Bang: Memoirs of a Relationship Assassin (31 page)

Since when? This ain’t what you wanted. You’re kidding yourself, mate.

No… no, I’ve always wondered what –

Yeah you’ve wondered about it, but you never wanted it, did ya? Who’d want this every night? Christ, you’re bored now, imagine doing it for years! Doing it till you get old!

I actually looked around the bar, my imagination visualising him: Andy Holloway, slouched by the cigarette machine with a pint in his hand, smoking, sneering, his eyes beaming that same sort of mate-telepathy at me. My thoughts had adopted the same coarse accent I’d used back when I was on the Raine case.

Why was Andy Holloway on my mind so much these days? I was finding it easy to talk like him, think like him, and… be as angry as him. Angry with Darren.

That was it. Only when I thought about Darren did I hear Andy… that seemed to be what was bringing him to the surface, being with my oldest friend.

Oldest friend, bollocks. He don’t need you no more. Not now he’s got his bird. You’re old news mate, he’s got what he wanted, what he’s really after. Just like last time, remember? When you were kids?

I shook my head, not wanting to think about –

REMEMBER?

No! Stop doing this to yourself, I thought, you’re just winding yourself up! Quickly, I gathered up the drinks and went back to the table. Good old John getting his round in. Yes. I wasn’t Andy, I hadn’t been Andy for years, forget about him, I was John now.

Except… John seemed to have deserted me. I didn’t feel his smile on my face, his twinkle in my eye. The evening wore on, Becky and Darren cracking gags, Vicki enjoying herself, while I just got through my pint with nods and smiles. I should have been having a good time too. Or at least faking it. Faking was my thing. No different from going on a mission, so why couldn’t I just be John?

But this wasn’t John’s life any more, was it? It was mine.

Becky flicked a tiny warning glance my way as she sipped her white wine. Loud and clear:
What’s wrong with you, wake up, don’t leave me to do all the talking!
I could hear it clearly, in my head, like she’d said it dozens of times. Like we’d been together for years and years.

Tonight wasn’t just about seeing Darren. This was bridge-building between me and her, too. After the awkwardness of last weekend, we had to paper over the cracks. Go out and pretend everything’s fine, put on a show for our mates. Pretend nothing’s wrong. That’s what couples
do
.

Darren and Vicki met each other’s eyes frequently, gave each other little touches here and there. I stood it for about ten minutes. “Who wants another?” I asked, ignoring everyone’s half-full glasses.

It was as if Andy Holloway was waiting for me at the bar. As soon as I got there, I started thinking the way he would think. Angry that Darren would only come to see me with his new girlfriend in tow. He was meant to be my best mate, but where had he been lately, when I needed him? When I needed to talk about getting taken for a ride by my agent, about having to work with the woman who wanted my job, about the stress of a quarter-million pound case, about one of my targets ending up virtually living with me,
where was he?
And now he turns up in his new clothes and haircut, looking good, looking really happy and healthy and handsome (but
I
was meant to be the handsome one) like everything was normal…

“Where the
fuck
were you!” I hissed, the way Andy would have done.

Even though the whiskies were kicking in and things were starting to get hazy, it dawned on me why this mask from five years ago had crept back into my head. I’d based Andy Holloway on memories of what I’d been like as a teenager. Back when both Darren and I had been just another couple of crop-headed scally lads, riding around the estate looking for trouble, desperate for sex. It was all we talked about, all we wanted. That was me at fifteen. And that’s who Andy was: me, if I hadn’t changed. Me, before my Dad was taken away and my Mum tried recover her own youth. Me, before I learned how to reinvent myself and be whatever other people wanted me to be.

Andy was what I’d be today. A teenager writ large. The same pent-up urges, the same frustration… and the same anger at being let down by Darren.

Just like the last time Darren had abandoned me, back when we were fifteen. The time when he…

REMEMBER?!

I wrenched myself away from my own thoughts, scared at where they were heading. My legs were trembling a little as I went back to our table, bumping into a barstool, rebounding into the cigarette machine. Pub pinball.

Only Darren was there. I gestured at the empty spaces. “Where’s…?”

“Ladies. Why do girls always do that, go to the bog together? It’s weird, innit?”

