CHAPTER 5
Stockport
Rob hadn't slept well. The booze he'd had the night before hadn't helped. He hadn't even intended to go out, that was the funny thing. Work had finished, he had no plans for the evening and then Jason had suggested the local.
Well, one drink had led to two, two became four and before he'd known it he'd found himself on Canal Street in Manchester, right in the heart of the city's famous “Gay Village”. As far as he could remember there had been shots and at one point he'd been up singing karaoke. It had been a mistake though as a nurse, who had happened to be a woman, had pestered him. She'd asked him repeatedly for about five minutes if he was straight and if he was single and once she'd been satisfied with both she'd leapt on him lips first.
That would have been all right but when he'd been able to pry himself away she was determined to be his girlfriend. “No” didn't seem to be a good enough answer and Jason had to physically step in and save his friend by pulling him out of that club and taking refuge in an all male strip club. He was thankful for that one at least, he could tell she was the kind of woman who could watch 'Misery' and view it as an instructional DIY guide.
He hadn't known what time he got in, it was late, maybe after three AM, and he'd had to sleep sat up with his duvet bundled up under his head as every time he'd try to lie down the room started spinning like an airplane propeller. He'd not been sick thankfully but the early trip to the bathroom he'd made after his bladder threatened to empty all over his sheets was like walking down a corridor in a fun house. He was also sure he'd sprayed over the waste bin by accident too.
He'd been awake for about ten minutes now. A quick glance at the clock had proclaimed the time to be 7:20 AM. So, four hours sleep and now not only had he been woke up by strange dreams but his brain had started to work for the day and the random collection of thoughts and memories had kicked in with gusto. He tried to settle himself down and calm his mind. He tried not to think of strippers and women with blocks of wood and sledge hammers.
The door to his bedroom opened.
“Morning! And what time did you get in last night?”
The voice was female and dripped the word 'mother' from every syllable. Amy stared for a moment at the huddled figure of her one and only son wrapped in the grey duvet with its legs sticking out and its head under the pillow. There was a muffled reply from under the memory foam.
Amy shook her head and walked over to the curtains turning the television on as she passed. She was in her mid-forties and still very well toned thanks to the Pilates, yoga and recently Zumba classes she seemed to be addicted to. Her shoulder cut bob of hair swished as she turned back to the crumpled heap and she couldn't help herself. Her hand brushed gently across the sole of his foot which hung off the edge of the bed and it quickly shot under the duvet in a sudden flurry of kicking much to her amusement.
“Come on buggerlugs!” She said making her way to the door, “breakfast is on and you've got ten minutes before I send the dog up!”
In Rob's mind what he said next was “its fine, I'm not starting till eleven today. I've had a late night so I'll just rest up here for another couple of hours.” but what actually came out was more along the lines of “skwirrrl frumm ledder blah”.
Twenty minutes later he was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush in hand and feeling increasingly rotten. His mum had been true to her word and ten minutes after she'd left him he'd heard the child gate at the bottom of the stairs open and the scurry of claws. Cassy had torn through his door and leapt onto the bed in a maelstrom of licks, whines and wagging tail. There was no way he could sleep under the canine affection bombardment even if he'd wanted to so he got up.
He was pondering at this moment two things. Firstly how bad he was feeling in every part of his body, his stubble ached for god’s sake, and two was it actually possible to brush your teeth in the same way as a toothpaste commercial? Everyone was the same: a model with a tiny amount of some spearmint flavoured wonder paste, designed to keep your teeth gleaming even when the rest of you has rotted away to dust and they brushed. Not one of them looked like Rob did right now with a mouth dripping with pale green foam and looking for the entire world like a rabies sufferer.
He rinsed his mouth out directly from the tap and examined himself again. He was an all right looking twenty year old. That was about it. He'd got the dark hair from his dad and his mums smile but the rest of him was just plain. Not boring but unremarkable. It was a trait that had entered into the rest of his life as well. His grades all throughout school and college had been either a C or B-minus and he never seemed to excel at anything outside of school.
His friends all seemed to have gone off and done exciting things. One was currently working for a video game company as an animator and had impressed everyone when he'd dropped in to the shop last year with a finished copy. Another one was running a successful retro themed club night in the city centre and had just bought himself a brand new Audi. The only one who had seemed to not be living the high life was Jason.
The two had known each other since primary school and while Rob had always studied, Jason just never gave a damn. It wasn't his style. He was now the epitome of a slacker and had driven at least two of their secondary school teachers to drink. When something didn't interest him he didn't bother, at all. He couldn't see the point in wasting the energy but when something did he jumped in with both feet.
