Curse of the Potency Read online

  Then I came to my senses, looked over at Daryl. Seeing his frowning, distraught face as he sat there staring down at his desk, I was reminded of those words I’d been planning to give him. That was definitely something I could address in the here and now.

  “Daryl—” I started to say.

  “Okay, Dave, she’s gone now. Let’s cut the crap, shall we?”

  “Alright…” I said, thrown off guard by the sudden and unusual harshness of the bugger.

  “The choice is yours,” he continued. “Stay and do what we need you to do here, and we’ll take care of you. Or piss off and do what you like. Cut yourself loose entirely. Go vegan. Or become a monk or something. I wouldn’t recommend that though. There’s no telling where you’ll end up. Bottom line, you know what’s on the table for you here. I seriously doubt you’ll find a better offer anywhere else. So go on. What’ll it be?”

  He was a surly git at heart, that was for sure. A bastard. And clever. He’d pretty much nailed all the fears I had, clocked me from day one as the basic lazy arse that I was.

  “Well I won’t rush into anything right now this second,” I said.

  “Of course not.” He nodded with a little smile.

  The git knew full well there was a fat chance of me taking any bold steps right then and there. Frankly, I felt like lamping him.

  “On the other hand,” I said, sticking a finger on his desk, “we do need to sort out some shit. You promised there’d be a toilet for me. A proper one. In a flat. A decent place. Not that bloody basement. I just spoke to Marcus and Byron and they hadn’t a clue about that. I had to explain it to them, and then, when they’d finally had a chance to think about it, they said it would take years! What’s all that about then, eh? You promised me that, didn’t you? Or was that all just bullcrap too?”

  Daryl sat, staring at me blankly, not showing any emotion, really, his arms crossed, still as a statue. I could have lamped him—boy could I—but I was saving that for when it would really, really count.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “You’ll get it when we’re good and bloody ready.”

  And the bugger walked out on me. Jumped up and stormed out, I should say. Out of his own bloody office! To cap it off, he slammed the door even harder than I had when I’d entered.

  My jaw dropped. I sat there, scratching my head. The utter, utter nerve of the guy. There’d I’d been, giving him a piece of my mind, and he hadn’t even given me the time to say another word. What the hell had happened?

  Now I really had no clue what I was going to do, how I was going to handle things. Molly gone. Daryl with his gloves off, apparently ready to be as much of a bastard as his inner bastard wanted. I didn’t want to stay and be treated like dirt but wasn’t massively up for leaving and being homeless either. Each option was equally as bastard as the last. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever felt lower. No, not even when that poor homeless guy fell into my wee.

  *****

  A short while later, I was sat in the local MacDonald’s, munching on a nice, big-old-proper-old Big Mac. Large Fries. Large Chocolate Shake. Large Coke. And one of those lovely hot apple pie thingies. Plus a round of onion rings. And a coleslaw salad. And a couple of the smaller, ordinary cheeseburgers for good measure.

  Why not? Molly was gone, the diet was off, and I had plenty of thinking to do. What with all the drama, I was starving. I needed a decent meal. The first for almost two weeks, I might add. Whatever my future diet was going to be, I gobbled the whole lot down in minutes flat.

  After that, I needed a wee and felt a bit sleepy, so I went back to my basement. My hovel, as I had taken to thinking of it. I crashed out on the bed with the TV on. Daytime TV.

  Lying there in limbo, settling in for a nap, my future a mystery, it reminded me of days gone by. Skiving off college. Wondering what the hell I was going to do with my life when school finished. Not really caring as long as I had access to food, drink and a TV. I should have at least been thankful I had those three things, I supposed. The question was, how shit would things need to get for me to risk losing them?

  *****

  I was woken by the ringing of the phone on the wall. Lingering in half-sleep, I imagined it was my mobile ringing, the mobile I still hadn’t had the nerve to charge up since I’d arrived at Solar Ray some weeks ago. For a moment, I seemed to travel back in time. I imagined it was all a dream and I was still in bed back in my flat in Crawley. Saturday morning again and I had had a bit too much to drink the night before. Just a dream, a bloody nightmare.

