"Leave The Light On"

He's been waiting at his post for three hours. The sun has now set. Fully loaded bins line the street. Garbage day tomorrow. Loose papers from those who overfill their stack adorn the road. A busted fence. Laundry on the line in the front yard. Two dogs barking on the return. One by one, cigarettes lit and adorn the ashtray. Sitting. Waiting. A series of families out walking their dogs. A young couple, woman clearly pregnant, stop to take selfies. The sun sets. The street goes quiet. A third and final redbull. The key turns, an engine rattles. It's time to make a statement. It's time to get this pricks head out of the dirt.

From around the corner a small silver Volvo sedan rattles up the driveway. There is gray white smoke sputtering from the exhaust. 90's electronic dance music plays from the beat up speaker system and cigarette smoke leads the frame out as the door opens. Loan Shark exits, a bunch of flowers in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other. His suit is blue, light in hue, some kind of food or drink stained across the white lapel. A frequenter of the local gentlmens' club, he wreaks of cigarettes, cheap beer and condoms laced with the perfume.

As he crosses the road, an elderly neighbour spots his flowers. Smiling she imagines her youth playfully and turns to her husband. "You never do that for me anymore, he's even dressed up". Her husband gets up to look. There's always something going on. Sometimes the barneys are better than the television. He's seen the car before, but not the man. The elderly lady is excited however.

Loan Shark adjusts his gait to a more upright fashion in response. The light parting the neighbours curtain is a giveaway. He repeatedly checks over his shoulder on approach as if to anticipate an ambush, and throws the half smoked cigarette onto the lawn. The elderly neighbours draw their blinds but look through the gaps curiously. Something exciting to entertain them. It's a quiet neighbourhood but often fighting can be heard between the couple that live in the house. At least they think they are a couple. The main occupant is not respected by her son.

The Loan Shark heavyness is evident in his footsteps. Crunching the loose gravel of the pavement as he goes. He stops on the first rung of the verandah steps. He checks the flowers in his right hand. Creaks his neck, off to the right, just to loosen up. Lighter steps. He knocks.

Rat. Tat.

Rat. Tat. Tat.

From inside, a discheveled man wearing a white polo shirt reaches up from his slumber on the couch. smoking paraphenalia adorns the table. The house stinks like an ashtray. papers, beer cans, pizza boxes, the only thing of value, a smartphone in his lap, keeping him across the latest sports stats and gambling apps. He's in trouble and he knows it. Perhaps today is the day where all his struggles stop. Sometimes he fantasises to that end. If only the world would oblige him.

On making his way to the door he begins to shit himself. He knows the car, and he knows the face. Legend is the flowers mean your'e cooked. This guy has been in the game long enough to track anyone down. Friends on both side of the gun, thats how he can lend so easily and blend so readily. An infomant to the 9th degree.

In defeat, Shaun opens the door a couple of inches but leaves the fly screen locked. It won't do much but it's Shaun's shot at a boundary with whats coming. He tells he friends to clear off, vagrants, stoned, zoned out while the sports are on TV. They begrudgingly get up and go through the back patio. "Seeya tomorrow Shauny." "Haha yeah if Shauny gets a tomorrow" "your'e cooked ya drongo"

Shaun looks down at Loan Sharks' boots.

"Hey mate..." Loan shark's tone is deep, warm, knowing and suprisingly friendly.

"No! I need more time! No, come on man. Shit! No! I've got a daughter you know!". Shaun doesn't have a daughter, but he figures it was worth the sympathy shot. He struggles to slam the door, but the fly screen has already been peeled back and Shark's heavier frame is budging against the smaller mans effort.

"Settle down dickhead. Let me in. We've got to talk." He pauses. "These are for your Mum. I'm sorry about your Mum" he gestures towards the flowers, holding them outright.

Cleared of the front door, Loan Shark stands a dark tall spectre above him.

Shaun falls on his ass in disbelief, chest heaving, drooling in tears and emotion, considering himself having graced death with the visitors arrival. A few more gasps before he componses himself, defiantly.

"What?? Fucking what? Since when did you care about me feeling's you fat prick?"

"Yep" Loan Shark responds. Palms momentarily outstretch in a warm gesture. "I came as soon as I heard."

Shaun is agape, frozen.

"To be frank, I don't care about your feelings you idiot. Who you bet on and who with is your own fucking fault mate. I mean how stupid can you be? A pyramid scheme? For all that you intended to be growing up you really did grab the short end of the stick when you took up the pipe. A pyramid scheme. You really do need to educate yourself"

"piss off then mate I don't need a lecture from you and I don't want ya stinking flowers. what are you rooting her or something?"

Loan Shark doesn't appreciate the suggestion. He stands over Shaun, and leans right in, after tossing the flowers on the stained couch. He holds his debitor by the shirt and one meaty finger is repeatedly extended, pushed into the right shoulder. He slowly lifts the smaller man off the ground.

"I'm here because I care about your Mum. I always cared about your Mum. When I was out of luck she made me sandwhiches and let me sleep in the garage. Offered me the couch but you were young, I was just out of remand and surrounded by cunts, so I refused to stay in the house. For her sake and for yours. But for six mauybe eight months, I stayed out of everyones way, did the lawns, cleaned the gutters and kept the rubbish from the street out of the driveway.

