Page 5 of Now Comes the Dark

“He comes in here sometimes, though I doubt he will again. If it were me, I’d stay far away from here. You know that’s thefourth attack in the village in the last three months alone. And it’s only four months since Charles Lear was murdered. I swear this place is going to hell.”

Roman nodded, lost for anything to say. In the last year and a half, an atmosphere of fear and dread had developed in the Blyham LGBTQ community with an increase in homophobic hate crime. The horror had increased over the summer when the police publicly linked the recent murder of Charles Lear to the unsolved deaths of four other local men over an eighteen-month period. The gay men of Blyham weren’t just being beaten up for their sexuality. They were being killed for it.

“Did they catch anyone?” he asked at last. “For the assault last weekend?”

“The police in this city? You’re joking, aren’t you? They haven’t even sent an officer around to the bars to ask for witnesses or CCTV. They don’t give a shit what happens to us. We need to take care of ourselves, which is why you’re getting a taxi home tonight, okay?”

Roman nodded. “Sure. Of course I will. Where did it happen? Last weekend?”

“Somewhere around Rupert Street. The lad was heading home to the East End when a bunch of arseholes jumped him. They didn’t even take his wallet, from what I’ve heard. They were only interested in beating him up. And it’s not just boys walking home alone that are at risk. Last month, a couple of visitors heading back to their hotel were attacked. Don’t go thinking there’s safety in numbers. You need a car to take you home, door to door.”

“I’m listening. Don’t worry.”

Phil nodded and got to his feet, gathering up the empty glasses. “I hope you are. You’ve got far too handsome a face to have it rearranged by a gang of thugs. Look after yourself. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Get home safely.”

“Yeah, I will. Good night.”

The evening had been a downer already. Roman’s conversation with Phil had hammered a nail into its coffin. There was no point hanging around any longer. The New Inn and The Viaduct would close in another hour, and he didn’t fancy going to Equator, the nightclub that stayed open until six. He might as well go home and hope for better luck tomorrow. Maybe the sexy guy from The Viaduct would make another appearance, and he’d have more success a second time. So what if he’d be picking up Cameron Taylor’s cast-offs. Roman would prove to that man what a superior cock sucker he was compared to Cameron.

With an indignant smile, he finished his drink.

The drag queen turned off the music and the place quickly emptied. As he stood, he spotted a familiar face pass through the bar towards the exit. Will, another of his conquests from a few weeks back, looking pretty fine in a tight black shirt.

Will was in his early thirties and in the transitional period from cute boy next door to fuckable Daddy. Blond and square-jawed, with a rugby player physique, Will was one of his more memorable one-night stands. Roman remembered rimming that big beefy arse for ages before Will turned around and fucked him. Will was one of those hot tops who love to get their arse eaten.

Roman’s appetite returned in a rush.

Will had appeared to be alone when he’d walked through the bar just now. Maybe tonight didn’t have to be a dead loss. He’d been hoping for fresh meat, but he could do a lot worse than reconnect with Will. The thought of burying his face between those big butt cheeks until dawn got his cock raging.

Roman hurried through the empty bar and out through the front door.

The crowd had cleared from the street in front, already making their way towards the remaining open venues. He looked around in all directions, searching for that broad back in the black shirt, with the short blond hair. Will was nowhere in sight.

“Fuck.” What was it with his luck tonight? He took his eye off a hot man for a few seconds, and he disappeared.

He didn’t bother to check his phone. He and Will had not exchanged numbers, so there was no point trying to track him down that way. Just like the guy in The Viaduct, the chance to hook up with Will had gone.

There was nothing else for it. He would go home, have a wank and try to get a decent night’s sleep.

Bearing in mind what Phil had just told him, he wouldn’t take the risk of walking. The nearest taxi rank was at the far end of Salvin Road. He crossed the street and headed in that direction, hoping he could pick up a ride there. If not, the late bus at two-thirty would take him closer to home.

The night had grown colder, and he had no desire to walk all that way without a jacket, anyway. He breathed in the crisp air and thought about the two men who had gotten away.

Roman didn’t notice the car that crawled along the kerb behind him, until it drew level. The windows were down. Two men leaned out of the passenger side, drunken leers plastered across their faces.

“Hey, pretty boy, how’s it going?” one of the men called, making a kiss-kiss sound.

Overexcited laughter peeled from the inside.

Roman faced forward and kept walking. There was no one ahead of him. He was alone. Could this night get any worse?

“Hey. Hey, you. Are you deaf or something? We’re trying to talk to you. How about being nice, faggot.”

Shit.

Now he was in trouble.

Chapter Three

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