Release Candidate

by Aziz, M.

  ‘Not a drummer, then?’

  ‘I’m familiar with some chords.’

  ‘I do two strings less, don’t have to bother with that shit.’

  ‘You are clumsy-fingered and tone deaf. Install that back in your brain!’ he pointed a finger.

  ‘Got anything more to spit?’

  ‘Clearing more of that skull is a higher priority.’

  ‘Maybe fill that just-freed portion with some names, eh?’

  ‘Call me Trevor.’ he then gestured towards long hair. ‘Gary or Gaz.

  ‘Contents are one thing. Though they have mauled your appearance, that is no reason for you to drop readopting the full Pascual tongue and movement.’

  ‘This ain’t just a case of monkey see, monkey...’

  ‘Ah ah ah.’ interrupted Trevor.

  ‘Hey preacher,’ said Goyo, ‘let’s just figure this guy a decent place to put his head tonight. My clock’s up.’

  ‘He can come with me.’ said Gary. ‘Don’t worry, ass ain’t my thing.’

  ‘Brother, you best grow eyes on the back of your head. I ain’t really sold on this shit.’

  Gary pulled Tomás to his feet. They all walked out of the room. Dong-yul flicked off the light behind him.

  Goyo looked around, nodded and headed down the street. Dong-yul and Rob went the other way. Trevor walked to his black car just in front. Gary pushed Tomás to its rear seats. The car rolled off.

  Tomás upturned his collars and slunk down. Road lights punctuated the darkness outside. The hum of the car rose incrementally.

  ‘This guy a loose cannon?’ asked Tomás.

  Gary forced a cough. ‘Ahem.’

  ‘All show.’ laughed Trevor. ‘A good first step role model for you.’

  ‘All show?’ asked Gary. ‘I might have a load of hacked off arms and legs under my bed.’

  ‘And I thought that pong was just from your toilet!’

  Tomás laughed.

  ‘Good to see you shatter the stern face, friend,’ he continued, ‘there’s no need to soil yourself. Just don’t mess with us. We root out weeds with an efficiency you don’t want to know.’

  Tomás pressed his lips together. Gary pulled out a mobile phone and loaded a holographic game with cartoon characters in a rainbow-coloured world. Frequent high-pitched voices made Tomás thumb-massage his brows.

  ‘Level forty-one!’ squeaked the phone exactly forty-one minutes later.

  Trevor cut the engine.

  Pocketing his phone, Gary got out and pulled Tomás to the street. Trevor’s side window rolled down.

  ‘At least just close your eyes tight, Tomás.’ he drove onward. ‘Fill your belly by noon.’

  Turning around, Tomás saw a short grey staircase leading up to a black door. Windows above were unlit.

  Gary led him up the steps. He inserted his key and pushed it open. The dark corridor smelled of tobacco.

  ‘An old Paki’s.’ Gary whispered. ‘Thinks I’m a uni boy so the fucker slacked my dues a bit. Now, your feet better not go out of time with mine ‘ere, and in my digs one pair stops when the other starts. And don’t open your beak ‘til about eight tomorrow. The cunt didn’t spare one of my bitches, had his ear at the door while my bedsprings were gettin’ a workout, if you get me? Spiders can’t even come now. Lifts up his stick and before you know it you need the antiseptic!’

  Tomás nodded and followed upstairs. Upon tripping on the second last step he saw Gary’s glaring eyes.

  A few paces left of the landing, Gary unlocked a white door. He pressed a light switch.

  In the middle of the room an unmade blue bed occupied the most space. A silver radio sat on a white stool beside a yellowed net-curtained window. Fluffy green carpet was decorated with small burn craters and old newspapers.

  Gary pointed at the bed. Tomás nodded. Gary sequentially raised a thumb, index and middle finger before bringing Tomás down with him in a tight squeeze. Tomás lifted his back and pulled a blackened glass ashtray through the duvet. He resettled himself.

  Gary put a finger to his lips then reached beneath the bed. Following ruffling he laid back down with a biro and tattered notebook. He scribbled: “pen not maoth!”

  Tomás took the writing materials.

  “I pshhh then zzzz”

  Gary snatched them back.

  “you used too scrib like a spas” he crossed that out. “nevermind, door oposite”

  Tomás got up. The mattress creaked.

  Tomás relieved himself, flushed, washed hands and returned to the room.

