Cal - 8. Chapter 8

Stuff happened, time passed - whatever, I don’t really care right now. It’s Monday morning, 9.45am, and I’m walking towards the bar for my interview at 10.00am. I feel - and this is no exaggeration - like I’m fucking perfect. I know that I look great, my boyfriend loves me, and I told him I love him too, the sun is shining, the birds are making bird noises like they do. In short - it’s all fucking awesome. All that needs to happen now, is for whoever is doing the interviewing to see what is so blatantly true, and give me the job.

And of course - that’s all bollocks. Well, no, even that’s not true. All of that stuff is true, but as well as that, I can feel it, there, inside me. Fear. Fucking fear - and all that other crap that comes with it, you know, the doubt, the insecurity, frankly just plain terror. It’s there, I know it. I learnt a long time ago that I can use it, not in some shitty fucking martial arts movie way, there’s no ‘wax on, wax off’ moment coming up. But there’s a real massive high in that fear somewhere, and if I can find it, I can run, fight, escape, lose the chasers, drive like god, and do whatever it takes to win. And yet again, all that stuff that has done me so well for so long - is worth fuck all right now. I don’t really have the faintest idea how to manage this, but I guess I’ll just have to see what happens. I only have to do three things; be nice, be honest, don’t be stupid. Which kind of means there are some other rules too, but it just sounds way cooler to say there are three. Smile, don’t swear, and don’t be too honest. I kinda already knew that not swearing was probably the hardest! I think actually I might have toned it down these last few days, but it’s not like I’m keeping count. You see, usually I would have said the word ‘fucking’ at least twice in that sentence. Fucking awesome. And no, that doesn’t count. It was blatantly a new sentence. Wow - kinda hyper today.

I walked in, the place was quiet - no, actually, empty, other than the girl behind the bar. She told me to sit down and wait, which I did, refusing the offer of tea or coffee. She was called Becky, and was pretty, and friendly. Eeeeew, I thought a girl was pretty, what’s happening to me!? Ha ha ha. I really need to try and calm down. A few minutes later an older guy came out and introduced himself as Frank, he was apparently the owner of the place, and Becky was the Bar Manager. In his 50’s I guess, probably loaded, but seemed nice enough. He was the one who was going to be interviewing me.
It all started pretty well I think, I managed to stick to my three (OK, five or six) rules, and I think I managed to be interesting as well. It was pretty weird though, talking about myself in an interview. There weren’t any real questions about the job, which I thought there was going to be, but loads of stuff about me, what I thought about this or that, it wasn’t what I was expecting, but I think it was going well. After all, this is the bit I am good at, making like I’m all sweet and good, being easy to get on with, easy to trust, easy to talk to. Have I told you this before? I dunno. But when you’re stealing expensive cars - like, proper expensive cars, there’s no point fucking about smashing windows or ‘hotwiring’ - as if you could. No, by far the best way to steal a car, is to get the keys and drive off. Kinda fucking obvious isn’t it? And to get the keys - being nice, and ‘trustworthy’, and easy to get on with can get you all the places you need. It’s all social engineering. It’s a pity I can’t do a better job of applying this to my actual social life.

Anyway, I think the interview was going well, I hadn’t fucked up as far as I could tell, and besides, how serious was it going to be anyway, I’m serving drinks. But then, inevitably, the forms.

“Now it seems that there was something of an oversight when we went out the application paperwork, and you didn’t receive the additional forms.”

It sounded like a question, the way his voice changed pitch, but clearly actually wasn’t one.

“I don’t imagine there’ll be any problems, but I will need you to just sign these.”

He passed me the forms, the first one being the one for any convictions. I just sat there for a second, looking at the form. I could just lie. I mean, I could totally fucking do it, he would never know, and no-one knows me. I looked at Frank, he was looking at me, probably expecting me to either say something or sign the form, which is pretty reasonable given the circumstances. I looked away again back to the form.

“We’re probably going to need to talk about this more.”

There - I’d said it, no going back now. Stupid fuck.

