Andy Forrest yanked down the shutters at the front of his electrical goods shop. It was the end of another poor day, with only three people venturing through the shop door. The slits of the metal grill clattered against each other like links of a vast chain winding its way around his neck, choking him.
Only one of those three visitors had made a purchase: the first being the mailman, who didn’t count, and who had delivered a wad of bills for good measure; and the second had been someone desperate for the john. Andy had chased him away. He’d had more success with the third entrant, but that had only been for the purchase of a power adaptor, making Andy’s takings for the day so paltry they weren’t worth banking.
Of late too many days had gone the same way as this one. Too many days that piled an unpaid bill on top of the stack of other unpaid bills. Andy thrust his hand inside his pocket, and fingered the coins that were the weight of the price of the power adaptor, and pondered why he bothered opening the store at all. He’d lifted the shutters at eight, closed them at seven. He’d opened early to catch the commuters as they headed to work and closed late for the chance to snag them on their way home again. It hadn’t increased the footfall in his store, not one bit. Bitter, he debated whether to open the store at all the next morning. At least if he stayed closed then he might save some on electricity bills.
He snorted and shook his head. Imagine an electrical store afraid to use electricity… The irony of it wasn’t funny. Of course, he’d open the store in the morning. In fact, he’d open even earlier than he had today. Someone in the neighbourhood somewhere must need a new refrigerator or television. They’d better. He needed a sale. He needed lots of sales.
He ventured down the sidewalk, winding his path between the tide of people heading the opposite way. It wasn’t as if the neighbourhood had gone quiet. He stopped, contemplated going back to the store and opening again. There were many people around, loads of potential customers. He studied the harassed and flustered countenances of those who passed by him, their minds a million miles away from the paths they walked. He shook his head again. There were no shoppers among them, only folks desperate to get home.
He sighed and began his journey again. It wasn’t far from his store to his apartment and he was in no particular hurry. He passed Baritimo’s, which was filling with diners; passed a grocer, which was still open and trading busily; went passed a laundromat, crammed with people having their clothes washed. There were as many people in the shops as there were on the sidewalk and those guys were spending money. Perhaps he should have stayed open…
He snorted. Who was he trying to kid? None of these guys wanted to buy a lightbulb, let alone a radio. At least Iris would bring home some money from her work at the grocery store. That would pay the rent on their apartment for a little while longer. She was working that evening until ten and Molly, their daughter, was at soccer practice until eight. Andy dropped his pace to a leaden plod. There was no one to go home to right now. No smiling faces to lift his spirit. The walk suddenly became a burden. Just as much as he was.
He was in front of the entrance to a narrow, dead-end street. It was ill-lit and somewhat dirty, with trash spilling out of a giant garbage bin someone had neglected to empty. The far end of the street was shrouded in shadow but pools of yellow light illuminated some of the nearby buildings. Their neighbourhood wasn’t perfect. He knew the doorway halfway down the lane hid a brothel. It had been Arthur’s workmate Davide that had informed Andy of that fact. Davide was full of interesting information.
Andy headed down the alley. A pale light spilled from the window above the brothel door. Andy ignored it, steering wide of the entrance in the same way he kept wide of the building next to it. A vent on its second story spewed yellowed plumes of smoke into the evening air. Davide hadn’t told him what went on in that establishment and Andy hadn’t asked. He didn’t want to find out, afraid it might be something sinister.
His journey stopped when he reached the third building. This had a large black door and a circular bell that hung on the wall under a small sign that read ‘Watkin’s Club’. He pressed the buzzer which rang with a harsh vibrating ding. He’d been to this place before, first with Davide when they’d decided to continue partying after one of their poker nights with Arthur, and then several times more on his own. Okay, slightly more than a few times more. Especially when he’d had a rough day such as today. It was as if his feet propelled him to the place in an act outside of his control.
The door clicked open and Andy entered the small reception area. Inside was too bright after the darkness of the street and Andy scrunched his eyes together to help them focus. When he reopened them, it was to find an effete Chinese man scuttling towards him. ‘Ah, Mr Forrest, what can we do for you?’
Andy fought against himself. He shouldn’t have entered the building and yet… ‘Hi, Charles, I’ve come to play.’
The smile on Charles’s face vanished and his eyes turned cold. ‘You not play unless you pay. You got money to pay? Like I told you last time, you not pay debt, you not play at the tables. You not come in.’
