Tom glanced into the murky surroundings of the Old Royal. Ten steps in any direction and a person’s features began to disappear and he suspected that this remained the reason for the pub’s popularity at five in the morning.
He slowed his breathing and listened.
He could hear fragments of conversation from the shadowy booths along the far wall. He squinted into the gloom and noticed the cautious glances of the occupants.
Bloody scoundrels …
He grinned at his thought; this group of crooks invested in the commodities that didn’t find their way onto the London Stock Exchange.
Tom sat close to the rear exit, facing the entrance. He knew the local police often raided late-closing establishments in the hope of raising their wages, so he needed to determine an escape route; a good strategy, except that an attractive female shared his booth and blocked any chance of a speedy getaway.
He didn’t know her real name so he called her Jacqueline. Her need for secrecy made him feel a little uneasy, but he liked her anyway, even though the giggling and the constant need for eye contact distracted him.
No … Don’t make stupid comparisons. Don’t even think about it.
He wanted to enjoy the moment and not have to consider her as a possible partner, which meant judging her; weighing up all of her positive features against the inevitable negatives.
It’s ridiculous. No-one ever weighs up … I’m not sure I’ll ever find her.
Where other males got off on alcohol or drugs, his one obsession wore a dress. All the men he knew seemed to love football and violence, but he loved women; all women, and especially one very specific kind of woman. He often wondered if he conjured her in his mind, or if God placed pictures of her there; giving him glimpses and clues so he could find her in the immensity of it all.
Why this constant need? It drives me crazy.
He didn’t understand; only that coming close to any dark haired super-slim women with a certain face and body shape made his physiology change, causing perspiration, trembling muscles and involuntary heavy breathing.
What kind of dark magic could bring someone to their knees with a glance?
Unfortunately, his obsession devalued everyone else, which seemed unacceptable when he viewed it logically.
He felt her staring at him so he cleared his thoughts and decided he needed to focus on her; a real being of flesh and blood who deserved his attention, rather than a phantom who drove him insane.
“Tom, can I ask you a personal question?”
He winced, but nodded.
“What do you want? Outta life, I mean.”
Tom looked away from her towards the ceiling to hide his discomfort.
“To be happy, I suppose. What do you want?”
“Money. I’m sick of being dirt poor.”
“The whole world’s poor. Only the Church and the ultra-rich have money.”
“They’re revolting. I hate them. Why do they have everything and I have nothing?”
“The Church controls everything; even our bastard politicians. It’s supposed to be evil to want money.”
“Then why do they have so much?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I’m as poor as you.”
