The Pursuit of Emma, Dave Moyer [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

anyway so can queue with the best of them.

We eventually got in and managed to squeeze around a table. Jack went and got us some drinks while I attempted to talk to Rach. I say attempted as, despite it being a comedy club, the music still blared invasively loud between acts. Even if you had never known it was a gay club before the choice of songs might have given you a clue. We exchanged a few words between Abba tracks and gave up communication entirely during ‘It’s Raining Men.’

Jack eventually came back with the drinks (which had actually been bought for us by ‘Big Daddy’ at the bar) and we turned our attention to the stage in anticipation. Presently, the noise hushed, the music died out and the first act was ushered to the stage.

‘Open mic’ nights as a general rule are a disappointment. Most people that attempt stand up comedy do it for a laugh (literally) and don’t have any set planned. Now and then they get a good vibe going and their five minutes are passable at the very least. The most excruciating experience is when you get somebody who plans their set to the furthest extent, rehearses it and performs to the best of their ability, only for it to be painfully bad. Comedy is difficult for the pros but impossible for the inexperienced. Everyone dies on stage at some point and most of the deaths seem to be situated at Plateau 64.

As a general rule, I tend to believe that people with a ‘funny’ name aren’t actually funny at all. I therefore didn’t hold high hopes for ‘Comedy Colin’ as he strutted onto the stage.

Colin was certainly confident. He took to the stage and began by saying, ‘thank you, thank you,’ ignorant to the silence and the fact that nobody was clapping him on. He got four or five steps onto the stage before attempting the ‘comedy trip’. To master a good ‘comedy trip’ it needs to come out of nowhere. The fall needs to be dramatic and energetic with the performer giving it a thousand percent. Colin however, stopped still, remembered what he was doing, pretended to catch his foot on something (despite the fact he is standing centre-stage, feet from any objects) and stumbled down on to one knee, before getting up slowly in stony silence. After what seemed like ages, he finally reached the mic and bellowed, ‘Hiya.’

One simple word and the whole audience had made their mind up about him. As he shouted ‘Hiya,’ the audience confirmed the views and thought in perfect unison, ‘Twat.’

Things didn’t get much better for ‘Comedy Colin’ after that. Colin’s thing was impressions. Sadly for him he seemed to be tone-deaf and clueless to the fact that to do different voices, you had to alter the pitch and tone of your voice, at least a little. To this day he is the only man I have ever met to have no clear distinction between his impressions of De Niro and Louis Spence.

We cringed our way through Colin’s five minutes in stunned silence and were finally relieved when he finished off with his ‘famous’ rendition of Wogan (or was it Michael Caine?)

The rest of the night ran in a similar vein, with the odd exception. There was an impressive five minutes from a young man called Marcus, but we did question afterwards whether he was indeed that good or whether we were just grateful to be rid of Colin. The comedians did get progressively better but a) that wasn’t hard considering where we started and b) we continued to drink into the night.

My memory of our time in the club is a little patchy now and the acts seem to blur into one. I do remember Jack having to work hard to stop Rachel from volunteering herself during a small lull. I didn’t feel that drunk at the time but as I went up to the bar I stumbled slightly and bumped into a large man. I would like to feel that he stumbled into me as much as I did to him but, whoever’s fault it was, the awkward situation developed where I was, momentarily entangled with a large, muscular man. Given the history of the club, I was worried about ‘leading him on’ and apologised before marching off quickly.

It was getting late when we decided to leave. Rachel clung on to Jack and we tiptoed out of the club and attempted to hail a taxi.

‘You got any change for the taxi?’ asked Jack, who was struggling to reach his wallet whilst supporting Rachel’s weight.

‘Probably,’ I yawned back and dug my hands into my pockets. I couldn’t feel any loose change, but felt my fingers press against a note. My mind hoped for a twenty but I knew realistically, after the way we had bought drinks that night, it would be optimistic to expect more than a fiver. I pulled it out. It wasn’t a fiver, or even money at all.

At first glance it looked insignificant. Perhaps a shopping note I had written weeks ago and left in my pocket. But it was a strange, yellow/gold colour and it was folded too crisply. This was a new piece of paper. I opened it carefully, forced my drunk eyes to read what was on it and immediately felt like I was going to be sick.

It read:

Getting the Police involved.

Bad move.

My blood ran colder than ice. I couldn’t speak. Any feelings of being drunk had disappeared instantly and I felt more awake than ever before. Emma was back instantly in my thoughts and my brain was firing out a thousand questions a second, like it had a few weeks ago. First question: who had put that note in my pocket? Second question: How could they possibly know Jack was a detective? But most importantly, question number three: What did this mean for me, Jack and Emma?

