Full Circle - Part Two - Tony's Tale (438 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 0 on 1 review (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Graeme Porter <graeme.at.tsd-ltd.demon.co.uk> (View user info) at 2005-08-12 02:52:37 EDT
Part One - Francesca's Tale - http://ubersite.com/m/72967
________
The noise of Electro-Cardiograph machines beeping is never a good sound to wake up to, although with his horrendous headache, any sound louder than a pin dropping could be considered worse.
What happened? There was almost certainly a pub, there was definitely alcohol, and he vaguely remembered some of the people he was with.
Was Francesca there? Shit, he thought she was. Why the hospital, though?
He decided to risk opening his eyes. White hospital ceiling; bright daylight; hung over - not a good combination. Eyes sore. Terrible headache. He tried again, with moderately more success.
Looking around, he saw other beds, patients, nurses; good, a ward, and not an Intensive Care Unit. At least he hadn't been stupid enough to try driving home from the pub, had he? Certainly he felt like he'd been hurt, which was why he was in hospital.
And in walked Francesca.
"Oh Tony, you're awake! How do you feel?"
"Like shit, ugh!" came his reply.
"I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to slap you that hard!" she said, breaking into tears.
What? She slapped me?
"What with, a brick?" he said, with a wan smile.
"You were drunk, and you were being really horrible; I slapped you, and you fell through the table. And the glasses on it." She dabbed her eyes with his bed covers; she'd forgotten to bring tissues.
"I don't remember; I'm sorry babe. Glass, huh? Few more scars to add to the collection then." A nod in reply.
It was at that moment that Tony resolved to give up drinking. He felt like shit every day after he'd had his fill, and his job didn't really didn't pay well enough to support a drinking habit. He'd got points on his driving licence for DUI offences, and though he lived in a squat little flat above the Jagged Edge night club where he worked, he couldn't afford to be without his car. Driving gave him freedom, and he needed a car to get to Francesca's flat.
They'd discussed moving in together before, but neither of them had a flat large enough to support the two of them. They had talked about looking for a bigger flat, but Francesca spent her days helping people try on new shoes in Foot Locker, and bouncing at the Jagged Edge was Tony's only job; he didn't have the qualifications to get anything better. So that was as far as it went - talking about finding a new flat.
Tony was passionate about Francesca. He wanted her to be happy, and wanted to keep her safe and secure, wanted to provide for her. Well, he did love her, after all. He'd never so much as looked at another girl, never mind cheating on her with one. He knew in his heart she wanted more from him that he'd given her so far, and he felt guilty as hell about it.
"So when do I get out of here?" he asked. Francesca merely shrugged, but there was something in her eye that told him something was wrong. Tony had been in hospital enough times to know not to ask too many questions. Instead, he slept.
* * *
He was discharged from hospital a day later, the deepest cuts on his wrists, chest, and face having finally stopped bleeding, and the final stitching having been put in that morning. He was sure that some of these would leave permanent scars, but then, he already had some of those from previous hospital encounters.
The Jagged Edge wasn't really what you'd call a safe working environment. Being a bouncer there was like wearing a target costume and walking into the middle of an artillery range. You needed to know how to fight, and you needed to be strong enough to eject some of the more troublesome of the club's clientele. None of that can really prepare you for a glass being thrown at the back of your head, or a bottle being smashed over you in the middle of a brawl there. The local council had threatened to withdraw the clubs' licence on several occasions, but so far it had amounted to nothing. So hospital was familiar territory for Tony.
Though he knew he wasn't exceptionally tall, a trait normally looked for in bouncers, he was built like the proverbial brick shit-house. He had no day job, so he spent a lot of time during the day working out with his home gym equipment.
Tony's luck continued to plague him that evening. The Jagged Edge needed him to cover another bouncers' latest period of hospital time. Great. It was 11:30 PM, freezing cold out and pissing with rain, and they had him doing two hours of door duty.
He'd been standing there, soaking wet, for an hour and a half, when he saw a face that was familiar to him. He didn't know where it was from, but he'd seen that face.
The face belonged to a tall guy, black hair. Dressed OK, so he got in - the Jagged Edge didn't have the classiest of dress codes, but as long as you didn't look too scruffy, you got in. But man, Tony thought, those grey eyes were weird.
* * *
Tony's wristwatch said 1:40 AM. Great, he thought, just under an hour before kicking-out time. He'd just finished drying his hair and changing his clothes, ready for his indoor bouncing stint. They needed more people indoors as it got closer to closing time, mostly because of the usual drunken punch-ups.
Over by the bar, he saw the guy he thought he'd recognised, but couldn't place him. He stood and watched the guy from a distance. He was sitting on a barstool talking on a mobile phone (or at least, he was trying to).
Tony kept racking his brains trying to think who this guy was, and where he'd seen him.
And then it hit him.
He'd seen him in the pub, the night he'd fallen onto the glass-laden table. This guy had been staring at him, and it had been really bothering him, but he'd been too drunk to stand up and go tell him to fuck off.
Well, now was the time. Tony strode over, moving through the crowded club toward the bar.
"...so, when do you want to meet? I had a great time in the pub..." the guy was saying - but he didn't get a chance to finish, as Tony snatched the mobile phone from his hand.
"He'll call you back," Tony said into the phone. All he heard in reply was a gasp, and he saw the name "Francesca" on the screen just as he hung up. Francesca. Of course; the guy wasn't a fag - he'd been staring at Francesca. HIS Francesca.
Tony saw red, and smashed his right fist into the guy's face, breaking his nose with a sickening 'crack'. The guy fell off the bar stool, the blood streaming from his face, but his leg caught on the stool's footrest on the way down, and he couldn't stop the back of his head from hitting the floor. He was unconscious, but that didn't stop Tony's continued beating.
Tony kicked his right foot savagely into the still figure's side, again, and a third time, before bringing his fist down onto the mans' ribs. It was as though time had stopped, and the beating seemed as though it had taken hours.
In reality, it was only about a minute before two of the other bouncers arrived to pull Tony away from Chris's still form. An ambulance and police car were called.
Tony was arrested and charged with Grievous Bodily Harm. He spent the night in a holding cell at the local police station.
Chris spent the night in the Intensive Care Unit at Homerton University Hospital.
User Reviews
Submitted by highlander (user info) at 2005-08-12 07:15:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry if the end of this part seems abrupt.
Part 3 will be posted later today. In case you hadn't noticed, this is not a happy story.