Page 52 of Mayfly

My mouth widens, and I smile.

A genuine, teeth showing grin that doesn’t fall away after several seconds.

I unlock the trigger and lower the gun back to my lap. I don’t want to look at it anymore. I don’t want to remember this park how it used to be; rubbish bins overflowing, patches of dirt and mud where no grass would grow, car after car pulling in when it was dark enough—all the men standing around, having a wank, and watching the people inside.

It’s beautiful now. Lush grass, new equipment, gazebos, and barbecue areas. Decent parents would actually want to bring their children here.

I’m glad I came back.

I’m glad that not every shit show of my life is still preserved in time exactly how it used to be. It gives me hope that I can be happy. Like the new park is giving me permission. Sleeping under the table; that was the old Curren and Jude. And from here on out, we can be as bright and clean as it is now.

I jolt awake, and my body isn't happy about it.

My head falls back to the pillow.

The pillow?

Not Curren’s chest.

I knew he was leaving, but there’s a hole in my gut that wasn’t there before.

I pat my hand over the bedside table until I feel my vibrating phone. “What?” I ask, still groggy and confused about the call.

“What happened to staying vigilant?”

“Didn’t realize that meant not sleeping.”

“I assumed you’d already be awake.”

Pulling the phone away from my ear, I check the time. “It’s 4 am.”

“You need to leave.”

Sure, I really should be awake, but the urgency in Issak’s voice is pissing me off. I’m not a rookie. I know what the fuck I’m doing. “I’m not taking the tube.”

There’s a long exhale. “It’s reliable.”

“I. Am. Not. Taking. The. Tube… It doesn’t start running till five, anyway.”

“Shit,” I faintly hear Issak swear. “You have two hours!”

“I’ve got a hire car booked for thirty minutes. I’ll walk part of the way. Calm the fuck down.”

“It’s London!”

“It’s 4 am!” I yell back at him. “Taking into consideration that itisLondon, I’ll still have forty minutes after getting to wherever the fuck I’m supposed to be.”

“You haven’t read my last email.”

“Do you ever sleep?”

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Why didn’t Anders call?”

“He’s in Zagreb.”

“Do they not have telephones in Croatia?”

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