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Emmet sits on his sofa feeling proud and accomplished. He’s looking at the boxes and double checking all of the wires. Everything seems ok. He even disconnects the box that he has and tries the others in his TV, just to make sure that they work and that he can get the connections right. Each and every one of them work fine. Just as he finishes unplugging the last one and reattaching his own his phone rings.

“Emmet we’re fucked!” Terry squeals down the phone. “We’re really, really fucked. He’s gonna kill us if we don’t give him his money back!”

“Woah, wait!” Emmet says calmly, “Who’s going to kill us? Start from the beginning.”

He can already feel the heaviness and dread sinking in to his stomach. He thinks that he knows where this is going and he doesn’t really want to hear it. But he’s going to, he needs to hear the words for himself.

“It’s Damian mate,” Terry says. “He’s fuming. He called me up a little while ago and told me half the pills are duds. He wants all of his £700 back. Today.”

“Well give it him back then.” Emmet says, it’s an obvious solution, he doesn’t see what the problem is. “And where the hell have you been?! I needed that £350 yesterday and you never brought it round to me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Terry says, whining hard. “Me and Bill went out and we got on it, like big time. One thing led to another and I guess I kind of lost track of time. You know how it is.”

“I know how it is yeah,” Emmet says coldly. “I know how it always is with you. Why do you think I want out? You royally fucked me over. Again! I’ve had enough mate! I’m not doing this again.”

“Please Em,” Terry says desperately. “I need your help. I’ve not got the £700 anymore. I spent most of it last night. You need to pay him back, like today and I’ll sort you out once I’ve got the money.”

“Fuck you!” Emmet roars. “You’re the one who fucked up. You’re the one who sold him dodgy pills and then spent all the money you got for it. Mine were good, they were fine. I know because I checked each one of them myself. You need to pay Damian back yourself.”

“I can’t,” Terry says. “I really don’t have the money and I can’t get back to Baslow yet. I’m still waiting for my lift.”

“Well, sort it out,” Emmet says. “I am not dealing with this. You fucked up so you have to come back and sort everything out with Damian for yourself.”

“But — I—” Terry says. The line is breaking up, crackling and hissing.

“Hello?” Emmet says. He can hear a faint echo on the other end and what sounds like Terry’s voice. “Terry? You there? Terry?”

The phone clicks off and Emmet is left listening to the end call tone. He pulls it from his ear and stares at the phone. The display is reading that his call is over. He growls and grumbles and hammers in Terry’s number.

“Hello,” Terry says, the line crystal clear.

“Terry,” Emmet says, “You’ve got to sort-”

“Ha!” Terry says. “Gotcha. This is the answerphone. Leave your message.”

Emmet listens to the menu lady speaking in a bland voice, frozen in surprise for a moment. He hangs up though before the beep sounds. He considers calling Terry back for a moment but he catches sight of the time. He has to go and sell some of his boxes. The Damian issue is going to have to wait. Terry should be sorting it, he’s the one who screwed up and Emmet’s made it quite clear that Damian is Terry’s problem. He might actually have to deal with it at some point but right now he needs to go and sell the television boxes to his waiting customers. He’ll deal with everything else once he gets back.

 

***

 

“Alright lads,” Damian says to the collection of thugs in front of him. “Thanks for coming out. Like I told your boss you’ll be well paid for helping me sort this out. I’m looking for a bloke called Emmet. He and his mate have ripped me off and I want my money back. It’s only £700 but that’s not the point. I need to send this guy, and any of his little mates the message. I am not to be fucked with.”

“No problem,” the leader of the guys says. “Any ideas where he might be?”

“No,” Damian says with a grumble. “But I know where he lives. If he’s not there someone else might know where he’s gone.”

“Sounds good,” the guy says. “We’ll follow you and wait to find out where he is. If he’s at home and you need a hand give us a shout. We’ll be out the car in a second.”

“Thanks,” Damian says.

