Everyone Burns (Time, Blood and Karma Book 1) by John Dolan

Author:John Dolan [Dolan, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tention Publishing Limited
Published: 2014-01-04T05:00:00+00:00

Such were the thoughts rolling like tumbleweeds through my dry brain in this dry season.

* * * * *

Since I had no intention of following Jingjai home after her shift, and no conviction it would be necessary anyway, I took the jeep into Chaweng.

I discovered Vladimir sitting alone at a corner table in the Ocean Pearl and he was in a less-than-exuberant mood. Even in the Pearl’s subdued lighting I could see the bruising on his face, and there were scratches on his neck which looked like they may have been made by fingernails.

Apparently his big fight on Friday night had not gone as well as expected: against the odds, he had lost to a visiting boxer from Poland.

“He was big,” said Vlad by way of explanation.

“Bigger than you?” I asked. “I’m surprised they could fit him in the arena.”

“Is big disgrace for Russian losing to Polish,” he said miserably. “This week I train hard, and next week I kick his Polish ass. We have remash.”

“You mean ‘rematch’.”

“Yes.”

“And how about the scratches?” I indicated his neck. “Girlfriend trouble too?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. “I stay away from girls for a while.”

I decided to keep him company for an hour or two. There was no point in going home. Claire wouldn’t be around for a few days, assuming she would ever be around again. I didn’t want to think about Claire. I didn’t really want to think about anything.

The Pearl was quieter than it had been recently. I stayed away from the bar although I snapped a few shots of Jingjai out of habit. The guy from Manchester was nowhere to be seen, and I surmised he’d finally taken the hint and given up. Maybe he’d lowered his sights and was knocking back watered-down spirits in Girly Bar Heaven.

Vlad was not exactly great company. He insisted on taking me kick-by-kick through the highlights of Friday’s Muay Thai, although the technicalities were wasted on me. I slapped a phoney smile on my face, smoked, nodded at the appropriate points, and downed several beers and whisky chasers. The Russian was still reticent about the reason for his continued presence on the island, but I couldn’t have cared less. I was happy to let my brain rot awhile; so I let him ramble on about the difference between his hometown women and Thai women, and how Mother Russia had regained her pride under Putin and was taking her rightful place in the world once more.

By midnight I’d had enough. Nobody was chatting up Jingjai and even after the alcohol infusion Vlad was boring me witless, so I took a slow walk along the beach to clear my head before turning back onto the main street.

Arriving back at the jeep, I saw the Thai tramp camped out for the night in an adjacent doorway. If anything, he looked to be in an even more pathetic state than when I’d last seen him. I was surprised he hadn’t taken the hint from the police and left

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