It was like waking up from a strange dream, that he didn’t quite remember. His hands and feet were bound with duct tape and he was sitting on a wooden chair in the middle of a strange room. Dark. Except for narrow strips of light coming through the gaps in the curtains. In another part of the house a man was singing loudly. Somewhere above his head he could hear a clock ticking. Raising his chin he tried to focus. His jaw still hurt and when he moved it, he could taste something sharp. Blood. Then he noticed the figure in the darkness across the room, watching him.

The man was sitting on a brown leather sofa. He was wearing a navy-blue shell suit, unzipped to the top of his potbelly, and smoking a fat cigar.

             You’re awake? the man said. You had me worried there for a second. Now what the bleedin’ hell was you up to?

The kid opened his mouth to speak. A good-looking kid…Tall, lanky, and still in his teens. He’d been leaving the club and had hidden in the van when the boy had threatened him. It was when he had woken up several hours later, that the thing with the dog’s had occurred.

The man seated in the chairs’ manner seemed to change as soon as they got to the part that involved his dogs.

The man in the chair said,

           Don’t give me that son. You must have done something to upset ‘em. They didn’t just come to fall out of a moving van all by themselves.

He scrunched his dark eyebrows together. Apart from the scrunching, his expression hardly seemed to change.

The kid lifted his hands and tried to scratch his ear. He was scared. For some time, neither the man nor the kid said a word to one another. Then at some point, the man got up. He switched on the overhead light, freed the kid’s hands and feet and sat back down again.

The man began picking his fingernails over an ashtray. He turned his palms over. His palms were massive. The kid stared at the man’s massive fingers and the man looked up and grinned.

            Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a pair of hands before…See them? said the man.

The kid slowly nodded his head. There were lots of Thick pink scars across the man’s knuckles.

            That’s from years ago, said the man, staring at the blotchy looking flesh. Used to do a bit of bare-knuckle, didn’t I?

The kid edged further back in his seat and rubbed the back of his neck. Then all of a sudden he began to hear a desperate scratching sound coming from the other side of the Living Room Door and the muscles in his stomach knotted.

The man lifted his head.

            Oi Dennis, he called.

There was no answer.

           Dennis…Dennis!

           I can hear you, shouted a deep baritone voice.

           Dennis mate. Make sure Satan and Killer don’t get out, will you?

The kid heard the sound of vicious barking, followed by the sound of pots and pans crashing to the floor. A cupboard doors slammed shut. A fridge door thumped. Then the living room door slowly swung open, and a blade of light spread across the plush white carpet. A tall well-built black man strolled in wearing an identical navy blue shell-suit to the one that the man seated on the leather sofa was wearing. The kid noted that the second man was so tall; he literally had to crouch to get under the doorframe. He placed two ice-filled glass tumblers on top of the coffee table and sat on the sofa beside the other man.

           I left ‘em in the kitchen, he said.

           You give ‘em something to eat? asked the man with large hands.

           Yeah they’re eating it now, said the tall black man, before turning to look at the kid.

The man with large hands said, By the way. This is…he looked at the kid, and raised both eyebrows expectantly.

           Danny, said the kid nervously.

           Well Danny. I’m Alfie, and the big chap next to me is my business partner Dennis. 

The kid looked at the black man but didn’t say anything.

           He don’t look much, now that I can see him properly, said the black man.

He began pouring brandy into the glasses. The brown liquid made a crackling sound as it hit the ice cubes.

           How old are you then son? asked the white man.

           Seventeen, said the kid.

            Yeah I thought so, said the black man. He’s just a kid Alf.

The white man coughed into his fist and smoothed back his dyed jet-black hair. Then he picked up his drink and swilled the brandy around in the glass.

            Yeah, you’re right, he said. He does look about fourteen, don’t he? Been bunking of school, have you mate?

He made a horrible coughing noise that was supposed to pass for a laugh. Then he wiped away some brandy that had accidentally dribbled onto his chin.

The black man took a sip of his drink, and winked at the other man.       

           I don’t think he likes us very much, he said. He doesn’t seem to be in a very good mood Alf.

The white man stared at the kid, and the kid immediately dropped his gaze and look down at the carpet.

           Listen son, said the white man. You should think yourself lucky Dennis hit you when he did. He did you a bleedin’ favour. If I’d ‘ave got hold of you, it would have been a lot, lot worse.

He frowned and took a puff of his cigar.

The kid started mumbling.

            But I never did nothing, he said.

The white man’s face seemed to take on a purple hue. He began yelling.

            Didn’t do nothing! Didn’t do nothing!

His face began to sweat.

            You nearly killed my bleedin’ dogs you little rascal. Ain’t that enough!

He took another swig of brandy.

            Yeah but it wasn’t my fault, said the kid.

Oi, don’t push your luck, said the white man. Dennis ‘ll tell ya. I’m not the sort to suffer fools gladly. If there’s one thing I really hate son, it’s cruelty to animals. I won’t have it. You hear me? I won’t have it!

The kid noted that the end of the white man’s nose had gone red. The nose itself looked like it had been smashed to pieces with a sledgehammer. There was hardly anything to it. The rest of the man was just thick: Thick shoulders, thick arms, thick neck and extra thick fingers. The man flicked cigar ash into the glass ashtray on the coffee table, and took two or three quick puffs to keep the cigar from going out.

            Those dogs went completely crazy, said the kid breaking the silence.

            You’re a lippy bleeder, ain’t cha? said the white man.

He grinned at the black man and shook his head. The kid turned away.

Suddenly he felt a large hand on his shoulder. It was the tall black man, Dennis. The black man winked at him and then turned round to face his buddy.

            S’all right Alf, he’s probably just tired, he said smiling.

The kid glanced up with a wounded/angry look on his face, and then went back to staring at the carpet.

The white man sat back on the sofa, holding the cigar, breathing smoke out of his mouth. He was looking at the other man, but he didn’t appear to be listening to what he was saying. Looking at the kid, he barked,

           Oi listen, if you gonna test my patient, I’ll bloody let the dogs out right now. See how you like that.

Then all at once he seemed to completely lose his cool. He put down his brandy, stood up and moved closer to where the kid was sitting. The black man stepped between them, and put his hand on the white man’s shoulders.

           Just give him a couple of minutes to get himself together Alf, he said. Let’s not get too hasty, eh?

 After that, no one spoke for quite some time. The whole time the kid could hear the sound of barking coming from the kitchen, just across the hall.

pic barlow’s18-dave berge