Sirens by Joseph Knox

Author:Joseph Knox
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, mobi
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2017-01-12T05:00:00+00:00

5

I was sitting with my back to the main entrance, but saw Cath’s eyes widen. Before I could turn, a man sat heavily beside her. The same man who had shoved her, over at the bar.

He smelled of motor oil.

The sight of him sitting by any girl, much less her, was offensive, nearly comical. He gave me the broad, ugly parody of a smile and put an arm round Catherine like she was nothing, working one finger beneath an exposed bra-strap.

She hadn’t been looking in his direction when her eyes widened, and I knew there was someone else standing behind me. I thought I even knew who it was. Her eyes were on mine now, with the same cornered expression I’d seen a week ago in Isabelle’s room. The first man, still wrapped around her, cleared his throat:

‘Why don’t ya take a seat, Neil?’

I turned to see the barman I had run out of the place a couple of weeks earlier. Still running. Still using his fake name. I gripped my glass tightly. I wanted to break it in his fucking face.

He was wired. His barrel chest still heaved out in front of him but the designer stubble had grown out of all shape. Thick black bags hung beneath his eyes. He sat down beside me, sliding sideways, pushing me into the wall. It was an aggressive movement but I thought he’d just misjudged the space. He looked worn out, capsized by too many cocaine nights in a row.

I saw sparkling drops of moisture in my glass, smelled alcohol in the air, half-heard conversations around the table. Rubik’s had got busy without me noticing. The room went on as normal, not knowing or caring about us. It was getting late and people were already deep into their evening drinks. I wondered how often I’d been drunk, oblivious, while something ugly happened in the same room.

‘Should probably introduce meself,’ said the man with his arm round Catherine’s shoulder. He wore his scowl like a mask. The kind that becomes permanent when you live a hard life. Here, now, he was at his most reasonable, but he couldn’t quite pull off the expression. It gave his face a look of concentration that made him seem simpler than he probably was.

‘Name’s Sheldon White,’ he said, holding out his free hand for someone to shake. Neither Catherine nor I did. Glen, Neil, the ex-barman, sat beside me ripping up a beer mat.

‘Good to meet you,’ I said. ‘Can you find him a gram of something? He’s stressing me out.’

Sheldon tried another smile. He must have seen one once, from a distance. ‘Y’already know Neil.’

The barman came to attention at the sound of his fake name. ‘Yeah,’ he said, answering for me. He kept making quick, cokehead movements, his eyes following a fly the rest of us couldn’t see.

‘Now, I know you kids’ve got some history, but we’re putting that to bed now.’ I didn’t say anything. Catherine didn’t say anything. ‘What’s your poison, lad?’

I nodded at the fidgeting barman.

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