The devil is in a red dress. The devil is in a blue blue dress. The devil is in the details? Man, that fucker gets around.
Well, you know what they say. The chase is half the fun.
Well, you know what they say. The chase is half the fun.
Not Ten? by TM McLean
I didn’t mess
around. As soon as I knew what the deal was, I went after that shitbag, Julian.
It wouldn’t be too hard to find him; there were only a few places he was likely
to be. So I ignored the pleasant temperature and the cloudless blue sky and I
stomped off to find him. I didn’t have any friends around me and that made
things even worse. They had been due to fly up from London the day before but
some crappy volcanic eruption in Iceland had grounded all flights.
That made it
even worse. I was foaming. It was only ten o’clock and I was already angrier
than I had ever been.
Being alone in
Gateshead—my least favorite place on Earth!—without any friends or family
nearby was bad enough ... and Julian had the fucking nerve to let me down.
Well, he was going to pay for that, the bastard.
It didn’t take
long before I came across one of his minions. Not surprising really, since I
was outside of Julian’s father’s restaurant. Neither Julian nor his father was
anywhere to be seen, but the guy who was there quickly gave me a lead. It’s
amazing how quickly you get answers when you grab someone by the nuts,
especially if you grab them hard. He told me what I wanted to know and I kicked
the shit out of him anyway. It felt good.
I left the
loser crying on the floor like a girl. I doubt his mother would have recognized
him. Well, his mother maybe, but definitely not his dentist. While he was still
able to talk he managed to croak out that Julian was staying at the Hilton.
That shit-sack was out living like a king while I was left high and dry.
That was about
to change.
The stupid
bitch at the reception desk looked at me like I was a complete moron. I gave
her Julian’s name, and she told me that she wasn’t authorized to tell me which
room he was in. The blood from the restaurant geek was still on me and I could
see the receptionist was nervous. She probably would’ve phoned the police, too,
if I hadn’t jumped across the table and busted her head open with her own high
heel shoe. I stuffed that idiot into the cleaning cupboard. No one was around
to see, and I didn’t give a fuck about the CCTV.
I’m pretty sure
she wasn’t dead.
Modern
technology is pretty useful. It took me about two minutes to find where Julian
was. He was only staying in one of the best rooms!
I was getting
angrier with every step. The lift was slow—really slow—and I clenched my teeth
the whole time I was in it. If it had taken much longer I would’ve ended up
like that freak back at the restaurant.
The doors slid
open and I stamped down the corridor. My thoughts were all about Julian. Yeah,
he might have been a big shot coke dealer in Newcastle, and he might well spend
more time in the gym than most people spend breathing, but he wasn’t going to
be any match for me. Not on that day.
His room door
was before me and I took a couple of deep breaths. My fists must have been
clenching pretty tight by my sides, because I felt my nails break the skin. I
hammered on the door.
No answer.
I kicked it
instead, again and again and again. “Julian!” I shouted.
Still nothing.
He wasn’t doing
anything to help his situation ... all he was doing was making me crazy. I
tried the doorknob and was surprised when it turned. Did I really want to
confront Julian?
Too fucking
right I did.
The key card
used to unlock open the door was sticking out from a slot on the wall,
activating the electricity for the room, and telling me that Julian was
definitely there. The TV was on, some crappy American cop show filling the room
with sirens. No wonder Julian hadn’t heard me thumping on the door. I couldn’t
wait to see the bastard’s face.
The main room
was empty and I was almost about to give up, but then I heard a cough outside.
He was on the balcony.
I took my time,
picked a cigarette out from the packet on the table and lit it up. A good
lungful steadied me and I was ready to face him. I pulled the curtain to the
side so that I could look out through the sliding door.
Then it was my
turn to be surprised.
Instead of
Julian, I was faced with another of his minions. A bucktoothed halfwit called
Henry. He spotted me too. “You’re not supposed to be here,” he said, showering
the comfy looking seats with spittle. “Julian won’t be happy about this!”
“No?” I said
and took another drag on the cigarette. “Are you happy to see this?” I flicked
the burning cigarette at his face. If he’d had the sense to say something else
he might have been able to extinguish it, but instead it hit him right in the
eye. He screeched like a baby, making it easy for me to tip him over the edge.
I watched him fall all ten floors, and watched as he hit the ground. It wasn’t
as loud or gory as I thought it would be.
A noise from
inside the room made me turn. It was him!
Julian had a
towel wrapped around his waist, showing his powerful abs and shoulders. His
black hair was slicked back and a day’s stubble decorated his face. He looked
every bit the Italian movie star-like gangster, which was of course exactly
what he was.
The look of surprise
on his face was thrilling, but his raised eyebrows soon became furrowed. “What
the hell are you doing here, babe? We’re due at the Civic Centre at twelve—that’s
in half an hour. And your dress! You know it’s bad luck for me to see you
wearing that before the wedding.”
Shit, I thought, did he say twelve? Not ten?
Shit, I thought, did he say twelve? Not ten?