The Church and the Tradesman - 6. The Gamer

I smiled to myself and closed my eyes, pleased with my little victory, but it wasn’t over yet.

“You’re in my chair!”

When I opened my eyes he was standing in front of me, legs apart, barefoot and dressed in a Karategi!

“You’re having a fucking laugh?”

“I’m warning you,” he said. “I’m a black belt.”

He narrowed his eyes and stared at me, tight-lipped, but his soft boyish features didn’t allow him to look threatening and I was more inclined to laugh than be scared.

“You’re an idiot,” I said. “You know nothing about Karate, you’ve been watching too many movies.”

“Don’t call me an idiot?”

“You're an Idiot,” I repeated.

“Get out of my chair.”

“Whatever you say sensei.”

“What did you call me?”

“It doesn’t matter; I know you don’t do Karate. Here, you can have your precious chair back. Did they fly it over specially from America for you?”

I stood up and backed away from him, making sure that I kept him in my sights. The tooth marks in my hand were a reminder of what this crazy kid was capable of when put under pressure and I didn’t want another physical confrontation with him.

“Where are you going?”

“Home, I hope. If we can get out of this place.”

“You won't be able to get out for a while. The police will move them away, but they’ll come straight back. It’ll be about an hour before they’ll open the gates.” He turned his back on me and flopped across the chair that he apparently had been willing to fight me for.

“An hour?”

“Duh, yeah. Why don’t you go out there and help them?”

‘Why don’t you shut your fucking mouth’?

“That’ll be ten o’clock,” I mumbled to myself. “I have to be someplace. This is so ridiculous; there has to be another way out. Isn’t there a back entrance that I can use?”

“How would I know, I’ve only stayed here once before, and that was for one day, I think. Who knows. I’m not allowed outside anyway. When you leave here, you can go and do whatever you want, I can’t even go to the store on my own.”

If he was expecting me to feel sorry for him all of a sudden, he was out of luck. I wasn’t interested.

“It goes with the job; you could do something else.”

“Like a plumber you mean?” he smirked. “No thanks!”

I shook my head and started to walk away, but he called me back.

“You don’t have to sit in the security office, you know. You can stay and play a game with me if you want?” He held up a control pad and pointed towards the television screen. “I have Star Fox 64.”

It was the game that I had been playing recently with jazz who, like Tyrone, had one of the new Nintendo 64’s. I was tempted by his offer, and I was competent enough with this game to know that I had a chance of beating him.

When I hesitated, it alerted him of my interest and I saw his head rise above the back of the armchair. His expression had changed from aggressor to almost friendly, and he even smiled at me. It was a face that I had seen often on television and on the front of his CD’s but not yet in real-life.

‘Is he really expecting me to play video games with him though, or is it just part of an even bigger game of his’?

He seemed to have a lot of free time on his hands and he was probably able to get those games as soon as they came out, so I had to assume that he was good, but so was I.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Don’t you ever stop work? Do you ever have fun?”

That hurt me more than anything that he had said to me previously, I took my fun very seriously and had invested a great deal of my time and money in it over the years.

“I have plenty of fun,” I said. “You don’t know me.”

He chuckled. “I don’t wanna know you. We’re not friends; I just wanna kick your ass.”

It was what I had expected; Tyrone wasn’t capable of being nice to anyone, this was just another way of boosting his ego and making me look stupid.

“Maybe another time.”

“There won't be another time. Geez, what’s wrong with you? You’ll be able to tell all your friends that you played Nintendo with Tyrone Spencer. You never know, you may even beat me.”

‘Oh, I’ll beat you alright…and I won't need a stupid game to do it either’.

I wanted nothing more than to humiliate this kid and the opportunity of doing so on his own turf, using his choice of weapon, was simply too much to resist.

He watched me sidle back into the room and sit down on the couch to the side of the screen. “The first level,” I said as I held out my hand to catch the control pad. “I’m leaving at nine-thirty.”

- 10.00 pm -

“There you are, I thought you had jumped over the bleeding wall.”

I could hear Bob’s voice behind me, but I couldn’t look around or acknowledge him. I was in stage two, on the path to Katina and trying to avoid boulders that were flying at me at ridiculous speeds. Tyrone was giving me advice and he sounded like he was actually rooting for me. He had taken the difficult path from the first level, which would have seen him take a commanding lead but it was a gamble that hadn’t paid off. I opted for the more conservative approach, which was a route that I knew well and a role that I often played at Jazz’s house.

