Grimsby pt. 7 (Patreon)

I was speechless and touched. I was too exhausted to figure out what this meant though. Did he expect something from me now? Before I could gather myself Jace picked up his bag and started walking towards the exit.

- We should of a pint.

I wasn’t audibly breathing heavily any longer, but I could feel I was still pretty wound up. Flush, sweaty, and definitely thirsty after this shock introduction to the gentlemen’s art of self-defense. I felt a pint was too far away and I needed to drink right now, so I stood up and started to walk towards the drinking faucet. “You’ll regret it,” Jace remarked, barely looking my way. He was half right. The water tasted of metal pipes, but it felt good to splash my face with cold water and cool it down. There were empty holders of a mirror pane mounted on the well. At some point the mirror must have cracked and never been replaced. I wondered how I looked after such a beating. I cupped my hands and brought water up to dump in my hair, and was quickly reminded of how little of it I had left. I could feel trickles down my shaved sides and neck. The sound of the door closing made me realize Jace wasn’t waiting, so I rushed out of the locker room, out through the main doors, and caught up with him slowly walking back the way we came.

It didn’t take long until he deviated from the path we followed to the club. I had no idea where we were, or really where he was taking me, but it was obviously a route as well optimized as the path we took going here. Mostly road, but a few shortcuts through people’s back yards. It looked kind of familiar, but I’ve only walked around these blocks very tired, hangover, drunk and/or high. Now I could add beaten up and exhausted to that list. As we rounded a corner I saw a painted sign hanging out from the building, stating “Fawn’s Head”. I'd seen that pub at some point earlier in the week, but never been near it.

For some reason it looked deserted on the empty street, not that you could really tell about a pub with its door closed. Looks were deceiving, sure enough, because there were quite a few people scattered around inside the pub. It was decidedly not a high-brow clientele. Everywhere I looked I saw track tops, worker's high-viz clothes, and quite a few paint-spattered sweatshirts. I recognized some people from yesterday evening, though not by name. A few people glanced our way, garnering no interest.

I followed Jace over to the barman and witnessed a play in gestures. The barman gave Jace a nod. Jace gave him a nod. Then he nodded sideways towards me. Then the barman poured two lager, and placed them in front of us. Jace was clearly a regular, though I wasn’t even sure he was 18 yet. Without a word we grabbed our beers and started to empty the glass. It was the best-tasting beer I’ve had all week. Not because of the beer, but because this was the end of a hard day at the end of a hard week. Whatever part of my body didn’t hurt after hauling ice and fish, Jace had made tender, either directly by knocking me out, or with the bag punching exercises. But this was the end of...

- HEY!

Jace had turned towards the room and shouted at the top of his lungs. It instantly became dead silent.

- Is Chayse innit!

Everyone shifted their eyes onto me. What the hell was Jace doing?

- Fuck with him, fuck with me!

There was a second of tense silence in the room. I didn’t dare breathe.

- On me. Cheers!

The room erupted in loud cheers, followed by an explosion of chatter. Some guy in blue carpenter trousers and a blue sweatshirt, both splattered with hundreds of tiny white dots of paint, jumped up from his seat and grabbed the first of the new beers. As he was turning to get back to his table, he stopped as if he realized he should pay for the beer somehow, and slapped my sore shoulder.

- Connor’s the name. Why don’t you lad join our table for a wee bit?

Before I could even agree to that, he started shoving me in the direction towards the table. I pulled an extra chair and sat down with his crew of builders. Conner, Kieran, Tommy, and Callum. To my surprise their work stories about bad shoes, early mornings, lunch places, all felt relevant to me, and I had a few insights that fit into the conversation. Once I’ve emptied my beer I excused myself for a smoke, but Callum got up and told me to follow him. We walked out on the back and there was a large smokers patio with two groups in either end talking. Callum brought me to one of the groups and the others there greeted me and introduced themselves.

