What Dies Inside Read Online Free PDF Page A
Author: James Craig
‘have nots’ was causing him an almost physical pain. He was just about to get up from the cream sofa when Dom, wearing not a stitch of clothing, finally wandered into the living room, scratching his head and yawning widely. ‘Late night?’ Carlyle asked, his voice dripping with jealousy.
‘Not particularly,’ grinned Dom, as he looked towards the kitchen. ‘It’s more to do with the company I keep.’ Stepping over to the armchair in the corner, he picked up a pair of jeans and a grubby looking green and white Frank Zappa T-shirt. ‘Where are my trainers?’ he asked, pulling on the jeans. Carlyle pointed to the pair of blue Adidas Originals peeking out from under the chair.
‘Ta.’
‘No problem.’ Carlyle felt like crying.
‘C’mon,’ Dom grunted, pulling the T-shirt over his head and slipping on the shoes, ‘let’s go out and get some breakfast.’
Carlyle took a bite of his egg roll and washed it down with a mouthful of lukewarm Nescafé. The Roadrunner café on Goldhawk Road had long been a favourite haunt; the food was crappy and the service appalling, but it was cheap and had a seedy, down at heel air that appealed to him. At this time on a Saturday morning, it was almost full, so they had to share a table with a couple of young women busy fortifying themselves for an assault on the department stores of the West End.
‘So,’ Carlyle said, wiping ketchup from his chin with a napkin, ‘you and Sam, is it serious?’
‘Serious?’ Dom pulled a packet of Embassy Regal from his pocket and stuck one in his mouth.
‘Well, you know, you’ve been going out together for, what, almost six months now?’
‘“Going out”?’ Ignoring the disapproving glance of one of the women at a nearby table, a pretty blonde wearing a denim jacket over a cheesecloth blouse, Dom laughed as he lit up his smoke. After taking a long drag, he turned away from the table and exhaled. ‘Listen to you,’ he continued, lowering his voice. ‘We don’t “go out”, we get high and we fuck.’
No need to be so bloody smug about it,
Carlyle thought sourly.
‘Sam’s a nice girl,’ Dom explained, waving his cigarette airily over the table. ‘We hook up now and again, have a bit of fun, but that’s it.’
A bit of fun?
Carlyle felt his head spin with frustration as he watched the smoke from Dom’s cigarette rise lazily towards the ceiling. In his extremely limited experience, relationships with women were impossibly complex. It annoyed him intensely that Dom could make it seem so simple. Then again, it was like that with most things – Carlyle seeing complexity everywhere, while his mate just ploughed on regardless.
‘Anyway,’ Dom asked, ‘what about you? How’s the love-life?’ Sitting back in his chair, he winked at the blonde, who smiled despite herself.
‘What love-life?’ Carlyle replied, with rather too much feeling.
Taking another drag on his cig, Dom gave him a consoling pat on the arm. ‘Come on, Johnny boy, you’ve got to get out there.’ He gestured towards the passing traffic. ‘There’s a big, bad world out there, just waiting for you to jump into it.’
‘Mm.’ Carlyle slurped the last of his coffee. Deep down he knew that he simply wasn’t the kind of bloke who jumped into things – big, bad, or otherwise – much as he might want to.
‘If it’s just a question of getting your rocks off,’ Dom said, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette in a tin ashtray, ‘I know a couple of girls . . .’ He shot the blonde a frankly lecherous look that sent her scuttling from the table, with her mate in tow. ‘More than a couple, in fact.’
‘No, no,’ Carlyle said hastily as he watched the girls pay their bill at the counter and disappear through the door without so much as a backward glance. The last thing he wanted was for Dom to line him up with a hooker. Apart from anything else, he couldn’t afford one.
‘Whatever takes your fancy.’
‘No,’ Carlyle
‘Not particularly,’ grinned Dom, as he looked towards the kitchen. ‘It’s more to do with the company I keep.’ Stepping over to the armchair in the corner, he picked up a pair of jeans and a grubby looking green and white Frank Zappa T-shirt. ‘Where are my trainers?’ he asked, pulling on the jeans. Carlyle pointed to the pair of blue Adidas Originals peeking out from under the chair.
‘Ta.’
‘No problem.’ Carlyle felt like crying.
‘C’mon,’ Dom grunted, pulling the T-shirt over his head and slipping on the shoes, ‘let’s go out and get some breakfast.’
Carlyle took a bite of his egg roll and washed it down with a mouthful of lukewarm Nescafé. The Roadrunner café on Goldhawk Road had long been a favourite haunt; the food was crappy and the service appalling, but it was cheap and had a seedy, down at heel air that appealed to him. At this time on a Saturday morning, it was almost full, so they had to share a table with a couple of young women busy fortifying themselves for an assault on the department stores of the West End.
‘So,’ Carlyle said, wiping ketchup from his chin with a napkin, ‘you and Sam, is it serious?’
‘Serious?’ Dom pulled a packet of Embassy Regal from his pocket and stuck one in his mouth.
‘Well, you know, you’ve been going out together for, what, almost six months now?’
‘“Going out”?’ Ignoring the disapproving glance of one of the women at a nearby table, a pretty blonde wearing a denim jacket over a cheesecloth blouse, Dom laughed as he lit up his smoke. After taking a long drag, he turned away from the table and exhaled. ‘Listen to you,’ he continued, lowering his voice. ‘We don’t “go out”, we get high and we fuck.’
No need to be so bloody smug about it,
Carlyle thought sourly.
‘Sam’s a nice girl,’ Dom explained, waving his cigarette airily over the table. ‘We hook up now and again, have a bit of fun, but that’s it.’
A bit of fun?
Carlyle felt his head spin with frustration as he watched the smoke from Dom’s cigarette rise lazily towards the ceiling. In his extremely limited experience, relationships with women were impossibly complex. It annoyed him intensely that Dom could make it seem so simple. Then again, it was like that with most things – Carlyle seeing complexity everywhere, while his mate just ploughed on regardless.
‘Anyway,’ Dom asked, ‘what about you? How’s the love-life?’ Sitting back in his chair, he winked at the blonde, who smiled despite herself.
‘What love-life?’ Carlyle replied, with rather too much feeling.
Taking another drag on his cig, Dom gave him a consoling pat on the arm. ‘Come on, Johnny boy, you’ve got to get out there.’ He gestured towards the passing traffic. ‘There’s a big, bad world out there, just waiting for you to jump into it.’
‘Mm.’ Carlyle slurped the last of his coffee. Deep down he knew that he simply wasn’t the kind of bloke who jumped into things – big, bad, or otherwise – much as he might want to.
‘If it’s just a question of getting your rocks off,’ Dom said, stubbing out the remains of his cigarette in a tin ashtray, ‘I know a couple of girls . . .’ He shot the blonde a frankly lecherous look that sent her scuttling from the table, with her mate in tow. ‘More than a couple, in fact.’
‘No, no,’ Carlyle said hastily as he watched the girls pay their bill at the counter and disappear through the door without so much as a backward glance. The last thing he wanted was for Dom to line him up with a hooker. Apart from anything else, he couldn’t afford one.
‘Whatever takes your fancy.’
‘No,’ Carlyle