Warning: This story contains content suitable only for an adult audience
A slow, belligerent line of air-conditioned traffic bisects a shopping precinct
Astride a glass of Sauvignon Blanc, painted talons tap absent time to a bossa nova version of ‘Sympathy for the Devil’
A white gold chain rests on waxen pectorals and an empty macchiato sits impatiently next to a saucer containing a single, half-eaten macaroon
Darren’s sunglasses reflect the pedestrians who wander past in irregular groupings
Josephine is absorbed in a wireless conversation and snickers
Darren wonders what is so funny but is cut off with a silent shake of the head
Darren stares at a homely Scandinavian waitress and imagines raping her on the counter
Two teenagers clop past playing grownups, earrings, fake tan and affordable fashion
One is wearing a short, tight, white dress with side-vents like gills, the other, less
She eyes Darren
Josephine remains hunched into her mobile
Graffiti-printed, knuckle draggers ogle her and she drains her half-empty glass in recognition, gaze affixed to the blue and white interface
Josephine is one cursed with such beauty that she spends large amounts of time engaged in close examination of the pavement
They are husband and wife
They are Josephine and Darren Blakemore
They own a chain of vitamin retail stores and in the sense that one can take one’s work home, each day begins with a handful of A, D, E, B9, B12, Zinc, Omega 3, C, probiotic, prebiotic, calcium and spirulina
The containers take up large amounts of shelf space in their apartment
White silos of inner peace
In case of emergency, Josephine carries a small canister of multi-vitamins in her handbag at all times
They stand to depart
Darren leaves a generous tip and what he regards as an even more generous mobile number
Josephine remains poised to strike the virtual keypad and they walk in silence, back towards their home
An invisible vagrant plays a three stringed guitar
On the penultimate floor of a blue-glass monolith named Metropol, the city’s botanical gardens foreground an orderly skyline that shimmers under the pale crystal of a cloudless sky
Josephine flops onto a black leather settee and Darren makes his way past the marble bench top to the fridge, sleek, silver, 5-star energy rated
Organic, low fat everything stares back and Darren decides he’s not that hungry
Josephine trades her mobile for a laptop
“Babe,” he says
“Yes?” she replies
“I’m going to the gym”
“OK,” she says, before craning around to add, “Colette is coming over”
Darren doesn’t reply but nods and exits to get changed
He sits on their Egyptian cotton sheets and opens his computer
Adultfriendfinder
com inbox: zero messages
Assessing the ambiguous photos, his pointer lingers above hotMILF76 but footsteps prompt a speedy exit
Josephine’s sparkling blues eyes regard him
“Darren,” she says with an air of crushing neutrality, “We need a new sofa”
Darren raises an eyebrow to inquire as to why, exactly, the sofa needs to be replaced
They bought it a year ago
Josephine had chosen it herself, there was absolutely fucking nothing wrong with it
“I think it’s ugly, it’s so… gauche, I don’t know, bachelor pad or something
We’ll go tomorrow and pick out another one, OK?” Darren consents and a small but genuine smile breaks Josephine’s face as she leaves
He reopens hotMILF76 and sends her a photo of his sculpted body, cock in hand, then erases the browser history
Darren emerges from the bedroom in a singlet and compression tights
Josephine is cutting her toenails on the couch and watching Oprah, the laptop deep in conversation
The lift is silent
The gym is empty
The walls are mirrors reflecting infinite running machines
Three large flat-screen televisions hang from the ceiling
A black man wearing a baseball cap stands in front of a Lamborghini
Ample-bodied nymphs writhe
Renovation
Infomercial
Darren starts with a quick five K then moves on to tuning the finer points of what is already a high-performance musculature
Endorphins glaze his million-fold reflection, but Darren is shaken from his reverie by the entrance of Bradley and Jane Acton
Darren has known them for years
Brad and he were on the rowing team together at high school
Jane used to date an old friend of his, James Maxwell
Maxwell got a job with a mining company based in Sierra Leone, or was it Burma? She is the head of HR at a large bank
Brad is junior partner at a consulting firm
Like Darren, they are wearing black tights and matching singlets
“Hi!” they say
Hands are shaken, eyes met, cheeks pecked
“How is the lovely Josephine?” Jane asks
Darren says she’s great, really getting involved in the business
Brad asks after the vitamin trade
His deliberate use of the word trade irks Darren
It’s a business, you jug-eared cunt
The Actons mount the treadmills and begin to run, as one, left, right, left, right