It turned out that none of them actually knew Jace, but they had seen him around. They themselves didn’t know each other that well either. They usually sat with their pals and then just came together outside for a smoke. As they started to move back inside, a tall, hard-looking guy from the other group walked across the patio.

- Hey come here!

He was shaved bald, wore shiny, black Puma clothes with red zippers and details, and a pair of black Dr. Martens. He clearly worked out, but even if he hadn’t his height alone was intimidating. It didn’t sound like a request either. Callum got the hint and quickly stubbed out his fag.

- See you around.
- Yeah.

While he returned inside the pub the shaved guy motioned with his shiny head towards the other two who silently smoked at the other end. They looked every bit as tough as this guy. A bit older but just as muscled, one with buzzed heads and tracksuits, the other with a mohawk, adidas top, and dark blue adidas joggers. As I started to walk towards them, the shaved guy walked behind me, like he was herding me. Dammit, I’m also shaved, although not completely. I must stop thinking of myself as looking so different than them. Anyone who stumbled out into the patio would assume we four were a group. As I stopped he pushed me in the back to force me uncomfortably close to the other two. The older of the two, standing just in my face, made a deep drag, and blew a cloud of smoke in my face. I’m sure it was intended as disrespectful and intimidating, but it took all my self-discipline to not inhale it, even though I had just finished a smoke myself. He gave me a nod and spoke.

- Jace new runner innit.
- I don’t know wh...
- Shut the fuck.

I could feel the color draining from my face. Apparently there was a reason why they all left me alone outside with these guys. He continued.

- I don’t give a fuck what you do, but stay out of our business. If you see any of us you do as you’re told. Got it?
- Yes.
- Good. Now lick my balls.
- What?
- You heard me mate.

A wave of fatigue washed over me. I had been shaved and punched and drugged and so much more. Everything was unreal. This was not me, this was not my life. It’s just that with a pint in my hand and nice people around I slipped and forgot. Like an emotionally drained whore on her tenth fuck for the day I silently went down on my knees in front of his crotch. He patted my head on the exposed skin.

- This is what we like, lads, innit.

And then he tilted my head back up and looked me in the eyes.

- Remember your place next time we tell you to do something.

Then he let go and looked up at the others.

- Let's go for another, lads.

He dropped his smoldering fag on the ground in front of me as they left, and I hated that my first instinct was to pick it up and put it in my mouth. Who were they? What did they mean by Jace's runner? They had already left the patio by the time I got up and looked around. A group of patrons just walked into the patio and nodded in my direction. I nodded back and headed back into the pub, past them. I needed to find Jace and ask him what the guys meant. It wasn't hard to find him inside the pub, despite it filling up in the moments he had been out. He was standing next to a table close to the entrance, towering over the guy standing next to him. He probably towered over most people. The guy next to him was passionately talking to him. Jace saw me, and reached out like for a handshake.

- Oi Chayse, be a minute.

I grabbed his hand and felt something small in my hand. Jace winked at me.

- First one's free bruv.

He handed me a half-emptied pint glass and turned back to the guy. I stepped away and looked into my hand. A small, white pill. I felt both neglected and thankful at the same time. Of course he should finish whatever this is, but I felt we needed to talk right now. I took a large swig out of the glass and realized as I swallowed that I had already put the pill in my mouth. I was just running on autopilot after everything that had happened during this week.

Something was moving in my peripheral, and I turned to see a few guys at a table waving at me. I went to join them to kill time. I felt like I was losing grip of reality again, because the man who waved me to the table came back from the bar with a fresh lager and sat it down in front of me, while one of the other guys at the table was talking about their day of road maintenance. I was jolted back into the present, looking up at the man, Rob was it? He was smiling at me kindly. I thanked him and took a sip of the beer, and a shiver of pleasure went through me. It was even better tasting than the one I had earlier. The guy who was talking was detailing all the problems with one of the stores next to the road where they had laid stones during the day. He was about my age, but more tanned and crow's feet by the eyes after having been outdoor so much. No, this was Rob. His pitch-black hair was gelled up, and his face was framed on the other side by a black T-shirt with a big, yellow "Powell Construction" logo. I realized I had stopped listening to him and was lost in his grey-blue eyes, when he asked me something.

