Anthony stood on his usual corner as the world passed him by. Housewives pottering about window shopping. Sales representatives in their sleek suits and sleek cars peddling their shoddy wares. Shop girls and bank clerks hurrying to designer lunches in designer bars and schoolboys truanting their way through the day, running wild through the afternoon mayhem.

‘Well’ Anthony thought as he surveyed the street; ‘today isn’t going to be a good one for a mark. Everyone seems to be going about their business. Even the kids are only a nuisance, not a threat. I’m wasting my time here’. He began a slow walk down the street to the nearest wine bar and a liquid lunch. As he passed he surveyed the face of each man discreetly looking for a telltale sign; the sign he needed to begin work. He was out of luck.

Once in the pub he ordered a pint and stood at the end of the bar facing the punters. Sipping his drink to make it last he scanned the room, discounting one person after another. Couples and people in parties he automatically excluded. The mark had to be alone; had to look affluent and had to have a certain indefinable quality. A look in the eyes perhaps or a particular slope of the shoulders; a certain hint of desperation in the expression. So far there was nothing.

Anthony relaxed gradually, the tension draining from his back as the beer drained from his glass. Rock music from the juke box washed through his mind and sunlight filtering through mock stained glass windows warmed his face. Daydreaming he smiled at the memory of his last mark. How long ago had it been? Monday? Tuesday? Yes Tuesday. The guy had been an absolute wanker, so much so that it hadn’t even been necessary to go into his full routine. The guy had almost broken his wrist in his haste to get his wallet out and start spending. He hadn’t even made the usual effort to get a return on his cash. A pity really because he hadn’t been a bad looker. ‘In fact’ Anthony mused ‘ if the guy had made any move he might have been tempted to forget business. On the other hand though the guy was business and it’s always a mistake to mix business and pleasure’.

The afternoon ambled on and, into his fourth pint Anthony began to feel depressed. A while back when he had first arrived in London things had been exciting. Life had been interesting and the task of making a fresh start had been challenging. A year in jail had taught him a lot and much of the knowledge he’d gained had been useful on the outside. He had honed his skills at burglary and that had furnished him with his TV, stereo and DVD player amongst other things and his fashionably expensive clothes had all come from other peoples credit cards.

His current money making racket had come about by chance. A drunken encounter in a pub one night had led to an invitation to go back to someone’s flat where his host had propositioned him. Anthony was by no means naïve on that score; his year in jail had shattered any illusions there; but it wasn’t something that had ever really turned him on. However he recognised a mark when he saw one and after a show of righteous indignation and a few threats he had left with a considerable amount of money in his pocket.

After that night he had begun to work his new scam on a regular basis. At first he had used threats and extortion to score but after a while he had realised that as long as he could keep control it might be more fun and more profitable to play along; within reason of course.

The trouble was that life had become predictable. Hanging around on street corners or in bars was becoming a bit of a drag. There were plenty of possible clients but Anthony thought himself quite particular about who he scored from. So many men had to be excluded for one reason or another. He never approached anyone who looked younger than twenty. They never had any money and anyway he just couldn’t be bothered with teenage angst! They never seemed to know what they wanted. Not like him! At twenty three he knew exactly what he was going to take out of life. Older men were another group that he tried to avoid. Experience had taught him that they were far too demanding in their needs. Lonely old men wanted to cling on in sheer desperation and although the rewards were often good the emotional effect was far too draining on his nerves.

Married men were the best bet. They wanted excitement without commitment and sex without reprisals. Anthony had found that they could be controlled easily. It was usually so easy to get personal information on them; often by going through their wallets while they slept. If things started to get out of hand a few covert threats were usually enough to restore equilibrium. Mention the wife and the mark usually paid up and scampered; not that he always took their money so blatantly of course. It depended on how much they had already spent on him and how persistent they had been in their demands.

‘Tuesday now! That had been different’ Anthony thought. ‘OK the man was a wanker but there was something about him’. He found the thought unsettling. The guy hadn’t tried to put the make on him though he’d made it very plain that he knew the score.

Anthony had marked him down as a prospect in this very bar. He had begun a seemingly casual conversation with the guy and had quickly realised that he was on to a winner. Within a couple of minutes the guy had offered to buy him a drink and from that point the talk had flowed naturally. They had spent the afternoon in the bar and then the guy… What was his name? mark! That was it. Mark the mark. Funny really… Mark had offered to buy him a meal . Before they parted he had even scored for twenty quid.

What had they talked about all afternoon? Anthony wasn’t sure but he remembered that he’d done most of the talking. Mark hadn’t said much but Anthony began to recollect that he’d said quite a bit about himself; things that he’d never told anyone else about before. What had he been thinking about pouring his heart out like that? Shaking a little he finished his drink and ordered another. That was it. They’d had more than a few drinks that day. That must be why he had blabbed so much. What had he said exactly?

As the memories came back he remembered that he’d talked about his time inside and some of the things that had happened to him. Not that though had he. Surely he hadn’t talked about the night when they jumped him and held him down? Oh God he couldn’t remember. He shuddered at the thought. He didn’t know what was worse; being gang raped or talking about it. Realisation hit him. He had talked about it and somehow telling Mark had seemed the most natural thing in the world. It had been painful but he had wanted to tell someone for ages but why Mark? He was a right wanker.

Actually, thinking about it Mark wasn’t that bad. He’d listened and it really had seemed that he understood. . No one had given him that kind of attention for years and it had done him good to talk about things. . It was a pity really that he hadn’t got round to inviting him back but he only invited marks back to get more money out of them and mark had already given him twenty quid. As it was he would probably never see him again.

Why did he want to see Mark again though. After all a mark is just a mark; just someone to fleece for a few pounds. It would be foolish to get emotionally involved. Getting involved meant getting hurt as Anthony knew only too well. His one experience of love at seventeen had left him scarred and suicidal. She had wanted to own him; to control everything he did. That had been the problem. He had always been independent. He didn’t like having to explain his actions to anyone, especially to her. Some of the things he got up to used to make her angry when she found out and that led to rows. He had hit her a few times. Nothing too serious; he wasn’t a violent guy; but just a little too much and once too often She had walked out on him. That had really hurt and it had taken a long time to get over her. He would always blame her for ending up inside. If she hadn’t left him things would have been so different. That was why he’d never got close to anyone again.

This guy Mark though; he was different. Thinking about it Anthony realised that he’d never met anyone like him before. Did he really like him though. After all he was a bit of a soft touch.

Soft touch or not Anthony realised that he wanted to see mark again. ‘This is stupid’ he thought. ‘I’ve only met the guy once. Why would I want to get involved with someone like him’? The idea struck Anthony as silly and he began to giggle inanely; his body shaking with laughter and his pint starting to spill over the lip. He tried to put his pint on the bar; missed; made a grab for the edge; missed again and slowly toppled over backwards off his stool. The fall sobered him instantly and looking round from his position flat on his back on the floor he realised that everyone was staring at him and began to pick himself up. He was halfway to his feet when hands appeared from behind, encircled his chest and helped him the rest of the way.

‘Oh no’ Anthony thought . ‘ ‘I’m going to get thrown out by the barman’. Once he was steady the hands vanished. He took a deep breath and turned round to see who had helped him. Mark stood there smiling cautiously.

“Hi” he said. “I hoped I might find you here. Are you OK”?

Anthony stood there for a few seconds dumbfounded; his thoughts racing. Suddenly the words came pouring out.

“It’s great to see you again. I’ve just been thinking about you. I’ve got that twenty quid for you that I borrowed. Can I buy you a pint”?