The alarm stole Byron from his sleep at 5.30 am, a mere 2 hours after stumbling in from one of his so-called little drinks with Jake. Looking down at himself, he'd noticed he hadn't even managed to undress, and , the lack of boxers and an open fly, told him he'd had sex. A pink stamp on his hand, and a faint smell of perfume confirmed his suspected visit to the strip club he visited in the early days with Jake. Before Megan, obviously, but also afterwards, when the anger took hold, sometimes he would stay for hours on end, just soaking up the sex, drink, beautiful girls, telling his story to anyone who'd listen.
Strong painkillers and a full english breakfast saved him from the brink, so much so, he decided to log on, see what was happening on Beautiful Words.Various feed back comments, the usual slight flirtations from some of the female writers, and 7 messages from maiden. He typed in the search for poems and his latest batch were a big hit. "Phantom has 7 new messages from Maiden".(My Torment) had 14 reactions,(she is gone) and ( Megan) was gathering quite an audience, and Holly was slowly realising the pain in these pieces, real, solid pain.So much so, she joined the group. Byron scolled down to the last message from Maiden. "Dearest Phantom, i feel so much empathy for you and your current situation. Please feel free to talk with me any time you want".Byron wondered if she'd still be as interested if she could see his scars, if she knew he had blindness in one eye, a scar running down the whole of his right facial area, down to his collar bone.
"Jesus! Aw Jesus!. Byron grabbed his mobile and practically punched in Jakes number, he'd remembered something form the night before. He dared not go there, not without confirmation from Jake, ring ring ring ring "Answer the fucking phone, you divvy!!!!!". The reciever clicked,"Jake, Jake, get your FUCKING ass over here! NOW!!".Jake knew what he had coming." Just don't shoot the messenger mann". Shoot the messenger?, shoot the fucking messenger?, byron was likely to beat the messenger to death with a beer bottle.
The next 20 minutes was a blur, starting with some brandy, followed by a few smashed plates, an accidental smashing of Megans picture, and some sobbing.Turning the door handle, very very slowly, Jake crept through the door, taking in the deluge. Byron was sitting on the floor, exhausted and crying. "Look pal, she swore me to secrecy, suck it up. It's done! "Ah , suck it up!, that's your advise," Byron felt the blood rise in him, his temple veins were bulging," Suck it up, my fiance was pregnant, you knew, you fuck, and you want me to SUCK IT UP!!".
A glass flew in the direction of Jakes head, connecting perfectly, causing him to run for the kitchen, "You said you wouldn't kill the messenger", "Agreed BUDDY" Bryon said sarcastically, "But i didn't say i wouldn't kick 40 shades of shit outta ya!". Byron caught up with Jake and connected a punch, right in the sternom, enough to tear a huge grunt from him, doubling him over. Jake stumbled to the floor of the hall, half running, half dragging his feet. A few more smacks round the head and an airborn candle stick was all it took for Jake to finally plead enough already. The lifelong friends lay on the plush hall carpet, Byron wondering how the hell they would get past this, Jake wondering how many stitches he needed, and if that fit blonde chick was free tonight for a lap dance, and some sex,....
(c) chris smith/ eileen mcgreevy 2011