The Fray

Chapter 6

Even after months of neglect and absenteeism, as much appreciated as it was, it was a mere smidge to the true amount of the time I wanted- required. Years would have been far more sufficient. Decades even better.

It had to be the day his name popped into my head that he would make his grand, unwanted appearance back into my life. I hate him. I utterly loathe-passionately despise- the selfish, disgusting excuse of a human being. Agathon is a beautiful ray of sunshine in comparison.

If Ian could see me now. I laughed humourlessly. What would Doddy and Lynne say when they read through my upcoming lies? I'd have to lie, unless necessary the truth will never pass my lips.

He just sounded so uncharacteristically desperate and vulnerable on the phone, how could I have possibly refused?

I'm just going to walk in there, take pleasure in seeing him in his most weakest state and then sashay out of there. The perfect plan.  If he even attempts to pull his usual crap, I'll do the classic restaurant drama scene, you know, scream, bang my fists, throw a lot of drinks and maybe slap a couple of people. Whatever feels right at the time, I suppose.

Specks of mud infested water dotted my black converse as I crossed the quiet road. My blond hair bounced carelessly around my face, in rhythm with the beat of my quick steps and blocking my peripheral vision. It's not like I had to keep an eye out for incoming cars anyway, this place was deserted.

Why would he ask to meet me here?

Better yet, why the hell did I agree? Is seeing him a pathetic mess worth all this trouble? Definitely. Is it worth my life? No way but it wouldn't be a very bad way to go; the last thing I witness on Earth is him grovelling pitifully at my feet, begging for my forgiveness. Now that wouldn't be bad at all.

Once on the pavement, I took in my surroundings. It was around six in the afternoon, the time you'd see the eager swarm of traffic making their way home from work. But not a single movement would be so bold as to disturb the quietness and dare announce the cease of this eerie isolation. Abandoned, colossal warehouses with empty car parks cluttered the area. They were all built with the same clay brown, only distinguishable from the next by the boarded up windows, smashed glass or graffiti. Each had its own disturbing flaw. I shuddered.

The restaurant was just as lifeless and devoid of people. The outside light, above the glass door, flickered furiously. It was like the agonizing flashes of an importunate camera, making my head sway with dizziness.

If it wasn't from the hanging 'open' sign I would have cycled back home in disbelief. Seriously, why here? Why was he so determined that we went here, the unheard of outskirts of an otherwise pretty decent city.

I swallowed down my sickening nerves and doubts, pushing one reluctant foot after another.

Okay, here goes nothing.

I was welcomed by the depressing sound of blues flowing from the jukebox in the corner. Booths ran along both sides of the ugly yellow walls, the red leather cushions torn up in various places. A group of three men occupied the last one. The stench of smoke, obnoxiously rising from each of their lit cigarettes made its way over, devouring all nearby oxygen and practically choking me.

They all wore black sunglasses.

Weird. Unless they each coincidentally got a bad case of pink eye, it's incredibly suspicious. They were all an unhealthy mix of white and grey, probably a result of the lung cancer. Another thing that caught my eye was the man leaning back casually, opposite the other two. His inked up, muscular arm draped over the back of the seat. His hair was pure tousled silver despite the youth of his face.