M - PAUL D. BRAZILL
A version of this story is available in the LESS THAN THREE ebook
Freddy looked at the razor with the same mixture of contempt and relief that he’d felt since he first started shaving at twelve. He smothered his body with shaving foam and then glided the blade down his arms, legs, back, gut – everywhere.
He’d done it so many times that he didn’t need to concentrate, he just focused on the night in front of him, savouring the buzz that the can of Kronenburg and the spliff had given him.
A song corkscrewed through Freddy’s mind; a song he’d known for almost as many years as he’d been shaving. M’s song. The first time he’d heard it, it had been like lightning hitting a plane; like a kick in the eye with a stiletto heel. M’s first big hit and he was hooked immediately. He become a fan and then an obsessive.
And it wasn’t just M’s music. He bought her books. He saw her films – derided though they were. He even bought her perfume. His bedroom had been like a shrine to M for so many years and he couldn’t believe that tonight – because of some freak accident – he was actually going to met her. And more.
Salty O’Rourke, mournful in his black suit and top hat, took the money and closed the heavy door behind Freddy, who walked to where M lay, carrying a bottle of her favourite champagne and a single red rose. She was naked except for her jewellery, her crimson lips and bottle blonde hair standing out against the snowy white skin and the lavender cushions that she lay on.
Freddy placed the rose on her breasts, popped the champagne cork and made a toast. To us, he said. As he crawled on top of M, he felt the chill of the room and her cold, hard skin against his raw, flabby flesh.
Tonight, he felt, would be like the very first time for both of them.
BIO: Paul D. Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and lives in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He has had stories in A Twist Of Noir, Powder Burn Flash, Thrillers Killers n Chillers, Beat To A Pulp, and other such classy joints. He can be found stalking ‘you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ He also writes a regular column, ‘I didn’t say that, did I?’ for Pulp Metal Magazine.
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