The Ultimate Selection: Be Careful Who You Talk To (14 page)

‘How long have I got? My family… what about my family?' Hector begged.

‘Martin will wake up in a few hours, you can ask him. I'll be back to see you both later. All will become clear Hector. Try not to worry too much…' Greg replied, not answering any of the wasted questions he had been asked. Greg walked away…

Chapter Twenty-One

‘What the fuck's going on?' Martin demanded, as he woke.

‘Martin, it's me, Hector. We are prisoners.'

‘What the fuck is going on Hector… and what the fuck are you doing here?' Martin demanded answers, his voiced raised, anger raging through his veins.

‘Do you remember the guy in the black suit that they were talking about on the news? He bought us both here.'

‘Fucking hell my head hurts. Why?'

‘He didn't explain that bit. I think it's me he wants, you are just here to make up the numbers.'

‘Fucking hell Hector, where are we? We need to get away. How long have we been here?'

‘I've been here since yesterday… I think. You arrived a few hours ago.'

‘You look like shit; you've been given a right fucking kicking,' Martin said, as he checked himself. ‘He doesn't seem to have touched me.'

‘That's why I said he only wants me!'

‘Hold on a minute,' Martin sat up, ‘I thought she was making him up, if it's the same guy, he made that girl kill her fella. Oh no – fucking hell Hector!' Martin panicked.

‘You're here to kill me Martin. And there's no way out.' Hector said pointing to his posterior, ‘It's a bottle and, yes, it's been stuck there. I've tried to remove it but it's too painful.'

‘Why?' Martin gasped. ‘What have we done?'

‘It's me, what I've done, I think you're here for the same reasons he used the girl.'

‘We need to stop him, to tell him to stop,' Martin said urgently.

‘When he bought you here, he stuck that handcuff around your ankle and then made me swallow a key. I would place money that the key he made me swallow is the key to that handcuff and the bottle is to stop me shitting it out!'

‘What are we gonna do?'

‘Wait for him to come back. Listen Martin, I know I haven't been a brilliant husband to your sister, and I've not been there for our kids. All this is a little too late I know… but I have to make peace, there's no way that we can escape. I've tried begging him but he is cold. I have to face it, I'm going to die here. If you don't do it, he will. You might not have a choice – make no mistake. You have to do it, to save yourself.'

Martin couldn't take it in, ‘I was out with Greg, but I don't remember getting back to Greg's. I was gonna stay at his… I don't remember leaving the pub… oh my fucking God, this must be a fucking bad dream.'

‘He got me from around the back of The Penny. Listen, it's no secret that I swing both ways – Mandy knows, and always has done. He must hate gays.'

‘I never thought it was true. I thought you were just a mouthy bastard!'

‘It's common where I come from.' Hector coughed the pain from his broken ribs more potent now. ‘I know that…what I'm trying to say is that Mandy accepts me for who I am.'

‘That's fucking bullshit! If Mandy knew, you would have been history – and if I had known…' Martin started to cry, saddened by what he had just been told.

‘Cut the bollocks Martin. Mandy would never have allowed you to do anything and you know that!'

‘She's protected you for years Hector. But look where you are now – look where we are now,' Martin snapped, tripping on his words. ‘This is your fault, you dirty bastard. I've been dragged in.' Once again, Martin paused, his anger intensifying his hatred for Hector. ‘I'll tell him to fucking kill you; then my sister will be rid of you. I'll tell him that I ain't gay and he'll let me go. That shit ain't got fuck all to do with me.'

‘Well, he seems to think it's got plenty to do with you, or you wouldn't be here would you? You stupid bastard!'

‘No. If you fucking understood what your fucking arsehole was for, then neither of us would be here, would we? And he wouldn't have shoved a bottle up it, would he?'

‘Be as angry as you want, it doesn't change anything. We're both here, and we ain't fucking going nowhere, unless he says so.'

‘You know that, whatever happens, it's all down to you. It's your fucking fault.'

‘I know one thing… he's not bothered what we think.'

Chapter Twenty-Two

Karen walked at a steady pace, making her way to the exit of the tube station.

‘Hello sexy!' she called out.

Greg stood, casually leaning against a wall reading a newspaper. He slowly looked up on hearing Karen's voice.

