Nails In A Coffin (Demi Reynolds Book 1) (2 page)

“Now, listen here, you melt, if you don’t stop spilling my fucking shots, I’m going to carve you up a new asshole. Now, how does that sound?”

The man behind the bar looked petrified. He was shaking.

“You just going to stand there like a cunt, or am I going to have to force my fist up your arse to make you move?”

The barman shook his head adamantly and started pouring a shot. His hands were shaking, but he managed to pour every drop into the shot glass.

“That’s better. Like that. You could learn a thing or two.”

The barman nodded apologetically and handed the shot over to Donny Harrison. Donny flicked a pound coin at the guy’s head, and the barman blinked a few times as the coin hit the surface of the bar. It rolled a little before it came to a stop.

“Buy your missus something nice,” Donny said, walking off with his shot glass. He walked up to a table of men who were smiling at him. A few of the men burst into laughter. The barman dropped his head in embarrassment.

Demi saw everything. She caught it all as she walked in. She was used to that sort of thing. Donny would always terrorize the staff. It was his place, after all, so he could do with it what he liked. No one would tell him different. Especially not her. It wasn’t Demi’s place, and she knew it. So she suffered through it, like most. She’d just ignore it until the situation was defused. And once it was, everything got back to normal. Donny rarely overstepped the mark. A lot of people saw his form of bullying as justice. Demi didn’t know if she saw it in the same light, but she wasn’t going to say any different. When Donny attacked the big bouncer Hamish with a Stanley knife, the assault was justified in his eyes. But Demi didn’t see it as just. She saw it as taking a liberty, one that Donny took often with Hamish. He would bully the guy nonstop. Nobody would dare stand up for the lad. Donny would say that Hamish should stand up for himself. Maybe one day he would. But Demi didn’t see it happening. Hamish was a loyal employee, if not a foolish one.

Demi walked up to the barman and slapped a ten-pound note on the table.

“A bottle of your crappiest red, please,” she said, sitting down on a creaky stool. The surface of the bar felt sticky and warm. She could smell the distinct lingering odour of sticky beer on her palms.

“Brilliant,” she said, wiping her hands on her sides.

“We only have that French stuff,” the guy said. He looked as if he had recovered from his encounter with Donny the Hat.

“The French stuff will do just fine,” she said, sliding the tenner over to the barman. He gave her a few pounds in change and asked if she wanted a glass.

“Bottle for me. It’s been one of those nights,” she admitted, unscrewing the cap on the medium-sized green bottle. It had a burgundy-red label on the front and a purple label on the back. The writing on the label looked a little 3D, as if it was sticking out slightly. When she ran her fingers across the label, it felt like Braille, just not as “dotty.”

“Tastes like shit, that stuff does,” she heard a man’s voice say behind her. She turned slightly in her stool and was met with a pair of steel-blue eyes. She didn’t recognize the owner of those eyes, but she was transfixed by them nonetheless.

“Name’s Nathan. Nathan Richards,” the man said.

She didn’t recognize the name, which was all fine and well with her. She liked men she didn’t know. She was on the lookout for a distraction from her world, so somebody new would do. Not that anybody in that pub wasn’t from her world, so she knew that the man with the eyes wasn’t a mummy’s boy. He was just like them, but who was he?

“Demi. Demi Reynolds,” she offered in return. The guy took a seat next to her on a stool. His leg brushed up against hers, which were sticking out of her tight black dress.

“Nice legs,” he said.

She smiled, showing perfect teeth, which were a far cry from the usual set of teeth in that place.

“Nice eyes,” she replied.

He motioned the barman over. He asked for the same as her. A bottle of red from France. Cheap and cheerful. It wasn’t like he looked strapped for a few pennies. The man was wearing an expensive-looking suit and had cufflinks that were encrusted with diamonds.

“You know, no matter what you pay for a bottle of wine, the likelihood is that it comes from the same vineyard as your Tesco Value’s and your two-quid petrol station bottles,” Nathan said, unscrewing his French bottle and flicking the cap to the side. He chugged down on it, nearly emptying the bottle in one fell swoop.

“A grape’s a grape at the end of the day,” Demi said, taking a gulp from her bottle.

“Exactly,” Nathan said after catching his breath. “I’m of the belief that one shouldn’t waste money on such trivial things as wine,” he added.

“‘One’?” Demi asked, nearly cracking into laughter.

“Yes, good pronunciation isn’t rocket science. If it wasn’t for all those darn Hollywood movies you see on the telly, England wouldn’t be swimming in the cesspool of Americanised culture.”

“You hate Americans or something?” Demi asked.

