Blind Justice

by Nathan Burrows

  “Are you okay?” I asked. She paused and looked at me before replying.

  “I am, yes. He’s such an arsehole.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she said. “As of this evening. He just isn’t adjusting to it very well.” At last, I could look at her face. Even though it was bathed in the orange glow of the street lights, she was beautiful. A small button nose with a sprinkling of freckles, framed by high cheekbones. She smiled a quick nervous smile that gave me a glimpse of slightly crooked front teeth before they disappeared. “I’m sorry you had to get mixed up in all that.”

  “No problem at all. Look, there’s a taxi office just down the road. Why don’t I walk you to it in case your mate Robert is still hanging around?” She looked at me and smiled again, holding it for longer this time. It was only one front tooth out of kilter, and for me, that was the prettiest thing about her. I held out my hand, conscious of the fact that a few seconds ago it had been choking the life out of her ex-boyfriend. “My name's Gareth.” She took my hand and shook it; her fingers cool and delicate in mine. I suddenly felt stupid, shaking this woman’s hand so formally.

  “I’m Jennifer,” she replied. “Nice to meet you, Gareth.”

  To be honest, I never thought I’d see Jennifer again after I’d walked her to the taxi office. We’d chatted on the way, but it was only a few hundred yards away from the pub. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to see her again, but it’s just not how the conversation went. It was small talk, nothing more. When we reached the taxi office, all I knew about her, apart from her name, was that she worked in Human Resources somewhere. She had been going out with Robert for about a year, and he was an absolute arsehole. I didn’t get the chance to tell her anything about me other than the fact I worked as a bouncer on the doors of pubs and clubs in Norwich, and she didn’t ask. I couldn’t exactly tell her I was also a part-time burglar.

  When we got to the taxi office, I asked the bloke behind the counter for a cab. We waited in silence for a few minutes before one turned up and I did the gentlemanly thing by opening the rear door for her. As she put her seatbelt on, I opened the passenger door to talk to the driver.

  “Hi, mate, you alright?” I said as I dropped a twenty-pound note on the passenger seat, careful to keep the money out of Jennifer’s sight. Wherever she lived in Norwich, twenty quid would be more than enough to get her home and leave a healthy tip. “Can you do me a favour?” I reached for the driver’s ID card dangling from the rear-view mirror. “Jim, is it?” I looked at his surname, but it had too many consonants for me to even try to pronounce. “Could you drop this young lady wherever she needs to get to, and then just hang around for a minute to make sure she gets inside okay?” The driver looked at Jennifer in the rear-view mirror and then back at me. “Her tosser of an ex-boyfriend is about somewhere, and we’ve already had words. I think he got the message but just in case, yeah?”

  “Sure, boss,” he replied in an Eastern European accent, or maybe somewhere else. Not a local boy. “I look after her, no problem.” I stood on the kerb for a few seconds after the taxi had left, watching its red lights disappear down the road. What an interesting end to the evening it had turned out to be.

  About a week later, maybe longer, I was back in The Heartsease to meet up again with Tommy and David. The job we’d been talking about earlier in the week was coming along well, and we were planning on doing it at some point over the next few nights. Tommy and David were already huddled in the corner with full pints when I got there, so I didn’t bother going over to see if they wanted a drink. Big Joe regarded me with rheumy eyes. He didn’t bother asking me what I wanted and was already pouring a lager.

  “Alright, Joe?” I asked him.

  “Yep, all good,” he replied. “I’ve got a message for you behind the bar. I’ll grab it in a sec.”

  “What sort of message?”

  “From that bird who was in here the other night.” Joe looked at me with a smirk. “I hear you worked her boyfriend over.” He returned his attention to the pint.

  “Where did you hear that?” I asked, annoyed. I didn’t like things like that being public. It wasn’t as if it was bad for my reputation. I didn’t want a reputation at all. The smirk disappeared from Joe’s face.

