This is my attempt to serialise a book... I will be writing a chapter every week (probably) and I will be posting it here... I also need a title for the book.

Sunday 21 February 2010

04. Michaela and Janet

Michaela finished tidying up her station and got ready to leave. She always enjoyed the social part of her job; talking to the customers, flirting and playing with the punters but she was never very good at keeping her area clean so she was almost always the last to leave.

She picked up her bag and coat and walked up the stairs. The cleaners had just got in and were getting ready to clean the place.

“Friday night.” She thought as she shook her head and then smiled to one of the women on the crew. “Always leaves a fucking mess!”

As she got to the door, the bouncer, Johnny, opened the door for her.
-“Goodnight, Mik! Sleep tight!”
-“Yeah Johnny! You too! Give my regards to the missus.”

As she walked out and she felt the cold rain, she opened her umbrella and she started to walk fast. Michaela loved London, she enjoyed the way she felt when she was walking around this city. The sounds and sights of the city, even the smells of the streets she enjoyed. Well sometimes…! The rain though, she had to admit, she hated.

She decided to walk down Oxford St on her way back home. It was late and Oxford St was always busy enough to feel safe even at this hour. As she crossed Regent St at Oxford Circus; she heard some drunken, angry shouting. She turned around to see a group of youngsters fighting. “The English!! They had a tendency to go mental when they had a few too many.” She kept her head down as she quickly passed them by. The rain was getting harder so she quicken her pace, she wanted to get home as soon as possible, take off her now almost soaking clothes and get into her warm bed next to Janet.

The streets were pretty empty now, the lateness of the hour and the pouring rain making sure any usual hangers-by had left for home. Even the angry shouts had been silenced. The only sound now was her heeled boots as she made her way home. In five minutes she would be in her pyjamas and right now that was all she wanted. That and those really nice sets of bras on the window of Intimissimi. She knew Janet would love them.

As she stopped to look at them again, she thought she heard another pair of heels walking behind her. She turned to see but she realised the noise had stopped. She looked around but couldn’t see anything or anyone. She decided to leave the window-shopping for another day and turned up Newman St towards her small flat.

She walked quickly but was now getting nervous. She realised she was all alone in the middle of the night. The story about that woman disappearing came to her thoughts and the way D had reacted when she told him that she had seen her. He looked… worried. He tried to look calm but she could tell that something had agitated him and he did leave almost immediately afterwards. She decided to ask him about it next time she saw him.

The noise of someone behind her jolted her out of her reverie. She turned around quickly but again, no one was there. Just the rain and the shadows from the street-lights.

She slowly put her hand into her bag and fished for her keys. She didn’t want to waste anytime and the sooner she was in the building the safer she would feel and she really, really wanted to be next to Janet’s sexy body right now. She reached her door and quickly got her keys out, fumbling with the lock as she opened the door and got inside.
She took a deep breath, letting it slowly out in a long sigh as she rested against the wall. Once she got her heart pace to a manageable rate she started walking up the stairs.

Her flat was on the third floor of a building, converted into flats during the 80’s, mainly one-bedroom flats and studios. Hers was a one-bedroom that she shared with her long-time girlfriend, Janet. It was a nice flat, clean, and roomy, especially for London and although it didn’t have particularly nice views, it was close to Oxford St and of course Soho.

She opened the door to the flat and walked in. Strangely the lights were off; Janet would already be in bed of course but she usually left the lights on for her. She dumped her bag on the floor, took of her wet coat and went into the bathroom. She normally changed into the living room when she was working late so as not to wake up her lover but tonight she decided to get ready for bed in the bathroom. Her clothes were wet so she threw them into the bath as she got into her pyjamas.

She walked down the corridor towards the bedroom wanting so much to slip into her bed. She smiled at the thought of Janet’s hands holding her as she laid beside her. She slowly opened the door and as she walked into the room her face turned into a grimace of horror.