I shrugged, no room in my head for the great mysteries of the world.

Darren leaned forward. “Mate, you’ve done well there, seriously. Becky’s a babe. Great tits on her. Looks like she could be a bit dirty as well, she’s got that sort of laugh, know what I mean?”

Masks off. The real us at last.

“I like her, she’s cool. I can see why you’ve hung on to this one, she’s your type.”

“Is she?” I could remember wondering, not too long ago, what my type was.

“Why, summat wrong with her?”

“It’s just… having her around doesn’t exactly go with my job, does it?”

Darren waved this away. “Ah, she don’t have to know.”

“But… what if she finds out?”

“She won’t, don’t worry about it, just don’t tell her! It’s not like I’ve told Vic about all the stuff I’ve done,” he laughed. “Shit the bed, can you imagine? She’d run a mile!”

Yes. She would. Darren had to pretend to be somebody else if he wanted to be with Vicki. He had to do what I did all the time. Maybe every man in the world has to do this, I thought, if they want to hold onto someone.

“It’s sweet having her about, I gotta say. I love just, you know, walking down the street with her, showing off that arse of hers… seeing other blokes check her out, it’s a great laugh!” A wistful look, alien on Darren’s face. “I kind of get bored when she’s not around. Thought I’d only get a shag or two out of her, but then I was round hers every night. That’s why we ended up getting our flat. It’s well nice, you gotta come round see it. The kitchen’s all modern, classy, you’d like it.”

“Yeah.” Kill me now.

“Bit freaky, innit, both of us getting proper birds at the same time. We must be getting old, mate!”

Freaky. That’s us.

Darren kept talking, going on about how great his life now was. I couldn’t help but imagine Andy Holloway sauntering over from the bar, throwing himself down and telling Darren what he thought of him. I could almost see him, right there, viciously laying into my closest friend like they were old enemies.

And then Andy was sitting in the same seat as me.

“You’re a cunt, Darren.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You
vanished
once you met her!” I spat. “Where have you been, man? I haven’t seen you for weeks!”

His mouth flapped for a second – he’d never seen this side of me before. I’d made sure Andy and Darren never met. But now here they were, face to face.

“Well… I’ve been busy, ain’t I? What with the flat, and before that we went to Spain, so I haven’t – ”

“Bollocks! You just don’t give a shit. You got your bird now, long as you get your end away, what do you care? You’re sorted. Don’t need me any more.”

Darren half-laughed. “Easy, mate! Bloody hell, where’s this come from? No big deal is it, I’ve just not had the time to go out as much as we used to. I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, right,” I sneered. “You’re only allowed to see me now ‘cos she’s here. You’re on the leash man, she’s the boss, you’re just too thick to see it!”

Surprise on Darren’s face. Take it? Or fight back?

“Fuck off!” he yelled. “You’re such a hypocrite, man! I don’t see you for weeks sometimes, when you’re off on one of your missions! You’ve been doing this for years, vanishing and then turning up again!”

Missions. He said missions. “Jesus, shut up!”

“Half the time you’re too busy shagging somebody’s misses to even go down the pub! So don’t give
me
grief about being busy! You’re well out of order!”

I glanced round, suddenly terrified. Couples peering our way, the barman looking up from pulling a pint. What had they heard? Run, I thought, get out now!

Like fuck, thought Andy. You don’t take shit from anyone. Not even a mate.

“You don’t mind me earning the money though, do ya?” I shouted. “Not when it’s paying your rent every other month! And getting in about four rounds to every one of yours. God, the things I’ve done for you over the years…”

“Oh it’s about
money
, is it!”

Barman’s voice, as if off-stage: “Oi, you two! Keep it down!”

Darren stood up sharpish, jogging the table and spilling his pint. He yanked his wallet out of his jeans and started flinging notes at me. “How much do I owe you then mate, just tell me, take the lot, go on! Take my credit card, PIN number’s six nine six nine, take it, use it!”

His card hit me in the face. I leapt up, furious, grabbing the edge of the table and upturning it, sending the drinks crashing. The barman probably went ballistic, but I heard nothing except Andy’s voice ripping up from my guts: “Yeah, what if I do! What you gonna fuckin’ do about it!”

