Dave wanted to shout out to the workers and wage slaves. He wanted to celebrate. He had a redundancy cheque, a job in the music biz and the hope of a future with a beautiful blonde. But then we all make mistakes.
The Blonde Leading the Blind
The whining of the starter and the grunt of the engine turning
over and coughing into life rudely woke Dave from his back seat
slumbers.
'OK, you two back there?' Alex chirped.
The sun had risen and what a new day it was. The day before Dave
had been a mere warehouse supervisor and installations clerk, but
here he was lying in the back of a car returning from Les Elite's
Night-club on Finchley Road. Around him commuters were starting
to rise. Milkmen had started to deliver, the city was stretching
and yawning, wiping the sleep from its eyes and heading off for
the daily grind.
Dave had a blonde under his arm and life was sweet. It was not
his blonde, nor was it Alex's though it was Alex that had lent
her to him for the evening. The blonde in question and more
pertinently the one in his arms did technically belong to Gary,
but he would worry about that later. His head ached and he
desperately wanted to fart, but though he trawled the depths of
his consciousness he could find no signs of regret for what had
occurred the previous day.
A member of the Dreamline management had advised him to make his
move with Theresa the previous afternoon. Dave had assumed this
to be merely matchmaking but neither he nor the manager in
question knew about Theresa's private life, or her "live in
lover". He was "gutted" when Dave returned with
news of his failure. Dave had returned to his office to phone
Alex who suggested a night out with him and Mandi. The invitation
seemed even more attractive when ten minutes later he received
his redundancy cheque.
Loveless and jobless, Dave headed east.
They met in Walthamstow and picked up Alex's secret girlfriend on
the way to Swiss Cottage. Alex had recorded a single for one of
the barmen so they entered free, got drunk and went back to the
barman's flat afterwards for chat and drugs. Alex and his secret
girlfriend then left them in the car somewhere in Enfield while
she and Alex went into her house for "coffee".
It was either the drink, or sympathy or a twisted desire to make
her recalcitrant boyfriend jealous that made Mandi pliable to
Dave's advances. She succumbed to a modest degree of saliva
exchanging, full frontal groping but no invitation was on offer
for full consummation. Dave though had learned to live for
tomorrow. On his calendar of love it was only the rotten dates
that prevented it from being totally fruitless, but that was
about to change. Alex deposited Mandi outside her flat and then
hurtled down Walthamstow High Street avoiding the market stall
holders setting up for the day.
'You can come and work for me.' he offered.
Dave wanted to shout out to the workers and wage slaves. He
wanted to celebrate. He had a redundancy cheque, a job in the
music biz and the hope of a future with a beautiful blonde. But
then we all make mistakes.