Janet’s body, her lover and soul-mate, was lying spread-eagled on the bed, naked. Her night-shirt ripped from her and tossed on the floor. She looked terrified at the horrible wounds criss-crossing her chest, the blood flowing freely from there, staining the sheets. The sheets that only this morning she had put on the bed.

Michaela recoiled knocking into the door. Suddenly she heard a noise behind her. She turned and froze as she saw the shadow advancing towards her. She opened her mouth to scream. The scream that was cut from her throat as the cold blade sliced across. She felt to her knees , gurgling the blood pumping out of her body. She looked up and her eyes widened as she know clearly saw her attacker.

Her beautiful eyes now frozen in death asking forever the question ‘Why’…?

Wednesday 10 February 2010

03. Michaela

It’s way past 5 o’clock. It took him a bit of time to cut the mattress into pieces small enough to get rid off without raising suspicions.
He also cleaned the wall and shampooed the carpet. He didn’t do it thoroughly enough to fool SOC; or his mother for that matter in case either of them ever came around. It’s should be good enough for just about anyone else though.

“Bet she finds all this ‘oh so funny’, knowing I’d be spending my day on my hands and knees cleaning up her mess.” He knows he’s not one of the tidiest persons and cleaning is not his ‘thing’.

Enough of this, time for a quick break, try and relax before he has to go out. Sitting on the couch he turns on the TV, just in time for the 6 o’clock news. He tries to stop his hand shaking as he watches the news intro. It’s no real surprise that Mrs Garnier is news item of the day. He expected her to be. He is tempted to change the channel, watch the Simpson’s maybe. He can’t! He needs to know as much as possible about her but he’s getting really worried about this. This is not just a random woman and if someone saw them together they might recognise him. He needs to search for the missing night.

First port of call of the search is the Victoria, the pub round the corner from his house. It’s a typical old English pub, a rectangular space with a wooden floor, wooden panels and a bar with brass fittings in the centre of the long wall.
It has two rooms on the first floor, decorated with old armchairs and chairs giving it an air of creativity. He sometimes likes to go there and have a quiet pint sitting in one of the armchairs upstairs. He usually goes in there to be by himself. He can be pretentious, it’s true; and he has a flair for the dramatic.

He never expected to find anything there. The nights he goes there are usually not long. He goes because he doesn’t want to drink alone but he rarely talks to anyone, except to order. The staff know his face and that’s just about it. He ordered a pint of ale but instead of going upstairs this time, he decided to sit at the bar downstairs. See if anyone recognised him.

By the time he finished his pint he was almost sure no one was paying any attention to him. Either he wasn’t there last night or he was too quiet. No clues here and probably nothing to worry about.

Next stop is that nice trendy bar on Dering Street near Oxford Circus, The Loop. He never liked the name but the place was ok. A black baroque-ish décor but it had some quiet corners to hide and have a private discussion. Well, try and have a discussion. Music was a bit too Top of the Popsy.
This place is frequented by, what would be described as the City ‘professionals’. Mainly young people with junior and middle management positions in the various firms around London, whether in the financial, retail or any other sector of industry and commerce.
The main common factor is the relatively young age, the fact that they are usually single and almost always at the start of a ‘promising’ career in their respective chosen field. The idea of work hard, play harder was almost burned onto their psyche.

The above description fits him to the tee, though he is currently 'between' jobs but that is not the reason he came to The Loop. Actually he doesn’t really like the place. The décor is nice but far from original and the people there can be annoying. Play hard is one thing but when you start throwing your toys out of the pram you get irritating.

The main reason he went to this bar were the women. Most were good looking, well dressed, liked to have fun and of course played hard. There was also Michaela, who usually worked at the bar.