“Oh?”

Well what did I expect him to say? I dunno.

“There’s some stuff I need to write in that box, before I can sign it.”

“Well go on then, fill it in, and then sign it.”

What a weird guy. Firstly, no-one really talks like that, surely. Not for real. And secondly, why are you making me do this!? Just tell me to leave. I kind of knew it would happen anyway. I finished detailing my convictions, and sentence, signed it, and handed it to him. Taking it from me, he put it with my application form, and put the whole lot back in a file.

“Is that it? Aren’t you going to even read it, or ask me about it?”

Fuck. I’m pretty sure that nearly all of my interview rules broke in one go.

“Probably, eventually. But I don’t imagine it’s terribly important right now.”

I didn’t understand, how could it not be?

“Mr Richardson, unless you turn out to be a convicted terrorist, which I think may preclude you from employment in this country, then it’s generally illegal for me to make a decision about the job based on whatever you’ve put on that form. We ask, because we can, and because sometimes it’s useful to know. You tell us, well, because you have to. That’s all.”

Wow, I had no idea it was like that. No-one really goes through stuff like that, stuff that might actually be helpful to know, when you’re in prison.

“Do you specifically want to talk to me about what’s on the form Mr Richardson?”

“No, well, yes, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Then I should stick with ‘no’ if I was you.”

Frank smiled, and I filled in the other couple of forms before shaking his hand and walking out.

That was fucking weird. Fucking. Weird. Frank told me to wait in the bar, which I did, and he called Becky in to his office where I had just been. A couple of minutes later, Becky returned and walked over to me.

“So it seems that you’re going to be my new bar staff, if you want it.”

Surprised doesn’t really cover it.

“What? I mean, yes, but what?”

“Great, when can you start? Wednesday would be good for me, we can sort of your shifts then if that’s OK.”

“Yes, sure. Thank you. Seriously, thank you!”

I gave her a kiss before pretty much running all the way to Davey’s office. Vicky was at Reception, as usual.

“Hello Cal, how are you today?”

So nice, all the time. Is there a special school you go to do you think?

“Hey Vicky. I. Am. Awesome. Thanks for asking. Is he free?”

“Yes, I’m sure he is for you. Go straight up, I’ll let him know you’re on your way.”

“Thanks.”

I got out of the lift on the ninth floor only to be greeted, of course, by Nihal. Vicky had obviously not told him I was on my way up, which made me smile. He was kind of funny to watch when he was surprised. I like her more and more. I walked over to Davey’s office door.

“Is there anything I can help you with Mr Richardson?”

“I really wouldn’t think so Nihal, but so sweet of you to ask!” I think even a deaf guy could have picked up on the sarcasm.

Closing the door behind me, Davey was already half way towards me.

“So? It looks like good news, is it? How did it go? Have you heard already?"

I love the way he gets so excited.

“Yeah, of course I fucking got it!”

Davey picked me up and was spinning me round the room like a crazy fucking freak. A very happy, proud of his boyfriend, crazy fucking freak. And I loved it. I don’t really remember anyone being proud of me before, and it makes me feel about a thousand times bigger.

“Look, I can’t get out of the office right now, but I’ll finish early and we can go out and celebrate.”

“Awesome Davey, sounds awesome. Thank you, for all the help.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy with your clothes on.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking cool!”

Annoyingly I had to leave Davey. As much as I think he would have been OK with me staying all afternoon, I knew that I would just be a distraction, so I headed home. Jen was still there, and was equally - if not even more happy for me. But with much less spinning round the room and kissing. Not having loads to do, I took Scarlett out to the park for a couple of hours. I didn’t realise at the time, but that was the first time I’ve voluntarily been alone with her. And it was really cool. I saw a couple of people I had come to recognise, you know, from the park, Davey calls them The Walkies People which always makes me smile, I guess because that’s the only time we see them. He has a weird sense of humour some times.