  “I just heard, mate. Keep your knickers on.” He put the pint on the sticky counter between us and turned to get an envelope. “Here you go.” He handed it to me and I saw ‘Gareth’ written in child-like handwriting on the front. I waited until Joe had disappeared to do whatever it was he did around the back of the bar and then ripped it open. There was a single piece of paper inside with a phone number and the words “Can you call me?” written in the same childish scrawl. I stuck it in my pocket, figuring Robert had come back and she wanted a big ugly friend to stand between him and her again.

  Later that evening, after Tommy and David had gone, I nipped back outside to the beer garden for a smoke before heading back to my flat. I dug into my pocket to find a lighter and pulled out the note I’d shoved in there earlier. With five and a half pints in my stomach, I decided to give Jennifer a ring to see what was going on and what she wanted. Where’s the harm in that, I asked myself. If she was a damsel in distress, maybe I could be her knight in shining armour? I was giggling at the thought of me trying to ride a horse as I punched the numbers into my phone. Why doesn’t someone make phones with big buttons for people like me with larger fingers? At the third try, I got the numbers in the right order and pressed the ‘Call’ button.

  “Hello?” Jennifer answered the phone before the second ring, catching me off guard. I’d got the phone wedged between my shoulder and my ear so I could light my cigarette, and I almost dropped it trying to sort myself out.

  “Oh, hi. Jennifer?” I said. “It’s Gareth.” There was silence on the other end of the line. “From the other night?”

  “Hey, Gareth,” Jennifer said, her voice slow and deeper than I remembered. Maybe she’d been drinking too. “Thanks for calling.” There was another silence, this one bordering on uncomfortable.

  “So… you left me a note?” I asked, my cigarette now under control. I sat on the bench, realising too late it was wet with either rain or urine. “Is Robert still being an arse?”

  “He is, yes, but that’s not why I called. I’m not after a bodyguard, don’t worry.” Her laugh echoed down the phone. “I thought maybe I should say thanks or something, you know, for coming to my rescue and everything.” She paused, and I heard her take a breath. “I mean, it would have been fine, but I appreciate you stepping in.”

  Even though I was pissed, I was sure it wouldn’t have been fine. It might have been okay that evening, but I knew Robert’s sort. At some point in the future, it would go downhill. It would start with a slap in the heat of the moment, followed by profuse apologies, flowers, and promises it would never happen again. Great sex. Then the next time it would be a fist, not a slap. Maybe somewhere it wouldn’t bruise, or maybe it would be a punch in the face? That pretty face, with a button nose and ever so slightly out of line front tooth.

  “Are you still there?” Jennifer’s voice on the phone made me jump.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I was miles away,” I replied, trying to concentrate on something other than how much I liked her crooked tooth. Another silence. I had to break it, fill the void. “I was just thinking about, er, thinking about…” Shit. What should I say?

  “What were you thinking about, Gareth?” Hearing her say my name sent a shiver down my spine. This was getting weird. I shouldn’t have called her after one beer, let alone five. In fact, I shouldn’t have called her at all. The only thing I was achieving was making a fool out of myself.

  “Sorry, I’ve had a few pints,” I said. “I’m not pissed. Well, just a bit. Maybe ever so slightly pissed.” Her laugh brought a smile to my face.

  “Can you keep a secret?” she said, her voice so faint I struggled to hear it.

  “That’s one thing I can definitely do,”
I replied, trying to put some confidence in my voice.

  “So am I,” she said. It was my turn to laugh at her. “I’m sitting in my flat with an empty bottle of wine listening to Celine Dion.”

  The image this brought to my mind made me laugh out loud. I’d gone to see Bridget Jones Diary at the cinema with a date. The only thing in the film I thought was funny was the blonde actress singing “All by Myself” into an empty bottle of wine. That was the most memorable part of the whole miserable, but short-lived, relationship. There was no second date.

  “No, no, no,” I said. “You’re listening to the wrong song.”

  “Okay, so what would you recommend then?” Jennifer’s voice had shifted, become much more conversational. I racked my brain for a moment before coming up with what my beer-soaked brain thought was the perfect answer.

  “Gloria Gaynor,” I said. “Definitely, Gloria Gaynor.”

