Stairway To Nowhere by Luke James

$15.75

Paperback

“Have you seen the outside of the club?” Lobster Ron asks Lucky Eric.

They’re sitting in traffic on the Queensway in Lobster Ron’s rust orange Ford Fiesta. Lucky Eric lowers his chin to his knees and peers through the cracked windshield at the back of the bus in front of them.

“Be alright.” he says, “I cleared it with the owners. Anyway, club’s shut ‘till tonight.

“Two hours kip’s all I’ve had. Been working on me new demo-”

“Please, Ron. Not now, eh.”

“It’s still not right, Eric. It’s bleedin’ lunchtime, I ought to be asleep.”

They pull up outside the club and park behind a whitish van bearing the legend “Honest Teds Builders”. The word “Builders” has been crudely crossed out and the words “Porno Prods.” painted after it.

The club entrance is flanked by a mish-mash of dodgy-looking lights. Occasional wisps of smoke pop and coil up into the still, grey air from a snakes nest of cables. Two blokes dressed like out of work plumbers are standing either side of the door, each has a bulky Bulgarian video camera circa 1975 on his shoulder. The cameras are pointed at Jimmy The Con who stands grinning, a peroxide blonde slapper on each arm, a noticeable bulge in the front of his strides.

“What the ... Jimmy?” Lucky Eric asks.

“Wotcha lads,” Jimmy The Con says, “Viagra.” He nods in the direction of his crotch.

“How many times have I told you. This is a security training video. Not a sodding porno.”

Then to the two women,

“Sorry ladies. I don’t know what he’s told you but whatever it is, it’s a load of old nonsense.”

“What about me fifty quid?” one of the blondes asks.

“Jimmy. Take them away. Sort this out. I need to talk to Ted.”

As Jimmy and the bickering women leave, Lucky Eric yells after Jimmy The Con,

“And get some ice on that swelling.”

Then to Lobster Ron,

“I mean, how’s that going to look? Him explaining politely to a drunken punter that it’s in his best interest to go elsewhere. Standing there with a stonking great boner?”

Lucky Eric notices Lobster Ron is staring mesmerized at one of the video cameras.

“I want my ... I want my MTV ... ” Lobster Ron sings softly under his breath.

Lucky Eric stalks into the club shaking his head.