”
Lucas got into stride with this girl, this strange but beautiful girl.
“Lucas in case you wondered”.
“No I didn’t wonder actually but thanks all the same. I’m April”.
*
Sarah hated reunions now. Once upon a half year gathering she used to love them. Catching up, chit chatting and drinking cheap wine because it was funny to be young, single and drunk. She was older now, well not that much older but infinitely wiser.
She was now a Londoner.
Sally and the rest were so passé, they had no idea about anything. This time it was ‘her turn’ to organise the bi-annual reunion so she had planned a night out in London with the girls from Ipswich.
Sarah had worn a black cocktail dress for the evening and taken three hours to get ready. Since Dicky she now pretty much only wore black dresses so short the band at the top of the tights showed. He liked them, well, liked ripping them off her.
In her bag she had spare knickers and a jumper for the next morning in case he called, thus avoiding the more obvious stains of a walk of shame. She was preparing to endure by distracting herself with fancy cocktails and a small but well selected menu.
The arrivals board at Victoria flickered over, at least they were on time. Sarah was already in a bit of a mood as they wouldn’t meet her at the first venue, ‘Eclipse’ in South Kensington saying they would get all muddled and lost.
Jesus, she had though, how hard is the Underground? Its like a paint by numbers.
Sarah’s swagger since Dicky had started saying they were officially seeing each other, although still secretly for work’s sake, was evident in her manner. She could feel the men in the station, all of them, looking at her.
“Sarahhh!!”
The squeal echoed off all of the hoardings in the station and made Sarah wince. Towards her strode Sally who had gotten even fatter.
She was wearing not that much, a vast large leopard skin coat smothered her.
“Sarah!” she screamed again waving frantically.
Sarah raised a hand to acknowledge the arrival of Sally, but said nothing.
Sally’s heels clicked on the linoleum floor and she arrived in front of Sarah throwing her bags down onto the floor.
“You look amazing!” Sally screamed before embracing Sarah in a sumo like grip and ‘air-kissing’ her three times on the cheeks.
“Thanks, careful of the dress”, Sarah said into the mangy leopard’s shoulder.
“Sorry”, Sally said.
“I was only joking! The dress just creases easily. Looking forward to tonight?”
Sally soon forgot the insult, “Of course. What’s not to like. Men! Drinks and my best friends…in London of all places. Its much bigger than Ipswich isn’t it?”
Sarah looked at Sally. She was wearing too much make up, the wrong clothes but really who cared. She had said it herself, Sally was her oldest and dearest friend. In fact, most of the reason Sarah had finally plucked up enough courage to come to London was due to the heavily made up over excited childhood friend now woman in front of her.
“Indeed”, Sarah said, squeezing Sally’s arm. “It will be the best night”.
Sally beamed. “Oh look, there’s the rest of the wild bunch! Girlies…over here!”
Sarah winced at the noise her friend was making, obliterating everyone else’s peace. That was something about London. Places like Victoria were bustling but never noisy. Commuters knew better than to idly chat or worse draw any sort of attention to themselves.
Dinner had not gone to plan.
The cocktail bar had been bearable but only just. Sarah had watched as Sally eyed up anything in the bar with an appendage and said things like, “Caw, wouldn’t mind me a bit of London gent”.
Vicky, or Victoria as she insisted being called because she was in London, was drinking far too much. When Sarah got back from going to the bathroom Vicky was doing a shot the size of her hand squealing, “It tastes like Um Bungo!”
Sarah put this down to them not being used to the place and over excitement. After all, this was the city of hedonism. What was a bit of overt flirting and excessive drinking, wasn’t that the way of the place? Diane though was on quite a different par. As soon as she had seen Sarah she had narrowed her eyes and decided to pick a fight.
“Well don’t you look like you have changed?”
Sarah had half-coughed, “Maybe”.
“Don’t forget Sally. She has been distraught without you.”
A few months ago, even weeks, Sarah would have been devastated and immediately apologised. Instead she replied, “Big girl, big world” and walked off.
