Zodiac's toy, John Jones [nonfiction book recommendations .txt] 📗

not invited. Just you'. Send.

 

Shane never seemed to be one hundred percent sober. There was always an alcoholic molecule streaming around his bloodstream and landing in his brain, but it always varied as to how much it seemed he wasn't affected and could get away with. He could get away with seeming as though he was sober, because sometimes he was inches away from it.

Apparently twelve hours from a person's last drink is when sobriety comes. So a hangover would usually last this long until eleven hours and fifty nine minutes if another drink is downed and the inebriation continues, which is the state Shane found himself in, except he was probably around the eight-hour mark.

In the morning, Ray had asked Shane for a favour. Can you go out and find me a wedding photographer? Without really thinking, he agreed, and now found himself wandering through the streets, not knowing what to look for, but appreciating going for a stroll out in the air.

After twenty minutes of walking around the shopping area, he didn't come across anything he could tell Ray, and decided he would have a rest on a low wall bordering a small playing field which kind of looked out of place in the urban environment. It was big enough for a decent size football pitch but not much more.

As it was still early, there were two talking dog-walkers on the far side of the area with two bored looking dogs at their feet, but not far from where he sat, were a man and woman exercising. The man was talking to her, egging her on, and getting her to copy him in stretching exercises. Shane realised it was a personal trainer.

He watched them for a while. They were too engrossed in what they were doing and he was too far away to be noticed.

That should have been me, he thought. It could have, back when exercising and fitness were at the forefront of his mind, when he had dreams of competitions, of holding aloft trophies for weight-lifting, athletics, anything he put his mind to, until his mind was slowly but surely coaxed away by temptations, but when he put those dreams on hold for a while, he turned his attention to joinery, and thought of becoming a furniture-maker, so entered college who paired him with a joiner at a woodworking studio. However, the man found that Shane took a lot of smoking breaks and fell behind on his work. He was soon sent packing back to college who let him go.

When his aspirations of making good quality, shiny new furniture faded away, it was replaced by desires to be a taxi-driver. That didn't look hard. Driving people around and getting paid. Easy. One small detail though. Driving licence. He took lessons but found that he thought the instructor was holding him back, deciding he was good enough, but the instructor thought otherwise, and fell away from paying for lessons, and it petered out.

Shane was constantly at the beginning, always basic, amateur, and always fell away into temptation, fell behind on the work needed, but his aspirations were still there, and one of those dreams from his past had reignited itself.

I'm gonna be a personal trainer, he thought, and made his way home. I think I'm still fit enough, and decided to prove it by running back to the flats.

However, he just managed two minutes before having to stop and breath heavily against a lamp-post. Back the gym, he thought. Back the gym and I'll be fine.

Ten minutes later he was back in his flat. Ray was there on the sofa with his feet up watching television. Shane sat beside him, then noticed on the table a cocaine wrap he had forgotten about.

He leaned forward and tapped it into an inch line, and sniffed what he could without a tube. He leaned back on the sofa.

"Did you find one?" Ray asked.

"What?"

"A wedding photographer".

"Erm..no, but I've decided I'm gonna go into business. I wanna be a personal trainer. It's just tellin' people how to exercise, advice and that. So I'm gonna get meself down the gym, then I'll set meself up. They can make like fifty quid a session". Ray looked at him.

"Really?" Shane nodded, put his head back and closed his eyes.

"Easy money," he said. He never opened his eyes when Lee walked in, dressed to go out.

"Right I'm off to see my probation officer". Ray just nodded and Lee left.

 

He's going to ask me to go on that fucking Blossom programme Lee thought, so decided it might not be a bad idea to quickly ring Gary. Although Gary's profession could be deemed suspect if you peeled it back. On the surface it seemed like a legitimate business, which he proposed himself as.

Gary answered.

"Hi, Gary it's Lee. I don't suppose you could do me a favour. I'm about to see my probation officer and he's going to insist that I go on some shitty rehab course, but if I tell him I've got a job, then it might get him off my case. If he needs to ring you can you tell him I'm your employee?" He heard Gary laugh.

"I've done that before you know," he said, "but you'll be right, you are my employee. If he starts asking questions put him on to me. I've had dealings with those types before. Yes, that'll be fine, and when you finish, give me a ring anyway I want to discuss jobs for you". Lee nodded.

"Alright," he said, and hung up.

 

"Why do we always have to meet here?" Lee said, getting into the back of Billy Price's car.

"It's my mobile office. Works for me". Papers were strewn everywhere. They had been made into some poor structure of order. There was a large pile on the passenger seat, papers and envelopes along the dashboard and beneath the back window, and some beneath both seats. Lee and Billy had to sit rather squeezed in.

"...now, we were discussing the Blossom programme," said Billy.

"I've got a job," Lee put in. Billy looked surprised and smiled.