He met Michaela one night when he came in for a drink after a particular bad day at work. He needed a drink that night and wanted some mindless noise to keep it company. He went straight downstairs, walked up to the bar, sat down on a stool and ordered a beer. She kept him company all through the night and laughed as more and more women kept coming in to order from his side of the bar. He pretended he was embarrassed. He got slightly drunk and a lot more flirty. As the night was drawing to a close she asked him to wait for her outside. He did and they ended up spending the night at her small apartment near Tottenham Court. In the morning she was a bit self-conscious, she explained that she was a lesbian that sometimes went straight when she was drunk. He promised to behave himself next time.

He got to know her more as he would come by often enough for them to take a light interest in each other but his relationship with Michaela remained, from that night onwards, always that of a bartender and her customer. Besides he knew for a fact that her interest in lovers was similar to his, normally brunettes but an occasional blonde to keep the variety going.
It was nearly eight as he walked in and headed straight for the bar. Propping himself up on a stool he smiled as Michaela moved towards him.
-“Hey D!” she returned his smile.“How you doing? What can I get you?”
-“Hiya, Mik. I’m doing ok I guess, same old, same old. Can I have a Corona?”
-“Sure thing. So where have you been? I haven’t seen you lately.”

He wasn’t here last night then. He wasn’t sure if he should be worried or relieved by these news.
If he wasn’t here then were the hell did he go to last night? London is a big city and the last thing he wanted, was to spend days trying to figure out where he’d been.
On the other hand people knew him in here and Michaela is very, very observant when she wants to.
-“So, do I get to find out where you’ve been? What was so important that kept you away from your favourite barwoman? Is everything ok?”
-“All is well, Mik. I have been a bit busy lately and… no, don’t look at me like that! It wasn’t that kind of busy! Nothing as fun as that; just work and stuff.”
-“Ok… I’ll pretend I believe you!”
-“Thanks! Tell me. Did I miss anything while I was kept away from your charming company?”
-“Not much really, a fight a couple of nights ago but other than that…” she suddenly looked up at him.
-“Oh wait, I remembered something!” She was visibly excited.
-“Hey, you know that woman that’s been on the news? The wife of that TV presenter? I think I saw her last night walking down the road when I went out for a cigarette!”
-“Really, Mik? You’re sure about that? I mean are you sure it was her?” He tried to look as calm as he could but he could feel his voice almost cracking from the adrenaline flowing through his body.
-“D! I’m positive! You know I’m good with faces and she also had a killer body, especially in that short dress.”
-“You remember what she was wearing? What am I saying? Of course you do. You probably know what underwear she had on, honestly Mik sometimes I think you are worse than some guys I know, mentally undressing women!” He tried to joke, more for his benefits that Michaela’s.
-“Haha, can’t resist the temptation. Anyway, yes as a matter of fact I do remember what she was wearing. She had a blue dress with a sort of flowery, 60’s sort of pattern. Cute! She also had a light blue pasmina across her shoulders.” She smiled impishly.
-“And her underwear looked expensive by the way!”

Monday 8 February 2010

02. Action Plan

Back to the important things then. He will need to remember where he was and if someone saw him with her. Who the hell was she? He decided to call her Jane until he found out who she was.
He would start with his usual hang-outs and see if anyone saw him there or maybe they saw Jane but he needs to be careful, no need to get other people interested in him or Jane.

Next concern then, how did he get home last night and at what time?
He lives in a relatively quiet neighbourhood, near Hyde Park and at night the traffic is limited, not many people walking around but there are enough not to make someone stand out. It’s actually why he moved here in the first place.
Well, the tall trees lining the streets and the closeness to Hyde Park are also good selling points but he always enjoyed his privacy and this place is perfect. Quiet with neighbours so caught up in their own life dramas no one notices him. Even when walking down the street you can hide.
It’s so close to the train station and the numerous hotels that are located on the street. To anyone seeing them last night they were just another couple returning to their hotel. It’s doubtful anyone registered them coming home last evening but he would need to make sure. It’s also doubtful anyone noticed ‘her’ coming in the house either. She has a way of going past people without being noticed anyway, unless of course she wants you to notice her.

