Seven Daze (34 page)

“Ten out of ten for effort, mate. Like a dog with a bone you were.”

He shrugged. “No chance though, was there? That sort.” He shook his head. “They don’t go for the likes of us.”

“I don’t think anyone in London goes for the likes of us, mate,” said Jim.

“Lonely old place, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” Jim opened the door to a much cheaper looking bar and walked in. “My round. Lager okay?”

James nodded and sat at the remaining table. Through the mirrored bar, Jim saw that beneath the bravado, James was maybe more hurt by the incident than he’d seemed. Lonely man disease, that’s what Jim had always called it. The circle of despair. Once you get down about being single it makes you less of a catch. That makes you even more depressed. A never-ending downward spiral.

Taking the drinks over, Jim tried to lighten the mood. “You’re better off out of there I reckon. Imagine what they must look like without a vat of make-up and spray tan. There’s no ...” He paused, trying to word it right. “You won’t ever see them later and be surprised by how good-looking they actually are. It’s downhill forever.” It made sense in his mind, but he didn’t think he’d got the gist of it over.

James just shrugged his shoulders. “Suppose. It’d just be, you know, nice to actually meet someone.”

Jim reckoned this was as good a time as any. “You know, that’s sort of why I came up with the glorious ten-year plan.”

James shook his head then supped on his pint.

“Seriously. Work for ten years. No more. No burning yourself out. Always have a goal in the background.”

He looked up. “What sort of goal?”

“Very early retirement. Secret is not to blow it all on plastic birds and expensive lager.” He sipped his pint. His head, already light-headed, welcomed more alcohol. He didn’t like to think what Charlotte would make of things when he staggered back later.

“Can you really save enough to retire that early? I know we’re well paid, but most of it just goes on rent and that.”

Jim took another sip of lager. “There are other ways.”

“Such as?”

Jim smiled and shook his head. This was going too well. “You’re not the police are you?”

He shook his head.

“Just kidding. No, just finding correct investments that’s all.”

James whispered, “Insider?”

Jim shook his head and leant over the table. “Insider’s an ugly word. No, what you want is something safe. Safe as houses, or apartments or whatever the phrase is now.”

James nodded. “You’re not the first to mention it. I just worry about getting caught. I’ve never fancied porridge.”

“No risk though. My broker deals in cash, gold or Swiss accounts. No trace, plus it’s technically not illegal. She’s got a big one coming up.” Jim took a big glug of his pint. “Like I say, I’m just thinking long term. It’s not huge amounts of money. A little nest egg. You do this game for too long and you die young with nothing. It’s like a pension, that’s all.”

James shrugged his shoulders. “Fancy a bite to eat? This drink’s gone to my head.”

A chainless burger shop three streets from the heart of Covent Garden made do. Jim thought it had aspirations to be more than it was. The prices were very aspirational. Nearly twenty quid for a burger and chips. They weren’t even called chips either. French Fries, the bane of all British men.

“What’s your week looking like?” Jim took another bite of the burger. Good quality meat and interesting sauce. Not tomato. A cross between thousand island and salsa.

“Same as usual.” James had sobered. It was obvious to Jim. His face had lost its red sheen, and he was more reserved. Back in his shell again. The investment hadn’t been mentioned since the pub, but Jim reckoned that’s what Charlotte would have wanted. Plant the seed and wait. In a few days, after waiting on stifling tubes and drudging through the crowds, Jim reckoned he’d get a call.

“All work and no play, eh? I might nip out for a midweek drink. Depends how it goes of course.” He took another bite of burger. Not worth twenty quid, but definitely good quality.

James nodded. “Give us a shout. I might join you. Don’t want to drink too much midweek though.”

Jim smiled. “Yeah. Probably ought to knock today on the head soon. Otherwise, I’ll be a mess all week.”

“You read my mind.”

The burger gone and a coffee to help sober them up, they left. James lived in north London so wanted a different tube. Jim said his goodbyes, trying not to sound too desperate, and made for his own tube. The alcohol now soaked up, he felt the onset of a headache coming. Taking out his phone he typed,
All done. Think he might be
a goer
x.

Walking down the escalator, he noticed someone familiar. He’d robbed so many people the past week they all kind of merged into one. Bar one person.

