Goodnight, John-boy: Chapter 9
Dave enjoys some brief confectionary porn with Joy and furthers his plan to sneak into Fab Keen's apartment.
Welcome to Book Two of my dark comedy thriller series, Read Em And Weep.
A new chapter of Goodnight, John-Boy drops every week – sign up for free so you don’t miss it!
If you’re new to the Read Em And Weep series, start with Book One: Serial Killer.
‘MY LATEST MOVIE PROP,’ Joy explained. She took out a packet of Embassy and used the miniature guillotine on her desk to slice off a filter tip. ‘It’s from A Shot in the Dark.’ She used the tobacco to roll herself a joint.
Dave briefly admired the cigar-cutter. ‘One of my favourite films.’ He tried an Inspector Clouseau voice ‘And I submit, Inspector Ballon, that you killed Miguel in a rit of fealous jage!’
‘You’re nothing like him,’ laughed Joy, opening the window.
‘I’m not?’
‘No,’ she looked at him meaningfully as she lit the joint. ‘You’re far too romantic.’
‘I am? You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before, Joy. Weird, yes, romantic, no.’
‘Maybe it’s possible to be both?’ suggested Joy.
‘Yeah, I had a girlfriend once who said, “You’re so weird, Dave, you make me seem normal and sane. So when you’re being a fucking idiot, which is most of the time, no one notices me and I can relax.”’
‘I can see how that would work,’ considered Joy.
‘I was like a “beard” for her,’ continued Dave, ‘so no one would know how boring she was.’
‘What happened?’
‘She caught me two-timing her with her fur rug. That was too weird for her.’
‘Actually, Dave,’ smiled Joy, drawing on her joint. ‘I’ve been thinking about all those wonderful little notes you’ve been sending me.’
‘What notes?’ asked a puzzled Dave.
‘Don’t tease. Don’t pretend you don’t know,’ Joy looked coyly at him. ‘You know.’
‘Invoices …? But you haven’t accepted any of my stories yet. Unless you bought Penny never saw the Pitch, about a blind hockey player? Or Paula Never Saw The Pool, about a blind high diver?’
‘No, Dave,’ said Joy patiently. ‘I haven’t. Let’s not spoil this.’
‘For some reason I’m really fond of the name Paula,’ Dave reflected. ‘I remember you also rejected Paula’s Fit for the Poorhouse.’
‘Every morning, I come in and find another little message waiting for me on my desk. I’m really touched, Dave.’
Dave hadn’t the faintest idea what she was talking about. But his mother had drummed it into him that he needed to be more romantic if he was going to get off with Joy again, so he went along with it. ‘Okay,’ he grinned. ‘You got me.’
She brought out a small pile of ‘Love Is …’ cartoons from a drawer. ‘I’m really looked forward to a new one from you every day.’
Dave read one out, ‘Love is … what makes everything right with your world.’ He resisted coming out with any number of cynical responses. He had no idea who was sending her the ‘Love Is …’ cartoons, but he was more than happy to take the credit for them.
‘Love is … when you’re lost for words,’ he ad-libbed. He couldn’t actually think of anything else to say.
‘It’s very sweet, Dave. In fact, too sweet for my taste. I don’t usually like this kind of drippy shit. It’s a bit like Wedding Belle in Everlasting Love.’
‘Yeah, unfortunately, I couldn’t find any that said, ‘Love is … being rogered hard over a desk,’ Dave suggested hopefully.
‘But my friend Sophie really recommends starting off with the old-fashioned slush. She says you’ve got to fake it to make it. And then … we do something absolutely disgusting!’ Joy’s eyes lit up. ‘She said it gave her the most incredible orgasms.’
‘You know, that’s exactly why I did it, Joy,’ Dave lied. ‘We start off with all the sugary sweet stuff and then we get into some indescribable and shameful filth. Preferably involving fur.’
‘I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dave. I knew it was you when you started leaving a Fry’s Turkish Delight beside the messages.’
‘Oh, you know me, Joy. I’m full of Eastern promise.’
‘I’m hoping so. You know, Sophie said if you were freeballing, like the Arabs, it would enlarge your penis. You could end up with a fire hose, Dave.’
‘Do thank Sophie for her interest and concern, Joy.’
‘And today, you left me … this.’ With a flourish, she produced a Cadbury’s Flake chocolate bar.
Whoever Joy’s mystery admirer was, he was putting a considerable amount of effort into romancing her and Dave was delighted to take advantage of him. It saved him having to make the effort, and anyway, he only had five-year-old free gift sweets in his confectionery box. He suspected that Yo Ho Ho liquorice chewing tobacco or Kojak lollies wouldn’t have quite the same effect on Joy.
‘Only the crumbliest, flakiest …’ he began.
She put down her joint and started to undo the wrapper.
Looking deep into Dave’s eyes, she slowly, sensually, peeled it back. Then he took the flake from her as she opened her lips and parted her teeth. He gradually slid the bar inside her mouth and, closing her eyes, she gently moved her head up and down, then nibbled off the end.
He was going to take it slowly this time. Not rush things. Thanks to his mother’s advice and the secret Cadbury’s Flake donor, he was finally pulling the woman of his dreams.
