This is my inadmissable entry into last weeks
Mid-Week Blues-Buster - inadmissable because I was the judge! I was compelled to write though, as this week the song just spoke so loudly, even the first few cords, and the story had to come out. I think it was worth it, although I was stuck with when to end it. I could have gone on for a really long time, but I felt that would mean there was a chance of him getting out of it, and yet from the beginning I knew there wasn't. I hope it works. Enjoy.
He felt the cold of the metal on his temple and his whole
body stopped - even his breathing. His mind paused, running through a rapid list
of variables; what he could say or do that might remove the gun and give him a
chance. But she spoke instead.
“Hey Gary.
How’s it going? Anything I can do for you?”
Gary
eased back slightly, bringing his weight off his hands onto his knees, hearing
the bed groan beneath him as he did so, and hoping it wouldn’t startle
Bridget’s trigger finger. But the gun held steady – in fact it didn’t even
tremble. He slowly brought his hands up as though surrendering.
“What you doing, Gary?
Giving up already. Don’t even want to fight you corner? Disappointing.”
Gary
wasn’t foolish. He could hear the edge in her voice, and he knew that edge. His
mother had had the same edge, and it usually didn’t bode well for his father.
His father was the only one who dared to challenge it. He and his brother
learnt quickly not to, especially after she caught their dad with the neighbour; he’d
been lucky their mother hadn’t had a gun then, otherwise he might not have survived - just
like Gary might not now.
Gary
cleared his throat and kept his voice even and soft.
“Easy now Bridget, you don’t want to be doing anything
rash?”
“Rash? Rash? What like you and Lucille thinking it’s okay to
fuck in our bed? Oh wait, not just in our bed, but in our car, and on our sofa too,
eh?”
In that moment Gary
realised this wasn’t a surprise discovery, or a knee jerk reaction, Bridget
had known for a while – and quite a while too if she knew about the car, that
had been months back.
She read his silence. “Yeah Gary, I’ve known a while, not just some dumb
dyke that Lucille took pity on and took into her bed for a good time. I’ve
known her a long time, long enough to have caught her fucking more than just
your pretty arse. But you, you’ve not just fucking her, are you? I’ve counted
at least three others that you've been with.”
Gary’s
mind spun. He was in deep shit now, and the pressure of the gun barrel hadn’t
relented. He’d backtracked out of many things, but this was going to be hard.
She’d really done her homework.
“You been stalking me, Bridget? Want a piece of my pretty
arse too? I’m sure we can arrange something.”
She laughed so hard he thought he might get away with it,
but when it died out as abruptly as it had started, and the metal didn’t budge,
he began to think otherwise. Time was ticking on.
“Oh Gary, Gary,
you do think a lot of yourself, and your wiener, don’t you? But what you don’t
know is that I don’t like wiener, never have - even spent time inside due to my
aversion to it -”
“Then you don’t want to be spending any more time inside for
it then, do you? ‘specially not my little one.” He ended his interruption with
a nervous giggle, trying to keep it light, upbeat, humourous. But beads of sweat
were running down Gary’s
face.
“Oh I won’t be spending time inside for you, sweetheart, I’m
sure of that. We live too far out for that, see, easy to get lost round these
parts. Many have.”
That was when Gary
knew there’d be no talking his way out of this.