On a whim he'd tried juggling and found it so addictive he sometimes spent his free time in the town centre busking with them, clubs flying through the air five at a time. Rob had tried it and could do two barely if pushed but the last time he'd tried he'd stepped back onto the dog’s tail and accidentally broke it. He still felt bad about that one.
He dressed himself lazily, slinging on an old t-shirt and a pair of grey jogging pants that were badly in need of a wash, and then staggered downstairs. Sat at the dining room table was his dad Bob. He was reading the paper and munching on a piece of toast but stopped both to look up at the body that had just walked in.
“Feeling rough are we?” He asked through a mouthful of crumbs. Rob just grunted and sloped off into the kitchen, hearing his dad chuckle behind him.
In the kitchen Amy was filling up a coffee machine. It was her pride and joy and to be fair it did make a good cup but right now it could have been slop out of an ancient thermos for all rob cared. He just needed a shot of caffeine now before he fell asleep where he stood. His mum looked up at him from a jug full of steamed milk.
“Well well! Look what I've found Bob!”
“Looks like someone had a good night didn't they?” came his father’s voice from over the top of a mug of tea. “I've no sympathy for him though! It’s all self-inflicted.”
Amy shook her head with a smile as the coffee machine sputtered out two streams of black coffee into the waiting cup. “No, I've not got any either!” She said.
She topped the cup up with the milk, gave it a quick stir and handed it to her son. Rob wrapped his mouth round it and sighed as the coffee warmed his stomach.
“I'm not in till eleven mum, why did you wake me up?” He asked. She picked up a bowl of cereal and made her way past him into the dining room.
“Oh sorry love, I didn't know you were on a late or I wouldn't have mithered you! I thought you were opening up today.” She sat down.
Rob leaned against the doorframe sipping the coffee gingerly. His stomach still wasn't feeling right.
“No, that's tomorrow, I'm doing the open because it's Jason's housewarming tomorrow night and he wants to get out early to get stuff sorted. He’s just on lunch cover.”
“Were you out with Jason last night then?” Said Bob from behind his newspaper. Rob nodded and filled in as many of the details from the night before he could remember, carefully filtering out some of the slightly dodgy ones. He couldn't tell if the coffee was helping or hindering and in the end decided that even if he couldn't sleep getting back into bed for another hour at leas
t with the curtains closed was the most sensible course of action.
He burrowed his way back under the warm duvet as his parents shouted their goodbyes from the hall on his way to work. Setting the alarm on his phone he pulled the covers up over his head as the TV gently started to lull him back to sleep.
It wasn't his alarm clock that woke him up though but it was his phone. His headache had settled down into a full throb and he blearily stared at the handset until it all swam back into focus. WORK flashed at him from the screen as he swiped his thumb across the front of the phone and pulled it back under the duvet to join his head.
“Hello?” He croaked. The southern twang on the other end was all too familiar.
“Orl right squire! Did I disturb you?” It was his boss, Neil.
“Yeah, I mean no. What's up?”
“You not coming in today then?”
Rob's body froze and all the little parts of his body that were crying out for sleep suddenly put their cries on hold and was slapped by the parts of his brain that were of the impression that getting up rather quickly would be a better idea. He sat up in bed; the sudden movement making him feel momentarily dizzy.
“Why, what time is it?”
“It's half eleven mate.”
Rob bolted out of bed and scrambled for his clothes, forgetting to end the call. From his end of the phone Neil couldn't make out much of the rest of the conversation. It seemed to consist of lots of thumping noises that could have been drawers and wardrobe doors slamming, someone falling over and the phrase “ohshitohshitohshit”.
Within five minutes Rob had gotten dressed and was out the front door, staggering slightly as he pulled his work fleece on over his head and narrowly avoiding a little mound of dog dirt Cassy had very kindly left in the front yard. He quickly looked back and saw her up on the armchair, happily barking at him through the double glazed windows. He'd have to tell his folks about that when he got home, right now he was in a hurry!
His car was a cheap and slightly bashed ten year old silver Hyundai his dad had got from a friend of his. It ran fine provided that you didn't need to get anywhere fast, anywhere that was uphill, along the motorway or anytime that it was too hot or too cold. It could reliably be counted on to get him to and from work and for little jaunts round the local area but a problem with the distributor meant that getting in, turning the key and going was out of the question. He sat there cursing its metal body as he waited a few minutes for the engine to warm up enough so he could actually move.