She trusted me despite everything I had been reported to have done. The cops would come around and tell her I was dangerous. She said she could see who I was. That she didn't care. That shaped me even though I am still a heavy prick to this day. She made me sandwhiches and coffees as a thank you. Would come down the driveway with a torch and her kitchen radio and let me listen to the ABC of a night. Your Mum busted her ass every day at that milk bar, just to give you warm clothes and a clean bed. She asked me to keep an eye out for you, last time I saw her she was real bad, and her breathing was shot. You on the other hand are an ungrategful little prick! The flowers are meant to acknowledge my respect for her you flog. Now that I have your attention, hold still. This needs to look natural..."

Loan Shark quickly extends his right arm and full force slaps Shaun sqaure across the right cheek.

Shaun falls to the floor, into the coffee table. The mess of Shaun's life adds to the scene. Loan Shark whips out his iPhone, takes two photos and puts it back in his pocket.

Shaun lays in a heap, between crying and screaming, vowing revenge and struggles to get up between the shock of the assault and the broken coffee table glass around his hands. Among the threats Loan Shark turns and makes his way back to the front door from which he entered.

"Relax Shaun. Smile mate. I just bought you another 3 days."

Shaun looks up in panic. "What, 3 days? I don't need your help. I've got a sure win on today. Your'e fucked for hitting me".

Loan Shark laughs, his heavy frame and big lungs fill the halls that echo with laughter as he skims through the photos he just took.

"The way you fell into the table, haha, thats just priceless. Oh thats the shit. It looks like I whacked you real good. What a bitch. Look at you making threats. I'll eat you alive, maggot. Stay down you bitch!"

Shaun's head begins to dutch roll. "Three days..." he wants to vomit "let me guess, you want the whole 50 grand?". He is spellbound staying down, for the adrenaline from the slap is wearing off.

"It could have been 12 hours and your right kneecap mate. But I know how much you love to play at the local club. Go Tigers! Haha. Haven't played finals in 10 years? No thanks you you, Mr Stud! There's already bets on who is going to steal your girlfriends car first. They aren't fucking around. So start thinking lad."

Shaun continues his retort about not needing help, Mum's fine, she doesn't know, shut your mouth etc. Don't come back here, shes's stupid for trusting you.

Loan Shark cracks his knuckles. "They aren't fucking around Shaun! They won't think twice about busting both your legs without my intervention. Play the game. Stop smoking your Mum's compo you stupid twat. This is your first, last and only warning".

He lights a cigarette. One big long draw.

"And one last thing, I didn't root your Mum. She was still in grief over finding your Dad the way she did. Don't wind up like him. Turn your life around. Make a small payment and make a committment to get clean. Let me throw down for you. Diss me again, and maybe it'll be my clublock that gets the job done."

He pulls the front door open. Heavy deliberate steps on the way back to the Volvo. Shaun, shaking is on his feet. He peeks through the curtain. Loan Shark winds the window down, and taps the ash off his dart before starting the Volvo.

Hard NRG fills the driveway. The door trims wobble because of the bass. Transmission creaks in reverse. He parks at the end of the street. Cracks open another Red Bull. He waits, just in case.

The elderly couple returned to their blinds over the commotion, echoes audible across the way. They were expecting something, but not this. The husband's hands shake as he reaches for the cordless phone. "Do we call it in, Joan?"

"No.." she shakes her head. "I think I do remember him." She points knowingly, wagging her finger in realisation. "A younger Helen made him comfortable when he got into the fray. He came to the door looking for yard work. She always praised his handiwork. Fixed the plumbing and everything. Put him up despite all they said he'd done. She had nothing but kind things to say. That kid of hers is always throwing parties. roughneck little shit. The suit, he's a good one. Put it down, John...Why don't you ever buy me flowers? John? You know I'd like to be the one getting flowers from a suit someday John. Where is my husband and what have you done with him" she cackles, lovingly.

John rolls his eyes. "Flowers! Again. All they do is die!"

"But they look nice John, it's the thought that counts Johnny boy."

Back in the street a stray cat can be heard yowling near where Loan Shark is parked. Hours tick by, the blue glow from his screen frames his face. A couple of bets. A singles app. Emails. One by one the messages come. He's waiting.

"Did you get it done?" At last, the message he's been waiting for.

"Yep, check it out" he replies, sending the photo of a downed Shaun surrounded by the broken glass of the coffee table.

"Lol, that's what he gets for smoking my compo money"

"thats right love, yep. he thinks he's got three days before he's legs get done"

From another location, Shaun's Mum picks up the phone and calls Loan Shark.

Laughter can be heard when the line connects. "Do you reckon he'll pull his head out his ass this time? Thank you so much"

"Well, he thinks Paula's life is on the line now, so I'm sure he'll think twice."

"Oh she's too good for him, even if her wife didn't die I don't want him anywhere near Paula she's too sensitive after the funeral."

"I know, and it was only a couple of months ago, and she's only just out of the head-joint. Well Mum, I've kept my promise. I'll look out for him. But I can't promise he'll clean up. Your son's an addict, and he needs help love."

"I know, I know. Thank you sweetheart." Shaun's Mum is grateful.

"Your'e welcome, love. You rest those lungs and make sure you keep your appointments at the specialist up. If you need a lift, let me know. But I gotta go, work is calling."

"Your'e late...." is recieved by SMS, 3 times.

"Your'e late. Your'e never late. Come in at once."

end of line.

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Cathery | I am an Independent Actor, Writer and Voiceover and have aspirations in product design and systems architecture.

My opinions are my own, and are not endorsed by any brands that I mention in my written work.

This is a short story, between 600 and 3000 words. It is submitted to the Vocal + Fiction community. It is original work and unpublished.

Thank you for stopping by my corner of the internet. More to come.