The Happy House (6) “I’m going upstairs for a moment.” “Oh, I’ll join you. I’ve got to use the bathroom anyway.” Great, our bodily clocks are chugging along at the same speed, thought Black, slightly disturbed. It wasn’t that he didn’t like her, it’s just that he wanted to be holding out for Pussycat, the one he couldn’t have. They walked in single file up the stairs and got to the hallway of doors. The bathroom was at the end and Black led the way. They brushed together slightly and suddenly Bistro was upon him, sucking his breath out of his mouth frantically. Black opened one of the doors into a bedroom and they collapsed onto the bed kissing each other furiously. Black prepared his hand to move down to between her legs but he stopped, his fingers hovering slightly. He pulled away. “What’s wrong?” “E-Everything. Everything these days.” Black left her alone in the room. God, he loved Pussycat. He went to the bathroom for a slash and went back downstairs. Everything was topsy-bloody-turvy. Each step back down to the hallway felt like a hundred foot drop. He’d just turned down the Popular Bistro, the last remaining woman on earth who may actually have been a good partner for the Devil in Black. When it came down to it, Pussycat was on his brain and always would be – she was the one he loved. Now more than ever he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and say that everything’s going to be alright over and over until she was convinced and loved him back. Her eyes, her hair, nose, mouth, her eyes… those beautiful, perfect, crystal blue eyes… her breasts, her hips, stomach, thighs, ankles, her delicate feet, her nature, her humour, her… loveliness, cuddliness, the way she talks and thinks and does… those eyes, so stunning, so perfect. And there she was in the kitchen at the far end of the hall. She was slouched over a table with her shoes off, her feet linked up under the chair. A cigarette sat in her hand and every so often she breathed in the smoke and puffed it out again. With a free hand she would wrap her loose hair up and around her small ears so that it didn’t invade those eyes. Her posture was wrong: it shouldn’t have been slouched or exhausted or depressed in any way. Black knew that she was naturally happy and Fest had taken her, chewed her up and spat her out, tearing away her soul in the process. It was like cutting the wings off an angel… off of a butterfly even. Such a beautiful creature reduced to a shell of what it once was. Bistro hopped down the stairs and stopped halfway, staring at Black but he didn’t notice her. He was too intrigued with Pussycat so few steps away. “Black? What’s wrong?” Black ignored her and walked into the kitchen, shutting the door on the way through. He sat opposite Pussycat and held his chin with one hand as if contemplating. The kitchen was quite large and the table only took up a small portion of the floor. There were great cookers, other tables with fat chopping boards, sinks, drawers and more. Anything that one would expect to be in a kitchen was here, all ready to be used to create the finest of delicacies. “Pussycat…” “I came in here to be alone.” There was no feeling in her voice whatsoever: it was flat and robotic and was lacking in anything remotely human. It was horrible. “Pussycat…” “Please go Black. Thank you for thinking of me, but I’d best be alone.” There was a moment where no one talked and Black didn’t immediately get up to go. He didn’t want to leave it there… he didn’t want to finish it here in a kitchen… end it without saying a word. He’d never forgive himself. “I love you.” The three simple short words combined into the most perfect of sentences ever thought of. Pussycat understood each word, each syllable, each letter and she looked up while Black looked down, and truth be told there was a brilliant sparkle renewed in her eyes as if those wings had grown back suddenly. Then Black motioned to leave and she said nothing. She said nothing. And so it was that the relationship between the Devil in Black and the Pathetic Pussycat was put into limbo (something Black abhorred more than anything – all that damn waiting). Neither knew what was fully going on but at least Pussycat knew that Black loved her. But since they didn’t know where each other lived or how to contact each other in any other way, their goings on would have to wait until they next met. In the most recent outings to the town with Fest the Pest, the Devil in Black received not too good news such as the beginning of the affair between Fest and Pussycat and then its ending, both of which shook Black up to the point of breaking. To tell the truth, Black was a bit apprehensive about taking a cab down to the square, meeting Fest and finding out more horrible news that would once again crush his heart. But he went anyway. He met Fest at the usual spot and Black couldn’t immediately determine from his face whether there was anything evil lurking under there. He found it difficult to read his face because he could hide what he really thought very well, even when he did not mean to. That was perhaps why they were such ‘good friends’. “So what’s news?” Black asked as they started walking down the street, not caring about whether other people walking in the opposite direction had to get out of the way. After all, it was their pavement as much as anyone else’s. “Oh nothing much.” Relief. That’s a load off of Black’s shoulders and he sighed happily yet he was slightly disappointed that there was nothing new on the social front. But yet, he didn’t say ‘nothing’, he said ‘nothing much’, so there was something but to Fest it wasn’t that important. If it concerned