"Of all the bars in all the world..." The stranger used to be a regular here. Now no-one else in the bar noticed him. Idles did. "Murdoch," she growled, "I never though I’d see you again." His face was hard now, and his tattoos were faded. Idles didn’t shed a tear for lost youth. She wouldn’t want to flatter the man. "Yeah, kid," he answered, "Well I’m not here to see you. I’m not here to see anyone. Jus’ mindin’ my own business." "You know the troubles in this town. The Murdoch I knew wouldn’t ignore things like that. Not the Murdoch I knew that night in Milton Keynes." "Milton Keynes ain’t the same now, kid. Ever since the Chu gang came to town." "I never thought you’d be afraid of them." "All I’m sayin’ is it’s none of my business anymore. Now I have to go, Bel’s cookin’ dinner." There was one thing she knew would get through to him. That song he used to sing in Milton Keynes, all that long time ago. "Play it, Sam," she growled, "Play Slow Graffiti" "Me name’s not Sam," said the man at the piano, "It’s Trevor. Fridays is Sam’s night off, see?" This time she almost spat it. "Play it, Trevor, for old time’s sake." "Anything you say, Miss Idles" The bar went quiet. The only sound was the piano and the ring of thirty glasses of Ribena as they were slowly placed on tables. Trevor sang: "dere’s a por-or-tray-ay-ayt" "I knew I shouldn’t have made this a jazz song." Said Murdoch. Those lines on his face were melting, though. Idles looked at his eyes. They were blue – as blue as his tattoos – she remembered the night they’d got them together. That night in Milton Keynes... "...oh show me please how I will look in t-ah-wenty yee-ee-ears!" "Damn you, Idles! And stop playing that song, I never want to hear that song again!" "Stuart, stay," whispered Idles. "For me. For everyone." "I have to go. It’s Bel. She’s cookin’ a stew, kid!" And he left +++ She could see the bedroom light from the corner of the street. Really, she should have known. It was the same light that sneaked under her apartment door as she turned the key and picked out the girl lounging in her easy chair. Her lips were red, as red as her eyes, and lit by the inch of ash hanging from her cigarette. Her legs were as long as the road to Sing Sing. She swung a tiny gun around her finger like it was a heart on a chain. "Rachel!" Idles hissed. "It’s Archel now, honey. You sure look pleased to see me" "There’s only one thing in this room I’m pleased to see." She reached past Archel and the gun for the bottle of Ribena on the table. It was hard to see it in this light. Why didn’t Archel switch on one in this room? She swigged from the bottle, then choked. This was no Ribena. The room seemed to grow as she sank to her knees. It brightened too. A dark figure had stepped from the bedroom and towered above her. "Sleep well, Miss Idles," he laughed. "Chu!", she gasped, but before she could say any more she was out cold. To be continued... _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com/intl.asp +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+ +---+ Brought to you by the Sinister mailing list +---+ To send to the list mail sinister@missprint.org. To unsubscribe send "unsubscribe sinister" or "unsubscribe sinister-digest" to majordomo@missprint.org. WWW: http://www.missprint.org/sinister +-+ "sinsietr is a bit freaky" - stuart david, looper +-+ +-+ "legion of bedroom saddo devotees" "peculiarly deranged fanbase" +-+ +-+ "pasty-faced vegan geeks... and we LOST!" - NME April 2000 +-+ +-+ "frighteningly named Sinister List organisation" - NME May 2000 +-+ +-+ "sick posse of f**ked in the head psycho-fans" - NME June 2001 +-+ +-+ Nee, nee mun pish, chan pai dee kwa +-+ +-------------------------------------------------------------------------+