“We must have you two over sometime for nibbles,” says Jane
Left, right, left, right
“Yes, it’s been far too long,” someone says, not meaning it
Darren makes a date to spite them
“Bye,” he says
Left, right, left, right, left
“Bye!” they say without looking around
Darren re-enters the apartment
Josephine is sitting where he left her but an empty teacup suggests movement
“Darren?” “Yes?” “We’ll go tomorrow instead OK? Can you find something to do tonight? Collette is coming over
” “I know
” Collette is Josephine’s best friend, confidant and enabler
Since age 12, they attended a school cloistered in the attitudes of a bygone era and burdened by an aesthetic sense to match
To watch a group of girls from Bayview Anglican Girls School walk down the street, or BAGS, as they are affectionately known, one might be forgiven for wondering if the portal that swallowed the class at Hanging Rock was ejecting them in all their wide-brimmed glory into the present
It may have happened that Collette and Josephine, upon meeting, recognised in the other the pain of unceasing visual molestation and became inseparable
Darren necks a vanilla protein shake as Josephine scrolls through thumbnails of replacement couches
The sun disappears under streaks of soft pink vapour and Darren is ushered gently onto the street
Showered and perfumed, gym clothes traded for stylish, laidback formality
What would he do till the BAG ladies were done? His phone rings
“Hey
Yeah, I’m nearby, see you soon
” Thank god
Taxi
Klein is sitting in a booth
There is an attractive infant beside him
Darren puts her at about 19
Klein is wearing a v-neck and pointed crocodile shoes, his hair cropped and blond
His companion is wearing a tube dress and slightly too much make up
She is Racquel
“Nice to meet you
”
Darren wonders if she likes to be slapped in the face and called names
He gets a bloodthirsty erection
Drinks come and a form of conversation ensues
Klein and Darren begin a long dissertation on finance and investment
Racquel nods along sincerely, doing her best to ignore the growing impression that these two have precisely no idea what they are talking about
The conversation moves to sport and although Racquel knows her footy, she keeps quiet, sensing rightly that a contribution is not required
She puts her hand on Klein’s leg and he slips her a little bag
Racquel disappears to the bathroom
“Where’d you find this one?” Klein waves away the question
Racquel returns, slightly elevated and Klein disappears
“What do you do with yourself?” she asks, twirling her straw in a vodka soda
Darren tells her
He doesn’t ask what she does with herself
Klein comes back and passes the bag to Darren
Six minutes later, a couple of key-loads latch onto Darren’s synapses and he leans against the cubicle wall
Things are going to be alright
Back at the table things have eased up, Klein and Racquel are chatting easily
Midnight
They wave queasy, wired goodbyes
Klein slaps Racquel on the arse as they leave
Darren walks home through the warm night, weaving through the scum, the prospect of the BAGS beginning to weigh heavy on his mind
A Racquel clone waves down a taxi and is bundled in by a hairless boy
Spiky haired trash vomits in an alleyway
Darren wishes he had a gun, he’d shoot the fucking lot of them
Darren opens the door to the apartment and is hit by a nauseous wave of Britney Spears and Sauvinon Blanc
Collette is dancing to ‘Toxic’ and Josephine is bouncing on her large exercise ball
She slips and falls, sprawling
The two of them roll with laughter
A third bottle of wine sits open but untouched
Darren sits down across from them and feels the atmosphere leech from the room
“Hi, Darren
” “Hi, Collette
” Collette’s eyes inquire as to why exactly he is sitting there so he goes to bed and the cackling ensues
Darren awakes early and alone
The apartment is empty and he calls Josephine
They are getting coffee
She doesn’t ask if he wants one
He masturbates then showers and inhales a handful of vitamins
They are meeting at 11am to pick out a new settee
Josephine is standing waiting on the corner when Darren arrives
She is wearing sunglasses and chewing gum
She looks pale
Paler, that is
Darren is assaulted by a feeling of tenderness and tries to take her by the arm but she slips out and they walk north across the river
Halfway across the bridge, Darren is beset by an acute sensation that his internal organs are about to spill out all over the pavement
He puts one hand up to his cheek and another across his stomach, which draws a quizzical flash from Josephine
Reassured he returns his hands to his sides
A tram rolls past
The store is called Urban Lifestyle Solutions
It is a cavernous, artfully lit warehouse space of two stories, connected by a spiral staircase
Shiny, tasteful, beautiful objects executed in mattes, chromes, woods, leathers, bone, black, silver, earthen hues, splashes of retro colour, soft curves, geometric conjunctions, unfinished lines, sophisticated textures and symmetrical classicism
