| Biff |
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| Copyright (inc. author's original name) Chatcat21k - all rights reserved 10th September, 2000. Reproduction or use of any portion thereof is direct violation of US and International copyright law. |
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| His game was off tonight. Swearing, he threw down the long snooker cue onto the table, scattering the multi-coloured balls in a swift action of defeat. His opponent wisely kept from grinning in victory, and let the fit of temper go without comment. Biff stomped towards the small round table where the remainder of his pint awaited him and sat, or rather threw, his weight onto the faded brown seat. He gulped down what was left of the 80/- special, oblivious to the taste of his favourite brew. "Where the hell is he!" he growled, looking at the clock for the umpteenth time. "Seeya, Biff," his snooker opponent called, as he leisurely strolled to the door. "Yeah, seeya," Biff muttered between thin lips, pinched with frustration. His sharp grey eyes followed the retreating figure as it fed its way through the door, impatiently searching for his friend, then turned again to look at the clock above the bar. "Must be your shout," a warm voice said in his ear. Biff's head whipped around. "Where the 'ell've you been?" Biff demanded, angry but relieved at the same time. "Keep your shirt on," Biff's long awaited pal chirped, claiming the seat next to him. He grinned with complacency, pulling his lipstick-stained collar into place. "Bit edgy tonight, aren't we? You need to loosen up a bit. Speaking of which, I'll have a short - it's a bit nippy out." Biff swore as he strolled to the bar. They may have been mates since school but sometimes Steve really narked him. And he wasn't called Biff for nothing. His short fuse had always got him into trouble although he had learnt to control it a bit since Dad had snuffed it. Not that Dad's death had caused him any grief. The old git had deserved it. He wasn't bothered what his Dad had done to him, he could take it, but Mum couldn't. If the booze hadn't killed Dad then, sooner or later, he would've! "Here's to being rich," Steve toasted before Biff even got the chance to sit down. "Keep your voice down," Biff growled, looking round. "Stop worrying, there'll be nothing to it. I know exactly what to do. God, you've gone soft since you met that bird. Take my advice and get rid of her - you can't afford a conscience in our line of work." "Her name's Kath and you leave her out of it. She's the first decent lass I've met'n she thinks a lot of me." "Oh aye, likes a bit of rough does she?" Biff glared. What had he ever seen in Steve? Funny how you see things differently as you get older. Not long ago he'd have murdered the Pope if Steve had asked. But not now. Not since he'd met Kath. Now he saw things in a different light - even himself - and he had to admit he didn't like what he saw...Well, he'd made up his mind. He plucked up his courage. "Anyway, I'm not going tonight." Inwardly he winced at the nervous tumble of his words, wishing he'd managed the statement with cool indifference. Steve was completely thrown. His dark eyes widened. "What do you mean 'not going'? You can't let me down, not tonight...I need you." Steve, always quick to spot Biff's discomfort, thrust savagely at his loyalty. "C'mon, Biff, you 'n me...well - we're like brothers." "I know, Steve, but things are different now. I'm fed up with lyin' to Mum and jumpin' every time there's a knock at the door. I want more out of life." "Stick with me and you'll get it. We've done alright upto now haven't we?" Biff looked doggedly stubborn, despite his apparent change in loyalty, and Steve could see he wouldn't change his mind. The way Biff been lately he'd be better off without him anyway. "Look, just help me out for tonight - one last time. I mean, you owe me that much at least. Just one last time eh?" ************* God, what an awful night! They'd dealt with the alarms alright. They'd even got a good selection of watches and jewellery, stuff that would be easy enough to fence off. They left the really expensive stuff alone - it would be too difficult to shift, Steve said. In fact, everything had gone fine. At first. Biff had even managed to quell the roiling pit in his stomach, possibly the result of a newly-found conscience. No, it was fine until the old codger had come out of the back office. Even now, a few days later, Biff couldn't block out the sight of him as he lay on the floor, blood seeping into a thickening pool from the gash on his immaculate grey head. Steve had acted quickly, the old bloke hadn't stood a chance as he smashed the heavy ornate clock he'd lecherously been admiring against the poor old bugger's skull. God, what if he's dead? Panic-stricken, Biff remembered kneeling, peering searchingly into the greying face. "You alright mister?" JESUS CHRIST, he prayed - say something - anything! Faintly he heard the old man grunt in pain, and he sighed with relief as the old man slowly opened eyes the colour of summer skies. ************* Contd... |
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