Raif.

With a woman who Jim thought was actually a lot better looking than Raif had given the impression of. He was carrying shopping bags from an expensive tailors. Though he was smiling at the reason why he had bags, Jim also felt a dread come over him. Less than ten feet in front, a bloke that could put him inside was standing there, and occasionally looking round as other women went past on the up escalator. His heart sunk as he turned round to read the adverts. He was wearing the bloke’s clothes for fucks sake. Jim realised just how stupid this had been. He shouldn’t be out tempting fate. He should be lying low.

At the escalator bottom, Raif and wife headed for the north-bound line. Jim turned and went straight back up the escalator. Emerging onto the street, his hands sweating and shaking, his phone pinged.
Good work xxx.

Just had a nightmare. Nearly bumped into Raif.

He leant against the station wall for a second. His heart pounding through his chest and the very nice burger threatening to re-emerge the way it’d gone down. He shook his head. That could have been the moment he lost everything. The problem was the everything he could have lost had become just one thing. And it was a someone, not a thing.

Ooops. I’m in between
meetings. So far so good x.

He sighed as he typed,
Well done x
, then walked back to Covent Garden. Though Raif would already be on a tube north, Jim didn’t want to go anywhere near the station.

Halfway to the river, and with the afternoon still only half over, he didn’t fancy being home alone. Or Charlotte’s home alone. It just didn’t seem right if she was working. Finding a pub he ordered a pint. The pub, a chain that was trying to be traditional, was doing a good trade. The beer garden, with barbecue, seemed the reason. Jim sat at the bar taking the place in. Families out for the day seemed to be the stock trade. Kids eating mini-burgers in between tears, fizzy drinks and running around. Adults drinking a pint with far away looks, no doubt remembering the pre-kids time when they’d have spent the whole afternoon getting wasted.

Jim sipped his beer and nodded at the glass-wiping barman. “Busy in here.”

“Always is, mate.” Another Australian. Jim wondered just how many were left in Australia. “Two for one Sunday dinners, plus the barby.”

Jim nodded. “You here for long?”

“Knock off at six.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders and smiled. That wasn’t what he meant, but he reckoned the barman knew that. “What part of Canada you from then?” His smile was matched then beaten by the Australian’s.

“Good one. Little town near Perth.”

Jim nodded. “I’ve never been. Maybe one day I’ll go.”

“You ought to, mate. Don’t worry about the flight. It just takes a day or two to get over it.”

“I suppose it does.” He’d somehow finished his drink so he tried to order another. The barman had three others in the queue before he got back to Jim.

“You living nearby?” Jim asked.

“South London, near The Old Kent Road.”

Jim nodded. He had no idea where it was, but knew it was the sort of place anyone who lived in London would know.

“What about yourself?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Apartment just south of the river. Mate of a mate’s pad, you know.”

The barman went back to serving and wiping as Jim quaffed his second pint. His head now back in the land of the drunk, he pulled out his phone. He typed,
Just stopped at a pub
to
find new recruits,
and pressed send.

A little phone icon on the screen was flashing. Jim had no idea what it meant but it definitely meant something. Opening the menus he realised it was a missed call. Dave. Some bloke from the other day. The one he’d rung earlier who barely remembered him.

Jim nodded at the barman and went into the beer garden. Lighting a fag, he dialled Dave’s number.

“Hello, Jim?”

“Alright, Dave. How you doing?” He looked at the punters sat on wooden seats. All seem to be enjoying themselves with their half cooked sausages and burgers.

“Not bad. Look, I’m out with a few mates and they’re heading off soon. So, just wondered if you were still around?”

“Yeah, I’m out and about. Just in a pub near the river, I think.” He pulled another cigarette from his pocket and searched for his lighter.

“I’m in a bar just off Leicester Square. I could meet you at the tube if you want?”

“Um.” Jim paused. The bloke sounded very keen. He could barely remember him, but thought he hadn’t got that far into his ten-year plan patter anyway. What did he want? “Yeah, go on. God knows where the tube is from here.”

“Lost are you?” Dave laughed. A bit haughty, but Jim realised it went with the job round these parts.

