Read Online Night's Favour by Richard Parry - Free Book Online Page A

free of almost any traffic at this hour.   A lone street cleaning machine was trundling away from them, the howl of the brushes muted by distance.   Now that was a shitty job, stuck in a tiny cab and scrubbing the streets of people’s waste, day after day.
    Still. The guy was probably warm in that cab.
    An empty bus passed them, the lit sign proudly proclaiming, “NOT IN SERVICE.”   The two of them stumbled further afield in search of a ride home.   John mumbled something.
    “What?”
    “I said, if we’re — wait, I need to throw up again.”
    “Christ.   I’ve known schoolgirls who can hold their beer better.   How do you even get drunk on beer anyway?”
    “You know schoolgirls?   We need to —”   The rest of this was cut off as John retched again.   He straightened, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.   “Hell.   We probably need to find a side street or something.”
    “Thanks, Socrates.”   Val shrugged.   Statistically speaking John was probably right — there were less cabs where there were more people, so if they found a quieter area of the city they’d be more likely to get that elusive ride home.   He steered their steps in a different direction.   They stumbled past a vagrant, wrapped up in a dirty blanket and some newspapers.
    “Fuck.   We’re idiots.”   Val started to pat his pockets down.
    “What are you looking for?”
    “Well, we could just call for a cab.   Beats walking the entire city looking for one.   Fuck.   I can’t find my phone.”
    “It’s cool.   Uncle John’s got his.”   John offered Val his phone, who took it and started tapping in a number on the small touch surface.   “I haven’t been this drunk since I was last in Vegas.   Tomorrow’s going to be hard work.   I’ve got clients.   You know what a hot gymnasium is like with a hangover?”
    Val noticed them first as he hung up the call with the cab company.   It was the way they walked that hit him first, the over-arrogant swagger of those with something to prove.   It was a group of perhaps ten young men, looking for trouble to belong to them.   The usual warning signs were there, plain to see.   Hoodies, drawn up over the heads.   Baseball caps underneath.   Too-loose jeans hanging low, underneath hunched postures.   A couple of them were smoking.   He looked at John.   “We should probably go somewhere.”
    “What?”   John was slurring.
    Val handed the phone back to him.   “Cab will be here in ten.”   He pointed to the group with his chin.   “Those fools.”
    John squinted.   “Ten minutes?   A lot can happen in ten minutes.”
    Val nodded, the look on his face saying it all.   They both turned to cross the road, to get some distance.   It was too late, of course.   A whoop came from behind them as they were spotted, and the group ran in a haphazard clump towards them.   Very quickly they were surrounded, ringed to prevent easy escape.
    Val hadn’t been in a fight.   Not since school, and those didn’t really count.   John had always been there to sort it out.   True to form, out came the signature Miles megawatt smile, ever so slightly loose from too much beer.   “Guys.”
    They were young.   Just kids, really.   Val could see that now, through the collection of mismatched clothing and wannabe gang patches, there wasn’t one amongst them over 22 years old.   Damn.   Kids always had something to prove.   One of them stepped forward a bit.   It was hard to see his face under the hood, the flat peak cap poking out from underneath.   His breath puffed in the cold, and he flicked his cigarette stub to the ground.
    “You guys trying to,” and he glanced for the reassurance of the crowd to those around him, “Get away from us?   You cunts trying to run?”
    John’s smile didn’t fade.   He wasn’t trying for eye contact, and he was still swaying on his feet a little.   “Run?   Shit no.   We just called a cab, man.   Thought we’d wait