He still needs to wait for the mattress to dry out completely and there is no point in starting the search yet, most of the places he needs to visit will be closed in the morning.
He turns the laptop on, might as well start looking for a new bed so he clicks on the IKEA web page.
As he scans their bedroom section he decides to check on the news, just in case. He turns the TV on and selects the BBC News channel and nearly chokes on his coffee.
A face is staring at him, a woman’s face, a beautiful face as it’s framed by her blonde hair. He turns the volume on.
“…the wife of TV’s presenter John Garnier has been reported missing by her husband this morning. Mrs Garnier has been missing ever since she left her office last night. It was reported that their marriage was under pressure after Mr Garnier was seen leaving a London restaurant in the company of another woman. The police have refused to comment and only said they are treating this as a normal missing person case. And now sports…”
Flashbacks start coming at him from every angle. The face from the TV laughing as she holds a shot glass in her hand, another image of her as she takes his hand and the memory of her lips as she’s kissing him, her mouth tasting of alcohol and cigarettes.


“Fuck, girl. What have you done to me?” he stares at the TV in abject horror. “Damn, you really landed me in it, deep this time... babe”.


He can imagine ‘her’ sitting at her home, or where ever the Hell she is, when she is not making my life miserable, sitting there and smiling that annoying, self satisfied smile of hers.
Maybe he should work at things differently. He had some spare time anyway so he could try and track her down and wipe that smile of her face forever. Damn that bitch, damn her to Hell and back! He sat down and tried to calm himself down. He pours another shot of whiskey in the coffee and drinks a long sip. He had to calm down, there is no point going after her, he wouldn’t find her anyway.

Back to plan A then. First he needs a new bed and he might have just found one that he liked. Better to go to the store and get it himself. No need to have people delivering things for the next few things. He needs to get some tools anyway.
He turned to look at the TV again. They had a special on the financial crisis and the things people should be worried about. “Wish life was that simple.” He finished his coffee and thought about breakfast and then thought about his room. He decided breakfast might not be a good idea.

He got up, might as well start cleaning. He went to the cupboard in the kitchen and checked the cleaning stuff he had. He seemed to have everything he wanted. Bleach, some glass cleaning thing, loads of kitchen paper. The carpet was not too bad, a few spatters and some blood that dripped from the bed. The walls were covered though. He decided to clean them but it would be a good idea to paint over them as well. He wanted to redecorate the bedroom anyway. He knew, from watching CSI mainly, that it would be hard to get rid of all the evidence but to be honest, if the cops decided to search his place he was in trouble anyway. He couldn’t easily replace the carpet but he would paint the wall.
Some dark colours maybe, colours dark enough that would persuade him the stains were gone. He recently helped a friend paint her room so he had a few ideas. He started laughing. People are so weird sometimes. He was in so much trouble. Even if the police didn’t get involved, he had no idea how far she could go. Yet. Here he was, thinking of the bedroom colour scheme. Light blue-grey for most walls and a darker grey for the wall behind the bed, to offset his new paintings.

He made a list of the things he needed to get and started on getting the place ready. The bed was almost drying so he covered in plastic and moved it to the spare room.

Sunday 31 January 2010

01. The Morning After

Morning… He slowly opens his eyes and takes a quick look out of the window. He wished he could say that the bright sunlight suddenly blinded his eyes but this morning was just as grey and colourless as the one the day before and the one the day before that.
Still, the light is a bit too much for his sleepy and hangovered eyes. He quickly closes them and his hand reaches across the bed.

He feels something wet and sticky. “What the hell did I do last night?” He wonders as the toll of last night is starting to manifest itself as a blinding headache “and more to the point with whom?”

He starts to open his eyes again, very slowly, to have a look. Flashes of last night’s events slowly flood his clouded and smoke filled brain.

