‘I know how to mop, thank you,’
said Sanchez.
‘Fine. Then I’ll expect that
elevator to be spotless by the time I get back.’
Harker turned on his heels and headed
for the door that led to the stairs. Sanchez pulled a face at him behind his
back and mumbled a quiet impersonation of him under his breath.
‘Isn’t this exciting?’ said
Flake.
‘Exhilarating,’ said Sanchez
sarcastically. He walked over to the mop and bucket and picked it up. Then he
wheeled it over to the elevator and pressed a grey button in the wall to call
it. The doors opened immediately and Sanchez was overwhelmed by the stench of
shit. The elevator was covered in blood, brains and shit from floor to ceiling.
It looked worse than the toilets in the Tapioca after a Saturday night. Shaking
his head in disgust, he pulled the mop out from the bucket and shoved the head
of it into the floor. This would be no five-minute job. The stink alone would
take weeks to eliminate.
Two minutes into his mopping
task, Sanchez heard someone approaching the reception desk behind him. Then he
heard a lady’s voice speak. It was a voice he recognised.
‘I’d like to report the theft of
a book from the library,’ it said.
Ulrika Price. The bitch.
Sanchez stepped into a now clean
part of the elevator and turned around. His eyes immediately met Ulrika’s. The
librarian had obviously come straight from work because she was wearing a
woolly brown cardigan over a flowery dress, standard attire for annoying
librarian types. She loomed ominously over the reception desk, with Flake
seated in front of her, with her back to Sanchez. Ulrika’s piercing green eyes
opened wide when she saw Sanchez.
‘It’s him
!
’ she hissed.
‘He
stole it!’
Sanchez shook his head. ‘No. Not
me,’ he mumbled.
Ulrika strode around the
reception desk. Flake stood up. ‘You can’t go back there,’ she said.
Without taking her eyes off
Sanchez, Ulrika shoved Flake in the face, knocking her back into her chair.
Then to Sanchez’s utter horror, she opened her mouth to reveal a set of rapidly
expanding vampire fangs.
Just as he’d suspected in the
past, this evil bitch was a vampire. And right now, she had her eyes set on
Sanchez as her first meal.
There was only one thing to do.
Press a button in the elevator and get the hell out of there. Sanchez looked
down at the keypad. All of the buttons were covered in shit apart from one. The
button for the basement. He pressed it six times in less than a second. Through
the closing doors he saw Ulrika’s feet leave the floor as she flew towards him,
fangs wide open.
Eleven
Beth arrived at Cromwell’s
office and was saddened to find that the nameplate on the door had already been
changed. Instead of CROMWELL it now read SIMMONDS in bold silver lettering over
the black plaque.
She knocked twice on the door
and soon heard Simmonds’s voice call through from the other side.
‘Come in.’
She reached for the large brass doorknob
and twisted it first one way and then the other. It didn’t open so she tried
pulling hard as she twisted it this way and that. She could never remember if
the door opened inwards or out. Eventually she was relieved to find that it
opened when she pushed it and turned the knob to the right simultaneously.
Breathing a sigh of relief she entered the office and closed the door shut
behind her.
Simmonds was sitting in the
large black leather chair behind the shiny oak desk. And he looked smug. Even
by his own smug standards as the undisputed King of Smug Town. He had his blond
hair scraped back into its traditional greasy Steven Seagal style ponytail.
‘Hello, Elijah,’ Beth said
smiling tentatively.
‘It’s Mr Simmonds to you,
Lansbury,’ he replied coldly.
She approached one of the two
seats on the near side of the desk opposite Simmonds.
‘Don’t bother sitting down,’ he
said waving a dismissive hand at her. ‘This isn’t going to take long.’
‘Umm, okay.’
‘Terrible news about Bertram
obviously, but life goes on. I hope you’re not too upset.’
‘Are you kidding? Mr Cromwell
was a lovely man.’
‘Yes, the emphasis there being
was
.
Unfortunately now he’s dead, but the museum is not. And I, as the new manager
am going to have to make all the changes that Cromwell was too weak to make.’
Beth nodded, knowing what was
coming. ‘Okay.’
‘We have to cut costs and I’m
afraid that means that some staff will lose their jobs.’
‘Oh dear, how many?’
Simmonds grimaced. ‘I was hoping
you wouldn’t ask that. Basically we only need to lose one head, and, well, it’s
you. You’ll be paid up to the end of the week, but I’d prefer it if you left
now.’
Beth’s heart sank. She’d known
this would happen the second she’d heard about Cromwell’s death. ‘I think my
contract says I get paid up to the end of the month if I lose my job.’
Simmonds shook his head. ‘You’ve
got some nerve, haven’t you?’ he said with a look of disgust on his face.
‘Bertram Cromwell is dead, murdered at the hands of the Bourbon Kid, in cold
blood, with a machete, and all you can think about is yourself and how to take
advantage of your contract.’
Beth was taken aback. ‘No, it’s
not like that.’
‘Well that’s how it looks,
Lansbury. God, you disgust me sometimes. It’s not enough that you killed your
stepmother, you now want to trample all over the memory of a great man like
Bertram Cromwell, after all he did for you.’
‘That’s not fair.’
‘Take it up with the union.’
‘I didn’t know we had a union.’
‘We don’t. Now get out. I can’t
bear to look at you. Honestly, did it never occur to you to cover up that scar
on your face when you came to work? It upsets everyone else here having to look
at it.’
Beth could feel tears welling up
in her eyes. The scar ran deep for many reasons. She tried to downplay it
though, so as not to give Simmonds the satisfaction of knowing he had gotten to
her. ‘It’s just a scar,’ she said.
‘Yes, but that scar represents
the struggle of your stepmother trying to defend herself when you stabbed her
to death doesn’t it? Awful, just awful. I don’t know how you have the nerve to
walk around with it on display like that.’