  Gary pointed at the radio. Tomás pressed the on button.

  ‘...A lifetime’s supply of blueberry muffins sounds mmm to me!’ a loud male voice blurted. ‘Do call again Hannah.’

  Gary flapped a hand. Tomás paused then turned a large dial anticlockwise, quietening the speaker.

  On returning to bed Gary handed him the notebook.

  “littel bit of noise is ok and will help us”

  From behind his pillow Gary pulled out a pack of tobacco rolling paper, a laser lighter and a small transparent bag of clumped green. He began sprinkling the latter onto the paper.

  Tomás wrote in the notebook.

  “Blow in other direction, please. You kill light when done”

  Gary gently put down his half-assembly.

  “not sharer anyways mate check size off this thing”

  Tomás slowly rolled over.

  A minute after the lighter beeped Tomás’s nostrils flared. He turned to see a line of rising smoke.

  After knuckling Gary’s shoulder he extended his hand. Gary blew a smoke ring and smiled. He handed the roll-up. Tomás brought it to his lips and inhaled deeply. He nodded aggressively and took a few more puffs before handing it back.

  The light remained on for the remainder of the night. The radio continued chattering.

  ‘It’s half past eight. This is Net FM.’ said a deep voice over spacey sound effects.

  Tomás unconsciously turned with the duvet. Gary reflexively snatched some of it back.

  ‘And now,’ a jingle faded, ‘after a decade away from the charts, Silver Monochrome.’

  Tomás opened his eyes wide. He leapt towards the radio to scroll the volume dial. His face beamed as a blues melody emanated from the tiny speaker.

  Gary yawned and stretched. After a few seconds his eyelids fluttered.

  ‘What the fuck?’ he whisper-shouted as he sat up.

  Tomás picked up the pad and pen. His ending strokes sounded like Morse code.

  “FINALLY! PROPER MUSIC ON HERE!!!”

  Gary got up and snatched the items. After violently scribbling he thrust them back and lowered the volume.

  “na mate this aint ur shit!”

  Gary’s eyes bulged.

  Tomás bent his head towards the speaker. As Gary put his hand over the power button Tomás slapped it. Gary froze. Tomás grinned as the song moved from quiet to loud. Gary sat back down and folded his arms for the duration.

  ‘And that is from their soon-to-be-released download package, titled...’

  Gary got up and slammed the power button. Tomás rose up. Picking up a newspaper from the floor he walked back to his side of the bed.

  Fifteen minutes later muffled clicking came from below. Then the creaking and shutting of a door.

  Gary grabbed Tomás by his bandage knot. ‘Do that again and I’ll...’

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘For starts, cats shaggin’ sounds better ‘an that. The Paki’s old but he ain’t fucking deaf!’

  ‘You’re gonna hyperventilate, man. It’s just I’ve followed these guys since I was a kid. You should’ve seen them live a little while back.’

  ‘I can’t believe that crap sells.’

  ‘Your weed’s woken my belly.’

  Gary nodded and left the room.

  Tomás remained still as his ears traced the fading footfalls which disappeared momentarily then reversed with the addition of a shaking sound.

 
Gary held a box of cereal bars in one hand, orange juice in the other.

  ‘Other stuff in the kitchen I didn’t pay for, so up yours or enjoy.’ he pulled out one foil-wrapped bar before tossing the box.

  Tomás caught it with both hands. He fished one out and unwrapped it. After severing the head he quickly chewed and swallowed.

  ‘Alright,’ Gary continued, ‘no need for us to get into a sweat now. Just keep your arse there, wolf some more and we’ll see how this day pans.’

  ‘I haven’t won you over, have I?’

  Gary scratched his nose.

  A few minutes past noon a car entered the curtain-parted segment of the window. Gary turned from it and grabbed Tomás’s shoulder. He dragged him, almost stumbling, downstairs. Opening the front door they saw Trevor with a mobile in hand.

  ‘Ah. You’re going somewhere our Creator isn’t so fond of.’ Trevor laughed. ‘Relax.’ he returned to the driver’s seat.

  Gary ushered Tomás into the back. The car moved east, then north.

  Tomás shrank into the previous night’s position.

  Twenty minutes later he spotted “Gentlemen’s Club” in a handwritten font across his forehead reflection. The car stopped.