“Nope, just the idea that everybody should be like them. We are English, so we should embrace our language.”

Demi took another swig on her bottle of wine and shrugged. “It’s all the same bollocks to me. Americans, English, fucking Australians. They all suffer from the same disease,” Demi said, taking another large gulp from her bottle.

“And what disease is that?” Nathan asked.

“Being human.”

Nathan stared at her and shook his head. “I guess we’re all fucked, then,” he said.

“Yep. That’s what’s wrong with this world, you see. Being human accounts for nearly one hundred percent of preventable deaths on this planet. If we weren’t human, then maybe, just maybe, we’d make it out of this thing.”

“And what thing is that?” Nathan asked, taking a large gulp himself. It was just the two of them at the bar. Everybody else was background noise.

“‘Thing’?” she asked.

“Yeah, you said if we weren’t human, we’d make it out of this thing. What is this thing you talk of, Miss Reynolds?”

“Oh, yeah. Figure of speech. You know, life. Life is this thing.”

“So you think that we are all destined to die?”

Demi nodded her head. “Of course we are. What a stupid question.” She grabbed her bottle and started blowing into it, making a low whistling sound.

“But what if most people who live actually don’t?” Nathan asked, watching her blow into her bottle.

She licked the mouthpiece of the bottle a little and smiled seductively. “What do you mean?” she said, acting all ditsy. It usually got her what she wanted.

“I’m saying that I believe most people live their lives, but don’t have a clue they are alive. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah, like they don’t even know they’re born? They waste their time in front of their TVs watching Jeremy Kyle and Trisha.”

“Exactly,” Nathan said.

“It’s still living, though. More of a life than most of us have,” Demi said, cracking her fingers.

“I think I lead a good life,” Nathan said, moving in a little closer to her. She could smell his aftershave.

“Is that so? What makes you different from the TV dinner, sleep till midday, beans on toast British public?”

“I know that I’m alive.”

Demi reached into her jacket and pulled out some gum. She popped it into her mouth and started to chew.

“I think everybody knows that they are alive. The people who don’t seem to enjoy their lives a little more. You know, the ones who do stupid shit on the weekends and think it won’t catch up with them. The ones who take a chance on a few burglaries here and there and think they won’t get touched by the police. Those people enjoy life to the max, and then before they know it, life comes crashing down and makes itself known.”

Nathan looked at Demi and brushed his hand against her thigh. He wasn’t coy about it. He was blatant. And Demi bit her lip to let him know she didn’t mind.

“They say you haven’t lived until you’ve fucked a complete stranger,” he said.

“Plenty of people fuck strangers,” Demi said, still biting her lip.

“No, I mean real strangers. I’ve known you for six minutes. I’ve introduced myself, and we’ve chatted a little. Both you and I know that we are shagging come the end of the night. But why waste time? Why not fuck right now?”

Demi nodded her head and stood up. “I don’t usually do this,” she said, trying to act shy.

“Yeah, neither have I,” Nathan replied with a wink.

The both of them didn’t waste time. They quickly left the bar and walked out of the pub back into the beer garden. Hamish was seated next to his post, guarding the entrance/exit of the exclusive pub. He nodded at her and gave Nathan a look. Nathan ignored it as they both walked down the three little steps.

“’Night, Miss Reynolds,” said Hamish.

“’Night darling,” Demi replied, smiling gently at the friendly giant.

“That’s my car,” Nathan said, pointing at an Aston Martin DB900.

“Bit posh,” Demi said.

“It does the job,” Nathan replied as they entered the flash motor.

“I live five minutes from here, just around the corner,” Demi said, trying to get comfortable in the passenger seat, which was squeaking under her movements.

“Yours it is.”

They drove off toward her house. She felt a mixture of emotions. She wasn’t sure what they were, but for the first time in a long while, she felt alive.

Maybe she was one of those people who didn’t know they were born. But after tonight…she’d know.

Demi and Nathan didn’t bother with any more small talk during the ride to her place. It was only a few minutes away, so the silence wasn’t too awkward. It was more like anticipation than silence. Anticipating what they had in store for each other. They were both visibly excited. Nathan was sweating a little; his brow looked moist. He continued to drive, glancing at Demi’s legs every once in a while.

Demi was also excited. She could feel her heart doing backflips in her chest. She was usually more composed, but there was something about this guy that made her feel edgy. She didn’t know what it was, but she wasn’t really that determined to find out. She only had one thing on her mind, and questions about what he did for a living wasn’t it.