"Really? That’s good that you’re getting yourself out there, back into the community. And that’s what I encourage you to do. Involve and better yourself...but you really should have consulted me before you took it. As per your licence agreement under section E you will need my approval. So, before you start, I will need your employer’s details. I’ll need to speak to them to understand the job and make sure it’s right for you. Make sure it fulfils legal requirements before I give the go-ahead. But that’s great Lee well done. How d'you feel?" I feel like punching your stupid fucking face in you patronising little twat, Lee thought. If Lee had brought a weapon, he guessed he would probably have used it.

"So what is it? come on, tell me".

"It’s a loan company. I’ll be a debt recovery agent".

"That's great. Interesting, okay but get me those employer details and hopefully you’ll be good to go," Billy said, writing something down in his note-pad. "Now, when you go on the Blossom programme, you will have to work around..."

"What? hang on. You mean I still have to go on this programme?".

"Yes, I'm afraid so, as per your requirements, but you'll love it. We'll work with your new boss to come to some arrangements once everything is in order".

"So that means I've still got to come to these appointments?". Billy nodded, still smiling.

"Yes, for the rest of your sentence. If the job turns out to be legitimate then you can tell others about your success. You recently left prison and found a job. They would love to hear that".

"Really?" Lee muttered, folding his arms and leaning back.

"Well done," Billy repeated, "I'm proud of you".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 23

 

Shane had fallen into some sort of stupor. Him and Ray were in the same position when Lee had left, and now Lee entered and just looked at him, shaking his head.

"It's visiting time at the hospital, shall we go and see the old fucker?"

"Yes alright," said Ray, switching the television off with the remote.

"Hey Lee," Shane muttered, "Did I tell you I'm going into business?"

"No, you didn't, but tell me all about it" he said, sarcastically.

"I'm gonna be a personal trainer..." he closed his eyes again.

"Really?" Ray and Lee walked out, and Lee stopped at the top of the stairs. For a moment he seemed confused, looking down at the floor. He put one hand to the side of his head.

"You okay?" Ray asked. Lee nodded.

"Yes," he said, "just give me a minute,” and he wandered across into his flat, emerging moments later, smiling.

"Come on, then" he said, slapping Ray on the arm. They walked to the hospital which was almost two miles away.

"If he starts becoming a crack-head then I'm kicking his arse out," Lee said, "I don't care how long I've known him. I'll have to lock my money up safe, which I'm gonna do anyway, but when fucking druggies come sniffing round then you've got to nail everything down".

"Yes," Ray agreed. "He's always had the odd line but lately he's doing it more often. We'll just have to keep our eye on him".

"Honestly, you fucks have barely changed," Lee said, as they crossed a road. "You were drinking and smoking back then and everything's exactly the same, so says Cancer".

"What?" Lee slowed down and looked confused for a second.

"Why did I say that?" he muttered to himself. They passed a row of shops and a cricket and bowling club, then they were in the hospital grounds. People milled to and fro. Smokers thrust outside puffed away on drips, in wheelchairs, and in night-gowns. It seemed a fairly typical day, and soon Ray was following Lee to reception, and were soon walking along the corridors, past wards and clinics and eventually found the Oncology ward.

A nurse at the small reception was surprised when they said who they had come to see.

"Victor, yes, the freak of nature". She was small and looked to be close to retirement age.

"The what?" Lee asked, but she walked away, looking over her shoulder for them to follow, and they did, into a section containing two small rooms, each containing one bed. The other one was empty, but the nurse gestured inside, and walked away.

They walked in to find Victor lying on a bed, attached to an intravenous drip pump machine, with standing workstation carts on either side of him and diagnostic monitors and ultrasound scanner systems. Above him there was a radiographic x-ray machine from an extension arm. He looked at them when they came in and smiled. He was in pyjamas with his top open. The crab was still prominent and looked like it was glowing red having been attempted at removal. The nurses had tried and failed. He looked gaunt and drained.

"Fellas," he said, his voice croaking.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Lee asked.

"I've got cancers. All of them. Liver cancer, stomach cancer, breast cancer, and fuckin' vaginal cancer. How did I get that? I've got the lot. Doctor's want to do tests on me and everything".

"That nurse said you were a freak of nature," Ray said.

"I am, but look Ray, I've still got my crab," he said, pointing to it. Ray didn't know what to say. "Those nurses are not taking it away".

"What the fu..?" said Lee. Victor looked at him.

"Did you bring it?" he asked, and Lee nodded, reaching into his inside pocket to pull out his Sig Sauer P365 handgun. He handed it to Victor.

"Lee what the fuck?" said Ray, wide-eyed. "You can't bring a gun to a hospital".

Victor, using what little energy he had, sat himself up.

"I'm putting him out of his misery," Lee put in.

"What like a fucking dog?" said Ray, pacing around, red faced, wringing his hands, looking out to see if anybody was watching but could see no-one. He saw the bed had a curtain and pulled it around.

"Vic what the fuck are you doing?" Lee shouted, looking at