A bar, well that’s not that unusual. There have been many bars lately. Flashes of a blonde woman. Now that is a bit unusual. It’s a well known fact that he preferred brunettes but it’s also quite well known that he is anything but a ‘hair-colour’ racist so he doesn’t worry too much about that. A few drinks, a few tequila shots, which obviously explain the throbbing noise in his ears he just noticed and of course goes some way to explain the discarded underwear he sees hanging from his drawer handle. It looks expensive. “Moving up in the world…” he thinks and he smiles.

He finally turns around, still smiling, to see who it was who kept him company last night and he just freezes, a look of absolute horror wiping that smile of his face.
The bed is empty! Well, empty, as in no one in it but himself. Him and what looks like a pool of blood. He looks down his own body. He is naked and covered in wet, sticky, warm blood.

Panic now takes hold as he jumps out of his bed screaming.
-"No, no, no! Please God, not again…"
Why he asks God for help? He doesn’t believe in Him and in anyway it’s got nothing to do with Him.
He looks around the room. He’s in there all by himself so he quickly checks in the mirror. He’s covered in blood but it’s obviously not his. No one can bleed that much and be able to walk around, which brings home the question. Whose blood is it and more to the point where he or she is? Though something tells him it’s a she.
He turns around scanning the room, scanning for a clue of what happened or maybe looking for a body. His eyes quickly focus on the wall above the bed. There, written using the only liquid in plenty supply in the room, are the words:

Hi, babe thanx for last nite!

xxx

He feels his knees buckling and he just lets himself fall to the floor clutching his head in his hands as he starts to murmur
-“No, no, please don’t let it be that again. Don’t let it be her again!!”

An hour passes and he’s still on the floor. He finally finds the strength to get up and he heads for the bathroom. First things, first! He needs to get cleaned up and he needs to clean the room. There is lot of blood in there but most of it is on the bed, except of course for what was on him.
-“Fucking bitch!” He bursts as he steps in the shower, the water now running down his body, washing away the blood.
He watches as the blood goes down the drain, swirling and making beautiful patterns on its way to nowhere.
-“She’s back, I can’t believe that fucking bitch is back!” Anger is slowly taking over his panic and as he tries to remember what happened last night!
He steps out of the shower and he walks in the room. The sight making him stumble, as he stares at the bed in utter disbelief. Sadness and desperation try to overwhelm him but he doesn’t let them. “I’ve been here before; I know what must be done!”
HE gets dressed, an old pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He will not be using these again, so no need to worry about what to wear.
Gathering the bed sheets and stuffing them in a black garbage bag, he looks at the mattress, it’s also drenched in blood. This will take a bit more thinking. So much blood! “Maybe if I let it dry and then cut it up I will be able to move it easier”. He lays some plastic bags under it to stop any blood dropping on the floor.

He heads out of the room and makes his way to the kitchen. Some coffee and some time to sit down and think.

“So, she’s back and she’s not going to hold anything back.” He’s got to think and the pounding in his head, although now a lot less profound, is still there; so he pour a shot of whiskey in the coffee.

“Where was I last night? I mean obviously I was at a bar but which one? Did anyone see me leave with…” who was he with anyway? He must remember to check the house for her bag, though he doubts he will find anything. She’s always been very careful in the past and it’s a long chance a lot has changed since the last time she crossed his path.
It sounds cold but at least he's almost sure he doesn’t have to worry about the body, she’s obviously taken care of it. The only reason for the blood bath was for his benefit, to let him know that she’s back. He just needs to take care of the cleaning up. It’s how it always was anyway. She had her fun and he cleaned up the mess, the good old days.

Sunday 24 January 2010

The Dream - Prologue

He's laying in bed and watches as the moonlight is slowly creeping in the room, sneaking through the half drawn curtains. He’s in his bed waiting for sleep’s sweet embrace to take him but Morpheus is obviously busy having fun someplace else.

