Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [2]
He wiped his nose again, breathed deeply through his mouth, and immediately wished he hadn't. He wasn't ready for the taste that clung to his tongue, his lips, his teeth. Like he'd just sucked a penny. He glanced over at Effie, who shrugged, spoke into the phone again.
Fraser felt like crying. Not that he felt sad, exactly. Come to think of it, he could just as easily break into a fit of giggles. Really odd. Like he'd taken a fistful of pills and was buzzing and sloppy drunk at the same time. Could be the coke, but it was a feeling he didn't recognise.
He was glowing under his skin.
What he really wanted was for Effie to hold him, stroke his hair while he fell asleep. That'd be nice.
***
THE NIGHT HE met Effie, Fraser had been doped to the eyeballs—so much so that all the beer he'd drunk wasn't having any effect—but even straight, Effie would have made him laugh his balls off. She had something about her. An air, a friendly face, a charm, a genuine smile. And that dark humour you either loved or hated.
Fraser loved it.
At first he decided to use Effie to make Simone jealous. Simone was Fraser's on/off girlfriend. She was also Worm's wife. Fraser had never slept with a married woman before, and it was fun, and a little dangerous. Anyway, his plan wasn't working. Simone didn't pay them any attention and before long Fraser was having a good time chatting to Effie and didn't care if Simone noticed.
"Come with me," Fraser had said an hour or so later, grabbing Effie's arm. "I want to show you something."
He steered her towards the back door of Worm and Simone's house, weaving through the throng along the way, careful not to spill his beer. Along the lobby. Into the kitchen.
"You a friend of Simone's?" he asked Effie.
"Nope."
"You know Worm?"
"Nope," she said. "I wasn't invited. How about you?"
"Friends of my Uncle Phil. I'd introduce you but he'd embarrass me."
"He's here?"
"The fat, ginger guy sinking beers like there's no tomorrow."
"Maybe there isn't," she said, shrugging. "I can see the family resemblance."
"Thanks." He grinned.
"My pleasure."
"What do you do?" Fraser asked as they jostled past a stoned couple all tangled up in each other in the doorway. "I mean, when you're not gate-crashing parties."
"I told you."
"That's right. So you did." She killed people. Fraser laughed. Laughed till his eyelids were heavy with tears. It wasn't that funny, but he'd started and couldn't stop.
Effie moved off.
He followed, wiping his eyes. "Oops," he said as he tripped.
She caught him. Lightning reflexes. A killer's reflexes.
He laughed again but managed to control himself before it turned into another fit of giggles. Didn't want to get hysterical. Anyway, if it came to a square go, he could take her easy.
"What's so funny?" she asked.
"I love your … style." He smiled. Her eyes widened and she smiled too. He chinked his beer bottle against hers. "I like you, Effie."
"I like you too. What did you want to show me?"
He wrapped his arm round her waist and dragged her to the end of the garden. There was a shed at the back. An ordinary shed. A common shed. A common or garden shed. Ha! "Whoo." His legs nearly gave out there. Stumble bumble. Maybe the drink was having an effect after all. About bloody time.
"Here." He stopped. The shed was padlocked. He rattled the lock.
He handed his beer to her, raised a forefinger. Then dipped his hand into his pocket and rummaged around. Found his keys. Ran his fingers through them, found the little brass one.
Effie said, "I won't ask why you have a key for Worm's shed."
Fraser nodded, put his fingers to his lips, licked them. They tasted of beer. Put the key in the slot. Or tried to. Wasn't as easy as it looked. It was dark and the slot was tiny and he was pissed as a fart.
Effie placed the beer on the ground, took the key from him. Opened the padlock. And then pressed her palm against the door.
"After you," Fraser said.
"After you," Effie said.
And she