Work In Progress - what do you think?

Whilst on holiday recently (I might post about it and I might not - I liked the place as it was quiet and no-one I know had heard of it so I don't know if I want to publicise it...selfish eh!) I got a bit sick of the constant sun and scantily-clad top models on the beach so got in the habit of going for a pint most afternoons and doing a bit of writing on my phone...yes...on my phone! Anyway, I've got a couple of ideas of where I'd like to take it but thought I'd ask you lot whether you had any ideas for it...


Here's an excerpt of what I did - feel free to comment if you'd like to see it go in any particular direction...

Tony surveyed the scene from the beach bar. A nice little cove full of quiet sensible holidaymakers. The sea glistened in differing shades of turquoise, his dip earlier had confirmed the crystal clear freshness of it, and the sand was nothing less than golden. The trees dotted round the outskirts beckoned you in with brilliant green greetings as the warm breeze tickled their branches and the small cafes and bars behind had soundtracks as diverse as reggae and classical music at low volume. No thumping bass beat here or legions of youths performing jeering sex acts for a free, watered-down cocktail. This place was as far removed from the likes of Ibiza and Ayia Napa as it was possible to be, it was gorgeous. 

Debbie hated it.

‘It's too quiet Tone.’ She had whined on the very first night.

‘Just give it a chance.’ He had said and now three days later she was still moaning. But he loved it. The quiet tavernas, the fantastic Greek food, the friendly welcome and, of course, the cheap prices.
Glancing away from Debs oiled form spreadeagled on the sunbed he looked round the bar. Two muscle-bound gym bunny types were talking loudly in Russian - doubtless arguing who could take the most steroids or who’s t-shirt was the tightest around their biceps. There was a skinny looking beach bum counting his change and looking at a menu off to his right. Cut down jeans looking a bit big for his pipe cleaner legs and the Hawain style shirt probably wasn't his as it may well have wrapped around him twice. Tony recognised an underdog when he saw one, Jesus it had become his usual position in life after all.  He watched as the bloke pulled a face at the menu then clocked the expression on the face of the approaching waiter, it screamed waste of time .
‘Can I help you sir?’
‘Have you got any cheaper local beers like mate?’
The bloke was English, sounded Geordie,  Tony had assumed him local - the weather beaten skin and scavenged clothes suggested so.
‘No sir. Perhaps you can try another bar...’
This was one of the more expensive bars at three euros a pint but it was still cheap by British standards and as the whole area had been much kinder on Tony’s pocket than he'd anticipated at the start of the holiday he felt disposed to help this man out. God knew he'd been on the bones of his arse enough times. But still he held back, the wedge in his pocket technically wasn't his and any money brought back could be exchanged and paid back to Bobby the Bung. Always good to buy some time while the next big winner ambled towards you. The bloke though looked very much in need of both a pint and food, Tony was torn.

Then the muscle brothers started obviously taking the piss out of the bloke. Their braying laughs, pointing fingers and harsh accents flicked a switch in him. He'd never claimed to be a good man - you'd never list brave, attractive or even sensible amongst his attributes for instance - but he wasn't a prick either. One of his fellow countrymen needed a bit of help and for a poxy ten euros he could do it.
‘Order what you want mate, get some food as well. Nikos, I've got it buddy.’

The bloke looked sincerely grateful, Nikos look non-plussed and the two body-builders annoyed. Good, pair of knobs.  

‘Cannit thank you enough kidda - got some money coming. Repay you and that.’


‘No worries Geordie. We've all been there. Enjoy it mate. ‘

Draining his pint he turned back to the beach and Debbie. No matter their problems, or the money worries he didn't tell her about, this was already a great holiday. He left the cash on the table as he turned to leave the bar. His new Northern mate was tucking into a chicken souvlaki with a pint of Mythos - great stuff at any time but he guessed even more so when you were hungry - and gave him a heartfelt wave. Tony smiled and nodded. He felt brilliant.

