It was when the band started that I realised I was enjoying myself. It was a three-piece combo, not my sort of music, something jazzy. I’d never been in a restaurant with live music before and I liked it. He poured me another glass of wine, and emptied the bottle into his glass. There was a waiter, hovering, like some preying bird and he just turned - didn’t even click - and waved the empty bottle, as if he expected him to peck it from his fingers. He ordered another bottle turned back to me. His eyes locked on and he was all mine again.
He had been all mine from the first day I clapped eyes on him. Sitting in my Citroen with the heater on full blast and shivering, I’d cursed Louise for…for being late, being wrong, whatever. But she’d emerged with him from their block, in due course, and while I was thinking about whether her limp was a new one I took in the features. Brown hair to the shoulders, which were broad but not beefy. Eyes: blue. Nose sort of tapering, strong but not prominent. Pale skin, but not unhealthy looking. Tall. At least, he looked tall next to Louise, but then so did I. They’d left the flats and I let them disappear out of view. I was back the next day when I had the thrill of going with him to the newsagent for fags, though never less than fifty yards behind. He didn’t go out that evening. Not the most eventful day of my life, but boredom’s the price of being careful and you’ve got to be careful if you want to reach thirty, which these days I’ve decided I do. Next day he met a man in a pub, which was warmer at least, even if it wasn’t the classiest of establishments. February’s not my favourite month, not if it’s wet, and this one, you’ll remember, was very wet. I didn’t know the other man, but he came away cheerful, and if my eyes hadn’t deceived me, richer too.
It’s funny when you first meet someone you know so well that they can’t scratch without you expecting it. It was the first time I met him, anyway. Of course, that was only two days ago, but the meeting made little impact because I knew him already. It was like passing a friend on the street, really. Despite all that there was something new, something I’d only known since I’d actually met him. He’d turned his gaze onto me, looked into my eyes and smiled. Charm was what was new. No, I must have realised he had that. What was new was how sincere he was - real and immediate - that was what I hadn’t foreseen. Just the tiniest chink of vulnerability, perhaps, that he let you glimpse - behind those cynical eyes.
He had the grilled sole. It was good - excellent in fact - and I wished I’d had it. He’d recommended it to me, so I had a steak. The steak was good too. The wine was good, the company was amiable; absurd - but I was enjoying myself. Well, what the hell - I relaxed and went with it. What I hadn’t noticed about his eyes, across the streets and bars, day after day, was how deep their colour was. Not that sort of washed-out faded-jeans blue. Real, deep; the proverbial pools. He was doing the talking and enjoying it, so I got to gaze at him. His voice coursed and cascaded, a bit of self-importance here, a spot of self-effacement there. I stared into his eyes and beyond, and let the alcohol blur things a little, and I realised how beautiful he was. There was no denying it. He looked like he ought to be advertising shampoo. Not that it was superficial, either, because behind all that there was real good nature. A rough, gruff, protective streak that would normally have riled me, but not in him. Not tonight. Not that I’m eulogising - I wouldn’t want you to think that. I’ve never had a problem speaking ill of the dead.
I let him pay. He called his waiter back and ordered a taxi to Leopold House. For a moment I thought I’d offended him, that he was off, and to hell with me. I hadn’t talked much, but when I do I can be direct, especially after a couple of glasses of wine. People who don’t know me expect deference and ignorance. If you know stuff you’re supposed to talk posh, and if you don’t know stuff you’re not supposed to have opinions. I have opinions on most things, though I don’t like them getting stale. Anyway, I hadn’t offended him, he was just making an assumption. I didn’t like that, but it was what I wanted so I held myself back - better than going on somewhere. He had Louise to think about, and so did I. I reckoned she would still be at her antenatal class; she’d told him she’d being staying at her Mother’s. That or he’d told her, I didn’t know which. Whatever he usually did when he brought home his women - I’d never been close enough to find out.
He fiddled for the switch as we swung into his flat rather noisily. We stopped in the hallway for a moment, and kissed a bit. He went to put a sidelight on. I looked around - the packing cases had gone. Not for guests to see. He was looking for some music. I went to the side and found the whisky, fumbling a bit to make it appear I didn’t know where it was. The low lighting in the flat didn’t make it look any better. It small and felt mass-produced. I lived in a tower block for my first seventeen years. All I wanted now was to get out again. His taste in décor wasn’t as good as his taste in whisky. Perhaps Louise had decorated it. He wasn’t the sort of guy who’d be into homemaking. The music was jazzy, like in the restaurant, but I didn’t like it anymore. It jarred and trilled. I passed him a whisky, but left mine untouched. We kissed a bit more: I wasn’t going to hurry. When he answered the inevitable call of nature, I went to the TV cabinet, pulled out the Star Wars Trilogy, found what I was looking for. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Louise, I just needed to be sure everything was to plan. It was. On the floor behind was a broken broom handle. I wondered if he used it to when he hit her, but pushed the thought away - not my business. I opened the doors to the balcony. "Bit of air" I explained when he came back in, even though it was February.
The cold blew away the warm fuzz of the restaurant, which was what I needed. Up until now there had been no risk, not unless Louise had squealed and he was playing me along. He would have to be a better actor than me, and I’m good. Anyway I knew she hadn’t; I don’t make misjudgements like that. Breaking in never worried me - it’s like falling off a bike. He was leaning on the rail, as if surveying all that he owned. He had a reputation in the area, so maybe it wasn’t far off the mark. An earnest type in a pub who’d had a radio-alarm off him had come up against punks with a knife a couple of days later. He'd come past and just waved the punks off, or that's how the earnest guy told it.
I needed to be quick, to use fully my advantage. As I gently put my arm around him, I reached for his and felt the tension ripple through me. I stroked his cheek and twisted his arm round, hard, behind his back. He yelped like a puppy, surprised, as I forced it back and locked it. "Move and I’ll break it" I told him, hoping he wouldn’t. I looked down and saw no people - it was too cold to be out. He had a lot of strength, and I had to get him onto his knees before he fought back. It was not a very big balcony. I explained to him, quickly as I could, what I was doing. I told him what Louise wanted in a monotone, because I just wanted to get it over, though I had to break off to stop him twisting. "I’ll break your fucking arm" I hissed, and felt my throat burn like acid after the dry speech. When I finished and he knew all about why, I put the sole of my shoe on his back and propelled him through the railings. I had a moment of white fear that I’d mistaken which one I’d loosened earlier. My chances would be slim if he’d had a shot at coming back at me. I watched him fall six floors before going back into the flat. I didn’t close the doors.
I went back to the TV cabinet and fetched out the money. I didn’t bother to count it, because, like I say, I trusted her. The door locked itself on the Yale as I left. When I kicked open again it was like they do on the television and I’d have been impressed if I hadn’t loosened the screws that afternoon. I took the stairs down and didn’t meet anyone. When I got home I cut my own hair.