The Standalones

Chapter Six

Ken Preston

03 June 2024

Silhouette of a rock band against a spotlight and the words The Standalones

Danny Lamb wasn’t happy. In fact, he was downright unhappy. As he lowered his fist and watched the van disappear around a corner, a fierce determination that he would get the rent money he was owed blossomed inside Danny Lamb’s chest.

A car horn honked behind him and he swung around and let loose a torrent of abuse at the driver. He stalked back into his terraced, four-storey townhouse and slammed the door shut. Alright, so the place needed some work doing on it. A bit of patching up here and there, that was all. And maybe the downstairs toilet had been backed up for a couple of weeks now, (or maybe it was months, he found it difficult to keep a track of time), but the landlady at The Galloping Horse had said they could use the toilets there anytime they wanted to. Well, when the pub was open, of course. They didn’t even have to buy a drink.

Danny Lamb hitched up his trousers and scratched his belly.

Lexi was standing in the dim hallway.

“You’ve gone soft in the head, you have,” Danny Lamb said. “What were you thinking, letting them all run off like that? You know they owe me rent money.”

Lexi tilted her head back and jutted her jaw out in defiance. “So? What’s that to me? They don’t owe me any money.”

“Maybe I’ll think about taking what they owe me out of your rent, that’s what,” Danny growled. “I ought to give you a smack across the back of the head, knock some sense into you, that I ought.”

Danny Lamb raised his hand as though ready to slap her.

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