***

Coming back with the sandwiches, water and fruit for lunch Tony was pleased. Deb was starting to relax, she'd had a good time last night talking to that couple from Birmingham - think she'd even exchanged numbers - they'd both been very interested in her physio business, asked a lot about the massage side of it.
Yeah she's seeing how I can look after her now.
She'd always liked the good things in life had Deb and had made no secret of it. His mates had told him he'd no chance when he asked her out but he'd turned up at hers in his brand new Golf GTi and she'd loved it. Their courtship had coincided with a purple patch in his sales career and, bonus after bonus piling up, resulted in their marriage four years ago. It had been the happiest day of his life, standing proudly with this stunner on his arm in front of family and friends. Deb had worn a ten grand dress from a local designer who had gone onto big things, she said it was one of the happiest days of her life as well.

The credit crunch and subsequent recession had bit into their lifestyle though as Deb had to go back to work and their planned house move was put on hold ‘until things picked up’.

Still, they had each other. That was what mattered wasn't it.

Stepping jauntily off the last step onto the sand Tony scanned the beach to look for the love of his life and his heart lurched. She was still prone on the sunbed she'd basically claimed at the start of the week but now had company. The two Russian meatheads stood over her, one was pouring oil onto her back while the other just leered. Tony picked up the pace with a sinking feeling. This wasn't going to end well.

‘I’ll take over from here chaps.’
They turned to see him with all the grace and mobility of a oil tanker in the ocean. Tony took careful note of both sets of huge biceps, you certainly couldn't buy them in B & Q, they looked like they could do some damage.

‘Maybe we should look after her for rest of your stay English. You not caring for her.’

Tony knew how this was going to go. They'd refuse to move, he wouldn't be able to do anything about it other than appeal to their sense of fair play. Being bullies they wouldn't have any but would eventually go because there were too many witnesses around for them to actually hurt him. They'd make sure he was completely emasculated though in the eyes of Deb and the rest of the beach. That's how it had always worked at school as well. He'd played this part before and had gotten past the whole pride thing, it certainly didn't keep him awake any more, but one thing about this was a bit different and it was going to pain him in the wee small hours. Deb was giggling like a schoolgirl at all the attention. The old fella on the next bed who'd he'd shared a few conversations with that week was looking at him as if to say go on son, I'll back you up while his wife just looked at Deb and shook her head.

Tony gulped, his mouth felt suddenly very dry as all eyes on the beach seemed to be on him awaiting his next move. He cleared his throat and made to speak...

‘Maybe you should just fuck off before I bite your nose off you steroid-gobbling, cock-sucking, rat-faced freak eh?’

Tony looked aghast at the little Geordie from earlier who'd arrived behind the interlopers unannounced. Then he looked at the Russian hard men and held his hands out palm up in a gesture of conciliation. He was about to say something about being too long in the sun and them all being grown-ups when the Geordie stepped closer to the men and spoke again.

‘Now listen Ivan and Vlad, I  think you're alright but the boys here...’

The shirt had disappeared and Tony could now view the Geordie properly. He wasn't skinny and malnourished he was wiry and muscular. The thing that caught his eye though wasn't the graceful, easy movement of the man's body as he casually assumed a fighting stance it was the tattoo on his right arm. The bloke had been a para and the thing about paras - as Tony knew from his devouring of mlitary books - was that a number of them ended up as special forces. His new mate and erstwhile protector was probably ex - or even bloody current - SAS! The weather beaten skin might well have been more to do with his work than his holiday. Tony felt a smile begin to form, this might just have been the best ten euros he'd ever spent.

‘...the boys think you're a pair of pricks.’

He then motioned to his own biceps with a quick shuffle of the head.

The muscle brothers gave each other a look before advancing as a unit.

The Geordie looked at Tony and smiled. ‘Self defence now mate aye?”
‘Definitely. In fact I think that blonde one said he had a knife.’ Sod it, in for a penny...

The Geordie flicked his left shoulder as they moved towards him and both men flinched, bringing their hands up to.protect their faces. As they did so he simply moved to their right and kicked the biggest straight in the nuts. Without pausing he threw a right hook to the body of the other and a simultaneous left to his chin. Then he ground both of their faces into the sand while the pensioners from their hotel burst into a round of applause.

He gave Tony a wink as he walked off...


That's it - let us know what you think then.

Cheers

Rivs

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