Goodnight, John-boy: Chapter 2
‘Greg and I would sometimes watch you and Joy having armpit sex from over in the Hot Pants office. It looks out across the courtyard towards the Shandy office, so we had an excellent view.'
Welcome to Book Two of my dark comedy thriller series, Read Em And Weep.
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If you’re new to the Read Em And Weep series, start with Book One: Serial Killer.
IT WAS WHEN he was twenty, and working for Angus, Angus and Angus of Aberdeen, for their senior citizen’s magazines: Kith and Kin, Health and Wealth, and Housebound. Visitors would come into the office and step over the ancient, threadbare, worn-out carpet in the reception area. After an elderly author tripped on it and went flying, Dave had suggested it was time for a new carpet. But approval for such an important item required the permission of the directors. So it had gone all the way up to Mr Angus Senior himself.
After two weeks, Mr Angus Senior’s response was sent all the way back down to the editor of Kith and Kin. There was to be no new carpet, but, instead, he decreed that the carpet should be turned round so the worn area would now be under the staff desks and filing cabinets. The furniture was duly removed from the office, and the carpet turned around, only to discover the concealed area was equally worn out from a similar move twenty years earlier.
Dave was telling his favourite Angus, Angus and Angus story to Joy in the pub. It usually got a few laughs, but, instead, she looked at him blankly.
‘So what’s the punchline, Dave?’ she asked.
‘That is the punchline of the story, Joy.’
‘I don’t get it. It’s very sensible of them.’
‘Ah. Right. Okay.’
‘Anyway, that’s not why we’re here, is it, Dave?’
‘No.’
‘Dave, are you really serious about me?’ asked Joy, lighting yet another cigarette. She had said they needed to have a serious talk about their relationship, so they’d gone to the pub round the corner from her flat in Marble Arch.
He leaned forward and looked tenderly into her eyes. ‘Oh, Joy, you know how I feel about you.’
‘I know how you feel about my armpit, Dave.’
‘It’s always on my mind, Joy.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Every time I see the word ‘Fleetpit’, I think of your armpit.’
His eyes still locked on hers, sending her romantic thoughts, he breathed out deeply with his nostrils. This caused the cigarette ash in the ashtray to fly up all over Joy’s white top. He tried to rectify the situation by wiping the ash away, but he only served to rub it in, and made things worse. Joy watched silently as Dave rubbed her chest.
When he had finished, she asked coldly: ‘I suppose you’d like me to grow a moustache, too?’
‘Oh, Joy, would you?’ he said excitedly, ‘Is it possible? It would make me the happiest of men.’
She angrily stubbed her cigarette out and lit another as he smiled at the thought: ‘My girlfriend growing a moustache especially for me. How about that? You know, I remember seeing the bearded lady in a fairground sideshow. So sexy. She was Ukrainian. I know, because I went and asked for her autograph. They rate bearded ladies in the Ukraine. They recognise the similarity to the vagina, you see?’
‘I could buy a false beard if you wanted?’ suggested Joy tightly. ‘Then it might look even more like a vagina.’
‘You’ve got a point there,’ he agreed.
‘Only it wouldn’t be a vagina, would it, Dave?’
‘But if you’re considering buying a false beard …’
‘Yes?’
‘I should tell you, I have one already. I was just waiting for this opportunity to mention it.’
‘You have a beard you’d like me to wear?’
‘I bought it on the off-chance that you’d be up for it?’
‘While we’re having sex?’
‘It was a difficult decision. Joy. I was torn between The Lumberjack and The Abraham Lincoln. But in the end I went for The Viking. It’s big and red and bushy. You’ll love it. I can’t wait to show you.’
Joy got up. ‘Okay, that’s it.’
‘We’re going back to your place?’
‘Briefly.’
Half an hour later, Dave, clutching the few possessions he had left there, hurriedly left Joy’s apartment and stumbled down the stairs.
‘And I hope you trip and break your fucking neck!’ Joy called down after him.
* * *
‘Nice free holiday, was it, Greg?’ sneered Dave.
‘Two weeks on a Greek island, all expenses paid. Just one of the perks of going out with Leni,’ grinned Greg. ‘And now Guthrie’s back,’ he said, leaning back in his chair and clicking his pen, ‘they’ll definitely get rid of Ron. And maybe the board will forget about my fashion faux pas and see me as a responsible Suit?’
‘They’ll never forget,’ said Dave.
Especially, he thought, as Greg was currently wearing white shorts that were far too short for him, and went right up to his crotch. Just so he could show off his sun-tanned legs, and a bit more besides. His hair was also all wavy, like a perm, strongly suggesting he’d spent a lot of time swimming in the sea. His candy-striped top completed the beach-bum look. Bum was the operative word. Guthrie had spent nearly a year in a Greek prison under the country’s oppressive anti-gay laws. Leni and Greg had been dispatched to get him out.
‘We were working all the time, you know,’ said Greg. ‘I was there because of my local knowledge of Greek culture. Proved invaluable in freeing Guthrie.’
‘Greg, you spent six months on an army base when your dad was stationed in Cyprus.’