I. Have. A. Job. I kept saying it to myself, well, and to Scarlett too, but she wasn’t ever so talkative. Even if she does seem to understand, there’s a real limit as to how much I can interpret from the small range of barks and growly noises. We headed home, and it wasn’t long before Davey got back too. He’d already booked my new favourite restaurant, a little Italian place, not too up it’s self, but also pretty fucking nice, and kinda expensive. We weren’t booked in for several hours so Davey got to show me exactly how happy he was.

Ooooooh yeah. Undressed in record time, Davey was kissing me like crazy, which I wasn’t too disappointed about! Kissing my neck and wanking my already hard cock, yeah, nothing to fucking complain about here. That would have been totally awesome enough, but Davey was not stopping there. Catching me by surprise as he squeezed my balls, he bit my neck. The fucker bit me! I’m going to have a hickey! I was slightly pissed, but majorly turned on, and that intense moment of realising what he had done nearly sent me over the edge. But Davey wasn’t having it, he slowed right down, and then carried on. Fuck. Working down my chest, kissing and feeling over my abs, and yes, oh fucking yeah Davey, sucking my cock. I was getting real close again, thanks to my boyfriends amazing mouth. I was thinking that I could probably squeeze fifteen or twenty minutes of ecstasy out of this, but feeling Daveys fingers playing with my arse pretty much put an end to that plan. As his fingers pushed in to me I was gone, and I think he knew it. Sucking hard, it felt like my spunk was boiling as I unloaded into Davey’s throat. Damn it, that was short but intense, and I was still hard. A point not lost on Davey as he gently pushed my knees up. Awwwww fuck yeah. Still coming down from my post-spunk high, Davey’s fingers inside me felt like heaven. And then things got a whole world more fucking intense as he started to fuck me. I was still imagining that this would be a leisurely hour or so of me getting well and truly fucked, but of course, neither of us were really in that place. Getting faster and harder, I could feel myself getting carried towards the edge again. Fuck. I really don’t know how he does it, but he can make me cum so fast. I can see he is getting close too, and his hand on my cock is all I need to let go with another fucking load. Shooting all over myself, there’s cum on my neck, and way past that I think, and Davey is going just has hard inside me.

We pretty much fell into a heap, Davey half on top of me, and I totally zoned out for a few minutes. At least, I thought it was a few minutes, but an hour later and Davey is having to wake me up so that we can be at the restaurant in time. I dunno how long Davey had been up, but I feel kinda bad for falling asleep. Having started with hours, now I was having to rush to get ready. But was fucking worth it.
The food was awesome, as I thought it would be, and we talked about the job over dinner. There wasn’t loads to talk about though, as I didn’t know very much. But after my first day on Wednesday, I guess things will make more sense. Fuck, that’s in, like, two days. Oh fuck. What am I doing? I don’t know how to have a job. I don’t know anything about working in a bar. They’re so gonna see that they’ve made a mistake. I’ll probably end up with like the shortest career in history. Do you think it’s possible to get fired before the end of your first day? I don’t see why not. Oh god, and then Davey will realise what a fuck up I am. The guy who can’t even keep a lousy bar job. I suppose that will be the end of it all then. I mean, he’s not going to want to hang around with some freaking loser like me is he? I guess I could go back to London. There’ll be no point staying around here, it’s not like I really know anyone. It was all pretty shit there last time, but it’s no worse than staying here. I’ll have to see if I can find some of the old guys and get back on the car scene, I bet they’ll still be hanging around the same old places and…

“Cal… Cal…”

I look up, Davey is holding my hands on the table and I’m kind of surprised to see him.

“Cal, baby, whatever is going on in your head, we can deal with it.”

I didn’t really know what to say. Davey passed me a napkin and I realised that I had a tear running down my cheek. Fuck. How embarrassing is this? Davey stepped around the table and gave me a massive hug, which really does help. One arm wrapping around me as he strokes my hair with his other hand, pulling my head into him. As he was there, hugging me, on his knees since I was still sat down, just for a second, I wondered if he was going to ask me to marry him. I know - right? One extreme to the other. He didn’t, of course. I would have fucking mentioned it before now if he had! Although I’m not sure what I would be saying about it.