He kept looking at his watch. He knew Neil really didn't care about being late but he did. He was very lucky not to have an idiot of a boss, one that made everyone feel like they were in a concentration camp. The kind that likes to spend all their time sat in the back office doing “paperwork” that mostly consisted of Facebook updates and then complains about people standing around a tidy and empty shop when they should be busy.
He cared about being late though, it didn't look right at all, especially as it'd had been alcohol related the night before. It was a pretty good job everyone else in the shop would just laugh and make a joke out of it.
He decided that the engine had been running long enough and set off. He managed to roll three feet before it conked out on him. He turned the key and got nothing but the sound of the ignition trying to turn the engine over. He tried it again.
HURNHURNHURNHURNHURNHURN.
“START YOU BASTARD!!!” He shouted.
HURNHURNHURNVROOOOOM!!
He wasn't going to waste any more time. He left it in neutral and gunned the engine, attracting the attention of a curtain twitcher across the road. He did this a few more times before he slipped it in gear and sped off.
The car had cut out again as he'd gone out onto the main road leading into Stockport town centre. That had mainly been the fault of a woman who had thought that the give way lines on the side road he was trying to pull out of were there only as a suggestion and nearly hit him as she turned. There were no more stops on the way and he arrived in the town centre and headed up a one-way street next to his shop.
There was a heavy set of iron gates guarding a small yard at the back of it. He quickly undid the pad lock and with practiced skill reversed himself in. Neil's car was already parked up and he pulled up alongside it. A few minutes later he staggered into the shop out of breath, frustrated and slightly sweaty.
Video games were plastered along the two walls of the store split up into sections depending on which console they were for. Taking up the space on the shop floor were several rows of metal shelves nicknamed “the flickers” after the way customer would flick through them to see the titles behind. Two large windows full of promotional material for the latest titles dominated the front of the store and behind the counter at the opposite end of the store was Neil. He had a pile of game boxes in front of him and rolls of stickers, each with a different price on it. He looked up as Rob walked in, his hand covered in stickers.
“You made it then?” He said with a grin. Rob grunted as he walked through the flap and behind the counter.
“Sorry boss! My alarm didn't go off!” His phone chose that moment to start bleeping at him. It was his alarm.
“Sounds alright to me!” Said Neil behind his thick rimmed glasses. He was a fairly short and skinny man with a sprout of dark hair that was this week in a floppy quiff that was draped almost down to one of his eyes. Couple that with the tight jeans and black shirt screamed hipster at you from every angle. The fact that he was now almost forty stopped you from hating him as a wannabe. He had been there before it was cool and still had the wardrobe full of t-shirts to prove it.
“Your mates in the back, had eyes like piss holes in the snow when he came in this morning! Out in the village were you? You two must have been at it good and hard last night.”
“Yeah but didn't see you around though. Your drag outfit still in the wash is it?” It wasn't exactly the wittiest comeback but it was all he could manage. Neil wasn't burdened with a hangover.
“It's in the same cleaners as your gimp outfit!”
Rob grunted and made his way into the back. It was usually the way with Neil; it was always hard to get one over on him. Oh there had been a few times though.
Neil hated balloons and hated them with a passion. He'd gone on Holliday and instead of leaving the car at home he'd decided to leave it in the yard behind the shop. High walled buildings surrounded it and the only way in without a pile of mountaineering equipment to help you over the roofs was through the big iron gate. It was a very secure place to leave it and a very sensible precaution on Neil's part.
It wasn't very sensible from Rob’s point of view. A day or so before Neil was due back he had run to the pound shop next door and bought several bags of balloons. Neil had come through the shop all grins. There had been the usual conversations about how the holiday had been, what the weather had been like, had the food been any good and all the rest of the default options the Brits have in these situations before he'd gone out into the yard.
The car was bulging with balloons. They rose up to the top of the windows, the boot had been filled with them and when he'd tried to open the door they'd spilled across him like a rubber tidal wave of terror. He'd touched them like they might explode and Rob had left Neil cleaning it up while he'd gone into the office to get his breath back.
In the stockroom Jason was sat on a kick stool. He was busy taking apart the games that had been traded in and was organising them into piles, some for going out onto the shelves and some to stay in the back. He looked up at Rob as he walked in. Yeah, thought Rob, piss holes.
Jason's skin had a faint glisten to it and his face was pale. He was wearing the store hoodie and jeans with a pair of converse and on any other day he could be seen as quite a ladies’ man. This morning though the only ladies he could possibly attract would be coming towards him with blue uniforms and a stomach pump.
“Kill me.” He said with a tongue that seemed to be velcroed to the
roof of his mouth.
“Only if you kill me first!” Said Rob.