I’m sitting at home waiting to get picked up and Ed is late so I’m on my fifth whisky & ginger and then the phone rings and it’s Ed and he says we’re fucked because Charlie Potatoes got stabbed to death outside Quinto’s Wine Lodge last night and then he hangs up.
In the club Ian had some blonde straddling him. On the black leather bench seat that ran the full length of the wall each side of him couples’ were either fucking with theatrical revelry or in various stages of reckless foreplay. As the blonde rode Ian he saw over her shoulder that through the murk of hazy spotlights Erin was navigating a route towards him. Ian eased the blonde off his lap, “Sorry,” he made a gesture at Erin, whose petite frame stood there completely naked apart from her high red stilettos. “Girlfriend problems,” he joked. The blonde Continue reading
Come Monday morning Steve Kowalski doubted he’d have a job to go back to. Before his meeting with Lola and Dom today he went down town and wandered about for a little while. He went in the coffee shop, the one near the flea market where the repulsively ugly head-barista had bug eyes and a receding chin that disappeared into his neck, devolving into rolls of fleshy, pink fat. The ugly swine was enough to put you off your coffee. Disappointingly, the pretty waitress wasn’t on duty as an antidote. Kowalski found a table over in the corner and Continue reading
PC 7032, Martin Strurgess, was the first on the scene. The dead man was slumped over the table he’d apparently been Continue reading
For a start, I believe one must have a secret. I am beyond love. I am beyond redemption and I am beyond seeking Continue reading
I trace the outline of Elena’s face, running my fingertip down her delicate nose and along her slim jaw line. She is young and the texture of her skin flawless, like a pebble on the beach made smooth by the sea. She has not a single line or a scar or blemish, except for the pretty freckles speckling her cheeks. She is the colour of coffee and cream. Her sleeping head with its auburn hair cascading like a waterfall on the pillow next to me; she is truly the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. I like watching Elena as she sleeps. Sometimes when I can’t sleep I lie listening to the soft rhythm of her breathing; attuning my own with hers, until I begin to drift off.
Jason Michel talks to the irrepressible U.V. Ray
Q1: Hey, u.v.ray. Tell the readers a bit about yourself.
I was a child prodigy. By the time I was just 6 years old I was already well on my way to inventing a self-stirring saucepan. I tell you, if I could have solved the problem of the melting rubber band I’d have been a millionaire today. As it stands, I dropped out of school at the age of 15 without any qualifications and spent the 80’s and 90’s drifting around the backstreet bars and clubs of Birmingham City. Several of my friends from that era are dead. But I don’t remember anything with any real clarity, I mean a lot of crap went under the bridge. But I think I had a good run and I’d do it all over again if I was younger. None of us had shit to our names but at least everyone seemed to be trying to do something; either form bands, make films or, in my case, be a writer. I would ask behind the bar for a pen and write on torn up beer mats and cigarette packets and the likes.
Offenbach came in and leaned his black umberella against the wall in the corner of the room. He adjusted his suit and sat down in the leather chair opposite Norton, crossing his legs.