“Yeah. I was walking home and found a pub.”

“You could be anywhere, mate. Ask the barman or something.”

“Yeah. I’ll ring you when I get off the tube.”

“Okay.”

Jim lit his fag and shook his head. Maybe the bloke was just bored and lonely. There seemed to be a lot of it about. He looked round the garden again at the adults drinking, while the kids played on swings and tried to climb the slide backwards. They seemed happy enough, both adults and children. He did think though that each was more comfortable with their own age group.

Stubbing out his fag, he went to the bar and caught the barman’s eye.

“Where’s the nearest tube, pal?”

“What line do you want?”

“Leicester Square. Don’t know which line.”

The Aussie thought for a minute; scowl on his face. “Kind of between two stops. Probably best to go to Green Park. Saying that, you could probably walk it quicker.”

Jim shrugged his shoulders. He just wanted directions, he didn’t care walking or not.

“Out the door, turn right, then left, then right again at the traffic lights. Tube’s just off to the left. If you want to walk it, right then right then sort of carry on for a mile or so. Can’t miss it.”

Jim thanked him, left, and flagged down a taxi.

“You see,” the cabbie said, “that’s what they never thought of when they wanted the Olympics. They can put more tubes on, can’t they? But they can’t just hire more cabbies for a month. Knowledge, mate, the knowledge. That’s what it is.” The cabbie shook his head while Jim looked out of the window. “They always say, ‘what are you worried about? Be more overtime, won’t it?’ Well it won’t. We’ll still be driving the same hours, but we’ll all be stuck in traffic outside the frigging venues. Chaos it’s gonna be, chaos.”

Jim looked back at the driver’s head and neck. Strong, possibly bulletproof plastic separated them. He wondered for a minute if robbery wasn’t the only reason they were protected. “And what’s worse.” He paused before continuing. “How many of your foreigners and day trippers aren’t gonna come at all cos the Olympics are on? Eh? Didn’t think of that, did they? Gonna be quiet all year we reckons. Barely be able to make ends meet we reckon.” He paused again then pulled in to the kerb. “Here you are, squire. Eight pounds eighty.”

Jim made a point of paying the exact fare before he walked to the station foyer and dialled Dave’s phone.

“Be there in two minutes,” he said.

Jim smoked another fag while waiting. Just as he stubbed it out, a young man appeared on the opposite side of the entrance. Jim thought he looked familiar but wasn’t sure. Maybe he needed a carnation for his lapel or something. He smiled before walking over.

“Dave?”

The young man nodded. Jim barely remembered him. Friday night, definitely, but what pub? Where did he work and what job?

“Sorry,” the man said. “Barely recognised you.”

“It’s the suit,” said Jim. “Makes me almost respectable.” He pointed towards a pub. “Shall we?”

Dave was from Derby and overall fairly decent. Probably too decent to rip off. Jim had noticed an occasional flourish from him when speaking. His voice sounded more than a bit camp too which for a moment worried him. He wondered if he’d inadvertently picked the bloke up or been flirting without realising.

“Have you got a girlfriend then?” asked Jim.

He shook his head. Again, flamboyant, almost theatrical. Perhaps he’d just got into the wrong job.

“I have.” Jim realised he was sounding desperate. Or like a thirteen-year-old trying to impress.

“Quite hard to meet people, isn’t it?” said Dave, swigging from his pint.

Jim nodded.

“The only time you ever meet people in this city, you’re rushing about, trying to get home. The rest of the time you’re at work or trying to forget about work.”

He knew, like James before, that this was rapidly becoming a shorts situation. The problem was he’d already drunk too much. The train to pissedville was already out of the station. He looked at the young man for a minute. Realistically, how much did he have? If anything, was it enough to make him gamble his future, and possible freedom on some bloke he’d never met?

If Jim had worn a watch he’d have checked it. He settled with, “Do you know what the time is?”

“Half five.”

He nodded. “So, no girlfriend then?”

“Nah. Been here a year now. A few dates and that, but you know how it is.”

“I only met Charlotte a few weeks ago. Nice girl, she is. You’d like her.” He wondered why he said that. He barely knew who this person was let alone what tastes he’d have in other random men’s girlfriends.