  Then I opened my eyes and saw the bare white painted walls of the basement, the drab light from the road barely seeping down through those tiny, grubby windows high up.

  Back to reality. Not a depressing discovering exactly. Just… bleak.

  I got up and went over to the still-ringing phone.

  “Hello?” I answered with a yawn.

  “Dave,” said a very well-spoken voice. Daryl.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Daryl,” he said. “Are you alright?”

  Asking after my welfare now, eh?

  “Yes, I’m fine. What’s the matter with you?”

  He did sound a little off. And he’d never called me in my room before. Only Molly had, and only once or twice when I’d overslept for a meeting.

  “The matter?” he said. “No, nothing. I just wanted to invite you up to my office. We need to talk. Are you free now?”

  “Yes, I’m free.”

  Of course I was free. There was literally nothing I needed to do except eat, drink and piss my luminous green poison in the bin thing in that bloody basement of his.

  “I’ll come up.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “See you soon.”

  He definitely sounded off-colour. Far too friendly. I was both intrigued and concerned.

  *****

  I knocked at the door to his office, and when he said “come in,” I entered to find him giving me his full attention. Rather strange, actually.

  “Hi, Dave,” he said with a weak smile and sounding sort of vulnerable. “Please, take a seat.”

  I didn’t bother to return the smile, yet he definitely seemed to be devoid of his usual scheming. I wasn’t sure what to make of this.

  “Hi, Daryl,” I said, plonking myself into the seat. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing really, Dave.” He sighed. “I just wanted to talk to you about your new diet and arrangements. Post-Molly. And clear the air a bit. You know.”

  I grunted.

  “So in terms of your diet.”

  He pushed a piece of paper over his desk, giving me what I can only describe as a schoolboy grin.

  “Here’s a summary.”

  I picked it up. The title was striking, to say the least. Dave’s Happy Diet, it said, followed by a series of bullet points.

  Indeed, as I read through, the whole thing seemed like a total joke. Simplest if I just reproduce its contents for you here.

  Dave’s Happy Diet

  Don’t be hungry, be happy.

  “There is no more sincere love than the love of food.” – George Bernard Shaw

  Calories are to be enjoyed, not counted.

  “My policy on cake is pro having it and pro eating it.” – Boris Johnson

  Thou shalt not kill, except if it shall be tasty when seasoned and cooked.

  Sticks and stones may break my bones, but snacks will always soothe me.

  Cows would go extinct if we stopped eating them.

  If vegetarians love animals so much, why do they eat all their food?

  Every day, thousands of innocent plants are killed by vegetarians. Help end the violence. Eat a burger today!

  Cows are vegan so you don’t have to be.

  Love your C.R.A.P! C - carbonated drinks

  R - refined sugars

  A - artificial food

  P - processed food

  If your food can’t GO bad, it can’t BE bad.

  “Cheese is milk’s leap
towards immortality.” – Clifton Fadiman

  I know it’s cheesy, but I feel grate.

  A balanced diet is a cookie in each hand.

  “What is this bollocks?” I said, throwing it back down, giving a half-hearted laugh.

  “It’s amazing what fifteen minutes on Google can produce…” he said, still with that childish grin.

  I agreed with almost every point on that printout, yet also, the way it was presented made me feel somehow disrespected by it. I mean Dave’s Happy Diet? Really? At the very least, it showed what kind of a total nincompoop Daryl really thought I was.

  “Joking aside,” he continued, “this is your diet from now on. It’s not a diet at all, really. I just want you to eat as much as you want of whatever you want. I thought you’d find this presentation of it easier to digest than, say, a list of acceptable foods.”

  I nodded, still speechless at being handed such a silly document, beginning to wonder if he had gone insane. Or perhaps it was me who was headed that way. From Molly and her strict veganism to this? But I supposed, if I was going to stay, I knew exactly what I should eat now. No further explanation required.

