freestyle
The pub was small and crooked, filling the gaps between more important buildings in Central London. Large ornamental mirrors covered two winding walls that led towards the back, where a blocked-off fireplace was flanked by two fire exits. The angled mirrors meant that as you walked past someone part of them would seem to disappear, until their image was caught by the next mirror. It was my favourite pub to go for a quiet drink with someone, since the hushed clientele seemed absorbed in its dreamlike aura.
"Why've you brought me here, Reg?"
Kane was one of those businessmen who went to boxing clubs for businessmen and spoke like he knew how to fight. I'd been to one once. The heavily padded gloves looked like red lobster claws, and under the high modern ceiling city suits scrapped with rivals like the overgrown children they were. No, I wasn't scared of Kane. I decided to yardstick him, which is what fighters do when they keep an opponent out of reach by waving their glove in his face.
"What's the matter, Kane? Don't you like the place?"
"It's alright if you like fairgrounds an' that."
"I've bin coming 'ere for years. Best beer in London."
"I don't drink bitter, anyway. Dunno how places like this keep going."
If Kane had his way we'd be sitting in a bar with tall metal chairs and fucking salmon-coloured walls. I grinned to hide my dislike, and told him I had to take a call. Kane cracked his big useless knuckles in annoyance and nodded. I rang the boss.
"Awwight, mate."
"Y'alright, boss. I'm 'ere with our new business partner."
A smile and wink at Kane.
"Yeh? Where you at, mate?"
"Red lion."
"Well, I'll meet ya dahn there in five."
"Great."
"Awwight, take care pal."
"Boss?"
"Yes?"
"Why the fuck are we talking like Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins?" ....
"Why've you brought me here, Reg?"
Kane was one of those businessmen who went to boxing clubs for businessmen and spoke like he knew how to fight. I'd been to one once. The heavily padded gloves looked like red lobster claws, and under the high modern ceiling city suits scrapped with rivals like the overgrown children they were. No, I wasn't scared of Kane. I decided to yardstick him, which is what fighters do when they keep an opponent out of reach by waving their glove in his face.
"What's the matter, Kane? Don't you like the place?"
"It's alright if you like fairgrounds an' that."
"I've bin coming 'ere for years. Best beer in London."
"I don't drink bitter, anyway. Dunno how places like this keep going."
If Kane had his way we'd be sitting in a bar with tall metal chairs and fucking salmon-coloured walls. I grinned to hide my dislike, and told him I had to take a call. Kane cracked his big useless knuckles in annoyance and nodded. I rang the boss.
"Awwight, mate."
"Y'alright, boss. I'm 'ere with our new business partner."
A smile and wink at Kane.
"Yeh? Where you at, mate?"
"Red lion."
"Well, I'll meet ya dahn there in five."
"Great."
"Awwight, take care pal."
"Boss?"
"Yes?"
"Why the fuck are we talking like Dick van Dyke in Mary Poppins?" ....