‘Are you catching up on yesterday's football?' she asked.

‘Yeah, something like that – West Ham lost, again and Chelsea only managed a draw,' he laughed. ‘How are you? You look gorgeous,' he added, as he gave her a full kiss on the lips, complemented with a big hug.

‘Wow. I'm much better now. Did you miss me last night or something?' she asked, as she took hold of his hand, gripping it tightly.

They both started to walk in the direction of the restaurant.

‘No!' Greg replied, teasing Karen with his answer.

‘What did you get up to last night then?' Karen tried to keep the conversation going. ‘You don't look too worse for wear.'

‘Met up with Mart, stayed in The Blackbirds all night, so I owe you twenty quid.' He turned, giving her a kiss on her cheek. ‘Mart came back to mine – we got a curry on the way, had a few beers at mine, before we both crashed out. Old Mart was up early though, gone before I got out of bed.'

‘He must have had stuff to do?'

‘You'll never guess what Mart told me about his brother-in-law.'

‘Hector?'

‘Yeah, Hector.'

‘Go on, tell me.'

‘Hector went out Friday night and hadn't been seen since.'

‘What?'

‘He hadn't gone home and Mart told me that his sister, Mandy, Hector's wife, had called The Old Bill.'

‘Well, we've all heard the stories he comes out with.'

‘That's what I said – I said that he's probably been beaten up or something.'

‘When he does go home, he'll have some explaining to do,' Karen laughed.

Greg smiled to himself – Karen was eating out the palm of his hand. ‘Yeah, I know, he's in deep shit!' Greg laughed as he opened the door to the restaurant and, being the gentleman, held the door open for Karen to walk through.

‘Hello, sir, madam, have you a reservation?' asked a well-presented middle aged man.

‘Yes,' Greg replied. ‘Mr O'Hara, table for two for one o'clock,' Greg smiled politely.

‘Yes, Mr O'Hara you are a little early. Would sir and madam like to have a drink at the bar while I check if your table is ready?'

‘Yes, why not?' Greg smiled.

As the pair reached the bar, they could hear a man and a woman having a heated discussion. Karen looked at Greg and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Leave it at home,' she giggled.

‘Ignore them. What would you like to drink?' Greg asked.

‘I'll have a dry white wine please,' Karen replied.

Greg ordered Karen's wine and himself a pint of lager. Moments later a waiter appeared. ‘Mr O'Hara your table is ready. May I take your drinks to your table for you?'

‘Yes please – and can you put them on my bill?'

‘Certainly, sir.'

The waiter took their drinks, placed them on a silver tray and led the way. As they were being seated they could hear the heated conversation that Karen commented on at the bar. A couple seemed to be having an argument.

‘Listen Brent, if you don't like it you know what you can do,' the woman firmly told the man sitting opposite.

‘No, you listen to me Val, it is not happening,' the man replied, trying to stand his ground.

‘Well, it's all a bit too late for you to decide what is and what isn't happening – don't you think?'

‘We can sort this out. We always have in the past.'

‘You think you can call the shots?'

‘Listen to me, you silly cow. He who pays the piper, names the tune, just you remember that, hey?'

The whole restaurant could hear the couple though, for some reason, the staff were reluctant to ask the couple to keep the noise down.

Brent and Valerie Hope were a very wealthy couple, their money had come from Brent's software business which was doing as well as it ever had. Valerie was a lady of leisure. Brent had spoilt her from the day they married; she got whatever she wanted which was the main reason she stayed with him. He, on the other hand, worshiped the ground she walked on, she was a very attractive woman for her years. Brent had just turned forty and his wife was three years his junior. It was evident that a cosmetic surgeon had lent a hand in sculpting her statuesque figure.

‘I'm telling you that if you don't put a stop to this, I will leave you,' Valerie told Brent.

‘Leave me and you'll get nothing,' Brent snapped.

‘I'll bleed you dry,' Valerie snarled.

‘OK, time out. I can't understand why you two have to share your matrimonial problems with the rest of us. Can't you take your personal problems somewhere else and let us enjoy our lunch in peace?' Karen interrupted, she could not listen to any more.

‘Mind your own business,' Valerie barked.

‘We would love to, but you two won't let us,' Karen bitched back.