Diane had not forgotten the slight. Throughout their pre-drinks she made snide comments about where they were and the ‘funny’ smell that Sarah took pleasure in explaining was the normal odour of a bar, not one with a decades worth of vomit and stale beer in the multi-coloured carpet.
All of this Sarah could forgive, she had ignored Sally a bit. More than a bit in fact. She had never been a screener of calls but recently she did so more and more. However, what had really infuriated Sarah was Diane talking about money.
“I hope mine comes in a vase at that price”, Diane had chipped in when it came to ordering.
There had been something of a nonchalant bubble floating around the group of girls. ‘Who cares’ was the order of the day, always had been at the bi-annual. That searing comment though made the girls sit up and actually think about the £12.00 cocktails and there had been ruffled feathers.
Diane continued, “Why cant I just have a beer? Give me that any day.”
“Because you cant”, Sarah had said patiently, “It’s a cocktail bar.”
“What kind of a bar doesn’t serve beer?”
“One like this”
“One of a kind if you ask me.”
“Yeah they probably don’t have anywhere where you’re from that doesn’t still have a slot machine and a dartboard”.
Diane had won. With that one comment Sarah had distinguished herself as now different, now better. She had come from the same town as all of them but just knew the Capital now better than they did. It had been an awkward moment.
Sarah patched it up with the usual tissue of lies now wearing threadbare. They forgave her thanks to the alcohol in their blood and their general willingness to get on.
Dinner was mainly a case of eating as quickly as possible so the drinking could continue. Sarah wondered what Dicky would say, ‘Pigs at a trough’ came to mind.
Diane prattled on and on about price, portion size and why a steak restaurant couldn’t serve a burger with fries.
When the food had been cleared it really did take a turn for the worse. Sally was in trouble for pinching the waiter’s bum repeatedly until he informed her of two things. Firstly, one more time and they would be evicted. Secondly, that he was gay.
To this shrapnel of pretty important information Sally had guffawed, “Gay? Really? Darling you are far too small for that. I could take care of you. Don’t you want it?”
Sally had proceeded to open her legs enough for half of the restaurant to see her pink French knickers. One guy near them shouted, “Moses!” Sally mis
sed the reference and waved back but Sarah remembered her divinity.
Vicky was so drunk by then that she had thrown up in the bathrooms but reappeared on the restaurant floor in floods of tears. She stumbled through the restaurant howling that no one loved her now or in fact ever really had. On her way back she had gone to hold herself up on someone shoulder but missed it. Her hand had bumped along his face and ended up in his lamb shank.
“Schlorry”, she had said and wiped her nose and mascara waterfalls with the back of her hand.
“For fuck’s sake Vicky, sit down” Sarah had snapped standing.
Vicky looked at Sarah and began howling.
“Now you have gone and done it”, Diane spat. “Really nice Miss London”.
“She did it to herself for fucks sake, no one drinks like that but students.”
“Maybe she wanted some fun.”
“Maybe she should do it somewhere else”.
Sarah suddenly went red. Who was she? When did she become such a bitch?
No matter the alcohol all three of them looked at her. Their eyes were angry but their hearts begged for her to say sorry. They loved her, she them.
“You can all go to hell,” Sarah said snatching up her bag.
Sally went to stand but fell back down on the bench that cracked.
Laughs echoed around Sarah as she walked away from her three best friends. It seemed her only friend from home left was April but she cared less for anyone else than Sarah did.
Outside she let the cold wash over her and tried to call April, she would understand. She lit a cigarette, at least they hadn’t found that out. Inside the restaurant she watched Diane help Sally back up who was now also crying. She wanted to go back in, she really did. But she couldn’t. She just couldn’t.
*
“A man quite opposed to the time we live in, Ghandi, said, ‘Live as if you were to die tomorrow. Learn as if you were to live forever.’ I agree with the first, hedonism has never been more rife. But no one these days really learns until it is too late so I beg to differ. Much more apt for us I think is, ‘If you are not learning to live, all you are doing is practising to die’. “