Angel

By Tim Vee

David Watts is 29 and lives in London. He rents a room in a house and has a job in digital marketing - and he hates it all. When David starts having a vivid, recurring dream, his life takes an expected turn - and he is thrust into a world full of excitement, adventure, and danger!

With a cast of characters that are literally out of this world, Angel is a humorous, satirical, fast-paced, and engaging story that will thrill and make you laugh.

Angel is a satirical story about quantum mechanics, dreams, alternative realities, assassins, the mafia, Hollywood, celebrities, love...and coffee.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tim Vee
• Release date: Feb 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798215652824

Tim Vee

Tim works in digital marketing in Toronto and is well-traveled, having visited over 80 countries. When he is not working or writing he likes to spend time with his family and German Shepherd - and to go cycling.Tim has written ten books; The Secret Policemen and The Secret Service - both dystopian dark comedies; as well as seven science fiction novels - Extinction, Annabelle, Fission, The Children of the Third Reich, The Child of Mars, and The Children of Andaalwaald.Tim has also written Magpie - a dark and intense journey into the world of international espionage and terrorism, and The Killer Who Loved Me - a story about the hunt for a serial killer.Tim mostly enjoys writing transgressive fiction - mainly about aliens and psychopaths.I will be publishing Angel, a fun and satirical story about quantum mechanics, dreams, alternative realities, the mafia, assassins, Hollywood celebrities, love...and coffee in the winter 2024, and Janus (the follow-up to The Three Lives of Mr. Amazing) in the spring 2024.Comments and feedback always welcome.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Monday

He was on a plane. He was sitting beside a woman. The woman was beautiful - with pale skin, emerald green eyes, and blond hair - she looked like an angel.

He was sitting in the first-class cabin - and a flight attendant collected their glasses and said they would be landing shortly. He placed his hand on the woman’s arm, and she looked at him oddly. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek - and then, he did his seatbelt and held the woman’s hand. He glanced out the window and saw a beach extending into the distance and a Ferris wheel. The other passengers were relaxed and readying themselves for landing. The plane suddenly shuddered - and he heard a scream. The woman gripped his hand - and the plane shuddered again.

"What is happening?’ - said the woman sounding concerned.

There was another scream - and the flight attendants looked panicked.

The plane lurched - and a flight attendant emerged from the cockpit, and she was crying. The woman gripped his hand harder - Darling, what is happening? - she said, looking around and sounding panicked.

"CAN ANYONE FLY A PLANE…?" - screamed the crying flight attendant, and then the plane began banking to the left and diving. The passengers began screaming - and the plane began falling to the ground.

"Oh my god…" - screamed the woman gripping his hand. They were now nearly vertical, and all the passengers were screaming and crying, and then…

---

…his alarm went off. It was 6:00 AM and Monday morning.

His name was David Watts, and he was 29 years old. He lived in London, where he rented a tiny room in a shared house that backed onto the Limehouse canal basin in the Eastend of London, which cost more per month than most people earned a month.

David worked in marketing at a large multinational advertising and digital marketing agency called Goldcom. At Goldcom, David was an account director managing Goldcom’s flagship account, the Korean electronics brand Jeolyeom.

David lived alone and didn’t have any friends outside of work. Socializing with his work friends normally meant drinking overpriced alcohol in a crowded and trendy pub in Stepney, sniffing cocaine, talking about a new Mexican restaurant in Hackney that was "Sooooooo authentic!", trying to pick up attractive women, and bragging about how successful your account was. David didn’t have a girlfriend, either.

He turned off the alarm and stared at the tiny ceiling of the tiny room. He could see her face - her beautiful face. He could feel her kissing him on the cheek and squeezing his hand. And then he thought about the shudder of the plane - and then he heard her voice. "What is happening?’ - she had said.

And then he heard the screams - and the woman, the beautiful woman, had squeezed his hand and then she had said - "Darling, what is happening? - and then there was more screaming and then the flight attendant had shouted if anyone could fly a plane and then the woman had said - Oh my god!" - and then the plane lurched and then the plane crashed…

It was the tenth time he had had the dream - it was always the same, and it always ended the same way, and it always felt so…so real! David climbed out of bed and put on his robe and flip flops. He grabbed a towel and his washkit and headed to the shared bathroom of the house.

David was finishing up, and was applying some moisturizer to his face - when there was a bang at the door.

Hey, Dave - are you, like, gonna be much longer? - came a voice through the door.

The voice was Julian’s - the son of the house's owner. Julian’s father worked in the city for an American bank and had bought several row houses in the Eastend of London that he had converted into flats.

David continued to apply moisturizer to his face - According to the ‘room-mate morning bathroom schedule’ you posted, Julian, I have another… - David glanced at his watch - ...six minutes and… thirty-eight seconds until the next room-mate is allocated their allotted time.

There was silence for a while.

"Yeah, I know that, Dave, - said Julian - It’s just that I…I went to a new Mexican last night, and…"

Was it authentic? - said Dave, finishing up.

Yeah, really authentic - but that’s beside the point at this precise moment. I powered back a few too many frozen margaritas and extra spicy Baja shrimp tacos…and I think I am about to shit myself!

The bathroom door clicked open, and David moved into the hall and grinned at Julian - All yours, mate!

Julian looked pained but managed a brief smile - Thanks, mate! And then Julian darted into the bathroom, and he heard the panicked locking of the door, and then Julian groaning, and the sound of explosive diarrhea, and then the sound of Julian screaming.

David dressed and carried his bike down the narrow stairs and into London's gray and dreary daylight. David pedaled off, and as he rode, he thought about the dream. He thought about the woman - the beautiful woman. He thought about the plane - about the crash.

