The Vanishing Point

50

The kid had finally gone to sleep. After Pete had slapped him for his whiny crying, he’d screamed a couple of times till it had eventually sunk in that the more he wailed, the more he got hit. He’d stopped crying then and crawled into the furthest corner of his bed, whimpering softly. Pete had stood above him, menacing and dark, not needing to say a word to inculcate wordless terror in the boy.

Then he’d remembered that the little shit would probably piss himself, so he grabbed his arm and dragged him to the half-bath under the eaves. He pulled down the kid’s pants and sat him on the toilet. At first, the boy couldn’t even manage a dribble of piss. But when Pete turned away in disgust, the urine streamed out, smelling strong and hot. The kid wiped himself clumsily and ran back to the bed before Pete could grab him. There, he cowered in the corner, big brown eyes wide and terrified.

Pete locked him in again and went downstairs, where he set his iPad to play a random selection of Peter Gabriel tracks. He lay on the sofa and let the music run over him like a river. When it came to ‘My Body Is a Cage’, he roused himself and sat up, concentrating on how the music was knitted together, figuring out the choices that had gone into the mix and wondering what he might have done differently. At the end of the track, he walked over to the player and searched till he found the Arcade Fire version of the same song. He listened with equal attention, working out why he found the original so much less powerful than the cover.

It would have been good if Stephanie had been there with him. He could have explained to her why small choices made big differences to a recording. But she wasn’t here. It wasn’t acceptable.

He took another beer from the fridge and went to check on the boy again. This time, he was asleep, sprawled across the bed, his thumb in his mouth and his hair matted with sweat. Pete didn’t like the invasion of his space, but it wouldn’t be for long. Then he could concentrate on working things out with Stephanie, restoring his world to its proper state.

That was the important thing, not this little bastard with his soft snoring and his twitching feet. Things had been out of kilter for long enough. Now it was time to restore equilibrium. Pete yawned as he made his way down to the master bedroom on the next floor. An early night wouldn’t be such a bad idea. He’d been short on sleep lately and the band were expecting a full shift out of him tomorrow. He took another swig of beer and sat on the side of the bed, pulling off his boots and letting himself fall back on the bed.

Soon he’d be back in England with Stephanie at his side. Soon.