‘Please, Charles. I only want a short session. I’ve a lucky vibe about me tonight. I’ll pay back what I owe the club if I win. I promise.’ He planned to use the winnings to pay some of the creditors’ bills that were piling up around the shop, too. Oh, and his apartment rent. That was also in need of payment. There were so many debts, and his coffers were empty.
‘No. You not come in. The big boss, Mr Grapelli, he reviewed your account. Big liability. You not to come in unless you pay first.’
Andy had made a stack of losses in the few short months since Davide had introduced him to the wonders of ‘Watkin’s’. That first time, after they’d played a few hands of poker and drunk beer with Arthur, Davide had suggested they go to a real casino. Arthur, of course, had declined the invitation, but Andy had been super-keen. He’d never been inside a real casino before. It had been immense fun until he lost a stash of money. At which point he’d wished he’d never been introduced to the place. But the adrenaline buzz he’d discovered stayed in his system, exciting his heart each time a card flipped or the roulette wheel spun, and he’d found himself itching to spend more and more time at its tables.
The first night’s losses accumulated during his second visit and again on his third and fourth…Somewhere inside he knew he was acting like a mug, but something compelled him to return to the place time after time. And he neglected to tell Iris about his new addiction, even though he spent all his savings and he was almost at his credit limit with the bank.
It was horrible. Yet, there was no staying away, even as he understood that he should. Besides, one day he would win back enough money to pay those debts he’d accumulated and replenish his savings, and he had to strive for that because, Christ, his luck had to change sometime.
‘Oh, come on, Charles,’ he said. ‘One last time. I’ll pay you back straight after. You know I will.’ He hoped he didn’t sound too needy. Hoped, too, that Charles would be kind and allow him to play and that it wouldn’t be like the last time he’d visited, when the club had stopped his credit mid-game and ejected him from the premises sheepish and broke.
But Charles was having none of it. ‘Mr Forrest, I cannot. On my boss’s say-so. This is out of my hands. It is out of my hands. Now, please go.’
Impulsively, Andy ignored Charles’s plea and leaped instead towards the door leading into the club’s interior, barging Charles’s shoulder in his attempt to circumvent the man. A part of Andy screamed about the stupidity of this manoeuvre, that he was making a complete fool of himself, even as he heaved against the door. It opened to allow seductive mid-American music to escape from within, accompanied by the acrid pall of cigarette smoke. For the briefest of seconds elation found a home within him. Charles wasn’t going to prevent his progress into the hall! Under his feet, the luxurious tread of the soft pile carpet enticed him away from the entrance lobby towards the gaming tables. The room all but purred in his mind, soothing his worries, and for a fleeting instance he was back in heaven.
For an instance, only, then Charles was upon him. A wiry hand grabbed Andy’s shoulder and yanked him back. He winced as his arm was twisted and expertly pulled tight behind his back. It made his eyes water and he yelped pathetically.
‘You not go in there, Mr Forrest. Not without paying first.’
He was propelled towards the front door.
‘You got money to pay?’
Andy struggled to voice his protest through the pain. ‘I told you. If you give me a chance to play, just a small extension to my credit, I’ll be able to pay you, ‘cause tonight I’m gonna win. I’m sure of it.’
His rational mind was surprised Charles didn’t laugh at this. He would have in Charles’s position. As it was, all Charles did was release his arm and push hard upon the small of his back. The act made Andy stumble down the three steps that led from the club’s door and he teetered onto the middle of the alley. Andy glanced around. It was as well it was dark and the street was deserted. It hid his humiliation.
‘Don’t come back until you can pay, Mr Forrest. In fact, Mr Grapelli will hear you try to play without paying again. I don’t think he will be happy with this, Mr Forrest. If I were you, I’d settle your debt real quick.’
The door snapped shut leaving Andy with Charles’s words knotting his stomach together. He’d no other way to find the money to pay back the debt. No way. He attempted to stand up straight by pushing his shoulders backwards and lifting his chin, but the stance made him look ridiculous. It was as well no one was around, especially someone who might recognise him. The last thing he needed was for someone to relate this debacle back to Iris. ‘Shit! What am I gonna do now?’ he asked no one, before coughing nervously. He staggered his way to the main street while his mind reeled under the stress of his situation. A passer-by may have considered him drunk. He didn’t care. His gut, his heart, his limbs, were so heavy he found the effort of walking a chore. He would have said a prayer to God for help had he been a believer. Not that He would have done Andy any favours.
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