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Blue Thunder (EBOOK)

Blue Thunder (EBOOK)

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Blue Thunder

A Dead Serious 80’s Novella

Soho, London 1986

With nothing left for him in Yorkshire but unemployment and the bitter disappointment of his family, Bryan Stone boards a train to London with nothing to his name but twenty quid in his pocket and a duffle of spare clothes.

Looking for a new life and opportunities it seems fate has a new plan in store for him the moment he walks out of Kings Cross station.

When he crosses paths with Anthony Shepherd, a sexy guy who loves make-up, designing clothes and takes flippant sarcasm to a whole new level, Bryan finds himself falling hard.


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“So, who’s the sexy bit of rough sleeping in your room?” Kimberley asks as I shuffle into the kitchen in a pair of old lady slippers, my old comfy jumper, and leggings, all topped by a gorgeous kimono-style robe I found in a charity shop. “And you didn’t take your makeup off before you went to sleep last night. You look like a fucking raccoon.”
“Fuck off, Kim.” I yawn. “I’ve barely got my eyes open. Can you at least let me have a cup of tea before the Spanish Inquisition starts?”
“You know what they say,” she singsongs.
“Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,” we both chorus.
“You need to lay off the Monty Python.” I reach for a cup that looks as if it’s fairly clean and fill a pan of water, placing it on the stove to boil.
She shrugs. “My mum was a fan… when she was sober.”
I grunt in response. I’ve never been much of a morning person. Stifling another yawn, I pick up a used tea bag off the small pile of them sitting on top of a tea strainer and, hoping it still has a little flavour left in it, drop it into my cup before adding some hot water.
“Please tell me there’s some milk?” I say as I look inside the small fridge and pull out a bottle, sniffing it experimentally.
“It’s fresh,” Kim says. “I think Lee robbed it off someone’s doorstep on his way home this morning.”
“Not from round here, I hope.” I pour some into my mug.
“He’s a bit intellectually challenged thanks to all the weed, but he’s not that stupid.”
I slide onto one of the chairs next to the cheap-looking Formica table covered in stains and cigarette burns.
“So, spill.” She stares at me gleefully. “You never bring blokes back.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out my ciggys. “Still don’t. Didn’t sleep with him,” I mumble around the cigarette in my mouth. I light it as she watches me.
“Two’s on that.” She nods at my cigarette.
“You can have one if you want, I’ve got enough,” I say as I hand it to her.
“Don’t want a whole one, I’m trying to quit.” She takes a deep inhale and closes her eyes in pleasure.
I snort. “Sure, that’ll last about five seconds.”
“Stop changing the subject. You may not have slept with the hunk passed out on your floor, but you’re walking funny. You got fucked by someone.”
I wince at the reminder.
“It can’t be that bad.” Kim hands me back my ciggy and blows out a cloud of smoke. The look on my face must say it all because her eyes narrow suspiciously. “Did you go to Blue Thunder last night? Because I didn’t see you.”
“No.” I grimace. “Ended up in King’s Cross.”
“Honey!” she snaps. “Tell me you didn’t fuck Tim? That selfish prick’s been sniffing around you for months.”
“What can I say, it was a low moment for me.” I sigh and drop my head down on the table. “I think I’ve actually hit rock bottom.”
“No, you’ve just got low self-esteem and really shitty taste in men. Even I could tell you that bloke has more issues than Smash Hits.”
“Says the girl who’s flat on her back at the slightest hint of interest from a guy with long hair and tattoos and wearing leather trousers.”
“I do have a type.” She exhales and pouts, nodding in agreement. “But so do you, and it’s big, muscly men who think they’re straight.”
“Sing it, sister,” I mutter.
“You need to stop sleeping around,” Kim says sagely. “Maybe if you stop fucking everything in skintight jeans and muscle shirts, you might actually feel a bit better about yourself.”
“Ugh, you make me sound like Tricia,” I say in disgust as I sit back up and take another drag of my cigarette.
Kim snorts. “No one’s as bad as Tricia. She’s such a slag. She’ll fuck anyone for 50p and a pack of Raffles.”
I sigh as I pick up my tea and sip. “Anyway, you’re right.”
“I am?” she says in surprise.
“I’ve sworn off men,” I declare, waving the hand that’s holding my cigarette.
“And yet you have a half-naked one passed out on your bedroom floor.”
“He’s not half naked and I told you I didn’t sleep with him.”
“Morning,” a sexy, sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind us, and fuck, I’m in trouble because that sexy northern accent goes straight to my dick. Which now twitches in interest when it barely woke up from its coma last night while I was getting fucked by Tim, the selfish twat.
“Oh… Morning.” Kim smirks. “Come and sit down, handsome, and tell me, do you bat for my team or his?” She tilts her head in my direction.
“Um...” He blushes. “I…uh…” I watch when he reaches up, the muscles of his arms rippling under his thin t-shirt as he rubs the back of his neck.
“Leave him alone.” I kick Kim’s chair in warning.
“Oh my god, he’s adorable.” She coos. “Now I know you didn’t sleep with him. He’s far too sweet for you. You only go for the ones that treat you like utter shit.”
I roll my eyes and send Bryan an apologetic look. “Don’t listen to anything she says. She had her hair done yesterday and she’s still high on the perm fumes.”

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