I had beaten him, but his expected sulk didn’t materialise and I was disappointed when he didn’t throw his control pad around the room. Other than a few muffled profanities, he kept himself reasonably calm, leaving the tantrums to me.

It was Bob who prevented me from reaching the next level by distracting me just as I was about to fly through the rings.

“What the fuck; you made me crash!” I put down the control pad and stood up to glare at my tormentor. “You could have bloody waited; I was almost on level three.”

Bob was stuck in the last century and didn’t understand the importance of games, but Tyrone found it hilarious, chuckling to himself and pointing at me.

“Oh my God, you are such a bad loser.”

I looked at him, then back at Bob—who now had a huge grin across his weathered face—and then back to Tyrone.

“I didn’t lose, you did, remember?”

“It’s only a game dude,” said Tyrone. “It’s not like it really matters…not to me anyway.” He was laughing at me and Bob was quick to join in.

“You're only saying that because I beat you,” I said.

“I don’t need to prove myself to you; you're the loser. You need to grow up!”

I could hardly believe my ears; I was just about to say the same thing. My eyes tore into him and I was close to losing it when Bob grabbed my arm.

“WHAT?”

“I’m going; I’ve had about as much as I can take of this place.”

“Fine, I’m ready too, let’s go.”

I left it to Bob to say goodbye to the smug little brat in the armchair. I was too wound up to even look at him and I didn’t want to give him an opportunity to blank me. He had been doing it all day to Bob and I was sure that my colleague was in for more of the same medicine, but instead, Tyrone stood on his armchair to wave at him.

“Thank you for fixing the heating. Sorry that my fans held you up.”

“No problem, err, nice meeting you,” said Bob but when he turned his back on the kid, his expression said the opposite.

Tyrone didn’t bother to say goodbye to me, but I didn’t allow him the opportunity either as I marched out ahead of Bob cursing the time. It was gone ten and I was only just leaving work.

‘I can’t believe that he told me to grow up…the biggest brat in the world’.

When I got back to the security room, the South African was watching the CCTV of the front gates. The police had arrived and the mob was now noticeably smaller and better behaved.

“He is such a bleeding baby,” said Bob and the security guard chuckled.

“You're lucky, you’ve only had to put up with him for one day.”

“No, I’m talking about him, not the Karate kid in there, he was very polite.”

“Very funny Bob,” I said, but the South African didn’t get the joke.

“You’ll be able to leave soon,” he said. “Someone must have tipped them off earlier because they know he’s here, for sure.”

There were still plenty of photographers along with a number of hopeful fans including a hardcore group of about a dozen girls who looked as if they were here for the duration. They were wearing see-through plastic raincoats and hats and had come prepared, with refreshments and stuff for their idol to autograph.

“Is it worth them even turning up, he’s not gonna go out there. They could be waiting all year.”

“The photographers can make a lot of money with just one picture. They’re probably hoping that he goes out tonight and brings back a mystery lady. Gossip for the Sunday papers and the right photo can earn them a fortune.”

“Or a mystery man more like,” said Bob. “That’ll be a kick in the teeth for all those girls out there.”

“It wouldn’t stop them, they idolise him, it’s beyond crazy, it’s actually quite frightening. That’s why I didn’t want to open the gates until the police got here.”

As far as I was concerned, Tyrone didn’t deserve any fans or the luxury lifestyle that went with his job. I was glad to see the back of the obnoxious little prick.

As I shivered in the van waiting for the gates to open. I called Jazz to tell her that I was on my way. It was a relief to finally be leaving. We had been in that house for a fraction over thirteen hours.

“Let’s get out of this shithole,” said Bob and he revved the engine, covering the security guard in a cloud of blue exhaust fumes. It was probably the most opulent shithole that I had ever been to, and a lot nicer than the shithole that he called home, but I wasn’t about to argue the toss. With any luck, I would be home before eleven and at Jazz’s house by one. My Saturday night routine was in ruins, but I would still be able to make it to the church.

“You look knackered mate.”

“I’m shattered,” I said closing my eyes.

