Beyond the Rage Read Online Free PDF Page A

hurt, little girl peered out from behind thick, mascara ’d lashes. ‘You need to do this for me.’ The working girl was back. ‘Leave your cash on the table there.’ Her hand moved back to his groin and she gripped his shaft as he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and pulled out two hundred pounds.
    ‘It’s all I’ve got on me,’ he said. ‘I didn’t expect...’
    ‘Shh.’ She placed a finger over his lips. ‘For tonight, that will do.’
    In the bedroom, her ankles locked behind his back as he moved in and out of her wetness. She raked his back and buttocks with her nails.
    ‘Harder, Kenny. Fuck me harder,’ she shouted into his ear and he lost his sense of guilt and gave in to the role she was demanding of him. He grunted and thrust, working up into a rhythm she was looking for. He surrendered to the sensations, to her urgency and came in a hot rush.
    Panting, he rolled over on to his back. His usual post-orgasmic feeling shaded with distaste. No, disgust. He shouldn’t have given in to her. He should have been more supportive. More of a friend.
    Alexis jumped off the bed and put on a white towelling robe. She pulled her hair back from her face, her expression strained through with a number of unreadable emotions. ‘Now you need to get the hell out of my apartment.’
    ‘But Alexis...’
    ‘Kenny, don’t make me ask you again,’ she said as she crossed her arms. ‘Just go.’

5
    He turned the radio on full blast as he drove home, as if to crowd out the confusion in his mind. It made sense to him that she ’d want to force some sort of normality into her life. What was normal for her was a transaction. When it came to that form of negotiation she held the power. She decided what happened and when. She made the choice.
    He got that. But how could she face another man after one had forced himself on her and hurt her? Surely she should never want to breathe the same air as another man again.
    The bass-line of an old Luther Vandross track filled the car.
    ‘...she’s a super lady, uh huh...’
    Ahh, the irony. He switched channels and found a station playing some hard rock. That was more in keeping with his mood.
    The roads were quiet. Most people would surely be curled under a quilt, having given up on one day and sleeping on the expectation that the next might be an improvement.
    Sleep. That would be nice. He suddenly realised how tired he was.
    Shit. Fuckity fuck. He ’d forgotten all about his Aunt Vi and the letter. He looked at the clock. 11:30. They ’d all be in bed now and his name would be muddier than mud. He ’d go first thing in the morning, with a bunch of flowers and a pair of earplugs to drown out the moans of his Uncle Colin. How that woman had stayed with him all these years, he ’d never know.
    He was on the Great Western Road driving out towards Kelvinside when the bright beam of car headlights filled his mirror. He looked up, trying to judge who it was. Police? He turned down the volume on his stereo. The car lights appeared closer and he could hear music coming from the other car. Not police then, just a joyrider.
    He pressed his foot down on the accelerator. His car surged forward. It might only have been a Ford, but it was the top of the range and had plenty power to spare. The lights from the other car faded into the distance and then came back as the driver faced up to the challenge that Kenny now presented him with.
    He heard a shout and looked in his mirror. There were two guys in the other car. He couldn’t make out both of them, but he could see the driver was not happy. Good. Kenny had a surfeit of anger to deal out and if this guy wanted some, he was happy to oblige. For his own part he never could understand that urge to assert your position on the road, that rage that built up in some people. We all have somewhere to go and the roads are wide enough for us all. Why lose it just because someone gives us an imagined slight while we are behind the wheel of a