‘But it still gave me an understanding of the people, their way of life.’
‘You were eight years old.’
‘Those are the perks of being Leni’s right hand man,’ said Greg smugly. ‘Have some baklava,’ he handed over a small square of the sticky sweet. ‘Might cheer you up, help you get over Joy.’
‘Oh, I’ll get her back,’ said Dave confidently.
‘Fat chance,’ jeered Greg. ‘I’d throw myself on my sword, if I were you. Or onto the centrefold of Members Only.’
‘I just need to smooth things over with her.’
Greg grinned. ‘That would take a steamroller. The woman’s got a corrugated soul.’
Wiping that grin off your face would cheer me up, Greg, thought Dave. It would help my pain go away, if I was enjoying your pain.
‘Well, if anyone could break Guthrie out of a Greek prison it was Leni,’ Dave admitted.
‘That’s why they sent her,’ nodded Greg.
‘Guthrie coming out of the closet on a Greek beach with Dmitri was maybe not such a good idea.’
‘Yeah, I thought that whole anti-gay thing with the Greek Colonels was over, now they got rid of them. But it seems not. Some local police chief decided to make an example of him.’
‘I’m surprised they didn’t arrest you, as well, in your flimsy white shorts. If they saw you in your lederhosen, you’d be in jail quicker than you can say, “Ooh! Betty!” ’
‘We thought he was banged up for life. But two weeks negotiating with the locals, and a lot of retsina and drachmas – on Fleetpit’s account of course – and it was sorted.’
Dave scowled jealously in response.
‘I’m afraid it took that long, Dave,’ sighed Greg sadly. ‘It was tough. Leni and I, we just never stopped.’ He added: ‘On our mission of mercy.’
‘You’re lucky it wasn’t a Turkish prison,’ glowered Dave. ‘Just been reading Midnight Express.’
Greg shrugged. ‘Guthrie didn’t look too bad. And he brought Dmitri back with him. He’s put him in charge of photocopying.’
‘That’s nice. We really need someone in charge of photocopying.’
‘So Guthrie’s taken back his old job as managing editor of the girls and romantic comics. Which means Ron is even more irrelevant.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Dave. ‘He’s definitely on the way out.’
‘Such a waste,’ sighed Greg. ‘D-Day veteran, and he’s never written about his experiences. All that great material going to waste: people being blown up, machine-gunned in the water, limbs being torn off, dying horribly.’
‘He needs to let go of his pain,’ sighed Dave.
Dave decided Leni was the answer. He’d make a move on her. That would make the pain of losing Joy go away. He’d lost her because of his stupid obsession with fur. And, if Greg was to be believed, it was for good. If only he could get fur out of his head. He’d read the psychology books; he knew the reason for his fetish, so why wouldn’t it just fucking go away? Was he going to be cursed with fur lust for the rest of his life?
‘He did once admit he machine-gunned a field of cattle in the war,’ said Greg.
‘But that’s not as interesting as machine-gunning Germans, is it?’
Dave reflected that he’d probably have to crouch down under Leni’s desk, wedged in behind her modesty panel, to keep her happy, but if that made the pain go away, so be it.
And there was a bonus: all the pain he’d give Greg by being Leni’s new schnookie.
* * *
‘Let’s see what the pendulum says,’ said Leni.
She and Dave watched it sway to and fro. In some unfathomable way, she received her answer. ‘It says “yes”.’ She turned to Dave. ‘So you want it? You’ve got it. We have nookie tonight at your place? Ja?’
‘Maybe better at your place, Leni. My flat’s a bit crowded.’
‘Okay. My place. You will be my stallion for the night.’
‘Strictly speaking, Leni, I should be your uhlan, your cavalryman. That’s if I’m riding you, of course.’
‘I know what I mean.’
‘I’ll have my lance at the ready.’
‘But no sherbet breaks, Dave. I expect rigid liquorice.’
‘I’ll do my best. What about Greg?’
‘He won’t be there. And if he does turn up, it won’t matter. It’s our blindfold evening.’
‘Okay. See you this evening.’ He turned to leave her office.
‘Wait,’ the publisher commanded. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘What?’
She pointed to the space under her desk, concealed from public view by her modesty panel.
* * *
That evening, Dave duly turned up at Leni’s New Age-style apartment. There was an altar to Sathya Sai Baba, surrounded by Arthurian pre-Raphaelite prints, as well as air-brushed paintings of angels and dolphins, with framed photos of Osho, Ouspensky, Madam Blavatsky and, surprisingly, Roger Daltrey.
Leni sprayed Dave’s hair with sea water.
‘It is holy sea water, specially blessed, that I took from the Pacific and carried up to the Hopis on the Third Mesa.’
‘“Specially blessed?” Oh. Really? By whom?’
‘Be me, of course. I am the True White Brother.’
‘So we’re having some kind of … spiritual sex?’ asked Dave warily.
‘No. It’s because I want to make your hair all curly like Roger Daltrey.’ She pointed to a photo of Daltrey as the Pinball Wizard.
