Chapter Eleven – Mind your own business.
J instinctively turned around from the direction of the call.
Coming towards him was Lance Cosgrove ,A bit like marmite and air conditioning ,either you love or hate it and blows hot and cold.
‘J ,long-time no see ,my son’, Lance announced with an exaggerated high five .
‘Hi Lance ,how tricks and the family ?’
J replied as an icebreaker.
‘Great ,great ,top of the north my padre’ he replied with a fist pump.
‘I am a bit busy ,need to get signed in for the meeting ‘J offered the mountain of a man ,known affectionately as LC.
‘Relax cocker, chill boy ‘LC replied with a huge grip on J,s arm.
‘Got a bit of business for next Saturday ,want you on board ,full expenses, commission, tips bonuses and drinks after, interested ? LC emphasized with a grin showing his exquisite gold teeth, that seemed to consume all of his once handsome face.
‘OK, what is going down ?’J asked in a conspiratorial manner and some apprehension.
‘Wembley annual record and paraphernalia show at the conference centre ,you won’t need to sign in there’ LC mocked.
‘Fantastic stuff, what do you want me to do ?J replied with an inner sense of relief.
‘J ,I have the best stock in town ,acquired some great vinyl last week ,really looks rare and top quality, You, my son are the expert ,always gave been and always will be’ LC confirmed.
‘Thank mate’ J meekly responded feeling a mixture of nostalgia ,business sense and excitement.
‘Great don’t be late ,meet you at’ The Cafe ‘early doors’ LC replied whilst handing over his latest business card.
Just as J eventually got past the first door for the signing in LC called once more.
‘Need some eye candy as well, make sure that you bring that nice girl from the betting shop with you ,she could sell ice to the Eskimos ‘LC emphasised with another huge grin and exaggerated wink.
The meeting seemed to exist in suspended animation around J ,the topic of debate and enlightenment was Jean-Paul Sartre existentialism.
Officer Clayborn was doing his best intelligence act and philosophical endearment to the group of 12 un-obvious candidates that were assembled.
J had to attend these meeting to fulfil his obligations as being identified as a’ suppresses positive’.
Which probably meant that his talents had been overlooked and that its all his own fault.
When it was his time to speak ,well after the tea and biscuits debriefing blast, J offered the blatantly obvious piece of literature….
‘Ever existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness and dies by chance ‘ JP Sartre.
‘Very good J’ ,Clayborn chirped fittingly attired with cravat and tweed jacket . ‘What your feeling?’ J asked the ‘Officer’.
‘I don’t have one I am just doing my job ‘he responded in an aloof manner and tone.
With that J and the rest of the guinea pigs got up in unison and departed with great apathy and personal hopes, and pitfalls for the now overcast and life churning day ahead .
Chapter Twelve – Carriage awaits
J finally left ‘Drizzles ‘sport bar about 1.30 in the morning, he hailed a black cab and tried to take in and enjoy every moment of the expenses paid taxi home.
The rest of the gang including LC and VR had departed for ‘Diamond Geezers ‘in Camden Town hours earlier ,boasting and bragging about their empires and conquest to some dubious ‘locals ‘ .
Thankfully Joanne had wiggled her way out the shenanigans much earlier, stating the babysitter had done her shift. Clever girl J mused to himself as the taxi hurdled a speedbump at a rate of notes.
The Final vinyl record fair had gone well in many aspects.
J was given full artistic licence to sell promote ,price and advice on all aspects of the finer art of good old fashioned 33’s and 45’s.
LC had spent most of the day rolling copious amounts of silly cigs and trying to impress Joanne and various other innocent victims. VR who was ‘driver and security’, generally went around snarling and upsetting ,customers ,stall vendors and the bar staff.
This went in J favour as he got down to serious vinyl flipping, cleaning, reminiscing and importantly selling ‘the secret stash ‘LC had ‘acquired’.
To the great vibe of the annual fair J added his own unique knowledge and pitch .Rock ‘n’ roll in every form.
In all he managed to ‘move on’, over 300 albums and 225 singles of the highest quality (his past ,did it have some meaning ?).
LC had given Joanne the job of ‘keeping her eye on the money with criminals and sharks being everywhere ‘with an ironic wink.
