‘Yeah man, I know how it is,’ Scott said, although he wasn’t sure that he did. ‘Any word from Sharon and the kids?’
Twinkle looked at him with a practised scowl he’d reserve for anyone asking about his ex.
‘Fuck that bitch. She had her chance.’
‘OK Twink. So these people you had to see last night, they anything to do with the opportunities you told me about?’ Scott asked, to get their meeting back on track.
Twinkle motioned towards the back of the bar and led the way to an unoccupied table. Scott took a seat and after ordering two beers from Joanne, Twinkle brought them over and sat down.
‘Cheers,’ Twinkle said, and downed about a third of his pint.
Scott sipped at his own, eager to hear what this was going to be about but waited for Twinkle to come to the point in his own time. Twinkle’s eyes drifted around the room, not suspiciously as if he feared being overheard, but glassily as if his mind was elsewhere.
Eventually he refocused and turned to Scott.
‘You can drive, right Scott?’
‘Yeah I can, but I don’t have a car,’ Scott said, starting to feel apprehensive. ‘This isn’t some smash and grab you want me in on, is it?’
‘Nothing like that, no. And it doesn’t matter about a car, we’ll have a van supplied.’
‘Spit it out then, mate, enough with the mystery.’
‘There’s a shipment of tools and electrical supplies coming in to the docks at Eastgate,’ Twinkle said in a hushed tone as he leant in towards Scott. ‘Inside the shipment is a large amount of coke. We’ll have a van with the trade name that the shipment is for on the side. We just drive in, sign for it, load it up and go.’
‘And how much does it pay?’
‘I’ll split the pay right down the middle with you Scott. I was gonna just get someone for a couple of grand if you said no, but for me and you it’s ten grand each.’
‘It’s a nice amount but what about identification and paperwork and all that stuff?’
‘Already taken care of, the guy who wants it knows some Asian lad called Tazeem who can get any type of photo IDs or anything made up. All I need from you is a passport photo and it’ll be done in a day. We walk in with the legit paperwork and proper IDs.’
‘No point in me asking who all this is for then?’
‘No, that’s not important anyway, just that you’re in or out. We make this go off without any problems and there’s more work to follow. To be honest your name was mentioned in passing during my meeting about this, so if you’re gaining some notoriety from those higher up then your days peddling around clubs are gonna be numbered anyway.’
Twinkle’s eyes sparkled in eager anticipation as he leant in further, waiting to hear Scott’s response. It was obvious that Twinkle reckoned this was his last chance to make something of himself and Scott thought he was probably right; it was a chance he knew Twinkle would do pretty much anything to grab hold of.
‘It’s a big sentence we’ll be looking at if anything goes wrong with this, man.’
‘It would be, but the details have already been worked out. Besides, how many nights have you got to trail all those bags of drugs around town to make anywhere near this type of cash? What you think you’d be looking at if you got caught with them? Not every club bouncer is just gonna pocket the lot for himself, especially in the quantities you move these days. Chances are you’d be pinned to the floor with his knee in your back until the feds got there to take you away for a lengthy spell at a barbed wire holiday camp.
* * *
As requested, Neil arrived at the cottage about an hour after Scott returned home.
Scott rolled a joint as he filled Neil in on everything he’d heard that afternoon from his brother. By the time the joint was smoked and extinguished, so was Neil’s previous good mood.
‘So really there isn’t anything conclusive, it could all just be that Twink was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that people are jumping to conclusions,’ Neil said, settling into a satisfied expression.
‘Yeah but you have to admit, it doesn’t look good, for him or for us. You know how much he gets off on the whole image thing where gangsters are concerned. As long as Twinkle has a pocket full of drugs and a pocket full of cash he’s a happy bunny. He isn’t trying to chase down a fortune but if he thought he was being taken into the confidence of people like that, then shit, I can’t say I know for sure what he would do,’ Scott said.
‘Yeah but shooting someone in a packed out club?’ Neil said, continuing to defend the aged drug dealer.
‘Twinkle never goes there, he’s always at Blitz on a Friday night. The one night he isn’t where he always is, he turns up with some psycho at a club and the manager’s brother gets shot. He’s being led up the garden path.’
Neil looked sullen and unconvinced, he shook his head.
