Apocalypse of Jude

From the bar of a warehouse-turned-club, a demure blonde sits stiffly poised on her stool, trying to listen to what Gary is telling her, but being drowned by a pounding music she doesn’t particularly like. Audrey notices though as Gary’s eyes wander from her and turn angry. Following his gaze, she sees the likeness of the image of womanly perfection entering the club. A cloud of bitter fumes wraps its veil around her.

“Who’s that?”

The disdain of her voice matches the sudden blood redness of her cheeks. But he just continues to watch Mae, whose searching eyes flicker on him before she moves to dance in the way that used to arouse him. It is too much for Gary. An oceanic force of anger swells up from him, and propels him from the bar to the dance floor. He hauls Mae round by her arm and their bodies meet in an April-cruel memory of, and desire for, their now broken marriage.

“Is this all that you have left to do? Haunt me every place I go?”

“Do you want to have a dance?”

The coyness to Mae’s voice and softening of her ephemeral body bewilders him, forcing him into a spear threatening stance.

“No Mae. I don’t want to dance. You’re crazy, you know that!”

Paul’s hand suddenly rests firmly on Gary squared shoulders. “Come, our pool table’s free. The girls are waiting for us.”

Paul looks straight at Mae, the black pearls of his eyes impenetrable as to their feeling.

“Don’t waste your time here.”

He fades slowly backward, but leaves his presence hanging, causing a rapid coolness to descend upon Mae’s soul. She looks at Gary.

“You’d better go. After all, the girls are waiting.”

Her body is now shaking with anger as Gary tries to strangle it in his own voice.

“Don’t even come near the table alright. Just leave me alone.”

Wasteland Mix: Fragment 5