“You won't be able to go tonight.”

“I will.”

“No you won't, you’ll be tucked up in your…what the fucking hell is wrong now?”

I opened one eye to see Bob looking in his side mirror. It signalled a problem and he hit the steering wheel in anger.

When he wound down the driver’s window and I heard Mrs Dewsbury’s shrill voice, I shook my head in disbelief.

“The radiator in Tyrone’s room isn’t working, there’s no heat up there at all! Can you go in and have a look at it?”

“I don’t believe this,” said Bob. “I know they were working when we finished; I went around the whole house checking them.”

It was a regular practice to do that, you couldn’t leave without checking everything. We always did that and there was no way that something could have gone wrong that quickly.

I had a feeling almost straight away that Tyrone was somehow responsible. I wouldn’t have put it past him to sabotage our work in order to cause problems and satisfy his sick humour. I was fuming as I jumped out of the van and marched back into the house past a nervous-looking Mrs Dewsbury.

Bob looked weary as he dragged his heels behind us, he was flagging. It had been a long day and we both could have done without this extra and probably unnecessary drama.

“I’ll take a look at it, Bob,” I said taking off my shoes. “You wait here.”

The house was warm, I could hear the pump running and all the other radiators were hot to the touch, so it had to be an isolated problem.

I followed Mrs Dewsbury upstairs to a big door in the middle of the corridor and waited while she knocked three times. There was no answer. I let out a deep breath and looked at my watch as she tried again with another three knocks.

“He’s in there,” she said. “He’s probably listening to music.”

I was about to suggest coming back on Monday when the door flew open. Tyrone was standing to one side dressed for winter in an oversized woolly jumper and baggy jeans. It was the fourth set of clothes that I had seen him in since that morning.

‘That’s more than Bob wears in a month’.

He didn’t look at me or say anything as he retreated to a queen size bed in the middle of the very spacious bedroom. There was one very long radiator under the two windows and I made my way across a minefield of discarded clothing to take a look.

It was cold, but the pipe leading to the radiator was hot and the lockshield valve was open, so it had to be either trapped air or a faulty thermostat. I was sure that Bob would have bled it when he did his checks, but I did it again anyway, to no avail.

“Do you know what the problem is?”

“This is definitely the only one that’s not getting hot, right?”

“As far as I know, yes,” she whispered. “But it’s the most important one. It gets cold up here at night. Last night it was unbearable for him.”

‘The poor little boy’.

“We’ve been here all day and nobody said anything about this.” I felt like kicking the bloody thing.

It obviously wasn’t sabotaged but I was certain that the little brat was getting some kind of perverse thrill from watching me pulling my hair out. It was Bob’s fault for not checking it properly and I ran downstairs to confront him.

“I couldn’t get into that room,” he said. “The door was locked.”

“He would have been in there then,” said Mrs Dewsbury. “The door only locks from the inside.”

“I tried knocking.”

“Did you knock three times?” I said. Bob looked at me as if I was crazy but Mrs Dewsbury understood and looked away nervously. “That was where you went wrong, wasn’t it Mrs Dewsbury?”

“Will you be able to fix it?” she said trying to change the subject.

“I’m supposed to be going out tonight.”

“I’ll be happy to pay you in cash, no need to go through the company.”

I looked at Bob expecting him to jump at the mention of cash, but his greedy eyes looked tired for a change. He had already pocketed fifty quid from her earlier; money which he was supposed split with me, but hadn’t.

“We don’t know if it can be fixed yet,” I said.

“Please do your best. He can be…well, a little…problematic at times. It goes with the job, he’s under constant pressure.”

“Ain’t we all,” I said.

“He’s a bleeding poof,” said Bob. Mrs Dewsbury wasn’t impressed and it always riled me when he used those terms.

“That’s funny, a little while ago you were saying how polite he was.”

“It was a joke.”

“Gentlemen please, I have two hundred pounds in cash upstairs to pay you with, but if that’s not enough, I can run out to a cashpoint to get some more.”

Her approach was guaranteed to work on the likes of Bob, who’s tired eyes looked a lot better all of a sudden. He seemed to take on a new lease of life.

“I suppose we could take a look at it,” he said and signalled for me to follow him out to the van. “It’s probably only the thermostat valve, I’ve got one in the back that we can put on.”