  ‘We are not strangers here.’ said Trevor. ‘Let your blood just head south for now.’

  Gary helped Tomás out. Trevor patted a beefed-up clone of himself at the door.

  ‘He’s for our table.’

  The bouncer stepped aside. His face still as a waxwork’s.

  Through the pine green corridor gentle pink lighting grew heavy. Saxophone notes exploded upon turning a corner. Three skinny, tanned girls in tight underwear and shiny footwear cavorted on a small circular stage.

  Through mild strobe effects Tomás caught Dong-yul, Goyo and Rob at a far corner table. He looked back at the girls then averted his eyes. Gary pushed him towards the group.

  ‘The girls don’t look like they’ve got dicks, Goyo.’ said Tomás.

  ‘You just gonna stand there?’ he replied. ‘There’s more to us than just maintaining bank accounts.’

  Tomás sat between Trevor and Gary.

  ‘The woman who runs this place has stacks of IOU slips for us.’ said Dong-yul, his voice buried in the din of roaming chat and music. ‘This hunk of wood pretty much has our name on it. Go up, feast your eyes but keep your fingers away. Grab something from the bar too.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘It’s not good to be rigid, pal. This might be our final bit of hospitality.’

  ‘I left a woman behind and this ain’t where I’d come to ease that. Don’t wanna spend a minute longer here than I have to.’

  ‘Shit, brother. I bet she got her legs open for someone as we speak!’

  Tomás reached across the table causing it to shake. He grabbed Rob’s shirt and began tugging. The others pulled him back.

  ‘Fuckin’ say that again!’

  ‘Hey, we didn’t bring you here to start a scene!’ shouted Trevor.

  Tomás thudded back on his seat.

  ‘Next time show me what your hook’s like!’ said Rob. ‘Pascual ain’t no pussy. So buck up if you don’t wanna become pulp!’

  Tomás snatched a handful of peanuts. He tossed them in his mouth and crunched noisily.

  Turning his head he eyed a bleached-blonde dancer writhing around a pole. Seconds later her legs were obscured by an entering silhouette. Tomás felt his wrist being shaken.

  ‘Good stuff there, huh?’ asked Goyo.

  ‘Yeah,’ he looked at him, ‘well, some things are the same on them all.’ he turned back to see lighting erode the silhouette’s depth.

  ‘Hey, Goyo,’ he continued, ‘seems something other than a girl is finally catching my eye. To the left.’

  Goyo peered over Tomás’s shoulder.

  ‘You’re better off refilling your head with something else.’

  ‘You see his face here lots?’

  ‘Just the back of his melon at this distance. So long as his smelly breath doesn’t reach our nostrils we keep our fists down. He’ll zip out soon. Rubs one off at the piss tray and that’s it. Maybe I’m wasting my time and your brain’s already digging this out now?’

  ‘No real lights.’ he scratched the top of his bandage. ‘You’ll have to get me in this seat again without a big delay. The atmosphere sort of grows on you.’

  Goyo clasped Tomás’s arm and squeezed. ‘Woo! Now I’m going up to get the stuff that makes your tongue polka. No buts!’

  Tomás produced a weak smile. He returned to watching the silhouette. It consciously moved away as Goyo approached the bar with a put-on swagger. He watched as the silhouette slowly shifted right towards the sharply lit toilet entrance.

  Focusing left he saw Goyo’s silhouette accepting change and an amber bottle from the female bartender.

  Goyo walked back and wolf-whistled the girls.

  ‘You had your eyes on me, right?’ Goyo hammered the bottle down. ‘He has some sense!’

  Tomás uncapped the bottle and sniffed it.

  ‘It’s liquid, not a fume.’ said Trevor who looked dozy with just one empty before him.

  Shrugging, Tomás put the bottle to his mouth. He took a long swig.

  The others cheered.

  ‘Hey, two-head.’ said Dong-yul. ‘I wish I could say you’re not our man but strange things do happen, right? It makes sense. Guys, bottles, glasses, up!’

  Tomás breathed out and clinked bottles.

  ‘Now I don’t wanna see any left in there, brother!’

  He put the bottle to his mouth and downed it at once.

  They clapped.

  ‘Yeah, alright guys,’ he burped, ‘my wussy side says time out for now. So let’s get back in the vroom vroom.’

  ‘Man, I’m starting to think your girl’s in your head too.’ sighed Goyo.

