The Magpie Trap: A Novel by AJ Kirby Read Free Book Online Page B

sunglasses which would have looked incongruous
on most other people, but which looked just
right on him. In the end, when the afternoon drinkers could finally take
their eyes off him, those eyes weren’t filled with hatred; only jealousy,
perhaps. Some people get all the luck.
    The
young man continued his cat-walk parade through the Adelphi and finally spotted
his ally sitting in the lounge area. He dashed toward him grinning like a
lunatic, flashing his brilliant white teeth.
    ‘Danny!’
he yelled. ‘ Amazed to find you in the
pub, my friend; I thought you were a high-flying salesman these days.’
    ‘Spider,’
replied Danny, rather more calmly. ‘Thanks for coming down to see me, cocker.’
    The
brash young man towered over the table, and ran a hand through his stylishly
messy hair as though wanting to make sure that everybody could see the nice
highlights that were there.
    ‘Why
do you keep talking like that?’ he said. ‘All of those ‘cockers’ and ‘squires’
and the like; you sound as daft as a Yorkshire gangster in a Guy Ritchie flick. And it’s Chris, not Spider.’
    Only
someone who looked like Chris Parker could have got away with using a word like
‘flick’ these days. Only someone that looked like Chris could make it sound
effortlessly cool. Soon, all of the old juffers in the pub would be calling
their wives and asking them if they fancied going
down the flicks sometime to catch a movie. Or maybe not.
    Danny
smiled. It looked as though it was a real effort for him. He had to try very
hard to fight off the desire to say that he was now more like the old
pubdrinkers and zombies down at Killingbeck Turf Accountants than his closest
friend. That was why he used words
like ‘cocker’ and ‘squire.’
    ‘What’ll
it be then?’ asked Chris, despite the fact that Danny already had a full drink
on the table. Chris, thought Danny, was the kind of person that would have
bought a round for everybody in the pub, just to be on the safe side and to
maintain his popularity. He was the kind of person that wanted everyone to
appreciate his generosity and continuously thank him for it. He was a lot like
his father.
    Danny
pointed to the glass of bitter that he was supping from.
    ‘What’s
that then?’ asked Chris. ‘The latest ale from the Sheep Piss Brewery?’
    Danny
wiped the foam from his lips and tried not to smile. ‘It’s a Nun’s Knee
Trembler, apparently,’ he said.
    Chris
smiled vaguely as he would have done to a poor serf that worked his land. Danny
watched as he bounced to the bar; he walked like a schoolboy who was trying to
somehow communicate his above-it-all-ness through the medium of dance. He was
very tall, and his shoulders-back, cock-sure walk made him seem even larger. It
was as though he wanted people to look at him, comment on him; whether these
comments were positive or negative was probably irrelevant. He ordered his
drink, sharing some joke with the barman and then returned to the lounge. He
immediately dived onto the saloon seat too close to Danny, despite the fact
that the rest of the room remained empty and he could have chosen virtually
anywhere else to sit.
                Relaxed, Chris spread his spidery long legs under the
table as though spinning a web, and took a long draught from his pint.
    ‘What
the hell have you got there, cock?’ asked Danny. ‘Designer cider poured over-ice ? What serious drink needs ice
with it?’
    ‘I
don’t drink it for its serious drinking qualities,’ replied Chris, grinning. ‘I drink it because I like it. And also
because I knew that it would guarantee to piss you off. I bought it as much for
entertainment value as for the taste itself.’
    ‘So,
you’ve been taken in by the adverts then. No surprise there. As soon as cider
becomes fashionable, you’re straight to the front of the queue,’ said Danny.
Part of him meant to undermine his
friend. Part of him hated the way that life was so easy for Chris.
    ‘What
can I