Missing Link - Part One
As promised, here is the first part of one of my stories. It is a fantasy/horror story. I hope you enjoy this tale and I look forward to your feedback.
Warning! This story does contain some adult themes and may not be suitable for people who are very easily offended!
The 'Green Man' was one of those pubs that most respectable people in the town avoided. The kind of establishment that only stayed open and fully operational due to the fact the public health inspector was scared shitless of the owner.
Alan cautiously wandered into the dimly lit seedy pub, in search of the premise's notorious landlord and local businessman, known as Dirty Bertie. Around here was the chance of some much-needed work; Alan was a struggling student in need of urgent funds. Needs were such that he had put his pre-planned date with Demi on hold for tonight and hoped that this would not mean he would be out of favour with her again. For she was a one in a million girl; albeit a quirky one.
There were only a small number of customers within the pub and all of them seemed like locals who were not used to strangers hanging around the bar. They briefly paused to regard Alan with questioning disdainful looks; then continued their conversations and drinking.
Alan moved past a line of fruit machines, which by the look of them had been beaten up a good few times by hard done by punters. He was careful where he stepped as the carpet was in a sorry state and Alan was wearing his best job interview shoes.
Bertie Bronson a.k.a Dirty Bertie, was easy to locate due to his appearances in various local media over the years; not necessarily always for positive reasons. A rough around the edges sort of bloke, shaved head, stubble across his face and the regulation 'hard man' tattoos covering his pale skin. His various occupations included: pub landlord, nightclub owner, loan shark and being the owner of a very shady garage business. Dirty Bertie was a man used to getting his own way in life.
Moving toward the back of the bar the infamous Bertie was in full sight, sitting in a deserted corner of the pub like a medieval feudal baron surveying his manor. Almost having second thoughts about the whole charade, Alan nervously moved on up to Bertie's table.
"Hello Mr Bronson, my name's Alan Tandy and I'm here for the interview."
“About time you arrived you little shit,” grunted an impatient Bertie, “what time do you call this?”
“Three o'clock in the afternoon, the time we agreed on over the phone.”
“Your word against mine you muppet.”
“Umm...OK.”
Bertie gestured Alan to sit down on the opposite side of the table, “So down to business, what experience of bar management work do you have?”
“None.”
“What the fucking hell are you doing here then?”
“You never mentioned anything about previous work experience being required.”
“And I never mentioned that I'm running a bloody government youth training programme either.”
“Are there any other work positions available?” Alan immediately regretted uttering this statement.
"No work here; not unless you're a bloody female pole dancer or stripper and we already have a 'Mrs Mops' that does the pub's cleaning; although God knows what I still pay her for these days!"
Alan already feeling a little humiliated by the experience, decided to leave and started to get up out of his seat.
"Where do you think you're going?"
“Well, you said there was no work around here for an inexperienced bar manager.”
“I said there was no work on these premises, I didn't say I had no other jobs going.”
"I have no experience of working in a garage and no desire to be a debt collector for you!"
“That's not what I had in mind, kid.”
“Then what exactly?”
"You're a media student right."
“Yes.”
“Precisely what are you studying?”
“Photography and journalism.”
Bertie gave out an unnerving laugh and leant forward towards Alan, "Then I've got something that's right up your street."
Alan felt confused and afraid at the same time and nervously said, “What is it?”
“You see, I have this real slag of a wife, who is nothing but a useless bitch and a burden on my wallet. She's a real pervert too, I once almost caught her having an orgy with some of the men who work at my garage business. I have no evidence like, but saw her sheepishly emerging from the back room looking a bit exhausted and with her skirt tucked into her knickers.”
Bertie paused for thought then said, “well she was either screwing around with those lads or emerging from the bog after a really heavy shit.”
Alan just stared blankly back.
“That was a joke; you can laugh.”
Alan forced out a nervous chortle, “So what exactly do you want me to do?”
“A bit of detective work is required. You see I need photographic or better still video evidence of that bitch cheating on me, then I can be rid of her once and for all.”
“Do I have any choice with regards to accepting this assignment?”
“What do you think?”
"Guess this is my first photojournalism job then," said Alan in a resigned tone of voice.
"And it's about time more of you students got up off your over privileged arses!"
“Hey; it's a whole different world at university these days.”
“You talking back to me kid?”
“Umm...no.”
“Good. Well then here's what I need you to do. You see the misses has been into the whole swinging scene for a few years now, as I have found out and more recently she's got into dogging!”
“How do you know all this?”
“Another little bitch who works behind this bar and is friends with my misses told me; after I forced it out of her under threat of the sack. Seems I'm always the fucking last to know around here.”
“So what's the plan?”
"I have the location of the dogging site and you need to get your arse down there at 9:00 pm tonight and take a few 'pretty pictures' of Gertie in action."
“So your wife's name is Gertie?”
“Yes; Dirty Gertie from number thirty!”
Alan did not get the joke and gave another blank expression.
"Can't blame you for not laughing this time; guess you're too bloody young to remember that one."
Alan did not wish to hand around in this pub any longer and simply asked Bertie for a description of Gertie's appearance and the location of the dogging site. Alan was handed: a recent photo of a stereotypically chavvy woman in her late twenties, a map of the area and the directions leading to the site in question.
Before leaving Alan asked, “What happens if I'm unsuccessful in my assignment?”
Bertie gave another of his unnerving deep laughs and replied, “Then my Staffy Bull Terrier, will be shitting out the remains of your chewed off ball bag!”
To be Continued...