Short Story - Hate

hate. It isn't healthy toe hate. It does bad things to you. You see it sometimes with parents whose Children have been killed, especially if it's taken a long time to bring somebody to justice. Hatred cut scars into their faces, so imagine what it does to their health. Nothing good. That's why I've always made it a rule, not toe hate. There have been people I disliked and avoided, but I've never hated thumb. However, as with all rules, there's always an exception. And in my case, it was somebody from school. Micky Jones. I hadn't heard anything about him for almost 25 years when one day I got a phone call from an investment bank. They were asking whether I would do the catering for an event they were organizing. Faisal Bakri, the personal assistant I spoke to, sounded like he was close to a nervous breakdown. The food must be the very best. My manager is company chairman, and this event is a party for our top clients. Now, could you make sure that I wasn't worried? I've bean running my catering business for a long time now, and P. A s are always stressed. It comes from working with senior management. I read somewhere that 20% of CEOs a psychopaths compared toa 1% in the general population. So I guess that this was what Faisal had to deal with my team and I got to the venue early. It was a fantastic place for a party with a large terrace overlooking the River Thames on Sim Paul's Cathedral. We set up the food, and shortly before the start I did a final check of everything with Faisal. He had dark rings under his eyes on was sweating. Now make sure your waiters are not doing anything. When my boss makes his speech, he doesn't like any noise when he's talking. Is that clear? Don't worry, I said We're professionals. Good. Or what about the champagne? Is it? But I had stopped listening because at that point, somebody I thought I recognized walked into the room. Micky Jones. Faisal, he called out. We should be starting in a minute. He looked at me. My face must have shown something shock, I imagine. Do you have a problem? His accent sounded different. Not the London one that I remembered something else, but it was him wasn't it older, fatter but with the same arrogance, And Faisal's fear was so typical. That's exactly how people always were around. Mickey. This is the Caterham, Mr Jones said. Faisal. Okay, you can go. We're done. He snapped up me. Mickey turned away and walked back towards the door. Faisal, he ordered Come. Faisal ran ahead of his boss to open the door. I stayed fixed to the spot, staring at their backs. It wants him surely. But what was I going to do? Because I had to do something? The party began. When you do corporate events often enough, you soon recognize who is good at these things on and credit where it's due. Mickey was very good. He went through the room like oil in a machine, a quick word and a smile here, a little joke under Pat on the back there, a kiss on both cheeks for the women and a strong double handed hand shake for the men. This was a new side to Mickey for me on the north London Councillor state, where we'd grown up, charm wasn't necessary. The ability to inspire fear was what you wanted, and Mickey had had that in buckets. I watched on Dwayne waited. I had a plan. Not a very good one for my business, but the best I could think off. At that moment, Faisal went up to the microphone at the front of the room. Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you've enjoyed your food. Now, I'd like to ask our host tonight to say a few words. But before Mickey could move, I took the microphone and I told them everything. Ham Mickey had terrorized everybody on the estate and at the local school. How he tormented one Asian kids so much he'd hanged himself. How he turned my best friend into a drug addict. How he'd bullied me for years for being gay. There was a lot to tell. The guests were shocked, but to my surprise, Mickey did nothing. He watched with a little smile on his face until I'd finished, then stepped forward and took the microphone. The room was so quiet, I could hear my heart beating like a steam hammer. Well, that sounds terrible. He said slowly and I'm really sorry these things happen to you. However, I'm afraid you've made a mistake. Yes. My name is Michael Jones. and clearly I looked like this bloke you once knew. But as everybody in this room knows, I grew up in Australia, not London. Mickey and Faisal found me a couple of hours later outside on the deck, staring at the river on Gwanda ring. Whether I should jump in. When I saw them, I went over to apologize. I'm so sorry, Mr Jones. I won't be sending a bill for this evening's catering. And I hope that you can forgive me for making such a mistake. Mickey Stead of me for a while, then shook his head. You really asked to be, don't you, he said. And suddenly the London accent I remembered was back. He saw it on my face and nodded. That's right. It is May, after leaving that stupid school you went to, I spent some time in Sydney. That was where I made my money. Then I came back here and reinvented myself. A za dynamic entrepreneur from down under. The moment I saw your face, I guessed what you wanted to do. So I told Faisal toe let you make your sad little speech. I wanted to give you another lesson in humiliation. It's true. Then, said Faisal. Everything. Mickey laughed loudly. Pretty much. Don't remember the Asian kid hanging himself, but it's possible I kicked a lot of them around. Which brings me to you. He looked up Faisal and laughed again. Good job this evening, but you're fired. I told Security to clear your desk. After what I've heard this evening, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. But what four exactly. FISA last far. Ring this little pervert. Well, good night to you both. That was a lot of fun on. Then he left. I waited a moment. Then I offered Faisal my whisky flask. I'm sorry. I said I didn't want you to get involved in my feud, though It wasn't much of a feud, Really. He won again. I didn't achieve anything. Faisal looked at me for a while, took another drink from my flask and then seemed to make a decision. I don't know about that. He said, pulling a small body cam from the top pocket of his jacket. Aunt handing it over to me. What will his clients say when you post this video on social media?