  “Help me out here,” she replied. “Bit before my time, I think.” I thought for a second about singing down the phone the first few lines of the song I had in mind, but I wasn’t that pissed.

  “I will survive,” I said. “First I was afraid, I was petrified,” I continued, managing not to sing. She laughed.

  “Oh God, yes,” she said. “I know it. It's not on my iPod though.” I kept quiet. It was on mine.

  We spent the next fifteen or twenty minutes going back and forth, relaxing into an easy conversation about music, films, and what we both enjoyed doing in our spare time. All nice and safe, nothing controversial. Nothing about her idiot ex-boyfriend. Big Joe stuck his head out of the rear door of the pub at one point, no doubt to see where I’d gone or to make sure I wasn’t trying to break into the back. He disappeared, reappearing a few minutes later with a fresh pint which he put on the table in front of me. If he wasn’t such an ugly bugger, I could have kissed him.

  I’d discovered Jennifer’s favourite death scene in a movie was Dennis Hopper being killed by Harvey Keitel in True Romance. In return, I’d shared the fact I’d cried when King Kong died. In fairness, I was only seven. But I’d still cried like a baby. We’d both blubbered at Watership Down, so it was honours even. The conversation had slowed down, not because we’d run out of things to say, but I think because we realised we had so much more to talk about. Not how I’d imagined the conversation playing out at all. Jennifer said something else, but I didn’t catch what it was she said.

  “Sorry, I missed that,” I said. “What did you say?” There was a pause before she replied.

  “I said, are you free tomorrow night?”

  “Er, yeah I think so.”

  “Do you fancy going out for a drink?” Jennifer said. “I owe you at least one to thank you properly.”

  So the next night, we went for a drink. It wasn’t at The Heartsease though. That was the last place I wanted to take her. We went to a smart wine bar in Norwich which had not long opened. Even though it was only a drink, so she could say thank you, I still made an effort and was what I thought passed for a perfect gentleman. It must have worked as the weekend saw us at the cinema. Then a meal the week after, then a few more drinks the weekend after. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she liked me. I knew deep down that wasn’t the case though, just based on the fact women like Jennifer never went for men like me. She was just too — I’m not sure how to describe it — too bloody nice. I hate the word nice, but it’s the best one I can think of to describe her.

  I was sure all Jennifer wanted was some company. Someone safe who she could just chill out with who would keep her arsehole ex-boyfriend away. As far as she was concerned, I worked security on doors so would fit that bill nicely. But, the more I saw of her the more I liked her. It wasn’t just because she was attractive, there was something more about her. One Friday night, a few weeks after the incident with Robert, we’d gone for a few drinks in a pub down by the river in Thorpe St Andrew. When I’d phoned up for a taxi to take Jennifer home before dropping me off at mine, there’d been a two-hour wait. Even though it was just before Christmas, it was a balmy evening with clear skies. A very pleasant night for a stroll, so we decided to walk back. We were about halfway back to her flat when I decided we could take a shortcut.

  “We can cut up through here if you want?” I’d said, pointing at a path leading through some woods. It was a steep path, but I knew at the top was a recreation ground we could walk across to her flat. It would cut maybe twenty minutes off the walk.

  “What?” Jennifer had said with her hand on her chest. “You want me to go into the woods with you?” Her sly smile told me she was joking.

  “I promise you’ll be safe with me, young lady,” I replied. “My intentions are entirely honourable.”

  “Are they?” Jennifer said before frowning, but the smile stayed on her face as she did so. “Damn. Okay then. If you insist.”

  Jennifer looped her hand through my arm, and we made our way through the woods. When we got to the end of the path, the sky opened out in front of us.

  “Wow, look at the stars,” Jennifer whispered, breathless from the steep climb. I looked up to see a black sky, dotted with white sparkling pinpricks of light. I’d never been one for stargazing, but I had to admit the sight was impressive.

  “Let’s sit down, get our breath,” I pointed at a bench.