I returned to the real world, and we finished dinner, which was amazing. Davey didn’t press too hard on what went on with me when I spaced out, but I think he has a pretty good idea. It’s hardly like it’s the first time I’ve been insecure is it? We went on for a few drinks to Davey’s favourite bar, the expensive place I first stalked him to. It was pretty quiet, being a Monday night, so we easily found a table a little out of the way to enjoy our massively expensive drinks at. He was asking me loads of questions about the job and the place, to which I had almost none of the answers. But that’s cool, it’s fucking awesome that he’s so excited about it.

Out of nowhere, Davey said “Oh god, sorry Cal, I didn’t know...”
But before I had chance to work out what the fuck he was going on about, his friends Mark and Simon appeared next to us. Don’t get me wrong, they’re OK guys, I actually kinda like Simon, he was pretty involved in me getting together with Davey. But I was really enjoying our time together, just me and Davey. From the brief look he gave me, I think Davey knew how I felt as Simon gave him a hug.

“Davey! Good to see you, and Cal, what are you guys doing out on a school night?”

Davey was surprisingly short for an answer, and after a couple of seconds of us just looking at each other, I thought that at least one of us should say something!

“Actually, we’re celebrating."

I said it without thinking, and immediately regretted it, but too late now. All I could do was try and deflect the conversation away form us.

“But how about you two, are you allowed out on your own without Kati?”

“Yeah, funny, we ARE allowed out without her.”

Mark was joking, I think.

“OK, well, we promise not to tell her.”

Davey, thank fuck, was back to normal.

“So what are you celebrating?”

OK, so it’s a pretty normal question to ask. But fuck you Simon, why did you have to ask it?
I looked to Davey doing my ‘is it OK if I tell them, because if I do then I’ll have to explain a few things to them’ face. He gave me a ‘it’s OK with me but it’s totally up to you’ look. At least I think that’s what happened.

“What’s going on guys?”

Wow, Mark was surprisingly straight to the point.

“Nothing” I started, “we’re celebrating my new job.”

“OK, cool, why didn’t you say so? What is it? A promotion?”

Simon really is a nice guy. I’ve decided. But damn him some times.

“Actually, no. I’m working behind the bar at The Park House.”

“Oh, OK. Weren’t you in Sales?”

And there it was. The choice. I could easily have just said ‘yeah, well, you know how it is...’ or some other bullshit line, and the whole thing would have been over. But these are Davey’s friends, real friends. It’s not right that he has to lie to them just for me. So I did it. Apparently it was the day for honest but not too honest moments.

“Yeah, well, that’s not strictly true. And by that, I mean not true at all. I didn’t exactly have a job after coming out of prison.”

One. Two. Three. How many seconds, I’m not sure, not many. And definitely too honest.

“Ha ha ha ha, yeah, nice one Cal, you’re funny.”

I wasn’t sure if Simon genuinely didn’t believe me, or just couldn’t quite manage to comprehend it. He looked to Davey, then to me, then back to Davey. Davey smiled at him, as he held my hand reassuringly tightly on the table. He looked to Mark for some kind of help I think, but it wasn’t there. Mark had apparently been thrown into some kind of shock, staring at me, mouth slightly open.

“Davey?"

I kind of felt sorry for Simon, in his last ditch attempt to make this normal. Surely, Davey is going to laugh, or tell him he’s a gullible twat, something, anything. But of course, that didn’t happen. Looking to me for final confirmation before he spoke.

“Yeah, so, there we are. Apparently you can ask questions now.”

“You mean, he’s, like seriously? He’s been in prison?”

Simon was still in disbelief.

“What the hell are you doing Davey? Fuck, his is crazy. Do you even know what he’s done?”

Ok then, Mark’s not so pleased with the truth. And, hello, I’m actually right here?

“OK, how about I go and get more drinks while you three catch up?"