In total LC vinyl solution’s raised £5500 in the 8 hours of trading.
LC provided pocket money for lunch ,refreshment and recreational funds, also enough for a reasonable safe journey home from wherever they all ended up.
On the downside J’s commission didn’t materialise ‘due to overheads’ LC bemoaned, also Joanne feeling uncomfortable with some of the language and innuendos floating around.
The Hackney carriage spluttered to a halt outside J little hovel he called home.
‘That £45 my son’ yelped the overweight driver.
J paid him with a sigh, bid him a safe journey back to the smoke and an exaggerated wave of his hand.
It had been a very good day for J indeed, he slumped down on his battered sofa, cracked open a quality lager taken from his bag and smiled.
Inside was a little note from Joanne, which sounded very promising inviting him for dinner on Monday, all expenses paid.
The biggest smile (when was the last time he felt this way?)was reserved for the two 7inch vinyl singles inside a neat paper bag .
‘Where the bodies are buried’ by The Iced Screams, limited to 20 pressed and hand stamped by the band .
Also’ The vitriol’ by JM D- Day ,the blurb inside the record sleeve had promoted this little gem and proclaimed it to be a rare diamond amongst diamond, it was also autographed by the artist himself in fluorescent pink.
‘Sounds good to me ‘J said to his special bottle of beer, before carefully tucking away his prize finds!
Chapter Thirteen – J gets the beats.
J woke up in agony, his left leg was throbbing badly ,he lifted himself of his battered sofa which he had slumped into, when ??,everything was spinning his mouth was dry and his vision blurred.
‘Don’t panic ,deep breathes ‘he said to himself and the shadow looking back at him from the cracked mirror on the sideboard.
J started to recall the previous evening ,certainly it was Monday he had eaten plenty, the date with Joanne went well, she had paid and was friendly, assured and straightforward with J .Joanne was looking for a solid, no hanky panky platonic relationship, certainly to start with ,then see how it might go.
J collapsed onto his living room floor ,the pain was unbearable ,also the rain soaked clothes didn’t help.
He managed to stagger to the toilet, where he vomited on the floor, even worse there was no toilet paper or towels to smoother the mess.
J let out a sob and animal wail of pain and self-pity, he was in a bad way, he slowly curled up next to the wash basin for comfort ..
His memory jolted into spontaneous action from his latest misfortunes.
Rolf Kanders had been lurking around the Pub that Joanne and J had eaten in ,it started making sense now ,Joanne had left early (baby sitter problems again).For J and Rolf the night was but young, the drinks flowed in The Fork and Clover inn, talk of the good old days ,big heroes of the days gone past .
Rolf (big buddy of LC and VR),had supplied most of the booze ,beers ,shorts ,rounds of pool and jukebox pop pickers bullshit.
J vaguely remember threats and whispers in his shell like ear.
‘Keep away from that girl from the betting shop ,if he knew what was good for him ‘Rolf a mean git at the best of times advice with a wink and another round of shots.
J was awoken by 2 paramedics who had let themselves in through the broken front door .
‘Now take it easy son ,we are going to get you sorted out’ the haggled looking hi viz clown mumbled to him.
J,s head was spinning again, the 2nd paramedic explained that he had a suspected broken leg and possibly been given a big Micky Finn,’ big enough to knock a horse out ‘they added in sympathy .
‘J ,we are taking you to Dean’s Vale hospital about 2 hours away ,best we can do in the circumstances the no 1 hi viz clown offered.
‘You’re lucky we got a slot for you there, with all the hospitals being closed down and cutbacks and all ‘ No 1 added in a patronising whine.
‘Anybody ,you want us to call? No 1 asked ‘You were screaming for your mum ,when we arrived’.
J puked in the freezing cold ambulance all the way to the underfunded hospital.
In the end the paramedics called a girl named Joanne ,who he had also been blabbering about, but on this occasion it was somebody they could contact and share the sad news of J,s big night out.
The Crime Scene ?
To be continued…
Notes:
‘The Open Team Talk’ sessions gilded the subject matters for each chapter which tries to capture the essence of civilization of HP11 postcode and beyond.