  “In addition,” he said, “you’ll need to continue with the food diary and the daily checkups and examinations so we can continue to build an understanding of what’s going on with you.”

  As he spoke, I noticed his tone growing in pompous self-importance—trying, I think, to underline his role. The boss.

  “I’ve spoken to our sponsors over in the States, and what with the current level of tech, the rise of digital doctors and so forth, they’re happy if we feed the data into the Omega mainframe for analysis and feedback. They have software and experts around the world, you know. We just need someone to do the examinations and enter the data at our end. I thought Bill would be a good candidate for that. Does that all sound alright with you?”

  It didn’t sound like a bad idea, getting computers on the case, experts, though the idea of Bill examining me physically each day did not thrill me. Mind you, I was pretty sure he wouldn’t be too thrilled either. To be honest, I didn’t really care. The main thing was Molly was gone. I knew that I only mattered here in so far as I could piss the good stuff, and I had pretty much had my fill of Daryl for life. I simply wanted this meeting to be over, to not be around him.

  “Makes sense I guess. Whatever.”

  I said it like I really didn’t give a toss.

  “Perfect,” said Daryl. “So…” He rubbed his hands together. “My treat tonight. What’ll it be?”

  I looked up at him sharply. Was he being serious?

  “Don’t be shy, Dave,” he said. He always said that, the bastard. “Anything you want. I’m ordering in. I’ve even stocked the fridge for us.”

  I watched in disbelief as he swivelled in his chair, wheeled over to a little fridge I hadn’t noticed before, opened it and took out two pint-sized cans of Stella Artois beers. He handed one to me. I took it, of course, still in shock at his actions but also very pleased to feel the familiar moist, icy coolness of the metal in my hand.

  I heard the little crack and the tzsss as he opened his.

  “Ahhh,” he said, taking a massive gulp. “Nothing like the first beer of the day. Don’t you agree?”

  I shrugged. There was no way we were going to be beer buddies, but on the other hand, it had been almost two weeks since I’d had a lager. So I went ahead, opened my can and took a big old hefty swig. It was frosty and bitter and fizzy in exactly the right proportions. Refreshing and tasty and just… bloody marvellous.

  After that things took a swift turn for the ugly.

  Chapter 12

  In my experience, beer can help any relationship move forwards positively. It doesn’t matter if you hate or love the other person or are generally just bored with them. Throw a few nicely chilled beers into the mix and you’ve got what will usually turn out to be a friendly and open conversation, if nothing else.

  I refused to let that happen with Daryl.

  I simply didn’t like the guy, ever since I first met the grumpy bastard at his mum’s house and steadily more so since then, really. Aside from that blip at the hearing when he’d basically right royally duped me, nothing I’d experienced of him was remotely positive. I knew the feeling was mutual, so why the need for bullshit?

  Also, whilst he had played me fairly well so far, I’m not sure if he quite got that, for my part, I understood him better than before. I knew how badly he needed me, perhaps more than I needed him. Plus, I knew he was cut up about Molly. I certainly didn’t feel sorry for him for any of it. You get what you deserve for being a twat.

  “The beer’s nice,” I said after I’d finished my can in maybe two or three mega-swigs, “but I’m not having dinner with you.”

  “Come on, Dave,” he said. “Don’t be rude.”

  “Nah, not rude,” I said. “I’ve just had enough of your crap. You think printing out a bunch of stupid jokes and calling it a ‘happy diet’ is going to win me over? I haven’t even told you I’m staying yet. I said I wouldn’t leave right away. That’s all.”

  He was shaking his head in petulant disbelief. Now I had caught him by surprise.

  “You need me,” I said, making the most of the moment. “Let’s just get that really clear and out in the open. So I think you should treat me with a tad more respect.”

  He stared at me hard, sort of frowning, sort of swaying too. All sorts of cogs and wheels going on inside that brain of his. Let him stew for once, I thought.

  “I really think it’s better if we stay friends, Dave,” he said. “Our relationship here is key.”