I went to the bar, taking a few minutes longer than I needed to. I really don’t know if that was a good thing, or a stupid thing, or both. Maybe both. When I got back, they were all sat at the table, and it looked as though Davey was having to fend off about a million questions. I put the drinks on the table and sat down, not knowing what to expect, prepared to be honest I guess. But Mark was on his feet immediately, leaning over me. Wow, he was pissed off. Like, seriously angry.

“What the fuck? Is this all part of your little game? Just using people to get whatever you need like the worthless fucking piece of shit you are? Huh? Is it? How many other people have you done this to? You fucking disgust me, why are you even allowed out? I bet you’re Mum’s so fucking ashamed of you! You’re kind should be locked up for ever! I knew there was something wrong with you as soon as I saw you. You should just fuck off, right now. What have you got to say?“

Oh god, I so wanted to punch his lights out. What a twat. Bit I didn’t. I didn’t stand up, pick up a bottle and glass his face. I sat there, and tried to be calm. Concentrate on the breathing.

“I got nothing man, I told you because I wanted to be honest, and I don’t want Davey feeling like he has to cover for me. But I’m not going to justify my life to you either. You’ve got no fucking idea who I am, but you still think it’s OK to behave like a cunt?”

Yeah, I know. I shouldn’t have pushed it with the ‘c’ word. But even that thought was unfinished when he punched me in the face. The fucker, he actually punched me! And then all kinds of shit went off. I could feel blood running down the side of my face, not sure where from. How dare he hit me? How fucking dare he! Like every other fucking bastard who thinks they’re better than me, like I somehow deserve it? And truly, for future reference, don’t ever fucking bring my Mum in to this. I might fucking hate her, but she’s my Mum. I could feel it, building almost instantly. Not fear, not anger, or adrenaline, or stress, or any of those things. This is rage. Total fucking rage. Not logical, you can’t reason with it, you can barely remember what it felt like without it. I’ve not felt like this for a really long time, but how fucking dare you. Mark was angry, sure. But he’s clearly never been in a fight. At least, not one where he won. I was easily able to get in a good kidney punch as I was still sat down, before getting a couple of good hits to his chest and face as I pushed him backwards toward the wall. Pinning him by his neck against the wall. It was Simon who stopped me. Struggling against me, pulling me away from him. I really think I might have killed him. Then I’d be properly fucked. But I didn’t. Almost as soon as it came, the rage subsides, and Simon is just holding me tight.

“You see Davey, you can’t even control you little fucking criminal.”

He must really hate me. Maybe someone stole his car once. Davey is stood up, looking very pissed off.

“Get out.”

It was a pretty clear instruction. I think a couple of the staff who were now looking over worried abut what was kicking off made a move towards the door.

“What?”

“Get out. Leave. Go home. Go anywhere. Just don’t be here.”

Mark looked kinda scared. Hell, I felt kinda scared. Davey was clearly immensely pissed off, and he seemed to have this huge authority when he spoke to Mark.

“It’s OK, we’re all OK, and he’s leaving.”

I looked over, and Davey was talking to the guy on the door, who was presumably hoping for his usual quiet Monday night shift where nothing happens. Mark stormed off, well, ‘stormed’ is perhaps over stating it, he was clearly in pain. Good. He was saying something about ‘this is all fucked up’, but I didn’t much care. Davey and Simon re-arranged to furniture, and the whole little incident was almost gone. I was feeling hugely embarrassed, so went to the toilets to hide whilst I sorted out my face, wiped off the blood, and tried to remember how to fucking breath. The cut was actually pretty tiny, just above my eyebrow piercing. But I felt totally ashamed of what just happened. And not just the bit where I retaliated. But those things he was saying. It’s not like I haven’t said them to myself before now.

When I returned, Davey was hugging me immediately, and I was trying to apologise for hitting his friend.

“It’s OK, he’s not my friend.”

It was nice to hear Davey say that, although I didn’t like he idea that I had made them fall out.

“He’s no friend of mine either, he was way out of order talking to you like that.”

Wow, even Simon was on board. But I just wanted to go home.