‘Look man, I don’t want to be doing this forever. Twinkle was a good help sourcing decent drugs, but if he’s connected with these type of people, we’re gonna get pulled in too. We either accept this and step up, or cut our losses now.’
Neil still looked less than convinced by this and Scott was losing the will to go on arguing.
‘ To be honest, I’ve been thinking about moving away from Twinkle for a while anyway, I think we could do a lot better than we are right now.’
‘A lot better, how? If you’re on about distance for safety, then yeah I’m with you, but if you mean doing better by moving bigger quantities than just deals around the clubs then you can forget it, Scott.’
‘You hate being a mechanic, you cry on about it all the time. Wouldn’t you like to be able to kick it into touch for good?’ Scott asked, already feeling from Neil’s resolute expression that he wasn’t about to change his mind.
‘Yeah I hate having to work all the hours in the garage, but I’d rather that than spending years in jail. I like the situation as it is. We go out and party at the weekends and have enough cash to not worry about day to day stuff. If we ever did get caught it would only be with a small amount and might not even do any jail. I’m not about to risk that to buy into your grass is greener, retirement plan in the sun.’
Scott was faced with accepting the reality he’d suspected for a long time. If he was to get away from his life and everything here and start over, he was going to need a different partner, or else do it all alone.
Chapter 6
Jack really seemed to have taken on board what Angela had said, and since the night they’d sat up talking, their relationship seemed to have found a new resonance. The regularity of their dates had decreased but Angela wasn’t worried by that. She knew Jack was busy with deejay shifts and he had taken on other projects that demanded his time as well. She had tried to talk to him about his work but he always dismissed her questions. Jack said that work dominated enough of his life already, and when he was with her it should be just the two of them without any distractions. Angela accepted this, as when they were together Jack seemed to have the ability to make the rest of the world feel so far away that all that mattered was the two of them.
Angela rode the elevator up towards the top floor of Jack’s building. She nodded and smiled at a couple she’d seen there before that got off at the twenty-second floor and she travelled the rest of the way alone. She had suggested meeting Jack at his apartment to save time and somewhat reluctantly, it seemed, he’d agreed. He’d told her to come at eight, but they’d had so little time together recently that Angela decided to call in an hour early and give Jack a pleasant surprise. She smiled at what she had in mind as she walked towards Jack’s apartment.
Angela tried the handle and found Jack’s door unlocked. That wasn’t unusual. Being in one of the most secure buildings in the city Jack rarely locked the door when he was home unless he was sleeping.
She walked inside and kicked off her heels under an occasional table by the door so she could sneak up on Jack unaware. Stepping lightly across the oak floor Angela heard hi
m talking and presumed he must be on the phone. He wasn’t seated on any of the couches and after a few steps it sounded that his voice was coming from the kitchen area.
Jack’s tone was harsh, but having heard him take work phone calls before she knew this wasn’t out of the ordinary. Jack may have been a patient and attentive boyfriend, but he certainly wasn’t someone she’d ever want to work for. Angela stopped when she heard another man’s voice. She could make out some of what they were saying now. The man was apologising, almost pleading with Jack to give him another chance, but Jack’s authoritative tone silenced him in mid sentence.
‘I’ve had enough of your shit in the past. I wouldn’t have given you a second chance last time if it had been down to me but I bowed out of the decision when it was asked as a personal favour. That won’t happen again. Not only do I not want to see you around me anymore, I don’t even want to hear of you being in the city and my net spreads wide. Pack your fucking shit and disappear, and you know you’re getting off lightly with this.’
The man stammered a few syllables, as if trying to select the words that might get him out of the situation he found himself in, but then fell silent.
‘Go on Andy, fuck off!’ Jack spat at him.
She had never heard him like this before, the venom in his voice, an ugly bitterness. This couldn’t be a side of Jack that was prevalent to his personality, surely not. Wouldn’t she have picked up on signs before now?
‘Oh, and Andy?’