  “We’re never going to be friends. Friends don’t promise stuff and cheat each other. Friends don’t—”

  “Look,” he said. “I’m ordering pizza and drinking beer. Are you going to join me in that endeavour or not?”

  I snorted. “This how you make friends, is it? Force them to drink with you?”

  “No…” I could see I was getting to him. “But look at it this way, Dave: we’re in business together, aren’t we? You provide something, and I provide something. We need each other.”

  “Except we’re not equal in that at all, are we? You’re the CEO, and I’m just some guy on a crap contract.”

  “Considering what you are actually contributing, I hardly think you can complain—”

  “Could you be more of a twat?” I spat out the words. His eyes widened. “Of course I’m bloody complaining. Look, I didn’t go to any fancy university like you, and my life may be fairly unspectacular, I accept that, but don’t take me for a total bloody idiot either. You’re screwing me over. This company would be nothing without me. Without my… magic piss. Nothing. Yet I’m the one on two per cent. What is it you’re on again? Seventy?”

  “The stake reflects the contribution—”

  “Pfff,” I spat. “Molly was right, wasn’t she?” I was shaking my finger right at him now, well into my stride. “You don’t give a crap about me, do you? You’re only interested in this.”

  I made a horrible gesture of grabbing my crotch. This was mostly for impact, and I felt a bit sick at myself for doing it, but the reaction of distaste it generated on his face was pure gold, like he was smelling rotten eggs. The bastard looked down on me—that was the truth. I was just a yob to him. A lout. It was as clear as crystal right there on his face.

  “Don’t bring her into this,” he said, shuddering now, his anger rising. “She can be far too… idealistic sometimes. She doesn’t understand the realities of the world. I had hoped you would. But I can see that you’re far too much of a…”

  He stopped mid-sentence, restraining himself, the silly sod. He didn’t want to fight me, argue with me, tell me what he really thought. He really did need me, the sad bastard.

  “A what?” I said. “Go on. Tell me. Don’t be shy, eh, Daryl?”

  He let out a dismissive breath, giving me an infuriating sort of parental look.

  “I’m not sin
king to this level, Dave.”

  What? My level? Right, time to go for the jugular.

  “No, course not,” I said, using as uber-snarky a voice as I could muster. “You’ve already sunk deep enough, haven’t you?”

  He stared at me, scratching his nose.

  “What are you talking about, Dave?”

  “I know all about your life before I came along,” I said.

  Let the bugger stew in that one.

  “What do you—”

  “You were right in the shit, weren’t you? Selling crappy pipes. Or trying to anyway. Your stupid company went right down the tubes, didn’t it? And then there was Molly. She dumped you—”

  “Dave, don’t. I’m warning you.”

  He was getting properly pissed off now, my metaphorical nails really digging in. It wasn’t as satisfying as actually lamping the guy, but it wasn’t far off.

  “Of course she dumped you.” I twisted the knife. “You’re a total arsehole. But you can’t get her out of your head, can you? Asking her to come work here for you? That could’ve been a smart move, I suppose. A bit desperate though, really. Except there’s no way she’ll take your crap either. She knows better. And of course there’s me. She’s been looking after me very well, you know. Taking me out for meals, even cooking for me. We’ve been getting on like a house on fire. But of course you know that, don’t you? You hate the fact that she—”

  “Just shut up, you ridiculous fucking imbecile!”

  Finally, I’d hit the spot.

  “Wow.” I shook my head as if a chilly wind had just blown over me. “Now the truth comes out, the real Daryl—”

  “Don’t fucking talk to me about fucking life when you absolutely don’t and have never had anything remotely approaching a life in your entire miserable, toe-rag existence!”

  Jeez, he was riled. But I could give as good as I got.

  “You want to talk about miserable existence?” I shouted back. “How about you fix my salary so I get paid what you told me I was going to get paid and get your sodding team to work on that bloody plumbing so I can get out of that horrible basement you’ve shunted me into!”