This was a surprise to me, but Bob kept a lot of crap in the back of the van. Stuff that sometimes even he didn’t know that he had, but it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. To replace the thermostat valve without draining the radiator would mean having to freeze the inlet pipe. It would be at least another hour before we could get away, but it was only a one-man job.

“I don’t suppose you could do this on your own Bob?” I should have known better.

“Of course I can, me old mucker, but I’m not going to, If I’m fucking staying then so are you. He’s your pal anyway. I thought you’d be happy to help him out.”

“He’s not my friend, just because I played a bloody video game with him.”

In the security room, the friendly South African security guard had been replaced by a sour-faced man from Eastern Europe, who could barely speak English. So much for the increased security, they were supposed to get. No expense spared by the record company, to protect one of their most profitable assets.

As we walked out into the cold night air, our presence at the side of the house sparked some interest and a few screams from the hardcore fans outside the gate. They were a good fifty metres away but Bob acknowledged them with a wave and a little dance. It earned him a few cheers and whistles, as well as some not so complimentary advice from the paparazzi.

“You gotta have a laugh Andy,” he said after giving them the finger and lighting another cigarette. “You're a long time dead you know?”

“Even longer for you mate, if you don’t quit smoking.”

“Everyone to their own young Andy, I’m sure you're not perfect. No one knows what you get up to on a Saturday night. You keep all that stuff quiet.”

He was right, of course, nobody knew and I would never tell them, but that night, for the first time in two years, I was in real danger of missing out.

He threw his cigarette into the gravel and trod on it. “Come on then, let’s fix this bloody thing for the little shit and you can have an extra hundred knicker in your pocket.”

“A hundred and twenty-five, Bob. You owe me twenty-five from earlier.”

“Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “I forgot all about that.”

“Yeah, funny that.”

“You should remind me.”

“I just did.”

- 11.30 pm -

Bob was beginning to look remarkably similar to the walking dead in the ridiculous zombie film that Tyrone was pretending to watch from the comfort of his bed. He had refused Mrs Dewsbury attempts to get him to move to another room while we worked on the radiator, preferring to watch us instead. I didn’t like it. I found his presence in the room unsettling and creepy. Every time I turned around, he seemed to be watching me, as if he was waiting for something to go wrong, so he could complain.

We were tired but it was a relatively simple job and we weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing us bungle. Everything was going smoothly, but it was taking longer than expected and Jazz had sent three text messages asking where I was.

Tyrone had hardly said a word and when I heard him walking around the room, I was hoping that he was starting to lose interest, but he was only going for a leak. I guess pop stars have to pee too and I could hear his stream splashing the bowl as Bob got my attention.

“Have a look at these?” he whispered holding up a pair of skimpy red briefs.

“They don’t suit you, Bob.”

“No, I found them on the floor.”

“Are you crazy, put them back, before he sees you?”

“What do think I’ll get for them?”

‘I might have known’.

“Six months to a year, if he catches you.”

“Haven’t you guys finished yet, how long does it take to fix a stupid radiator?” The truce was over, but at least he hadn’t caught Bob with his grubby hands on his underwear.

“We’re almost finished now,” I said but as Bob tightened the valve with a spanner, his hand slipped and the ring cracked.

I stopped and stared with Bob at the broken fixing, praying that it would hold, but knowing that it wouldn’t. Within a second or two water from the radiator began to drip from the fracture into the bowl beneath and Bob launched into a rant that must have included every swear word and profanity in the English language.

It was the disaster that we had been trying so hard to avoid, and I cursed my luck as I removed the new valve we were fitting and capped the radiator to stem the now steady flow of water. We were now further back than when we had started.

‘I’m gonna be here all night’.

I was ready to give up when Mrs Dewsbury came into the room, no doubt alerted by the grating sound of Tyrone’s hoarse laughter.

‘That’s the end of my weekend’.

- Midnight –

I found Bob standing by the van having a smoke and I threw the thermostat valve that we were fitting through the open doors.

“Where did you get that from?” I demanded. He shrugged his shoulders at me and looked sheepishly at the gravel. “It’s not new, I know that much.”

“I thought it would be okay, it looked alright.”