Beth had no further response. A
tear trickled down her right cheek, slipping into her scar and sliding along it
towards the corner of her mouth. Simmonds gestured towards the door and then
looked down at some papers on his desk to signify that their meeting was over.
‘Go on, run along,’ he said.
‘We’re done here.’
Beth felt her bottom lip
tremble. Being fired was a humiliating experience at the best of times, but to
be ridiculed in this manner was too much to take.
‘What about my uniform and
stuff. What should I…’
Simmonds looked up. ‘Are you
still here?’ he sneered.
‘Yes, I just…’
‘Oh God, you’re not going to
cause a scene, are you? Seriously, if there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s
people coming into my office and causing a scene. If you want a drama, go join
an acting club or something, don’t do it in my office.’
Beth turned away. She’d had all
she could take. She grabbed the doorknob. There was an awkward three or four
seconds as she fumbled with turning and pulling it before it opened. Luckily it
came open just before she began sobbing out loud. Being humiliated by a bully
like Simmonds had really gotten to her. Bullying didn’t get any easier to take
as an adult. Her only comfort was that now unlike in the past, at least she had
JD to offer an arm of consolation or a kind word to make it all better. She
trudged back up the stairs to reception, wiping away the tears as she went, in
the hope of not looking like too much of a mess when she got back to him.
What she discovered when she
arrived back in reception made her forget about her tears quite quickly. JD was
still there, smiling at her as she hurried back to him. But lying on the floor
at his feet in a state of unconsciousness was James the security guard.
Forgetting about her tears for a
moment, she hurried over and peered down at James. He was laid out, completely
motionless on the floor. She looked back up at JD.
‘What happened?’ she asked, her
voice revealing her obvious concern for the security guard.
‘I think he fainted,’ said JD
shrugging. ‘How was your meeting?’
‘His face is covered in blood,’
Beth said, staring at the terrible state of James’s face. She leaned down to
take a closer look at the stricken security guard. ‘How did that happen?’
‘He had a nosebleed. I think the
sight of his own blood is what made him faint.’
Beth frowned. ‘But his nose
looks broken and his eyes are swollen.’
‘Yeah. Weird. So what did your
boss say?’
‘I got fired.’
JD reached out and stroked her
hair away from her face. He could see she’d been crying. ‘It’s just a job. Not
worth crying about. Look on the bright side, now we’ve got no reason to stay in
this shithole town.’
‘It’s not being fired that
bothers me so much as the way he did it.’
‘Why? What did he do?’
Beth sniffed. The tears were
coming back. ‘He said my scar bothers everyone here and I should be more
considerate and cover it up.’
‘Fucking cunt.’
JD stormed past her in the
direction of Simmonds’s office.
Simmonds was glad to see the
back of Beth Lansbury. Now that the museum was under his control there was
absolutely no need to be employing women with facial disfigurements. It made
him shudder to think that Cromwell had been so foolish as to employ her in the
first place, what with the fact she was a convicted murderer too. What a
ghastly image for the museum. A scar-faced murderer working there. Well not any
more. Firing her had been fun too. He was still congratulating himself on
making her cry when the door to his office flew open and one angry looking dude
stormed in.
‘Who are you?’ Simmonds asked.
‘Are you Simmonds?’
‘Yes. And I’ll ask again, who
are you?’
‘I’m JD, the guy that’s come to
ram your face up your own ass.’
Simmonds sighed and rolled his eyes.
‘Have you come to cause a scene?’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Because if you have,
I’ll get security to have you removed.’
JD approached Simmonds desk and
leaned over it to get into his personal space. ‘Security’s lying on his back
upstairs with a broken nose.’
‘So you have come to cause a
scene then? Well you should know this. I know karate,’ Simmonds said coolly. He
demonstrated a few slow motion karate chops with his hands. ‘These hands are
deadly weapons.’
JD reached over the desk and
grabbed him by the throat, hauling him up out of his seat, so that the two of
them were eyeball to eyeball. ‘Try using those hands now,’ he growled.
Simmonds swallowed hard and
responded in as brave a voice as he could muster. ‘Get out of my office before
I call the police.’
‘You think it’s funny to take
the piss out of someone for having a scar on her face? How about I slice your
face up and then take the piss outta you?’
Simmonds smirked and nodded at
the doorway behind JD. ‘Don’t make me embarrass you in front of your girlfriend.’
JD looked back over his
shoulder. Beth was standing in the doorway behind him. Simmonds could see that
she’d been crying. She looked as bereft of self-confidence as she always did.
The girl really was a pathetic excuse for a human being. Simmonds couldn’t work
out quite how she’d ever managed to murder someone. She looked too timid.
‘JD, leave him,’ she pleaded.
‘It doesn’t matter. He’s not worth the trouble.’
JD looked back at Simmonds. He
looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he slowly and reluctantly
released his grip on the manager’s throat. Simmonds slouched back into his
leather chair with a satisfied smirk across his face.
‘I carry a lot of sway around
this city these days you know,’ he bragged.
‘I don’t give a—’
Beth jumped in to cut him short.
‘JD, please let’s just go. I don’t want any trouble with the police.’
‘See,’ said Simmonds. ‘With her
criminal record, she can’t take any chances, and neither should you. Listen to
Tony Montana. She knows what she’s talking about.’
JD furrowed his brow. ‘What did
you just call her?’
‘Tony Montana. That’s what
everyone calls her around here. You know, Scarface.’
Before JD could lunge over the
desk at Simmonds, Beth grabbed him by the arm.
‘Please let’s go,’ she said.
‘I’m glad I’m not working here any more. You wouldn’t want me to have a job
working for this guy, would you?’