anyone close, then it wouldn’t be just ‘nothing much’, it would be about someone on the fringe of the group getting up to something or other. Surely? “So what is it?” “What’s what?” “This something that to you is ‘nothing much’. What is it?” “Oh, well, I heard something quite weird actually. The Spindly Shat, you know him right?” “Of course.” “Well, he’s now going out with…” Fest annoyingly stopped the conversation to pursue an itch on his chin, and he needed his mouth not be moving for this to be accomplished. “He’s now going out with the Pathetic Pussycat. Can you believe that?” Black was ready to drop to his knees, fall face first and smack his head on the cobbles. It couldn’t be, it couldn’t be, it couldn’t be. It mustn’t be. Oh God, where’s the justice? Then it struck him that something had to be done. Something had to be done as soon as possible. There was a fleeting image of Bistro in his mind but he soon brushed it away with the back of his hand. Pussycat had been stolen away by a horrible person, an old horrible person, an old horrible person who has no direction in his life but to watch his horses be turned into glue. How did this happen? How in the hell did this come to be? Black made a hollow promise never to turn up to one of these little chats ever again. Black sat by himself as the party swung on around him. How was he going to sort this mess out? He was concentrating hard and he saw it of utmost importance that he come up with an answer very soon or he may just go crazy. After all, he now knew that he could do something. He’d told Pussycat about his feelings for her – that was a start. And if he could build relationships like the one he did with Pussycat and Fest (even under his very nose), it should be easy to demolish them. He didn’t even know about setting up the original couple, so if he actually put thought into it, he could become a ticking time bomb, a device that when he chooses shall explode and crack any foundations he wished. From across the room, Black got the Frivolous Fuck’s attention by raising his eyebrows, making her drop the man she was impaling with her tongue and walk over to the couch, clicking her fingers by her hips as she went. She sat down next to Black and cuddled up against him playfully, her hand daringly close to his inside thigh. “What is it? You want to fuck? Can go upstairs now if you want.” “I want you to do a favour for me.” “Yeah, anything babe. Name it.” “I want you to fuck the Spindly Shat.” “What? Why? The Spindly Shat? Why him?” There was a moment of silence and before long, Frivolous gasped with surprise, taking her hand away from Black’s trousers and covering her mouth, her bright eyes sitting like moons in the sky. “I never knew. The Pathetic Pussycat and you? My God, I never saw it. Sorry babe but it’s just such a shock.” “Will you do it?” “Of course I will. I never liked that Spindly Shat anyway, old bastard. The moustache is horrible; it gets in the way of everything… everything. Leave it to me – I’ll put on my best act and I’ll have him up there in fifteen minutes. Come up in twenty with her.” This was a new side to Frivolous that Black had never seen. He’d always regarded her as a shallow and stupid person, quite dumb in fact. No more. She was cunning and decisive. “You’re the greatest. Cheers. Twenty minutes.” She leaned over and gave Black what she knew would be their last kiss. It was riveting but it didn’t put them off what they were planning to do. They were out to destroy and the bomb would be going off in nineteen and a half minutes. Perhaps it was evil. After all, Black wasn’t necessarily looking out for Pussycat’s best interests but his own – perhaps the love wasn’t mutual – but even though he hadn’t glanced into those eyes when he told her those three perfect words, he could feel them brighten and return to their old sparkle. He knew there must be something. Hell, if there wasn’t and he’d known for sure that there wasn’t, he would never go ahead with anything as sour as this. He would probably just return to the side of the room with a glass of whisky and keep quiet until another girl walked into his life. It’s not surprising then that that was his first idea of the evening instead of going through with the brutal plan to win her over. Black was still trying to convince himself even after putting the first step into motion. If you play by the rules and you lose, it’s time to start playing dirty otherwise you’ll get no-where. That was about the extent of his mentality and he could see no other way. Success hung on the simple idea that Pussycat loved Black as much as he loved her. Ten or fifteen minutes had gone since Frivolous left when Black thought it best to make a move. Tipping the glass of whisky back, it was down his throat in moments and he got to his feet, spotting Pussycat in the corner talking to the Voluptuous Vixen. He scratched his cheek under the eye patch and made his way across the floor, squeezing himself between the back of a sofa and the arse of a bad dancer along the way. Pussycat saw him coming and started to move away. A bad sign. Vixen, knowing that there was trouble looming on the horizon even in her thick skull, moved away so that the two could be alone. “Pussycat…” “No Black, don’t, please. I’m confused about it as it is.” Confused? Three words?! “Please, Pussycat, can we talk? I just want to talk that’s all.” “I don’t think…” “Please.” There was a moment of silence as Pussycat dwelled on the idea. What was it she was pushing away from? Indeed when she heard those words, those syllables, those letters, her eyes began to sparkle again, to shine brightly like they had done before