Role Reversal

Gaz didn’t know how life got to be the way it was. It just sort of crept up on him. What he did know was that it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Change though was a difficult business. Convincing others of the need for change when they thought they were already onto a good thing was a tall order. People stuck with what they knew unless they thought they were getting a better deal. Some women knew the score. He’d seen the way they operated. Been on the receiving end of it. Which was to say that he received a nasty surprise when Tina upgraded to Gavin. He’d told her that he ran the bookies and she’d mistakenly taken that to mean that he owned the gaff and that he was going places. Still, he had a nice motor and knew how to flash the cash. That had been enough to turn her head and once she was looking that way Gaz was all but forgotten. That was a story of his life that he wanted to rewrite.

Every dog had his day. Gaz held onto this dream of a day that was his. He’d show them. Then he’d make upgrades of his own. Snap his fingers and take his pick. Enjoy the novel opportunity to say a firm and satisfying no to women who were once out of his league. There was a game that was his to win. All he had to do was induce others to play by his rules. That shouldn’t be so difficult. He’d seen others do it. Soon it would be his turn. When that day came he’d be the very pinnacle of competence and confidence. Those were the things that women could smile a mile off. That was what they wanted from a real man.

John was talking to the bloke at the lock up. They were having a laugh. Patting each other’s backs and shoulders like they were long lost brothers or something. That was what John did. Brought people into an inner circle they’d only ever dreamed of. It was all an illusion. A transitory warmth that John switched on like a patio heater when needed. Never was Gaz a part of that. John weaved his magic on a one to one basis. Made Gaz feel like it was the two of them against the world. If that were true, then they’d cut the proceeds fifty-fifty and John would stop referring to himself as the face and the brains of the outfit. If that were true Gaz would have more of a say, but they played by John’s rules. Always playing it safe and not getting involved at the sharp end. Staying clear of the risky business that paid out lottery wins.

John even had a better name than Gaz. Honest John and dependable Gaz the muscle. It were as though their roles were preordained. Gaz didn’t subscribe to that crap though. He knew better. You took from this life. That was what was required. To be bold. Step forth and be counted. Bare your teeth and be prepared to use them.

Too long had he resided in John’s shadow. The time was coming when Gaz would find his own light and operate in his own right. That was how things went down in this world. Sometimes dogs had to eat other dogs in order to have their day.

John finished up with the smarmy bloke, shaking his hand whilst holding his forearm with his other hand. An intimate embrace that the other man would remember. As John walked over the bloke gave Gaz a thumbs up. Gaz nodded. There was something off with that bloke. But then there was something off with everything. That was why it had to come to a head. Gaz was due more respect. And he’d have it soon enough.

“Let’s get this crate sorted!” John said patting the side of the van like it was a shire horse.

Gaz slipped into the driver’s side and reconnected the wires below the steering column to fire it up for its final ride. Flicking the lights on to illuminate the coming night, “whatever you say, boss.”

“What’s with the boss, mate?” John was eyeing Gaz as they pulled away.

“Just a turn of phrase,” Gaz said without taking his eyes off the road.

John chuckled, “you’ll be calling me master next,” he laughed now, “yesss mashter!” he was mimicking Igor and that reference pissed Gaz right off. But Gaz laughed, feeling nervous in doing so. Having to play his part all the same.

“You alright, mate?” asked John. Serious now. That familiar warmth of his. A warmth that Gaz had trusted too much. That warmth had robbed him of his fair share and a darn sight more into the bargain. There was a way that some people had about them. They seemed reasonable when really they were robbing you blind. But then what did Gaz expect of a thief? There was, as was said, no honour amongst thieves. His problem was that he was too loyal. His own mother had reminded him time and again of that even as she played out the same patterns of dumb loyalty and went to an early grave having been exploited first by his feckless dad and then two impostors who said they were his stepdads but never lifted a finger in that respect. John was the closest to a role model Gaz had. That single, uncomfortable truth was chaffing him right now. He suspected it would in the end cut deep. But the die was cast and he had to strike out on his own. There was nothing else for it.

There was something dizzying about fire. Gaz always lingered a little longer than John was comfortable with when they torched their vehicles. In his mind’s eye, the van was a longship and he was saying his final farewells to a fallen warrior. A fitting end to a chapter in life. There was renewal in the dancing flames and the thrill of an explosion that, if he stayed too long could well consume Gaz. Living on the edge was thrilling. A form of stress that he would choose over the drudgery of a so-called normal life. If this stress killed you there was glory in it. Red was his colour. Never could he be the grey of conformity.