Thoughts cross his mind. Thoughts of her, thoughts of the life they should have shared if only he had a bit more faith in her. If only he had more faith in her love for him. But he never believed in love and since he was alone in his bed, it would appear he did not believe in her either.

Guardian Angels and special Demons? Nope! He had no faith in them either. Sometimes he wished he still believed but he just didn’t. Not anymore! And if a man seizes to have faith in his own Demons then what has he got left to believe in?
A Guardian Angel is easy to forget about. Happens all the time to everybody. Their presence and influence can only be truly felt when your life is going according to the ‘plan’ and you are busy flying high on happiness, contentment and self-importance. Usually, by definition almost, you are getting so much fun out of life it’s understandable that you fail to notice them.
Your own personal Demon on the other hand is there when your life is... Let’s face it, shit! It has gone so bad you wonder what’s the point of it all. So that’s the time their presence can be sensed and boy do you notice them! Every thought and dream you have is their domain and once they move in it takes a miracle to get rid off.
But all that is more or less known and understandable. Basically if you are living a charmed life then you are oblivious to anything and if you are suffering; your Demons are your bedfellows.
So how messed up must someone be to forget about his demons, to stop believing in them though they are there in everything he does?
Yet here he is. In his bed bathed in the pale moonlight. He is, as always, alone and the only thing that worries him is that he should try and get some sleep.

He missed them! His demons… His Demon! Her, he missed her. She knew his desires. She was after all his. She was his not so moral compass. She always pointed him down the wrong path of course but at least she pointed him down a path! Any path! He missed her so much, almost like missing a lover. In fact, exactly like an absent lover!

In the half-light he saw a form silhouetted against the door. Her shadow casting a strange shape on the bedroom wall. He watches carefully as the form slowly changes to a figure he’s seen so many times before. The figure of the woman he loved and yet forsaken. He knows he’s dreaming. He knows it can’t possibly be her. She’s gone. He looks closer; his eyes trying to pierce the dark corners. Yes, it must be her, his Angel. She has come back to him! His sweet, loving Angel.

He knows why she’s here. She’s come to gloat, she has come to see what has become of the man she once loved and who betrayed her. A lover scorned, rejected by the one man she so willingly gave everything, only to be cast aside. She has come to see life take the revenge she so desires.

He knows he must look a mess as he lays in his bed, a man with no beliefs and no hope, all alone in the cool light! What a welcome sight for her beautiful eyes he must be. As the curtain flatters in the warm summer breeze he can see the moonlight reflected in her smile or maybe it is a sneer, which uncovers her perfect teeth?

He reaches for a cigarette; if he’s going to be stared at he might as well try and give a show. He fumbles in the semi-darkness for a box of matches and with eyes half shut he strikes one on the wall. Always the showman, it’s one of the reasons she loved him and was so attracted to him!
He takes a long drag from the cigarette and almost has a heart attack as a hand snakes its way on his chest and takes the cigarette out of his mouth. He turns to the side as a voice whispers in his ear; a sweet, croaky half-sleepy voice.
-"Babe, what you doing still awake?"
A kiss, a lazy kiss, and the cigarette is returned to his mouth as her blonde hair, almost white in this off worldly light, hides the face he didn’t even remember was there with him.
So it appears he is not alone in his bed, bathed by the moonlight after all. He turns back to look at ‘her’, standing close to the door. He can see better now, the moon at its highest point of its nightly stroll across the sky. It’s not a sneer that shapes her beautiful mouth! It’s a smile, a wide and satisfied smile and as he looks closely he realises that it’s not ‘her’ either. At least not who he thought of as ‘she’ only a moment ago. And this one, he knew, hasn’t come to gloat; no, she has come to watch him, to watch over him and once again do show him the wrong path to follow.
-"Welcome back, my guide." He whispers.
-"I missed you." It’s her soft reply.
He closes his eyes to sleep, Morpheus be damned.