bag and reached to open the door to freedom, ready to make a hasty exit.
----
T he door creaked open and I stumbled out into Max’s office. Pins and needles surged up my legs, protesting my hurried movements.
I shook my legs to get the blood flowing when a tall, looming figure, too skinny to be Terry, burst through the private office door. His breathing was laboured as though he’d just run a couple of marathons back to back.
I screamed and fell as he approached. He was head to toe in black, coming for me. Searching in the bottomless pit of my bag for the gun, I propelled myself backwards. I drove my legs into the floor and pushed myself away, scrambling towards the wall… towards a dead end.
My fingertips grazed the cool steel of the gun, and just as I was about to pull it out, a familiar voice registered in the air.
“Kate, stop. Kate! It’s me!”
I paused, not believing. His face was bruised, battered and broken. He was more purple than pink. Rapidly blinking, I stared into those crystal blue eyes.
“Eric?” I asked, squinting at the person kneeling over me.
He nodded, puzzled. “Smart cookie. Are you OK?”
He was alive! Anger flared and battled against the pleasure rising within me from seeing him again.
I slapped him hard across his swollen cheek, then unceremoniously fell to the floor, fainting.
13
I woke not knowing where I was. The air was musty, and my head lay upon a soft mound, a jacket; it smelled like leather and sweat. Upon opening my eyes, I saw black beams lining the ceiling above me; thick blue smoke swirled in the air. All around, a soft green glow bounced off the unfinished walls.
Where the hell was I? Did I hallucinate, or had I truly seen Eric? The man who’d given me so much pleasure but had tangled me up within a dangerous world.
Sitting up, I reached gingerly for the back of my head – I must have knocked it – and I glanced around the room.
At first, all I saw were bright green rectangular tables in the distance, and canopy lights above directed all their concentration onto the felted surfaces below. It was difficult to see anyone around the edges; the contrast was too stark. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could occasionally see grey, shadowy figures moving like ghosts around the illuminated tables. They’d come into sharp focus, full of colour, as they came close to tables to set up a shot. Everything felt so bizarre, and I convinced myself I was still asleep.
The large warehouse-like space was quiet, with only the occasional strike of balls hitting balls and the swoosh of a net as one fell into a pocket. There had to be over twelve snooker tables, arranged in rows of three, in the large area directly in front of me. I sat tucked away in a corner, hidden. My only company was two bare snooker tables cast in darkness.
“You OK, pet?” asked a tubby man, poking his head around the corner. His hair was thinning, and he wore a crumpled white shirt, his suit trousers tight around his torso, causing his beer-belly to spill over.
“Er,” I stammered, not knowing what to say.
“Where did you come from then? Can’t kip here! Club is for members only you know,” he said frowning. He took hold of my elbow, forcing me to stand, and moved me towards the central hall.
A small but fully-stocked bar on the right-hand side entertained a quiet cluster of men who sat on raised stools, huddled together, talking and drinking.
“Does this belong to anyone?” the tubby man bellowed, gesturing to me and still holding onto my elbow. I wanted to pull away and run, but I stayed rooted to the spot.
The chatter died down, and all heads turned in my direction; questioning faces glared at me.
“Aye, man, she’s with me… leave her be. Had a bit too much to drink if you know what I mean,” said the man standing within the bar’s tiny enclosure. He was surrounded by beer pumps and sparkling options, drying glassware with a rag.
My elbow was released, and my face lit up; it was
----
T he door creaked open and I stumbled out into Max’s office. Pins and needles surged up my legs, protesting my hurried movements.
I shook my legs to get the blood flowing when a tall, looming figure, too skinny to be Terry, burst through the private office door. His breathing was laboured as though he’d just run a couple of marathons back to back.
I screamed and fell as he approached. He was head to toe in black, coming for me. Searching in the bottomless pit of my bag for the gun, I propelled myself backwards. I drove my legs into the floor and pushed myself away, scrambling towards the wall… towards a dead end.
My fingertips grazed the cool steel of the gun, and just as I was about to pull it out, a familiar voice registered in the air.
“Kate, stop. Kate! It’s me!”
I paused, not believing. His face was bruised, battered and broken. He was more purple than pink. Rapidly blinking, I stared into those crystal blue eyes.
“Eric?” I asked, squinting at the person kneeling over me.
He nodded, puzzled. “Smart cookie. Are you OK?”
He was alive! Anger flared and battled against the pleasure rising within me from seeing him again.
I slapped him hard across his swollen cheek, then unceremoniously fell to the floor, fainting.
13
I woke not knowing where I was. The air was musty, and my head lay upon a soft mound, a jacket; it smelled like leather and sweat. Upon opening my eyes, I saw black beams lining the ceiling above me; thick blue smoke swirled in the air. All around, a soft green glow bounced off the unfinished walls.
Where the hell was I? Did I hallucinate, or had I truly seen Eric? The man who’d given me so much pleasure but had tangled me up within a dangerous world.
Sitting up, I reached gingerly for the back of my head – I must have knocked it – and I glanced around the room.
At first, all I saw were bright green rectangular tables in the distance, and canopy lights above directed all their concentration onto the felted surfaces below. It was difficult to see anyone around the edges; the contrast was too stark. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I could occasionally see grey, shadowy figures moving like ghosts around the illuminated tables. They’d come into sharp focus, full of colour, as they came close to tables to set up a shot. Everything felt so bizarre, and I convinced myself I was still asleep.
The large warehouse-like space was quiet, with only the occasional strike of balls hitting balls and the swoosh of a net as one fell into a pocket. There had to be over twelve snooker tables, arranged in rows of three, in the large area directly in front of me. I sat tucked away in a corner, hidden. My only company was two bare snooker tables cast in darkness.
“You OK, pet?” asked a tubby man, poking his head around the corner. His hair was thinning, and he wore a crumpled white shirt, his suit trousers tight around his torso, causing his beer-belly to spill over.
“Er,” I stammered, not knowing what to say.
“Where did you come from then? Can’t kip here! Club is for members only you know,” he said frowning. He took hold of my elbow, forcing me to stand, and moved me towards the central hall.
A small but fully-stocked bar on the right-hand side entertained a quiet cluster of men who sat on raised stools, huddled together, talking and drinking.
“Does this belong to anyone?” the tubby man bellowed, gesturing to me and still holding onto my elbow. I wanted to pull away and run, but I stayed rooted to the spot.
The chatter died down, and all heads turned in my direction; questioning faces glared at me.
“Aye, man, she’s with me… leave her be. Had a bit too much to drink if you know what I mean,” said the man standing within the bar’s tiny enclosure. He was surrounded by beer pumps and sparkling options, drying glassware with a rag.
My elbow was released, and my face lit up; it was
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