thought she was hallucinating, but then she felt something vibrating on her chest.
“You there?” the voice said.
It was coming from the walkie-talkie that Donny had thrown in with her. She’d almost forgotten about it. She felt for the walkie-talkie on her chest and found it, quickly grabbing it and moving it to her mouth. She could smell the plastic as she searched frantically for the button.
“Press down on the right side of the talkie,” the voice said.
It startled her somewhat. It was as if he was in her mind.
“Hello?” she said, pressing down on the button.
“Hello, Demi,” the voice said, pausing for a second and then saying, “I thought we could play a little game.”
Twenty-Two
Hamish pulled up to his usual parking spot. He was surprised to see a black Corsa parked where his car would usually go. He hit the brakes hard, barely coming to a stop inches from the Corsa’s back bumper.
“Wankers,” he said under his breath, hitting the gear shift and reversing into an unused space that sat next to the bins. He turned the key, and the engine died down. Sat in his seat for a long while he stared at the brick wall in front of him. He surveyed the cracks and the brittle mortar as it clung onto the edges of the brick. Years of heavy rain and cold weather had made the brick wall in front of him become worn and tattered. He looked at it for a little longer and came to the conclusion that he, too, was worn and tattered. Much like the brick wall, he was eroding away.
There was only so much bad weather a bit of masonry could take before it crumbled into nothingness. Hamish believed it was the same for him as a gangster. There was only so much a man like him could take. Only so much weather. Only so much rain. But by the time the seas calmed and the wind died down, it would most likely be too late. He was already battered by the elements. There was no coming back from the things he’d seen. So he knew he had to carry on. Much like the wall in front of him, he had to stand tall and firm. He wouldn’t buckle under pressure. He couldn’t afford to. He didn’t know how much time he had left in this business, but if he had his way, he’d walk away that day.
But he couldn’t walk away. He had a job to do, and that job was to look after the pub that Donny the Hat owned. His duties were to keep troublemakers out of the pub and away from Donny. He was a security guard. Half a gangster, if you will. An associate. A nobody, as Donny once called him.
He decided to get out of the car. He was doing nothing but winding himself up as he sat in there. He got like that often. He was always dismissive of his own thoughts, but sometimes they controlled him. Sometimes they got him down.
He locked the door and turned to see the Corsa in his space. It looked new and was by no means flash, but it did cost a few bob, that much was obvious. He walked up to it, his reflection on the brand-new finish reflecting back at him. He stood behind the car for a good two minutes, just staring. He wasn’t sure whether he should call his boss or stay quiet. He didn’t know how his boss would take to an unknown car being parked in their lot. But Hamish decided that he should go into the pub and check if the owner of the car was there. It was the smart thing to do, after all. His boss had told him many times to use his “noggin” and think first before acting.
So that’s what Hamish was doing. Thinking first before acting. He smiled as he turned away from the car and made his way toward the beer garden. He could hear the faint sound of music playing from the inside. It was muffled from the outside, but clear enough for Hamish to recognize the tune. He hummed along to the record, the sound becoming clearer as he got closer to the doors to the pub. He climbed a few steps and hit the decking, his footsteps echoing off the wooden surface. He reached the door to the pub and opened it. He was met by the sound of music and the smell of
“You there?” the voice said.
It was coming from the walkie-talkie that Donny had thrown in with her. She’d almost forgotten about it. She felt for the walkie-talkie on her chest and found it, quickly grabbing it and moving it to her mouth. She could smell the plastic as she searched frantically for the button.
“Press down on the right side of the talkie,” the voice said.
It startled her somewhat. It was as if he was in her mind.
“Hello?” she said, pressing down on the button.
“Hello, Demi,” the voice said, pausing for a second and then saying, “I thought we could play a little game.”
Twenty-Two
Hamish pulled up to his usual parking spot. He was surprised to see a black Corsa parked where his car would usually go. He hit the brakes hard, barely coming to a stop inches from the Corsa’s back bumper.
“Wankers,” he said under his breath, hitting the gear shift and reversing into an unused space that sat next to the bins. He turned the key, and the engine died down. Sat in his seat for a long while he stared at the brick wall in front of him. He surveyed the cracks and the brittle mortar as it clung onto the edges of the brick. Years of heavy rain and cold weather had made the brick wall in front of him become worn and tattered. He looked at it for a little longer and came to the conclusion that he, too, was worn and tattered. Much like the brick wall, he was eroding away.
There was only so much bad weather a bit of masonry could take before it crumbled into nothingness. Hamish believed it was the same for him as a gangster. There was only so much a man like him could take. Only so much weather. Only so much rain. But by the time the seas calmed and the wind died down, it would most likely be too late. He was already battered by the elements. There was no coming back from the things he’d seen. So he knew he had to carry on. Much like the wall in front of him, he had to stand tall and firm. He wouldn’t buckle under pressure. He couldn’t afford to. He didn’t know how much time he had left in this business, but if he had his way, he’d walk away that day.
But he couldn’t walk away. He had a job to do, and that job was to look after the pub that Donny the Hat owned. His duties were to keep troublemakers out of the pub and away from Donny. He was a security guard. Half a gangster, if you will. An associate. A nobody, as Donny once called him.
He decided to get out of the car. He was doing nothing but winding himself up as he sat in there. He got like that often. He was always dismissive of his own thoughts, but sometimes they controlled him. Sometimes they got him down.
He locked the door and turned to see the Corsa in his space. It looked new and was by no means flash, but it did cost a few bob, that much was obvious. He walked up to it, his reflection on the brand-new finish reflecting back at him. He stood behind the car for a good two minutes, just staring. He wasn’t sure whether he should call his boss or stay quiet. He didn’t know how his boss would take to an unknown car being parked in their lot. But Hamish decided that he should go into the pub and check if the owner of the car was there. It was the smart thing to do, after all. His boss had told him many times to use his “noggin” and think first before acting.
So that’s what Hamish was doing. Thinking first before acting. He smiled as he turned away from the car and made his way toward the beer garden. He could hear the faint sound of music playing from the inside. It was muffled from the outside, but clear enough for Hamish to recognize the tune. He hummed along to the record, the sound becoming clearer as he got closer to the doors to the pub. He climbed a few steps and hit the decking, his footsteps echoing off the wooden surface. He reached the door to the pub and opened it. He was met by the sound of music and the smell of
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