“Come on, Gaz!” John was already twenty yards away.

Gaz ignored him for a few more seconds feeling the limp contempt of his friend’s grey and pitying him for it. There was more to John than that. He was wasting his potential. Playing it too safe.

As he joined his friend the fire caught some more and there was a thunderous crack.

“You’ll get yourself killed one of these days,” John was shaking his head, “or get us caught. You’re like Stan sometimes.”

“Who’s Stan?” asked Gaz. He knew. But sometimes it was good to play dumb and get someone talking. People liked to feel superior and they enjoyed talking. Give them the stage and you had them where you wanted them.

“You know Stan!” John said, “that nutjob who set fire to the science block because Johnson gave him a detention. Sat and watched the place go up. He was still there when the fire engines and police arrived. Copper got talking to him. Asked him if he’d seen anything suspicious. Then he smelt the petrol on him. Still had a box of matches in his pocket.” John laughed, “apparently that’s common with arsonist. They like to watch. Bloody pervs!”

Gaz shrugged, “I get that though. Why not see the results of what you’ve set in motion?”

“Because you’ll get caught!” John was looking at Gaz as though his friend was mad, “sometimes I wonder about you, mate.”

Gaz grinned sheepishly, “good to keep people guessing, eh?”

John shook his head, “you’re never right.” He tapped Gaz’s temple. “Something not right up there. Good job you’ve got me to watch your six.”

Six, thought Gaz. This was one of John’s habits. He’d watch a film and pick up terms he then had to incorporate into his spiel. Why not stick with back? Then again, it was another opportunity for Gaz to play dumb and for John to think he was the brighter of the two. Empty vessels, thought Gaz. He felt a pang of something like regret at that thought. That was maybe a bit harsh. John was bright. But Gaz wasn’t stupid. John’s light was only brighter because Gaz allowed it. He dulled himself in order for their partnership to work. Indulged John in the fantasy he wanted to make their reality.

They were walking through a housing estate. Two mates walking back from town or a pub. Nothing unusual in that at all. A series of cul de sacs that were attached by footpaths. Not a route a cop car would take and coppers on foot were unicorns in places like this.

“Look at this, John!” Gaz had taken a detour up a driveway, “it’s mint!”

John stopped and turned to see what his friend was looking at. Gaz was leaning over and peering into the window of a silver MX5. Cars weren’t really John’s thing, but he saw the appeal. A classic design that originated back in the day. Recognised, emulated and executed far better by Mazda. They’d seen something they could make work far better and he could buy into that philosophy.

Grudgingly John joined his friend and took a look at the car. Whispered, “we don’t want to get seen, mate.”

“Don’t worry,” Gaz said, “we won’t. More suss if we walked right by this metal! We’re doing nothing wrong. This has got the pop up lights and everything!”

“OK,” John said, “but we should go.”

Gaz walked around to the other side of the car. Looked up past John and pulled a face of puzzled concern.

“What?” said John.

Gaz shook his head, “I thought I saw something in that window.”

“Probably the car’s owner,” grizzled John.

“No,” Gaz said, “nothing like that. Take a quick look will you?”

John gave Gaz a look.

“Indulge me mate,” Gaz said, “please?”

“You’ll be the death of me,” but John was smiling and turned towards the window. He didn’t see the awkward and anxious look Gaz gave him.

At the window John couldn’t see much in the room with the sparse light afforded by a street light further up the road. He placed his hands either side of his head in an attempt to see more.

“Shit!” he said, stepping back from the window as though it had sent a jolt of electricity through him. He was, Gaz saw, buzzing.

“What?” asked Gaz, still on the other side of the car.

“There’s someone tied up on the sofa!” John was stepping from one foot to the other, looking around him as he decided what was to be done.

“You’re shitting me!” exclaimed Gaz.

This seemed to be the catalyst for action. John headed to the side gate and tried it. It didn’t budge on the first try. The wood warped and the catch almost jammed. He pulled the gate towards him and tried again. This time the gate opened and he rushed through it.

Gaz lagged behind, checking over his shoulder as he closed the gate behind him. John was through the back door already. It had lain slightly ajar. Not obviously open but no barrier to entry. Now it was wide open as John rushed to the rescue.