And with her eyes closed, she wouldn’t be aware he was actually focusing his attention not on her, but on her vintage fox fur hanging by the door. Oh, yes, that really hit the spot.
Then Greg swaggered in and it felt like a brick being thrown through a furriers’ window.
‘Thought I could smell dope.’
‘Haven’t you got work to do?’
‘Ah!’ said Greg, as Joy took the flake out of her mouth. ‘I see you’ve got your present from Deep Throat.’
‘What?’ gasped Joy.
‘Cadbury’s Flake. That’s from Barclay.’
‘You mean,’ said Joy slowly, ‘I’ve had something from Deep Throat…in my mouth?’
‘Yeah,’ said Greg casually. ‘He knows all the models in the adverts, their names, vital statistics, addresses. He’s got this thing about one model in particular. Keeps sending her long, passionate love letters, wanting to meet her. I think she had to take out a restraining order against him in the end.’
‘No. It’s – it’s just coincidence that we share the same taste in sweets,’ said Dave hastily. He turned to Joy. ‘I was going to bring you a Yorkie bar tomorrow.’
‘It was definitely Barclay,’ said Greg. ‘He’s been cutting those cartoons out of the paper for you as well.’
‘That pervert has been sending me “Love Is …” messages?’
Joy looked revolted. I think I’m going to puke.’ She looked down at the half eaten bar. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘Sorry,’ grinned Greg. ‘Have I said something I shouldn’t have?’
‘But you kept it in the wrapper, so you didn’t actually touch it,’ Dave reassured her. ‘So it’s okay: it acted like, you know, a condom?’
‘That’s an even more disgusting thought. And you are disgusting, lying to me.’
‘But I thought you liked disgusting?’ protested Dave. ‘You know? Start off sugary sweet and then get into something really offensive? I mean, what could be more offensive than Deep Throat? He’s the ultimate perversion. That’s why I went along with it.’
By way of response, she inserted the flake into the guillotine and sliced it in half in a way that made both Dave and Greg wince.
She was suddenly distracted by Greg’s new outfit. ‘And what the fuck are you wearing, Greg? That’s disgusting, too.’
Greg was no longer The Man in Black. He was The Man in Green. A pale viridian trouser suit, to be precise. ‘What’s wrong with it?’ he complained.
Joy noted the shapeless trousers and pursed her mouth. ‘It’s got an elasticated waist, Greg.’
‘So?’
‘An elasticated waist. Greg, those are the kind of trousers mothers buy for their little boys and lead to them getting beaten up in the playground as sissies. And rightly so.’
‘I’m no aficionado of fashion, Greg,’ said Dave, pleased his assistant editor was taking the heat off him, ‘But even I can see that’s a serious fashion faux pas.’
‘Leni bought it for me,’ Greg said defensively. ‘It’s part of my new look. She’s grooming me to be managing editor again.’
‘She’s grooming you for Crufts,’ Joy snapped. ‘What are you? Her fucking dog? You can’t let her humiliate you like that.’
‘Yeah,’ agreed Dave. ‘Just how much green snot can you eat, Greg?’
‘If you mean the super food spirulina,’ said Greg, ‘it’s a blue-green algae that Leni says has unbelievable health benefits.’
‘It’s green snot, Greg,’ insisted Dave. ‘Would you like a couple of my bogies as well?’
‘I’d just come in here for a quiet spliff,’ said Greg plaintively, ‘but if you’re going to be like that, I shall have one of my herbal cigarettes instead. They’re better for you,’ he revealed, as he lit one up.
‘You could fool me,’ said Joy, coughing on the bonfire-fumes as she wrote something down on a piece of paper.
‘Leni says the Hopi Indians use it in their rituals. The smoke carried their prayers to the Gods.’
‘Yeah,’ said Joy, ‘Save us from this fucking mad woman.’ She got up from her desk ‘Go on, get the fuck out of here. Both of you. I’ve got work to do. And tell Barclay I’m onto him and there will be consequences …’ she looked down at her guillotine, ‘… if I find any more “romantic confectionery” on my desk.’
She escorted them from her office and pinned a notice on her door: ‘Love is … Lies perpetuated by the advertising industry to maintain the patriarchal consumerist society.’ It was this, but, more likely, her guillotine, which had the necessary deterrent effect on Deep Throat.
It was a setback for Dave, but he didn’t give up so easily. His serial for Joy had come together. His plan to enter Fabulous Keen’s apartment and borrow his Grand Master costume had come together. It was so much more sinister than Mrs Thatcher’s witch’s cloak that Greg had gotten hold of. The story and the robes would definitely impress Joy.
He had ignored his mother’s remonstrations about Keen being a hard man, a dangerous man who you don’t mess with. That might well be the case, but he was only borrowing the Torquemada look-alike outfit. He’d put it back afterwards.
Keen would never know. Dave had been perusing The Radio Times for when Fab would be off on his travels for It’s a Fabulous World, but the series was scheduled for the Summer, unfortunately.
However, he was currently presenting Tomorrow’s Britain live, so he knew exactly when he would be away.
Goodnight, John-boy is the first book in the Read Em And Weep series and is on sale digitally or as paperback.