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She waited for him in the coffee bar, a cappuccino in front of her. Simon was late, as usual, and Nicks had gone to get some cigarettes. He’d said he’d give up but she knew now wasn’t the right time so she put her concerns to rest and let him go.
Outside, he’d bought his needs and shuffled his foot over the cigarette stub. A quick squirt of mouth freshener and he began the walk back. He didn’t see the man step out of the alley until it was too late.
“Gis yer money, mate!” he said brandishing a knife that glistened under the sodium lights. Briefly, Nicks thought of acquiescing, it was only money and plastic after all, but the unbelievably long neck convinced him he was looking at half man, half giraffe, the product of a middle earth experiment gone wrong. He punched him as hard as he could in the face instead, producing an instant spray of blood.
The man collapsed onto his backside, dropping the knife to the floor.
A quick look around: no one. Nicks grabbed him by his hoodie and dragged him swiftly back into the jigger.
The guy lay there whimpering whilst Nicks bent down and pulled a snarling ‘creature’ from his boot. The size of an overgrown rat, he casually tossed it further into the alley where it landed hard, then stood trembling.
“Me dog! Don’t hurt me dog!” the buck whined as Nicks rifled through his pockets; two wallets and a purse. He pocketed them then took out the Glock, pulling his assailant to a half-raised position, shoving the barrel into the man’s open mouth.
Calmly and quietly, he said, “Listen, you worthless piece of shit, this beats your poxy knife. If I wasn’t having such a pleasant night I’d kill you here and now. If I see you again, I will kill you.” He waved the gun at the dog. “And whatever that is” He let go and the ground resonated a pleasing thud.
He deposited the knife in the first bin he came to. Seeing the blood spots on his jacket, he stripped it off, rolled it inside out and pushed it into the next one.
On his way back to the coffee house, he saw a couple of PCSOs entering a kebab shop. He followed them in and told them he’d just found the wallets and purse on the floor, three doors up. Claiming he had a train to catch, he left them still struggling to produce notebooks in which to record his details.
Simon arrived and was about to buy himself a drink. Nicks waved Anca over. “C’mon, sweetie, we have to go. Ditch that Si. I’ll get you something better in the Ship and Mitre.”
“Where’s your jacket?” she asked.
He forced a smile as he held the door open. “I gave it to a vagrant down the road. He looked like he needed it more than me.”
She smiled, warmly. “You are such a nice man.”