  “Oh, you’re not just a pretty face, are you.” Jennifer laughed as she unhooked her arm from mine and made her way to the bench, sitting on it with an exaggerated sigh. I sat next to her and looked up at the sky. We sat in silence for a few seconds. “So,” Jennifer said. “Are you into the astronomy side of things then?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I lied through my teeth, pointing up at the sky. “See, look there. There’s Capricorn.” I waved my finger around. “And that’s Sagittarius just there.” I looked at her as she stared upwards at the sky. The glare from the streetlights on the other side of the recreation ground shone on her face. In that moment, looking at her staring at the sky, I realised I liked her. Really, really liked her.

  I looked back up at the stars and was about to put my hands behind my head when Jennifer punched me in the arm.

  “Ow,” I said, rubbing the spot where she’d hit me. “What was that for?”

  “For talking rubbish,” Jennifer said, moving herself a couple of inches toward me so our hips were just touching. “I’m getting cold,” she continued. “Shall we give it five minutes and then head away?” I could feel the warmth of her leg against mine and couldn’t work out if she wanted me to put my arm around her. The truth is, I’ve never been great with women. I glanced across at Jennifer, who was staring back up at the sky, and a mad jumble of thoughts ran through my head. What did she think of me? Was I just safe company? Or was there maybe, just maybe, something more? The thought of her being on the rebound from Robert was front and centre of my thoughts. I knew I only had a few minutes before we’d be walking again, and the moment would disappear. I felt like a teenager about to ask a girl out on a date but decided, what the hell.

  “Jennifer, can I ask you something?” I said, after a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  “Sure you can,” she replied, still staring up at the night. I paused, taking another deep breath and trying to keep my voice steady.

  “What would you do if I kissed you?”

  Jennifer turned her head and looked at me. She opened her mouth just a touch, as if she was about to say something, then she closed it again. Her expression was inscrutable, and I couldn’t tell if I’d made a huge mistake.

  “Oh,” she said a few seconds later. “Well, I guess one of two things.” I waited, desperate to hear what she would say. “I’d either slap you round the face hard and run off, or…” Jennifer paused.

  “Or what?” I said a few seconds later.

  “Or I’d kiss you back.” There was another pause as we looked at each other. I couldn’t read her expression at all.

  “Which would it be then?” I said. She didn’t reply but just carried on looking at me. I realised I w
ould have to find out for myself. I leaned forward, angled my head, and brushed my lips across hers, only just making contact with them before I sat back and screwed up my eyes.

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

  “Waiting for a slap,” I replied. She laughed, and I felt her cool hand on the side of my face. She slid it round to the back of my neck.

  “You big daft lump,” Jennifer said as she pulled me toward her.

  We sat on the bench in the dark, like teenagers do, and kissed. Like teenagers do.

  And it was very fine indeed.

  The first time I spent the night with Jennifer, which I will always think about as when our relationship began, things didn’t turn out the way I thought they would. We’d been out quite a few times since the night we’d puckered up on the bench. Other than a couple of chaste kisses at her door, it hadn’t progressed beyond that. I wanted it to, God knows I wanted it to, but I needed to be sure she wanted more than a kiss. Each time I walked her back, I was desperate for her to invite me in but too nervous to suggest it myself. One evening before we met for a drink, I’d even blitzed my flat, giving the hoover a rare outing and changed the sheets. I’d had every intention of inviting her back to mine for a coffee, but I’d bottled it and settled for a kiss at her door and a wave goodnight as it closed.

  It was three weeks to the day since our first kiss when that all changed. We’d been out for the evening to grab a quick bite to eat in a pub by the river called The Town House. It was a nice enough pub, nothing too flashy, just one of those chain pubs with the same menu whichever one in the country you went into. It was a very relaxed evening, but there was a massive part of me that still thought I was a convenient drinking partner, as opposed to a boyfriend. Jennifer was only just out of a relationship that was bordering on abusive. The last thing I wanted to do was to push her into another relationship even if I knew it wouldn’t be one with any abuse in the slightest. An added complication was that I was fairly sure she wouldn’t be interested in a relationship with a part-time thief.