  ‘Look here, pal. I’m not one to mute business but we’ll hang a sign at the centre today, bolt the door. The boiler can be bust. Health and safety.’

  ‘Don’t trip yourself up for me, man.’

  ‘One day’s refunds won’t sting bad.’

  ‘Put something on the floor for me at nights, I like it there. No one you teach has a siren on their car, right? Besides, I’ll stay in the office when a lesson starts.’

  ‘But you can’t do that for yonks. You deserve comfy.’

  ‘You really are a pal.’

  ‘Don’t sweat it, pa... We are all one body. And only a fucked up one hurts itself.’

  ‘Bet that’s something you preach to your classes, with choicer words.’

  ‘How do you know our current course isn’t so colourful?’ he laughed. ‘Alright, let’s shift. We’ll go chill on the mats, rack our heads there about how to properly handle you.’

  Tomás nodded. They all got up. As he turned he saw the silhouette rush from the club. Feeling his back patted Tomás put his head down and walked forward.

  Outside, the silhouette was nowhere to be seen. They walked past the bouncer and squeezed into Trevor’s car.

  Following a short drive they arrived at the centre. Specks of dried maroon laid before the entrance.

  Inside, Rob turned on the lights. Goyo opened the door to the classroom. Dong-yul entered the office and picked up a thick black felt pen and miniature whiteboard. The pen squeaked as he wrote.

  In the classroom Trevor pulled a tiny ceiling rope at the right corner of a vanilla wall. It unfurled a white projection screen. He then pushed a block beside the screen which swivelled into a reflective black square. Gary brought a remote control from the office.

  Tomás stood still. He surveyed movement around him as if supervising a building site.

  Dong-yul returned and rubbed his hands together.

  ‘Pal, we’ve got an electronic box of goodies linked up. Time for bit of a personal history lesson! This was planned.’

  ‘Sounds good.’ said Tomás neutrally.

  Rob entered with a jumbo bag of tortilla chips. Gary and
Trevor pulled mats from the opposite wall and aligned them corner to corner on the floor.

  ‘Stop me if you know this,’ said Dong-yul, ‘but back when, Gary would bring along his vidcam. We sussed not too late we might as well paint dartboards on our back if he dropped it some place. Would’ve been a waste to delete those captured glories.’

  Gary pointed the remote at the black square. He pressed a keypad combination. A menu appeared with tabs for audio, video and images. Gary’s thumb press made the video icon flash.

  A tree view of files and folders appeared.

  Tomás sat down cross-legged. The others closed around him.

  ‘None of this has been edited.’ said Trevor.

  Rob ripped open the tortilla chips. He noisily rummaged inside it.

  Gary aimed the remote again.

  The darkened screen view shook in sync with Gary’s behind-camera laughter.

  Pascual came into focus. He was standing beside an archway pillar. His cigarette had just been extinguished.

  ‘I’m gonna shove that lens up your backside!’ whispered Pascual.

  The view unsteadily panned far left revealing a walkway behind. Then it slowly turned back towards a slightly younger Dong-yul and Goyo gathered at the opposite pillar. Goyo flashed the camera a holidayer grin. The view scrolled further right showing Trevor’s pixellated nose and Pascual’s jagged shadow enhanced by dim street light. Gary’s breath distorted the mic.

  A faint metallic cricket-clicking rose in tempo and volume. A bicycle handle and male head came into view. The cyclist’s mouth opened.

  Trevor pushed him to the floor. Pascual’s hand emerged with a gun.

  Bang.

  The view shook as Gary’s free hand turned their motionless victim to one side and searched his jacket pockets. He pulled out a bag of circular white tablets.

  Gary’s face appeared close-up and blurred, teeth gleaming.

  Gary in the classroom laughed. The projector returned to the video tree view.

  Tomás stood up, trembling.

  ‘Hey, what’s with the walk, brother?’

  ‘We did that for a wad of those?’

  ‘You’ll continue getting stressed standing up.’ said Dong-yul.

  ‘Go spin.’

  Trevor leapt up.

  ‘Prepared to hear the reason for finishing that man? We did not cast that wheeled demon to hellfire for gratis recreation. A client was concerned about something draining the young in the vicinity, including her own. She, unlike her son, was lucid. The pigs only sometimes quarantined this parasite we nailed.’