Page 6 of Indie

“Aye. I’m Indie.”

He didn’t offer his hand, but the window was only open a small amount, just enough to stick his money through. He pushed it onto the counter, colourful tattoos on the back of his hand. I hadn’t noticed those earlier today. But then I’d never seen him with that leather jacket off. My eyes lingered on the patterns, trying to make them out, searching for the gangland shit I’d seen before. But these were all pictures, decorations, nothing that seemed to have any meaning and the cuff of his leather jacket cut them off at his wrist.

“You work here too?”

His voice broke my thoughts, and for a moment I just stared into the rich brown eyes looking back at me.

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

“Tough day then, two jobs.”

I smiled. He didn’t know the half of it. Or the jobs. Or that I’d been working the best part of a forty-eight-hour period, and I still wasn’t making ends meet. But the eyes that looked back seemed to hold some level of understanding, even though he couldn’t possibly know.

“You in for the night?”

“Till 5am.”

“Hope you’ve a day off tomorrow, then.”

“Nope. Sleep’s for the weak, anyway.” Or the rich.

He frowned slightly, cocking his head to his right, and those eyes focussed on me, making my face heat. Somewhere from outside, a phone rang, muffled but urgent. Indie’s eyes flicked to his feet, and he fumbled for the zip of his jacket, pulling it down and digging in the inside pocket.

“S’cuse me,” he said, turning away, but not stepping back from the window. “Yeah? Fuck… aye…. I’d seen some…. Yeah, not long ago. Be right there.” Then he turned back, looking at me almost apologetically. “Gotta go. Nice seeing you again, Emmie.”

“Err…you too, Indie.”

And it was. Strangely. There was a calmness about him. A man in control. He was older. Much more worldly wise, I suspected. He pulled the black helmet back on, sliding the visor down over his face, his eyes hidden behind the dark tinted plastic. I watched him stride back to the bike, cocking his leg over the mass of leather. And suddenly it was alive, an angry roar tearing through the quiet forecourt, making me jump even though I’d expected it. Then, with a loud growl, he took off, the engine furious as he rushed out of the petrol station.

*****

I hadn’t seen the dark shape crouched on the front step when I’d come home. I was tired, my eyes heavy. The need for sleep, even just for a couple of hours, was weighing heavy on my mind and my lids and my reactions. I wouldn’t have got out of the car if I had realised. But it was too late as the metal gate thatwas hanging free from one hinge squawked loudly in the early morning silence, and suddenly the dark shape was on its feet and my heart had been consumed by my stomach.

“Emmie, baby,” he spoke like a lover.

But he was no longer that.

“You been hard at work?”

I ignored him, walking straight towards the front door. There was no way I would make it inside without him. Invited or not, he’d be straight in behind me, and I didn’t want to wake the neighbours, to draw attention. Turning the key in the lock, the door gave way just a little. Yet it wasn’t my hand that pushed it open, but his. Reaching over the top of me, he nudged the door from its frame as he slipped a hand into the small of my back and pushed me inside the house through the opening.

As the door clunked back into place, I half turned. Not really to face, more to glance over my shoulder as to where he was while I formulated a plan, one that would more than likely fail. The dog barked from the utility room. Deep and threatening. She’d been his, originally. And she had as much love left for him as I did.

“I need some money, Emmie.”

He stood over the top of me again. I could smell the stale stench of cigarettes on his breath, mingling with the sickly sweet scent of alcohol. He wasn’t drunk, though. Far from it.

“I don’t have any.”

“We both know that is a lie.”

“Gaz…”

“You’ve been working at Ernie’s. He’ll have paid cash in hand, and I need summit to give to Trev.”

“Gaz. I’ve nothing left till payday. This is for the kids. To feed our kids. It’s not even going to get us through the next week. Please.”

The despair had hit me hard in the stomach, desperation dragging any inch of self-respect right from me.