splitting up with Fest. But then, seeing his chance, the Spindly Shat wrapped up her confused little body and thrust it into his pocket for safe-keeping. Pussycat was not just confronted with the old relationship with Fest but also with the new relationship with Shat. Black was shoved out of the way completely – she saw it as an impossible relationship just as Black had done. “Okay. Where?” “Let’s go upstairs – there’s less noise there.” It was like taking her up to a cliff and pushing her over the edge. It was cruel but if it was the only way to the bottom and it needed to be reached, Black didn’t care how many bones were broken on the way down. Ultimately of course, this is a journey Pussycat wanted to make, so she would be ready for it when she got there, but she never thought it would ever come. Black let Pussycat lead the way up the stairs, each holding a new drink in case it was needed to calm nerves. Pussycat opened the first door and there she saw a sight that Black had had to endure before. The Frivolous Fuck was found to be in the Spindly Shat’s web of sex, sweat and salad cream, just as Frivolous had predicted and Black had told her to get herself stuck into. Pussycat stood aghast, shedding light on the two bodies. She was ready for it and not one tear fell to the floor. What happened next was over in a matter of seconds. Pussycat yelled ‘Bastard’ into the room and legged it down the stairs and out of the front door, closely followed by Shat who tried covering his dignity with some bed sheets that Black happily stepped on as he flew past, waving and shouting obscenities while urging for her to come back and for him to explain himself. Shat watched from the doorway as Pussycat jumped into a carriage and shot off down the drive and back home, feeling the cold suddenly as a chilly wind blew past. “Mission accomplished,” said Black, looking back into the bedroom at Frivolous who was sat up on the bed with one knee resting under her chin, her other leg spread wide, urging to dangle over the comfort and towards the floor. “That’s alright for you… you could have at least come in when he was finished… Don’t want to finish me off do you?” “I’d love to but he’ll be back for his armour in a minute. See you later and cheers.” “Anytime babe.” Black trotted back downstairs as Shat moped his way back up to get his clothes. There was an assortment of people in the hall who were giggling and pointing fingers at the now disgraced army official. He’ll never live that one down. “What’s going on? What’s happened?” asked Fest as Black entered the main room, lighting up a cigarette along the way. Plug the Mug stood next to him strangely close. Obviously there was something going on there but for some reason or another, this closeness didn’t invigorate the same reaction that he’d had for the incident with Frivolous on the Beacon. Perhaps it was jealousy because who would fancy Plug? Seemingly Fest did. “Oh nothing really.” “Come on Black, tell us.” Black was taken aback that Plug had actually spoken up. He was happy that she did but did not like the way she used his name at every opportunity. And then she would speak in third person when he was in the room and all sorts like that. The only thing that made up for her being a ‘friend’ was because of the parties round her house, as already detailed. “Well, Pussycat just found her new best friend in bed with Frivolous, would you believe?” “You can’t be serious!” exclaimed Fest. It was Black’s turn to feel smug. “I am serious. Fancy a drink?” It was very unusual to break the routine of the bimonthly get-together between Fest and Black, so when Black received a letter in the post the morning before the meeting, he was suspicious and intrigued. In fact, he’d almost choked on his toast. He’d had no word from Pussycat and hopefully he’d completely destroyed the connection between her and the Spindly Shat. What was worrying, however, was that she hadn’t contacted him whatsoever, yet she may have been in the same position as Black: not knowing where he lived or how to get hold of him. In other words, like most things these days, it would have to wait until the planned cruise on the Beacon not three days away from the meeting with Fest. The letter detailed meeting in the Harlequin, a very upper crust restaurant in town with strict dress codes, much like what Plug had ordered for the visitors to her house, the Podium. After grudgingly slipping into the tuxedo, throwing the trenchcoat to one side once again, Black called a cab and made his way to the restaurant. The ride was quite short and he swiftly jumped out and made his way to the door. The doorman looked over him without seeming to move a muscle and Black went through into the reception where a porter led him into the restaurant. Fest was already there but the surprise (to an extent) was the presence of Plug sat next to him. “Good afternoon.” “Good afternoon Blackie. I thought we could meet up for a snack, you know?” “The Harlequin for a snack eh? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of anything so grand.” “Yes, well,” snapped Plug as if it was the normal thing to do. With every progressing day Black was beginning to hate her more. “So what’s news then?” “This and that. Same old, same old.” There was a slight nervousness in his voice that Black picked up on quickly. “Now come on Fest. I know you better than that. What’s on your mind?” Black was quite happy to leave Plug out of the conversation altogether. “Should I tell him?” Plug nodded. Black almost had a heart attack there and then, not believing that Fest was now taking orders from this leech.
Copyright © 2005 Jack M Brown |