‘Do you mind if I pretend you’re him when we’re fucking? I really have the hots for him. I loved Tommy. Great spiritual truths are revealed in that film, Dave.’
‘With Oliver Reed?’
‘The universe sends many unusual messengers in the end times as we prepare for purification.’
‘Fair enough.’ Greg’s curly hair was suddenly explained. ‘So is that how it works with you and Greg?’
‘Ja. He pretends to be Roger Daltrey, also. It is very satisfying.’
‘But Greg is better looking than Roger Daltrey.’
‘This is true,’ agreed Leni. ‘Daltrey is a bit ugly, but he is much sexier. Success is so sexy. That’s what matters. And Greg is a failure. A loser. You know he will never be managing editor?’
‘I didn’t, but that’s good to know.’
The knowledge delighted Dave. However, there was a possible drawback. ‘So what about me? Does that mean I’m a loser, too?’
‘No. No, not at all, schnookie,’ she reassured him. ‘You do look like Daltrey. Well. A little bit.’
‘Ah. Well, at least I don’t remind you of someone unhealthy, like your dad.’
‘No. You look more like my uncle. Now. Let me see your flipper fingers.’
Dave was so busy meeting Leni’s meticulous criteria, including saying “My G-G-G-G-Generation, baby,” at the appropriate moment, that he had no time to focus on his own fur fetish.
Afterwards, she said approvingly that she was pleased he didn’t try having armpit sex with her, especially as she had luxuriant foliage there, herself.
He decided against telling her that he hadn’t made a move on her armpits because it would have felt like he was being unfaithful to Joy.
She explained the reason she grew her armpit hair was because it helped her lymphatic drains.
He didn’t know what that meant and decided it was better not to ask.
She made some green snot to eat, which she called ‘spirulina’ and said was a super-food, and would get all the toxins out of his system. He couldn’t face it, and opted for a liquorice pipe instead. As she wolfed down his spirulina as well as her own, she chatted happily away.
‘Greg and I would sometimes watch you and Joy having armpit sex from over in the Hot Pants office.’
‘What?’
‘Ja. It looks out across the courtyard towards the Shandy office, so we had an excellent view. You must have forgotten to pull down the blind?’
‘Oh, shit. How embarrassing.’
‘No. It was very interesting. Although I should have dismissed you both for having sex in the office, of course.’
‘That was nice of you. Thanks.’
‘Greg wanted me to.’
‘Greg wanted you to sack us?’
‘But I explained to him that you were not having penetrative sex, so, strictly speaking, it was not a sackable offence.’
‘So what did Greg say?’
‘He said we should consult the pendulum. But it confirmed I should not sack you.’
‘That’s a relief.’
‘So Greg suggested tossing a coin to be sure the pendulum was right. If it was heads I would sack you. But it was tails. Even when Greg made it best of three.’
Dave realised that having a fling with Leni wasn’t making the pain go away. It was actually making it worse. Especially hearing about Greg.
And he realised that Joy, even without a moustache, was the woman for him.
* * *
He was still thinking about Joy the next day as he entered the photocopying room and joined the queue. He tried getting Dmitri to do his photocopying, but the handsome young Greek just gave him a contemptuous look and said, ‘I don’t photocopy. I am in charge of photocopy.’
‘You just sit there and do nothing all day?’
‘That is job of supervisor.’
‘Do you even load the photocopier?’
‘No.
So he just sat around, ‘supervising’, looking at magazines like Him International. He had film-star good looks and was nineteen, according to Greg. Dave could understand how Guthrie had risked everything for Dmitri. He would risk anything for Joy, now he had lost her. Aware of Dave’s eyes on him, Dmitri pouted and gave him an arrogant look that said: ‘Don’t even think it. I’m well out of your league.’
But at least I’m closer to your age group, thought Dave. Not that it would do him any good. It was like Leni had said: it was success that mattered, not age. Success that everyone found sexy.
And, if Leni was right, Greg and he were seen as losers. Even though they had produced the smash-hit Aaagh! which must count for something. It was, at least, their first step on the road to fame and fortune. And to pulling the female equivalent of Dmitri. Some gorgeous girl who would help Dave forget Joy. Although Dave suspected Greg, with his love for his dead, car-crazy friend Bernie, would secretly be happier with someone like Dmitri.
Dmitri continued pouting, presumably thinking Dave hadn’t got the message. Don’t pout at me, Dmitri, thought Dave. I understand the need for you to have an imaginary job. I’ve read Hollywood Babylon. Gay Hollywood stars need their gardeners, handy men, stable boys, and pool boys as a cover for their secret relationships. In Britain, we have our ‘photocopy supervisors.’
Finally, Dave was at the front of the queue and it was his turn at the photocopier. He raised the lid and saw there was still a piece of paper inside. He looked round to see who had left it behind, and alert them, but they had gone.
He turned the paper over and saw a message written on it in an angry scrawl in block capitals: ‘MAUDLING, I KNOW WHAT YOU DID AND YOU’RE GOING TO PAY, YOU MURDERING BASTARD!
Goodnight, John-boy is the second book in the Read Em And Weep series and you can buy it digitally or as a paperback.