As David rode, he thought about how real everything had seemed - like he was really there. He could feel the seat and the clothes he wore - he could smell her skin and feel her as she gripped his hand.

It was about a 15-minute bike ride from the Limehouse Canal basin to Goldcom’s offices in London’s Farranden neighborhood. David stopped at a cafe, bought breakfast, and then continued his ride to work. David locked his bike up in the basement bike lockers and took the elevator to the fourth floor.

David arrived at his desk, pulled his laptop from his bag, and started getting set up for work. Toby, one of Goldcom’s other account directors, sauntered over, sat on the edge of David’s desk, and sipped a coffee - making a loud slurping noise.

Bloody hell, mate, - said Toby morosely, who looked tired and pale - Saturday was absolutely bonkers!

Oh really? - said David, disinterestedly as he plugged in his laptop.

Oh yes, mate, - continued Toby - Me and Taffy from finance went up to Camden Lock and powered back a few sharpeners at the Knight and Maiden, and then went to that new Mexican at Chalk Farm…

Authentic? - said David absently, and not really caring.

Abso-fucking-lutely authentic mate - we paid an absolute fortune to eat like Mexican peasants! - continued Toby - Anyways, we smashed about a dozen Baja fish tacos and about a gallon of frozen margaritas, and then Taffy saw some bloke he knows, and we managed to get a gram of Bolivian fish scale. We moved on to The Poacher’s Dog and started on the Jager bombs and the coke - and then caught an Uber to a party over in Whitechapel. The party was pretty shit - but I managed to cop off with some bird from Madrid, and I popped a Viagra, and she gave me a blowjob in the middle of the kitchen, and then I banged her while a load of normies watched. I kinda lost track after that - but I woke up behind Liverpool Street Station at about 7:00 AM on Sunday soaked in fucking piss and vomit, and some fucking scrote had nicked my fucking Yeezys!

Sounds wild… - said David, unwrapping his breakfast sandwich.

Toby shrugged and sipped his coffee - making a loud slurping noise.

More workers were coming into the office. Virtually all of the workers at Goldcom were white, and virtually all of them were under thirty. All the women who worked at Goldcom were blond and attractive. All the workers had either attended a private or a grammar school, and everyone had a degree. The women dressed glamorously and wore short skirts and stiletto shoes - and then men dressed in blue jeans, sneakers, and a Lacoste or Ralph Lauren polo shirt.

The men thought that drinking in pubs in the Eastend of London where, many years before, a famous gangster had been shot made them more authentic and more of a lad. Although all of the men had attended very fine schools and had very fine educations - they affected a strange hybrid vocabulary that was a mix of the plummy accents of the upper-middle class from places like Royal Berkshire, Surrey, and West Sussex, alongside Cockney and the South London patois of multiculturalism, housing estates, inner city decay, and not necessarily having attended a very fine school.

Men held all of the senior roles at Goldcom - except for people and culture, and accounting.

The big boss at Goldcom was a French man called Remi. Remi was the General Manager and reported to Goldcom’s HQ in New York City.

So… - said Toby, as he looked around the office, eyeing the female employees as they arrived at their desks - ...I am supposed to meet a bunch of delinquent teens that they are bringing in today, to show them what working in marketing is like…to help them get on the straight and narrow.

"And?" - said David.

In all honesty, bruv - after the weekend I have had…I just don’t think I can handle it.

And you want me to cover for you? said David, taking a bite of his sandwich and smiling at Toby.

Would you be a sport and take one for the team? - said Toby as he sipped his coffee - making a loud slurping noise - and looked imploringly at David - I will buy you some carnitas and a pitcher of Dos Equis from the new Mexican place round the corner if you do…

David chewed his sandwich and stared at Toby - What time?

You’re a fucking legend, Wattsy! - said Toby - 1 PM, in the ground floor meeting room. I don’t think they will want the delinquent teen roaming around up here.

More workers started arriving. A woman sat down beside David, and she readied herself for work - sipping coffee from a giant paper cup and taking three painkillers.

What a fucking weekend! - said the woman.

The woman was called Steph - and she worked in David’s team as a supervisor on the Jeolyeom account. Steph was tall, blonde, and attractive. Steph started applying some make-up and continued to retell her weekend activities - sparing David no details of her drunken and debauched escapades.

Remi wandered over. He was sipping a bottle of sparkling water. Remi was in his mid-fifties and was a short and tubby man with a thick head and beard of ginger hair. Remi wore an open dress shirt that was unbuttoned low down his chest that his thick, curly chest hair crept out from. He wore a thick gold chain around his neck. Remi smiled at a statuesque blond woman who walked past and smiled and winked at him, and then he stared at her buttocks as she walked away. Remi turned his head and continued walking towards David and Toby - smiling.

Morning, boss, - said Toby, standing and continuing to sip his coffee, loudly.

Bonjour Toby - ‘ow are you today? - said Remi, and he pronounced Toby as Tob-Eee.

Fabulous, boss! - said Toby, and he clicked his mouth and winked at Remi - Ready for another exciting week as a Mad Man!

Toby was referring to the television show Mad Men. Like many others working in digital marketing, Toby fancied himself as Don Draper - the womanizing, hard-drinking, no-nonsense, chain-smoking, advertising-savant lead character of that show. However, Toby was no Don Draper. The Mad Men from the show’s title came from a bygone era and told the fictional, exciting, and fast-paced tales of Don Draper and the other Madison Avenue Advertising Men in swinging 1960s New York.

Toby was little more than