Banking

I wouldn't have fancied this at all without 24-hour banking. I've
got to laugh at how mundane that thought is, but it's true.

I've been at this two years-ish now. It's not glamorous. I've not lost
weight. I still look like a slightly pudgy, unremarkable Bloke. 'Bloke'
with a capital 'B'. My name's even Steve - that's how much of a Bloke I
am. Football shirt, even though I'm not that much of a footy fan,
jeans, crap trainers. I wouldn't have taken this on if I'd really loved
my football.

Kaye introduced me to Richie. He was a big man around town and I'll
admit I was more than a little intimidated by him. I noticed he had no
tan - lads like him (he's a 'lad') like their holiday pads in Marbella.
Richie had more class than that, though. City flats, Tokyo, New York,
Moscow (recently). A well-ringed finger in a number of international
pies.

Kaye and I had just been messing around really - I was her 'shag' or
she was mine. Fantastic arse on her, though, that girl. I admit, it's
sad, but I was turned on by her connections. I used her dad's name more
than once to make people step away when trouble was brewing. I don't go
looking for it? to use a fucking clich?, it just finds me. Funnily
enough, less these days.

I'd just been fired from the factory; couldn't be arsed to turn up any
more, to go home stinking of chemical shit. I acted like I didn't care,
got utterly ripped to the tits of beer for a few days and then I
started to worry. Kaye told me not to, she could get me a few quick
assignments with a more than decent return. Dad had nothing going, but
Richie's line of business was undergoing expansion. It was standard
taking delivery stuff, dull, lots of waiting around at a flat they paid
for, lots of smoking.

Richie decided to trust me, which is fair enough, I'm a trustworthy
guy, especially when someone's done right by me. He began to let me in
on how it all worked and who was who. I remember thinking that some
stuff seemed very weird. Not everyday 'a bit odd' but seriously not
normal. I don't know what it was - it was the way some things seemed to
be able to happen so quick and other things were just so slow; spread
over years, decades. What could that be about?

So things were going good for a while. Everyone I knew was a night-time
person and it was a good life. Lots of parties, could have been lots of
girls, but it wasn't. Yeah, still me and Kaye. Things had warmed up and
I suppose you could say we were an item. One night we were talking
about how things were going and suddenly she went all serious,
something I'd almost never seen her do. 'Steve,' she said, 'be careful
about Richie. I've heard some really bad stuff.' I laughed - of course
she'd heard bad stuff about him. 'Just don't get in too deep, lover. Be
careful.' she whispered.

Not long after that it was time for me to get in too deep. Richie made
a call on me at the flat. He looked dead grim and I was worried that
the 'bad stuff' Kaye had warned me about was approaching. He sat down
by me and we talked for several hours - my first response as he went
into detail was to leg it, he must be mental or something. My second
was a sort of morbid fascination with all the details. If this was
bullshit, it was brilliantly told. My third was to weigh up my options.
I had to be honest - having told me all this, was he going to let me
just walk out there and forget about the lot? It didn't seem I had a
choice after all. I asked if it would hurt.

'Unbelievably,' he said, 'but you'll get over it, son.'

I think he must have ripped my throat right out - blood just filled the
whole room it seemed like. For a moment there was something well beyond
pain and then nothing.

I woke up the next night. I didn't know that Kaye's dad had crossed
Richie some while back. Richie had shrugged it off, but I know now that
he bears a grudge. He made sure that Kaye was there when I woke up and
that last night's mess had been cleared up (even my clothes, fuck knows
how). I didn't have any 'tools of the trade', so I guess I
instinctively used Richie's preferred method. Neither Kaye nor I were
prepared for the speed I moved in on her. I was just crazed with
hunger, sinking my teeth into her throat. They're not like big fangs or
anything, just a little more jagged than they used to be. It makes a
fucking mess and I licked it off her, the furniture, the walls. And
then I lay down in a corner, panting and sticky and gross.

'Come on, son, let's get you cleared up.'

I came round to the sound of Richie's voice. In retrospect I now feel
more upset about being used by him than the fact I killed Kaye. I can't
even remember what I'd thought at the time, it was so far out of my
experience. Look, I never minded a scrap but killing just wasn't
something that figured for me. Does now, of course, once a week or so.
I've taken to carrying a kit, various scalpels and blades. If you do it
right, you can even take a 'snack' without killing them. I find there
are girls who are into that kind of thing - yeah, it's a clich?, but
unless it's an emergency, yeah, it's always girls, You can't live off
snacking alone, though. Sometimes you've just got to have the whole
caboodle.

How did anyone fucking manage this before 24-hour banking?