The Point by Gerard Brennan Read Free Book Online Page B

spat his words through bared teeth. “If I had a cup of battery acid right now, I’d throw it in your face!”
    “Sean!” Karen said.
    “Karen, don’t,” Rachel said. “You shouldn’t get mixed up in this.”
    Sean didn’t even register Karen’s protest. He seemed to be doing his best to burn holes in Rachel with his mad, glaring eyes.
    Rachel realised that every customer in the café had turned their attention to the unfolding drama. She’d never be able to show her face in the place again. And it wasn’t as if the town was coming down with nice coffee shops.
    “Get lost, Sean. You’re making a show of yourself.”
    “You’re a dirty, skanky bitch, Rachel O’Hare!” He’d bent at the waist so he could get right in her face.
    “And you need to brush your teeth, Sean.”
    A couple of patrons laughed nervously. One or two hissed in anticipation of Sean going nuclear.
    “Hey, you!” The clear voice boomed through the heated atmosphere. “What are you at?”
    A man in a white apron stood at the café’s counter. Rachel guessed he’d been summoned from the kitchen by the nervous waiting staff. He wasn’t big, but he had that little hard-man look about him. All sinewy muscle and intimidating stare. Sean stood up straight and turned his attention to the new player.
    Rachel couldn’t help herself. She fired a punch into Sean’s groin. Then another. And another. He squeaked and folded over. The men in the café groaned and crossed their legs in unison. Sean fell onto his side and curled into the foetal position. Karen screamed.
    “We should get out of here, Karen,” Rachel said and dropped a twenty pound note on the table. She turned to the man in the apron. “Sorry about the commotion. Keep the change.”
    She stepped over Sean, who she almost felt sorry for, but he made a half-hearted attempt to kick out at her and she caught herself on. She booted his rubbery leg away and hunkered down so she could make sure he heard her through the pain.
    “How was that for a handjob?” she asked.
     
    You Dirty Rat
     
    Paul stood at the traffic lights on the main street in Warrenpoint with a cardboard box at his feet. He spotted a red Audi TT convertible with the top down approaching. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it scooting around the town’s streets. The little blonde driver must have been based in one of the small offices in the town but had a job that took her out and about. Or, more likely, she was a trophy wife who had little else to do all day but burn petrol as she went about a handful of unnecessary tasks to put in her day. Paul had a very keen eye for pretty motors and he’d clocked this one’s routine for the last couple of days.
    He pushed the button for the pedestrian crossing. The lights changed on cue and the car slowed to a stop. Paul winked at the blonde trophy wife driving the car. She licked her lips and smiled at him. He pulled a humane rat trap out of the cardboard box. There was a live rat inside, scratching at the plastic bars. Paul opened the trap and dumped the rat onto the passenger seat. The trophy wife screamed and clambered out of the car, scrabbling over the door instead of opening it. It was a less than graceful exit. Paul grinned, threw the trap into the passenger side foot-well and hopped into the driver’s seat. He peeled off.
    “Okay, Mister Rat, thanks for the help. Now just you crawl back into your wee house there and I’ll drop you off at the shore with a big block of cheese, deal?”
    The rat hopped onto Paul’s lap. Paul screamed.
     
    Fast Track Promotion
     
    Paul raked the TT’s engine as he sped into O’Rourke’s remote lock-up. One of the young mechanics had to dive to the side to avoid certain death. Paul didn’t bother with the car door, but vaulted out over it and performed a disjointed dance by the side of the vehicle. He ignored the puzzled stares from O’Rourke and his two young engine-heads as he gave himself a full body