“Thanks Bob, now we’re really in the shit.” I punched the van in frustration and went back to the house to talk with Mrs Dewsbury.

“He’s tired,” I said. “Mistakes happen when you’re tired.”

“I understand,” she said. “Tyrone will have to move into the guest room for the night and we’ll leave it until the morning. What time will you be back tomorrow.”

“Wait a minute, I can’t come back tomorrow. It’ll be Monday.”

“You can’t leave it like that until Monday.”

“Why not, you said that you had a guest room, I didn’t even know there was a guest room, this whole thing could have waited until Monday. I should be at home by now, getting ready to go out. I had something planned. This is so…so, argh I don’t believe you people. He is so spoiled, he’s got everyone running around after him and he’s laughing at us.”

“Have you quite finished?” she said quietly.

“Yes.”

“Okay, do whatever you can; I’ve had enough.” She turned and walked upstairs, leaving me wondering why I was still there. It was nearly twelve thirty and I needed to make a decision, but first, I needed to call Jazz.

“What do you mean you're still there, why? I thought you were leaving ages ago.”

“I was, but we’ve had a few unexpected problems and one of the valves broke, this job is cursed, I swear.”

“I’m all dressed up and ready to go,” she said.

“I’m gonna have to cancel, I’m too wound up to enjoy myself tonight anyway.” It wasn’t what Jazz wanted to hear and she went quiet for a while as she worked on a plan.

I was sitting on one of the chairs in the upstairs hallway watching Tyrone walking some of his stuff from his room to the guest room at the end of the hallway. He wasn’t very happy but I found it amusing watching him do some work.

“If you can get a cab direct to my place, then you can get changed here. I’ve got some things that you can wear,” said Jazz.

“Oh no, Jazz please, I’m not wearing your clothes. They’re too small for me.”

“I got something that’ll suit you,” she said. “And don’t forget to bring your new friend along.”

“Shutup, he’s not my friend Jazz, he’s a wanker. I have to go.”

I knocked three times and Tyrone opened the door for me.

“I need to put the old valve back on the radiator before the pipe unfreezes.”

He stood aside looking uninterested but at least he wasn’t laughing anymore.

“Where’s the old guy, has he left you here on your own?”

“He’s downstairs.”

“You guys have gotta be the worst plumbers ever, but you funny. You should try comedy.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, I’m only joking okay. Don’t take it personally.”

I stood up and turned to face him. “What do you mean don’t take it personally? I was supposed to be going out tonight, you’ve ruined it for me and all you can do is laugh about it.”

“It’s hardly my fault, you're the stupid one.”

“Why, because I have a normal job and don’t have loads of screaming fans chasing after me, does that make me stupid?”

“You put your hands down people’s toilets,” he sneered.

“They pay me to do it,”

“I wouldn’t do it.”

“I wouldn’t stand up on a stage and sing shitty songs.”

“They’re not shitty, you’re shitty and it’s only because you can’t sing.”

“Neither can you, but at least I admit it.” He narrowed his eyes at me and I feared the worst as I saw him ball his fists and walk towards me.

“You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I just did.”

He stopped about a metre in front of me and stared hard into my eyes, trying his best to look menacing, but I wasn’t impressed and this time I was ready for him.

I took a step backwards but he took a slightly bigger step forwards, decreasing the gap between us.

“What are you doing?” I said.

“What are you doing?”

I took another step back and he did exactly the same getting even closer.

“Back off,” I said.

“No, I can do whatever I want in this house.”

“You’re invading my space.”

“It’s not your space, it’s mine.” He smiled at me and I wondered how his teeth could look so perfect.

“I don’t trust you.”

“You’re scared of me aren’t you?”

“No, I just don’t trust you, you bit me remember?”

“Oh yeah,” he said and giggled.

“It’s not funny.”

“I think so.”

I tried to take another step back but this time I hit the wall and he giggled before shuffling a little closer.

“I’m warning you, Tyrone, stay away from me.” My voice though was hardly intimidating and closer to a whisper than a threat.

He shuffled a little closer and I tensed up ready to defend myself against the bluest eyes that I had ever seen.

He was too close; close enough for me to smell his deodorant, close enough for him to bite me again if he wanted to, and close enough for him to lean forward and kiss me on the lips.

‘SHIT’!