Jack turned to see why I was suddenly quiet and asked, ‘you alright mate?’

I forced myself to respond. I tried to speak but no words came out. Weakly I handed him the note, resisting blacking-out with all my strength.

He could tell instantly that something was wrong. He snatched the note off me and read it through twice, analysing rapidly. He snapped his head up and scanned the area, looking for danger.

‘We have to get you out of here,’ Jack ordered and doubled his efforts to hail a taxi.

‘What’s going on?’ Rachel was still incredibly drunk and had not been paying attention to either one of us.

‘Nothing Darling. Just time to get you to bed. Come on,’ Jack said in the calmest voice he could muster. He shot me a forceful glance and added a small shake of the head as if to say, ‘she doesn’t need to know about any of this.’

Rachel was too far gone to argue and slipped into the taxi that had pulled up alongside us. Jack pushed me in next to her, before looking around one last time and diving in to the seat opposite me. Instantly, the taxi pulled off.

‘Jack what is going on? What does it mean? How could they know you...?’

I didn’t know what to ask first and as a result, the questions tumbled out of my mouth with no recognised order. Jack checked Rachel, who was now sleeping soundly against the window, and shook his head.

‘First things first, we need to work out how this note got in your pocket,’ he said, a little calmer. Now we were away in the taxi his brain was back to being rational and he was thinking things through properly.

I forced my mind to concentrate and played back as much of the night as I could remember. Most of the night I hadn’t moved out of my seat. Nobody but Rachel and Jack were near me. I had visited the toilets twice, and both times maintained a safe ‘two urinal’ distance from any other man. The only other time I moved was to get drinks at the bar. Then it hit me. The large man. In my drunken state I had been so worried he might think I was coming on to him that I fled rapidly. What if it wasn’t an accident we had collided? What if he had set it up and slipped the note in my pocket.

I mimicked the motion of planting a note and put my hand back in my pocket.

‘I know it’s scary but we don’t know they are dangerous,’ Jack whispered, rationalising the pure, black and white facts.

‘Jack...’

‘I mean, we know they are intimidating and they are obviously observing us more than we thought but...

‘Jack...’

‘...but none of this means you are in any danger...

‘JACK,’ I shouted desperate to get his attention.

He looked up sharply. I had shocked him, which was what I intended to do.

‘What?’ he asked as he checked Rachel was still asleep.

I said nothing. I couldn’t say anything. I sat there, visibly shaking in my seat. As I had placed my hand in my pocket I had found something my fingers had missed on their first investigation. I somehow knew what it was, despite never holding one before.

Jack looked at me puzzled and I opened my hand slowly.

‘Shit,’ was all he could muster.

Resting in the palm of my shaking hand was a cold, metallic bullet.

‘This just got really serious Tom. I need you to hold it together, OK?’

I nodded and blinked up at him. I took several deep breaths, hoping I could stop myself being sick.

‘Jack, you said in your text you had something to tell me, about Emma. It must be big or you would have said it by now. What is it?’

Jack swore again. He took a deep breath and looked me straight in the eye.

‘I do buddy, but it’s a lot. Truth be told, I had half decided not to tell you. Didn’t see how it could help but now...’

‘What did you find out?’

‘Not here.’

‘Yes here! Tell me now,’ I demanded.

‘NOT HERE,’ Jack bellowed back and pleaded with me with his eyes. ‘I promise I’ll tell you everything, when it’s...clear.’ He shot his eyes to the taxi driver and then to Rachel.

I wanted to argue but knew there was no point. We were less than two minutes away from my flat and I busied myself trying to find enough money to pay the taxi driver.

‘Shit, this must be big,’ I muttered quietly.

‘It is.’ Chapter Eight

‘We’re all safe...for now!’

Twenty minutes later I sat at my kitchen table, drinking coffee, but contemplating replacing it with the remaining tequila. The taxi had dropped us off and Jack had dealt with paying the taxi driver. It didn’t come to much but I saw Jack hand the driver a twenty pound note and wave away his attempts to find change. He was not in the mood to mess around.

The next step was a little harder. I opened the door whilst Jack carried Rach inside, the way a groom may carry his new bride through a doorway. I was a little worried whether Rachel was alright but Jack seemed relaxed enough and no one ever knew her better than him.

As soon as we were inside, I was desperate to know more but Jack shook his head at me before I