The prone figure lay still on the sofa. Eyes closed. Hands tied with tape. The same around her ankles. A gag tied around her mouth and another swathe of material covering her eyes. John kneeled before her. Paused. Unsure how to proceed. Anxious that he was too late and had walked in on a murder scene. He couldn’t leave her like that though. He put his fingers to her neck. She felt cold. Too cold. He feared the worst until she stirred in response to his touch.

“Phew!” he sighed the word out with his relief, “are you OK?”

The woman breathed incoherent words into the gag and John almost laughed at his ineptitude. Removed the blindfold first. Revealing eyes that seemed to sparkle in the murky darkness of the room, “you’re going to be OK,” he told her. She stared at him as he removed the gag.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

John pulled a penknife from his pocket and her eyes went wide, “I’m going to cut your hands and legs free,” he reassured her.

She nodded, “thank you” she repeated.

John started with the bonds at her legs. Thankfully they came away readily once cut. Barely sticking to her stocking clad legs. He sat next to her before working on the tape at her wrists. This tape was tighter and wound around bare flesh. Her shirt sleeves ending just below her elbows.

“Ouch!” she gasped as he pulled the tape away at last.

“Sorry,” John said, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“It’s fine,” she said staring deeply into his eyes, “you saved me and I must thank you for your kindness.” She reached out and took the knife from him. Placed it on the table beside her, “let’s put that wicked thing away shall we. We don’t want any accidents.”

John’s smile faltered as she continued to stare intensely at him as though she were reading his darkest secrets. A change was occurring, but he couldn’t quite place what it was. In the partial light he had thought she was old and frail. Not quite one foot in the grave old, but old enough to be almost invisible. Now though he wasn’t so sure. Couldn’t see that age anymore. Found himself attracted to her in a way that confused him.

Her hand was on his chest. He liked the weight of it on him, “I need to thank you,” the way she said it inflamed him. There was an urgency to her now.

“You don’t need…” he began, but she was pushing him back against the sofa and moving closer to him. Her face filling his vision.

“I want you…” the words lingered between them. He could almost feel them. He wanted to reply but all he did was sigh in a form of resignation that cast him adrift.

Her free hand slipped to the nape of his neck. He sighed at her touch, “do you want me?” she asked him.

He nodded, feeling like the first time he ever kissed a girl. Kate was older. Experienced. She knew how to kiss. He was a shivering passenger in the tractor beam of her intent. And here he was again. Only this was far more intense. He was frozen before this woman and a small part of him was afraid. He tried to silence that embarrassing fear even as his breath stuttered into him.

She smiled before moving in for the kiss and that silenced part of him tried to scream a warning. The gag had hidden her teeth. She’d been bound for a reason. He’d freed something he did not understand. This woman was animalistic. She was dangerous beyond anything John had encountered. But he wanted her in a way he’d never wanted anything else before.

He willed her on. She slipped the hand on his chest downwards and he gasped at her touch. His back arching. Her cool lips finding his neck. A fleeting moment of realisation. His body bucking uselessly under her as her teeth penetrated his neck and she took him for the first time. There would be many times after this. He was all hers now.

Gaz stood and watched the dark trick that he was a part of. A claw of cold fear massaging his insides and tickling his spine as he witnessed her transformation and the way she took his friend. The strong willed man who wanted to conquer the world had been taken so readily. Given himself to this woman. Just the way they said she would. Doing Gaz’s dirty work for him.

He stood and watched the demise of his best friend and now he thought he understood how Stan had really felt. The magnificence of the endeavour he had put in motion. The power of it all. But he doubted Stan had felt the shame that had crashed in on Gaz. A wave that took his breath away and threatened to undo him in a mirroring of what was being played out before him. There was no taking this back though. No water to douse the fires. He’d burnt it all down. Dust and ashes.

Gaz had born witness to his betrayal of John and with each moment that passed he saw himself more and more. He was looking into a mirror but he didn’t know which of the two players he was. It was only when she paused and looked down upon John with a smile that seemed loving but was a world away from anything of the sort that Gaz realised he had to make a choice. And the choice was made for him as John reached out to her. Embraced her and with a pleading voice said, “don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

As she lapped at the wound on his neck and toyed with him, eliciting moans of pleasure from John and joining him those moans as she latched onto his neck and fed from him again the decision was made. Gaz turned his back on the treachery he had inflicted upon the man who was once his best friend and re-joined the world as a predator.

Never prey, he promised himself.

But that was a promise he had little say over. There was always a price to be paid for such treachery and the longer the debt was unpaid the higher the price exacted.