Ethan Justice: Origins

3: Saturday 24th September, 08:00

JOHN COULD NOT get back to sleep. He was dog-tired, but his spinning mind prevented a return to slumber. What had Mark got him into?

For three hours he paced around the spacious flat in a pair of black boxers, swearing under his breath at his predicament, kicking anything in his path. Damn Mark. John never lectured him about the thousands he blew on gambling, so what gave Mark the right to interfere with his life? Some bloody friend. Where could he get a thousand pounds in forty-eight hours? He wouldn't be paid for another six days and there was a salary advance and an overdraft to cover, leaving a few hundred over for essentials at best.

Recent events with his family meant they were unlikely to assist without a good explanation, and no matter how many ways he played out the scene in his head, it didn't end well. Besides, the thought of begging his parents or Rachel for money turned his stomach. His sister was daddy's girl through and through. The voice might be shriller but the message would be the same: you got yourself into this mess, so you find a way to get yourself out of it. No, it had to be Mark or a local money lender, and as a loan shark would put him effectively back to where he was, he reckoned he was stuck with Mark.

His huffing, puffing and expletives were scarily interrupted by the occasional thought of the long-legged Savannah. He couldn't recall ever having been so taken by a person's natural beauty before. And those eyes! Had she really liked what she saw, or was it all part of the service? Why had he asked? He must have appeared so lame. She had seemed incredibly nice for a prostitute. He guessed people expected a lot for a thousand pounds - and why shouldn't they? Some of them might even work hard for it. He wondered how long it would take him to save up for another night and whether she would agree not to sleep with anyone else until then? Probably not, he concluded.

At 11.00 A.M. he gave up thinking and headed to the wet room for a shower. After ten minutes of sixteen individual jets of hot pressurised water massaging his every muscle, he was a new man. He admired himself in the full-length mirror. Not bad for thirty-two, considering he hadn't exercised since university. A little muscle mass had deserted him, but at least it hadn't turned to fat. He jumped on the scales which measured him at just over twelve and a half stones with eighteen percent body fat. At half an inch over six feet, he reckoned they were pretty good stats. Savannah could do worse.

John changed into a pair of tatty old blue jeans, a red t-shirt, baggy green GAP hoodie and a pair of Nike black Air Max trainers bought recently on his credit card. They had been a steal at just under a fifth of a night with Savannah. As usual he skipped breakfast.

*

Two tubes later he was standing outside Mark's apartment block in South Kensington. The streets were bustling with the rich and the even richer. Most pedestrians carried designer umbrellas of varying lengths and colours despite the predictions of the weathermen for a late summer day. Not surprisingly, the sky, grey and overcast, threatened rain or worse. Did anyone believe the weather forecast anymore? John glanced along the line of residents' neatly parked cars which followed the curve of the avenue, and as usual didn't spot a car that cost less than fifty thousand pounds.

Doormen in various uniforms, complete with hats, many like the trained monkeys sat on top of the barrel organs of yesteryear, stood outside blocks of exorbitantly priced apartments. This wasn't the most expensive post code in London but it was right up there. Of course, Mark's apartment was the penthouse. How much did a flat have to cost to be considered an apartment? Wasn't an apartment just an Americanism for flat? The rich and their obsession with labels, John mused as he dialled Mark's mobile. The pickup was immediate.

"Where are you?" asked Mark.

"Outside," John said. "Can you tell the concierge to let me up? Last time he refused and told the doorman to never let me back in."