He climbs in to his car and starts the engine. He watches in the rear view mirror as the guys that he’s hired to help him climb in to their own car. Its body lowers quite a distance as they climb in side, one by one. He wonders how it can even move with all of that weight in there. He shrugs. It’s not his problem. There’s a lot of muscle there and they’re all to help him. That’s all that matters. He pulls out of the car park and heads off towards Emmet’s house.

In the other car there’s a conversation going on.

“Aren’t we looking for an Emmet already?” one of the guys in the back seat asks.

“Yeah,” The leader says. He’s driving, watching Damian’s car carefully. “Apparently him and a buddy made Chris look like a twat. Chris wants him found and brought to him. Something about revenge.”

“Jeez,” another guy says, “I wouldn’t like to be that Emmet.”

“Hey, what if it’s the same one?” the first guy in the back asks. “That’d make our jobs so much easier.”

“We should be so lucky.” The leader mumbles. He pulls in behind Damian who heads to the door of a flat. “Keep an eye out, that guy might need us.”

Damian hammers a fist on the door to Emmet’s flat. Sam answers.

“Yeah?” she asks, looking him up and down. She cocks a hip flirtatiously. “Can I help you?”

“Emmet live here?” Damian asks brusquely.

“Yeah…” she says, a little wary now.

“Is he in?” Damian asks, looking Sam right in the eyes and smiling. She smiles right back. “I really need to see him and talk to him.”

“Is this about those television boxes?” Sam asks, “He’s not here and he’s taken them all with him.”

“Oh…” Damian says, disappointed. He looks at the floor. “I was really hoping to talk to him. Do you know where he’s gone?”

“I think he said Beanfield Estate,” she says. “One sec.”

She disappears in to the living room, leaving the front door wide open. Damian thinks about shoving his way in, forcing her to tell him for sure where Emmet is or call him to bring him back. But the girl’s clueless, blonde and stupid. She wouldn’t be lying for the guy; she wouldn’t even know that she should be. She reappears quickly, scrap of paper in hand and smiles at Damian.

“Yeah, he’s at Beanfield,” she says, glancing at the paper. “He’s off selling there.”

“Thanks a lot,” Damian says with a smile that shows too much teeth, “I really appreciate it. I’ll try to catch up with him there.”

“No problem,” Sam says. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

She looks him up and down and licks her lips. She bites her lower lip and eyes up his crotch very obviously. Damian’s tempted, a tingle in his groin suggesting that he take her up on the blatant offer. But he catches sight of a picture of Emmet over her shoulder and his rage reignites. He wants to beat the crap out of that guy for trying to rip him off. He squashes down his anger though and smiles.

“’Fraid not sweetheart,” he says with a shrug. “Got things to do and Emmets to try and catch up. Maybe another time.”

He eyes her up and down and turns to go. She smiles at him and only shuts the door when he clears the end of her pathway. One of the guys he’s with sticks his head out the car window.

“Any luck?” he asks.

“He’s not here,” Damian snaps, “The girl said he’s selling over at Beanfield. There’s only one way in or out by car. The car’s not here so he must be in it. You can wait near the exit and follow him if he gets by me.”

“Good plan,” the leader of the hired help says. He frowns up at his temporary employer. “What’s this Emmet guy look like anyway?”

“Average height,” Damian says, “Kind of skinny, Turkish. Got a bit of a mouth on him but not too bad. Drives a nice silver Audi.”

“Cool,” the other guy says with a nod, “I’ll be on the lookout.”

They sit in the car and watch Damian return to his. One of the guys in the back leans forward and mutters in to the driver’s ear.

“Isn’t that the same guy Chris has got us looking for?” he asks.

“Sounds like it.” The driver admits. “And what’s more likely? Two guys with the same name who look the same or it’s the same guy.”

“Well our job just got a whole load easier,” another guy says. They all laugh. “Might actually finish early for a change this time.”

They all laugh harder as they follow Damian towards Beanfield Estate.

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