“Do it, then! Come on, you…” Darren looked past me, startled.

I spun round and there was Becky and Vicki, side by side. Speechless. Watching their boyfriends at war.

The sense came back into Darren’s eyes. He snatched up his jacket. “Come on Vic, we’re going!”

But I didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop the words, burning up my throat like vomit.

“Look at you, so sensible now ain’t ya, so normal!” I bellowed. “You ain’t normal, you’re nowhere near normal, you’re an animal! Go on, tell her the truth, you’re just an animal! You’ve fucked a million girls, you’ll fuck anything, you’ve fucked everything! You fucked my Mum!”

The pub froze.

The barman, coming round the bar, stopped dead in his tracks. The couples at the other tables stared. The end of a song on the CD, fading to silence. Vicki’s hand over her mouth. Frozen. Andy’s voice, unable to stop:

“You fucked my Mum! I was only fifteen and you came round every night and… you fucked my Mum!”

Buried for fourteen years, never mentioned, never referred to. Detonating now like an unexploded landmine. The memory of going to the bathroom at 2am and bumping into my best mate. Standing there like a lemon, watching as Darren cleaned his teeth with my toothbrush, said goodnight then wandered down the hall, bollock naked, into my mother’s bedroom.

The feelings I had made myself forget, but Andy Holloway never could.

“You fucking freak,
you fucked my Mum!”

Darren’s face – raw with horror.

“I was… I was just a kid! I never… she came on to me, man, she was all… what was I supposed to do! I didn’t, I didn’t know any better, I just thought with my dick!”

He turned to Vicki, hands out as if to convince her. “I was just a kid!”

She backed away, hand still across her mouth, shaking her head violently. She looked like a girl about to be sick. Sick at the sight of her bloke. Mask ripped off, seeing the creature underneath.

“Don’t!” called Darren as she ran out the exit. “Vicki! I’m not…”

Gone.

Unlucky, mate!
I heard Andy laugh.

Darren’s hands dropped by his side. He looked at Becky, then at me. And then he exploded.

“Tell her!”
he screamed. “Tell her the truth about you, then! You ain’t normal either! You lying bastard, if I’m a freak what are you, you’re ten times worse than me, you do it for
money!”

Oh my God.

“Tell her about the women you’ve shagged, all the couples you’ve split up! You fuck anything too AND YOU DO IT FOR MONEY!”

My fist stabbed out.

Aaaaaaaaaaah – freak out!

Crunch against his nose, blood spurting down his Brand t-shirt.

Le freak – c’est chic!

His own fist cracking against my jaw.

Freak out!

And then we were a tangle of bone-hard punches and kicks and spitting, swearing, screaming bloody viciousness. I felt the barman’s arms pulling me away, a few guys leaping up from other tables to drag me and Darren apart. I glimpsed his face, soaked with blood, teeth bared. Everything whited out for a second when his fist slammed into my left eye, and with my arms pinned I kicked out, feeling his ribs crack. My voice screaming, his voice screaming, girls at tables screaming, the barman and other blokes yelling for us to stop, Le Freak blaring from the speakers.

And off to the side, Becky’s silence. Staring at my face like she’d never seen it before.

They threw me out. Pavement scraped my forearms. I was up and running instantly. Couldn’t see straight, legs like jelly, noise and music behind me –
All that pressure, got you down, has your head spinning all around
– but I hauled myself up and ran. Staggering, gasping with pain, I ran through the night streets, people veering away from me.

And in the pit of my stomach, a sick emptiness.

Game over. All over. Nothing now but the mission, nothing but me and Megan MacLeod. Tomorrow night was the night, the night I’d make the kill, the night I’d kidnap the Face of Scotland, I had to get home and prepare for that, concentrate on that. Nothing else mattered now. Nothing but the mission. Game on. Game on, for God’s sake, game on!

Nothing else.

There’s nothing else.

Sunset in Shepherd’s Bush. In front of the grey, doughnut-shaped BBC Television Centre building, Megan MacLeod wandered casually through the car park, at the end of another hard day’s filming.

Her limo was waiting a few rows down. No bodyguard, no studio escort, nobody in sight. She walked alone.

A red shark knifed towards her.