‘I don't have to put up with this – Brent, say something,' she ordered her silent husband to speak.

‘He can't get a word in edgeways, poor bloke.'

‘You leave my husband alone!'

‘Ha! I think you should listen to yourself and maybe you should leave him alone,' Karen was beginning to enjoy this. It was obvious that no one had ever challenged this woman.

‘I've always thought that this place was going downhill. I don't know why they've lowered their standards by allowing
riff raff
like you to dine here.' Valerie decided that it was time for the gloves to come off, and to direct her aim below the belt.

‘Firstly, you snotty bitch, we are not
riff raff
, and secondly at least we know how to behave in places like this, you stuck up cow.'

One of the waiters came marching over.

‘George can you please remove these people, they are upsetting my husband and I…'

‘Don't even think about it,' Greg said, standing up. He had remained silent for too long, ‘If you and your husband want to argue, bitch and fight, please, for the sake of the rest of us, don't do it here. We work hard so that we can eat in places like this – today is a treat for our sort, whatever sort we are,' Greg turned, glaring at the waiter, ‘If you're going to kick anyone out, it's going to be her – understood?'

Another man walked over, ‘I'm the manager, what seems to be the problem?'

‘There is not a problem here, just a misunderstanding, that's all. My wife and I are leaving. May we have our bill please Frederick and I would like to buy these two fine people a drink, by way of an apology,' the woman's husband said, giving Greg and Karen an apologetic smile – immediately switching it to a glare at his wife. The look sent shivers down her spine. ‘I am very sorry if my wife offended you, will you accept a bottle of champagne with our complements?' he continued.

‘Yes, that'd be a great place to start – I want to hear it from her,' Karen smiled, still wanting more.

‘I am not apologizing and that champagne is not from me, it's from him. Come on let's go,' Valerie barked her disapproval.

‘If you were a bloke…' Greg laughed.

‘Well, she's not a lady,' Karen interrupted. Roars of laughter bellowed from the surrounding tables.

Completely humiliated, Valerie stormed out the restaurant to a standing ovation. Brent walked over to Karen and took her hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of it.

‘Bravo, bravo,' was all he said, through his controlled laughter. ‘Please enjoy the champagne,' he added as he shook Greg's hand and left.

‘The house has decided that the bill for your lunch is with our complements. Please order anything from the menu, you are guests of the house today,' Frederick smiled, bowing his head politely.

‘Thank you Frederick, we will. That's very kind of you,' Karen replied, holding her head high.

Greg glanced through the window and noticed the couple getting into a very expensive-looking car, he also noticed that the number plate on the vehicle was a private number, a number he could easily memorise – a quick phone call would get him what he wanted to know. He had become a very well-connected man, with contacts in all kinds of places. Val was not going to get away with treating people the way she did. Valerie Hope had just been self-selected.

‘The world was going to be a better place without her in it,' Greg mumbled to himself.

‘What did you say?' Karen enquired, knocking the champagne back.

Greg did not realise he had spoken aloud, ‘Nothing… I just can't understand people like that.' He winked. ‘Not bad this champagne.'

‘Chilled perfectly,' Karen giggled. ‘To the unhappy couple,' she announced. The pair touched glasses – finely cut crystal flutes pinged with an enigmatic sound.

‘Quality,' Greg winked.

Karen and Greg ate until they could not eat anymore. The pair had also consumed nearly four bottles of champagne between them. Noticing the couple's drunken state, Frederick had decided to order the pair a cab, asking Greg where they would like to be taken.

Once their cab arrived, Fredrick informed the driver of their chosen destination and paid him. When he was sure they were both safely inside the cab, he slapped the roof with the flat of his hand, signalling to the driver it was safe to move off.

Once the happy couple fell in to Greg's flat, they went to bed to sleep off the champagne – neither of them in a fit state to do anything else.

Almost four hours had past when Greg woke, his bladder acting as his alarm clock. On his return, Greg noticed the time.

‘Wake up Karen, it's almost eight o'clock and we've both got work in the morning.' Greg never allowed Karen to stay on a work night.

‘OK, OK – give me a minute,' a croaky-voiced Karen replied.

Greg went into the kitchen and put the kettle on. He needed to get rid of Karen. He had other urgent matters to attend to…