- Sorry mate, I have to piss.

At the moment I said it I realized it was actually true, and somewhat wobbly got up and headed towards the gents. They nodded and smiled. Jace wasn't standing where I had last seen him, I noted on the way to the gents, nor did I see him anywhere else. I wasn't sure I could trust my senses fully. What had he given me? Molly? It must have been part of it, as everything and everyone was lovely. I double-checked the sign on the door and entered the gents. Two sinks, two urinals, and a door to a proper toilet. As I walked by the mirrors over the sinks I turned my head, almost like a reflex, but stopped in my tracks.

I looked horrible. It wasn't the brutal hair, or the eyebrows, or the piercings, or the clothes. I looked like a criminal mug shot. My face was subtly swollen and bruised from the pummeling I've gotten from Jace an hour or two ago. There wasn't any specific thing I could point out. Just that I looked off. I didn't look like me anymore. Fascinated, almost mesmerized by my own ugliness I touched and poked my face. Nothing hurt. Not specifically anyway. I'm sure it would look better tomorrow, but it was unnerving still.

As I reached the urinal I realized I had a stiffy. I hoped the black adidas joggers had hidden it from Rob and whatever his name was, but I couldn't be sure. Well, this wasn't the place to do anything about it, so I simply aimed forward and let go, pissing straight into the wall of the urinal. Despite me swaying more than I would have liked or expected, the only thing I got on me was a fine mist of back splatter. I was clearly more intoxicated or high or whatever than I thought, so I don't know how long I stood with my dick out and forehead against the wall, just waiting for the dripping to stop. I was kind of hoping to also get soft, but had to settle for a semi.

I was pulling my joggers up when someone entered. I didn't take any notice of him until someone shouted "Hey" in my ear, and pushed me into the room with the toilet. He shoved me down on the lid facing him, and locked the door. It was one of the goons from the outside patio, the one with the mohawk, adidas top and joggers. He had a week-old beard and looked a bit tired as well. I knew I should be intimidated by him, but somehow I just felt like I wanted to hug him. I had this unexplainable urge to touch him. He glanced at the ceiling, looking for a smoke detector, then picked a cigarette and a lighter from a pocket. While looking down on me he slowly put the cigarette to his mouth and lit it, inhaled deeply, and exhaled the smoke on me. To his confusion this time I inhaled deeply as well. Not only did I want to embrace him. I wanted to french kiss him and suck the smoke out of his lungs. What the fuck was wrong with me?

He regained his composure. He was also clearly a bit drunker than before.

- I want to be fucking clear with you. When we tell you what to do, you do it.
- Sound, mate.

This wasn't going how either of us had expected. My eyes kept darting between his face and the chain he had around his neck. Somehow it looked so pretty, glittering in the fluorescent tube light. Everything looked pretty. He struggled with what to do next.

- Lick it. Lick the groin.

I looked down. The loose, dark blue adidas joggers didn't reveal much, but a little bump indicated where his dick was. For some reason, I don't know why, I did as he said, leaned forward, and let my tongue run up and down the fabric. It didn't taste like much. I moved forward and licked with a bit more pressure. I could hear him inhale from the cigarette again.

- Ok, alright. I need to piss.

He grabbed me and stood me up with one arm, and unlocked the door with the other.

- Share the fag?
- What?

It took him a second to realize I asked for his cigarette. His intimidation ploy had not gone the way he wanted, though I was at the same time both zen and wondering what the fuck was going on. He handed me the cigarette. I stepped out and he closed the door behind me. I finished the cigarette and threw it in the urinal.