Darren thinks it seems dark compared to outside
They are the only customers
The shop assistant is Chinese
She is average looking and bored
Her parents own the place
She is wiping things down, polishing, adjusting and pays them no attention
That is fine
Josephine begins to wander among the sea of objects, running a hand across this, tweaking that, eyeing another
There is something regal about Josephine when shopping, something commanding, magnetic and totally self-possessed
Darren follows slowly behind, almost on tiptoes
As Josephine is considering a wall unit, the same sensation that afflicted Darren minutes ago returns with intensity
His pulse quickens and a cold sweat spreads from his toes upwards
He clutches at his sides to prevent his liver and stomach from being ejected into a dish of silver apples
He looks up at Josephine
She is at the end of a long tunnel fondling a vase; she splits into two, four then eight
Darren chokes back a rising tide of vomit and inhales, slowly and deliberately
Josephine has become one again, but the situation for Darren is getting worse, not better
Deep, otherworldly laughter echoes amid the chatter of ten thousand malicious gnomes
He staggers off behind a dressing screen, collapses into a white sofa and stares out onto the street
The cool leather provides temporary relief, dampness beads on his forehead
Josephine hasn’t noticed that he’s gone
People give him strange looks as they walk past, then his torso explodes as if he’s swallowed a hand-grenade
Darren emits a small gargle as he watches pieces of his intestinal tract slide down the glass
A kidney has managed to stick to the window like a bloody little limpet and streaks of gore thin out under the influence of gravity
One of his lungs has remained attached and hangs out the side of his shattered ribcage
He glances down as it inflates and deflates
It makes a wheezy bubbling sound
More people walk past but they don’t seem overly concerned
Iris and Josephine are talking about Eames chairs in glowing tones
Iris says her parents have a couple which raises her high in Josephine’s estimation
The conversation is cut by a shuffling sound coming from behind the ornamental screen at the front of the shop
Darren, now mysteriously intact but naked, creeps into view
Josephine’s jaw drops, her piece of chewing gum falls in slow motion to the floor and she reaches automatically for the multivitamins, obliterating three with a furious crunch
Iris’s eyes widen and the two of them rush toward him
“Darren!” shrieks Josephine as Iris backs away
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” The pile of guts has vanished, replaced by the clothes that Darren had been wearing, neatly folded
Darren’s eyes are closed, his mouth slightly open and his penis raging
Josephine reaches out and grabs his arm but he shrugs her off violently and shoves her to the floor
She hits the concrete with a cold smack and her sunglasses skitter away beneath a bedside table
He sways then shoots a jet of urine in a yellow arc out of his cock, shaking it around and painting the merchandise
Josephine pushes herself to her feet, clutching her wrist
She’s a tough one
“Darren? Honey?” she says in a soft, measured cadence, eyes shining
Darren doesn’t seem to hear but picks up a statuette and hurls it, using his considerable strength, at Josephine’s head
Fortunately, she was captain of the hockey team and ducks out of the way, and the statuette shatters a mirror
Iris is on the phone, shaking violently
Darren walks over to a large sofa set, a beautiful, minimalist thing, a paragon of form and function
He climbs up on the backrest and squats, balancing with his hands
He grunts and strains and splatters the couch with a jet of hot shit then falls back into it, rolling around, babbling and smearing
Darren is speaking ancient Sumerian
Josephine is crying
They are tears of rage
Iris has put down the phone and is hiding behind a pillar
Josephine chooses a ceramic bowl in the style of Wabi-Sabi, the Japanese art of the unfinished, $900 dollars and definitely a bargain
She stalks over to her shit-covered, soon to be ex-husband, who is laughing and stroking himself to ecstasy with both hands
Ever the pragmatist, she raises it high and brings it down with the force and accuracy of the natural sportsperson
Darren stops still then opens his eyes in a white room
He is in hospital
There is a policewoman in the corner
He jumps up and lunges for the exit, dragging the bed by his handcuffs
The cop gets up as Darren’s free hand meets her face as a fist and a sickening crack
She falls backwards, dead before she hits the floor
The room goes dark
Wytchfire crawls along the linoleum
Darren looks down at his wrist
The handcuffs fall apart and he makes for the door
Simon Toppin
