Page 55 of The App Trap
‘Wanker.’
Enough said. I blocked him and his crazy husband’s numbers. Job done. The husband only knew my first name, and although it was unclear whether or not he knew what I looked like, I was confident that Harry wouldn’t have told him my surname, so I was probably in the clear. Hopefully.
I spent the rest of the evening avoiding snogging andhaving sexual contact with Werner, while he bored me about electronica bands. He somehow didn’t seem to have registered the severity of the incident with Harry on the stairs. Whatever the case, he was focussed on some hot lovin’ tonight.
Every time he made an advance, I snaked out of the way like something out ofThe Matrix. I kept telling him to play me more of his rubbish music to distract him, then saw that he had an iPad, so sparked up Netflix and literally chilled until he fell asleep, fed up that we couldn't find anything to watch. Classic.
I ended up staying the night, mainly because I was too terrified to leave the place in case the jailbird was out there waiting for me. If he was indeed following Harry and caught up with him, he could have told him that I was there in a fit of rage and he could be waiting for me to appear in the lobby.
The next morning, I set the alarm for 5:30am and left at 5:45, pretending that I had to be in work for 6:30. I bit the bullet and told Werner that there simply was no chemistry between us and that I was sorry he’d spent all of that money to come over and see me, to which he laughed in my face and told me not to be so stupid and that he had many, many back-up dates. Phew… I guess.
After my littletaste of treading the boards at that works bonding exercise, I foolishly decided to try another stand-up gig, which I had booked for tonight. Well, I was talked into doing it with my workmate, Tommy, who now had a real taste for performing.
I went for breakfast at a greasy spoon near work. I wasin a totally stinking mood as Harry’s betrayal was just starting to sink in. And as if I couldn’t feel worse, a text from yet another rogue number popped up on my phone with the message:
‘I’M COMING FOR YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.’
Could this day get any worse?
Chapter
Eighteen
This guy was not going to give up. He’d obviously bought another pay-as-you-go phone just so he could continue harassing me. The text abuse was continuing all day and he even sprinkled in a couple of voice messages for good measure, so I blocked him again. I counted down the hours until his next visit to the phone shop, but it seemed that he may have finally thrown in the towel.
Even though the threats seemed to have cease-fired, I was still more paranoid than Inspector Clouseau arriving home after a hard day’s sleuthing. I was suspicious of anyone who held my gaze for more than a couple of seconds.
After work, I went straight to my gig, which was at the same comedy club as my ‘debut’. I nabbed myself a pint and took it to the beer garden to enjoy with a delicious cigarette while I waited for Tommy. It was approaching show time, and I was opening, which was absolutely terrifying. What made it worse was that there was an odd-looking chap with a short crewcut that had seemingly come to watchsome comedy on his own. He kept staring at me, and after we locked eyes for the fourth time, I was convinced that he somehow had to be Harry’s husband. I knew for certain that my name was tweeted on the line-up, so there was a distinct possibility that he could have seen it.
The show started and Crewcut stood at the back with his arms folded. He didn't laugh at the compere once, and I noticed him staring at me from time to time. I thought about bolting, but I couldn't let Tommy down, who incidentally still hadn’t turned up.
I went on stage and had an absolutely shocking gig, stumbling over my words and hardly getting any laughs unless I commented on how badly my material was doing. Then at last, my paltry five minutes and brief stand-up career were over and Tommy had finally arrived. He was an enormous man who also happened to have a keen interest in a terrifying South London football club. For that reason, I presumed that he wouldn’t be opposed to having a tear-up with an absolute psycho on my behalf, especially as he really liked me.
I zipped over to Tommy’s friendly bosom as soon as I left the stage, and explained to him that I thought I was being stalked by an angry husband, relaying the whole situation to him. Then the would-be Travis Bickle stormed over with his cheeks puffed out angrily.
“Danny?” he asked.
“Uh… yeah,” I said, choosing my words carefully and not in any way attempting any wisecracks, even under Tommy’s guard.
“I wanna word with you. I think you know who I am,” said the now confirmed husband of Harry.
“He didn't know he was married, mate,” said Tommy, stepping in front of me, like a legend.
“I don’t give a fuck, mate. Who’s this anyway? Another one you’ve bought along to watch you show off?” said Travis.
“Show off? What are you talking about?” I said.
“I know he came along to watch you, cos Oscar told me,” he continued.
“What? Wait. Hang on… Oscar? Has your husband got rainbow-coloured hair by any chance?” I asked, still in a state of disbelief that Freddy/Harry/Whatever’s mate wasactuallycalled Oscar.
“What? Are you taking the piss? ‘Course he fucking has,” said Travis.
Then the penny dropped. This was the wrong Harry’s husband. This man was married to the stalker that I definitely didn't have sex with. Then I realised that I’d never actually asked Freddy his real name. I just presumed it was Freddy because of the FreddyLovesJason screen-nam… oh.
I explained to Travis that his husband did in fact stalk me and that I hadn’t been anywhere near him in a sexual sense. Tommy demonstrated impeccable people skills by calming him down and explaining to him that I hadn’t done anything wrong and that it was in fact his husband that needed berating.
He seemed to calm down and the situation diffused itself as I offered to buy him a drink––an offer that I obviously extended to Tommy. Apparently, this was Travis’s local comedy club, and after hearing about me performing here through his promiscuous other half’s friend, he had been coming here every week to look for me since leaving prison.
