Warhol's Prophecy

80

ROB GIBSON RAISED a hand to attract the barman’s attention. He picked at the bowl of peanuts before him while he waited for his glass to be refilled with Johnnie Walker. Once it had been, he sipped at the fiery liquid, feeling it burn its way to his stomach.

The pub was fairly quiet. Other than two or three youths gathered around a fruit machine in one corner, and another group of men about his own age playing pool just behind him, there wasn’t much activity inside the building.

Rob had been there for about an hour. He’d driven there straight from work.

Frank Burnside had tried to persuade him to leave the office earlier, but Rob had insisted he had work to complete, and allowed his partner to leave him alone in the solitude of BG Trucks.

There was work to do: there always was. And he was certainly in no rush to get back to the Travelodge. Hence the stop-off at the pub.

It was like many such places in and around the city centre, new, characterless and totally lacking in charm, but Rob hadn’t come in to enjoy the ambience. He sipped more of his whisky and looked around the bar disinterestedly.

There was a couple in their early twenties huddled in one corner over their drinks. Laughing and smiling, occasionally kissing. Rob watched them for a moment, until he became aware that the young man had noticed his intrusive stare and was meeting it almost challengingly.

Rob smiled, raised his glass in salute, and turned on his stool.

More peanuts. Another drink.

He was sure that he’d had too much already. He wasn’t drunk – nowhere near it – but it didn’t take too much to tip a breathalyser, did it? Just as well he wasn’t too far from the Travelodge. The last thing he needed at the moment was some over-zealous copper pulling him over for drink-driving.

What he’d needed last night was a fucking copper. One of the good old boys in blue to arrest the arsehole who’d been trying to kill him.

The arsehole who was shagging his wife.

Rob lowered his head, unwelcome thoughts spinning around in his mind.

Thoughts of infidelity.

Visions of Hailey on her back with her legs wrapped around some other bastard’s back.

Visions of her mouth on some other guy’s cock.

Doesn’t feel too good, does it? Boot on the other foot and all that shit. How do you like it? Can you imagine what Hailey felt like whenever she thought about you and Sandy?

Sandy?

For insane seconds after he’d first left his own house the night before, he’d contemplated driving over to her flat.

Revenge?

Revenge for revenge? Remember who started this little merry-go-round of infidelity going. Take a bow, Rob Gibson.

He downed what was left in his glass and looked at the empty tumbler.

One more?

Rob ran a hand through his hair and looked up, catching sight of his reflection in the mirror behind the bar.

He ordered a mineral water instead, to wash down the last few peanuts that he scraped from the bowl.

The clock at one end of the bar told him it was after ten.

Becky would be in bed by now, asleep with any luck.

He finished half the water and got to his feet, fumbling in his jacket pocket for his car keys. He passed the young couple on the way out. They were still kissing.

Rob sucked in several deep breaths as he stepped into the pub car park. He shivered a little, surprised at how chilly it had become.

The gravel crunched beneath his feet as he walked across to the waiting Audi.

It was parked beneath a large oak tree, and he noticed there were several dollops of bird shit on the roof.

That was meant to be good luck, wasn’t it?

On any other occasion, he probably would have smiled.

The car park was dimly lit, illuminated only by two sodium lights near the exit onto the main road.

Rob squinted in the gloom, trying to make out the door lock.

The tree towering above him and the bushes that grew so thickly around this side of the car park helped to blot out any natural light, and he was forced to bend forward to find the lock.

He heard the rustle of leaves, and was about to straighten up.

More crunching of gravel close behind him.

He realized in that split second that he wasn’t alone.

And then the first blow landed.