The silence was soon replaced by kissing. They had pulled up to Demi’s apartment block and were kissing in the car. He was leaning over the gear stick, his arms wrapped around her toned sides. She could feel his hands traveling across her body. She could feel the excitement. Everything was new. It was unfamiliar. It was exhilarating.

“Fuck me in the car!” Demi let out, to her surprise. She usually wasn’t into that sort of thing.

Nathan looked at her and nodded. “Your wish is my command,” he said, grabbing her breasts and cupping them firmly. They began to undress. Demi found herself looking out of the windshield as her head rested on his broad shoulders. She noticed the distinct quietness about the place. It was late, and everything was dark. She could see the lamppost next to her apartment’s entrance. It was beaming down on the door like a reminder of where she lived. Of what she did. Of who she was.

It was like she couldn’t escape it. No matter how hard she tried, she would always be Demi Reynolds. She didn’t like being Demi Reynolds. She’d settle for someone less promiscuous and murderous any day.

But you can’t chose who you are.

“Take your knickers off,” Nathan demanded.

She looked at him and playfully smiled. “What’s the magic word?” she said.

“Fucking take your knickers off now!” he said, grabbing her by the throat and squeezing hard.

“Now wait a sec,” she said, struggling to breathe. “I’m not into sex games….”

Nathan held her neck tight with one hand and began to feel for the seam of her underwear with the other. His coarse hand was rising up her inner thigh. She could feel her stomach churning at the thought of him touching her. Everything she’d felt for him before was gone. All the excitement. All the sexual tension. It was gone. He had ruined it. She didn’t like being forced to do anything, so she decided to end the session with her perfect stranger.

“Get off me. I’m not in the mood now,” she said, swatting his hand away from her thigh. He gave her a look, a look that she recognized. She immediately realized that she was in danger.

“You will do as I say, or I’m going to make this the most painful hour of your life.”

Demi could feel the fear creeping up her neck. Her skin was prickling, and her ears were running hot. Her breathing was shallow as she attempted to hold on to whatever breath she could. In dangerous situations she would usually act fast, but for some reason she felt helpless, as if somebody had taken away her abilities.

“Take off your fucking knickers, you slag!”

She did as she was told. They came off easily enough, which surprised her.

“Now your bra. Take that off as well,” he said. He ran his hand up her leg again, not quite reaching her privates but close enough to cause a sense of panic in her.

She took off her bra. Her medium-sized breasts relaxed as they escaped the comfortable grip of silk they had been encased in. She felt the cold running up her skin. Her nipples hardened a little.

“Now take my trousers off.”

She did as she was told. She immediately noticed that Nathan had an erection. It was huge.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” he said, grabbing her hand and making her touch it.

“I don’t…I don’t want to do this,” she said.

Nathan punched her in the face. It caught her off guard. The impact of the punch made her smack her head on the passenger window. It cracked slightly, leaving a line in the corner of the glass. A red streak of blood encased the depth of the line. It was from her head. She winced in pain. He hit her again. This time she was expecting it. Suddenly, her anger returned, the anger she’d been feeling before. She wasn’t going to let him hit her. She quickly grabbed his penis and bent it to the right. Nathan screamed in agony. As his mouth gaped open and his head was raised up a tad, Demi clenched her fist and jabbed the middle of his neck twice. She heard two slight cracks. The first one was the guy’s Adam’s apple imploding. The second one was the sound of his C5 vertebrae compressing under the internal injuries she was inflicting on him.

Nathan was choking. His face went blue. She watched as he tried to reach out for her, but his strength was minimal now. She grabbed his hand and started to stroke it.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you that no means no?”

She then snapped his arm to the left, popping the shoulder out of its joint. In one motion she swung the limp, dislocated shoulder around the front, toward Nathan’s neck. She then wrapped it tightly around his neck and pushed down. Both of them fell onto the driver’s seat. He was being suffocated by his own arm. Couple that with the strength and muscle density of both his and her arms, he was dead within thirty seconds. He had struggled a little, but lucky for her, she was a fighter.

She quickly got dressed. It took no more than forty seconds. She was used to having to make a quick escape. She sat in the passenger seat for a few seconds, observing the scene of the crime. A nice car like that in a shithole like her neighborhood would raise suspicion. But she couldn’t drive it someplace else, either. She didn’t want to risk being pulled over with a dead man next to her. There was only one safe bet when it came to cars on council estates.

It was a good job she kept some petrol in a few jerry cans up in her flat. You never knew when you might need to burn out a car. Not in her business, anyway.

She got out of the car and quickly made her way to the front double doors next to the lamppost. Without looking back, she walked into her building, ready to finish what she’d started.