A second later a sound of crashing glass followed by the unmistakable thud of someone falling to the floor. Angela froze. She hadn’t realised she’d been backing up towards the door, but putting her hand out to steady herself she touched something on the table. A gurgling noise followed by the sound of someone spitting thickly. The tinkling of glass shards dancing across the kitchen tiles had ceased, but now some of them crunched as something moved over the top of them. Angela had crouched to retrieve her shoes and was flailing blindly behind her for the door handle when the figure crawled around the corner. Catching sight of Angela he tried to say something but his mouth succeeded only in forming a bubble from the blood and saliva that had pooled there. It burst in his efforts to speak and ran down his chin mixing with the other rivulets of flowing blood and dripped onto the polished floor beneath him. Deep lacerations ran down the left-hand side of his face with jagged fragments of glass still protruding from some of them. Angela gagged and cupped a hand over her mouth in an effort to bite back her churning stomach contents.
Laughter from the kitchen now. ‘What are you waiting for? You want me to make the call and have you removed?’
‘N- nn- nn- no.’ The prostate figure stammered pathetically, attempting to look back over his shoulder and tried to crawl away again.
Angela felt life return to her frozen limbs and she spun towards the door. Just about to make her exit she saw what her hand had touched on the table. A picture frame. This was unusual as she’d never seen any around the apartment before. What was more unusual was that she recognised the photo. Two little boys with matching light blue rain hats and oversized grey coats. One with a miserable look about him and the other slightly bigger boy with a broad grin stretched across his face, a grin that had become so familiar to her over the last two months.
* * *
That next night Scott sat smoking a joint on the sofa after a mundane day at Zebra. Boris occupied the seat next to him, his interest switching between a news item on TV about Carston Keaton, the Mayor of Garden Heights, and chewing at his paw. A painful montage of promises to clean up the city cycled on the screen as part of the build up to the mayoral elections.
Scott reached for the remote and muted the volume. He’d thought a lot about whether the decision to go ahead on the job with Twinkle was right or not, and he still wasn’t sure. What he did know was that he had committed to it, and now there was no turning back.
After confirming his inclusion, they had each sunk two more pints, before walking to a nearby photo booth where Scott had the pictures taken that Twinkle needed to hand over for the production of his I.D. card.
Scott had the feeling of being drawn into something unstoppable again, like swimming in the sea and suddenly feeling the relentless pull of a current. What Twinkle had said was right though. Even if he chose not to go in on this job he could end up arrested for dealing a week later and in jail anyway. Either way the decision was now made. He tried to relax and took a hit from the joint. He hadn’t felt much like smoking it, but it gave his mind something else to focus on for a while.
His mobile phone rang, the vibration causing it to dance across the surface of the coffee table, startling him and making Boris bark in annoyance at the sudden breach of tranquillity. Putting the joint down, Scott reached for the phone and answered it.
‘Yeah?’
‘Scott it’s me, Angela. Can you come see me?’
‘Now?’
‘Yes if you’re not doing anything. It’s Stephanie, she’s been beaten up.’
Scott waited a second, not sure he’d heard her right. Angela’s breathing, faster than normal, was the only sound from the phone.
‘Is she OK?’ Scott asked, trying to refocus his mind from his own troubles.
‘I don’t know, she was found in the stairwell to her apartment and taken to hospital. She’s still unconscious.’
‘OK, where are you now? At the hospital?’
‘No, her mother and sister are with her at the hospital now so I came back home, but I don’t want to be on my own. Do you mind coming over?’
‘No, I don’t mind. I’ll call a taxi and be there soon.’
‘OK, thank you Scott,’ she said, and ended the call.
Scott dialled the number for Pressman Cabs, a company based in a nearby village that he used fairly regularly. After ordering, he put his phone and keys and cigarettes into his pockets and went out front to wait.
He had only taken a few inhales from a freshly lit cigarette when the car pulled up a few minutes later. Scott flicked the cigarette into a hydrangea bush and climbed into the cab.
‘Hey Reg,’ Scott said, recognising the driver as he got in, although it was pretty much a foregone conclusion as the company only consisted of Reg and his brother Stan driving cabs, and their sister Iris who took the calls.
‘Where to tonight Scott?’ Reg asked with his usual cheerful grin. Scott gave Angela’s address and sat back, only half listening to Reg talk about the latest football scores that apparently hadn’t gone his way on that week’s betting sheet. He also tried to ignore the smell of old man sweat and menthol cigarettes that permeated both of the company cabs. Happy for Scott to just give the occasional nod when he looked in the rear-view, Reg continued in this manner for the duration of the journey.
Twenty minutes and endless football results later, the car pulled up alongside the block of flats that Angela lived in. ‘Here you go, Reg,’ Scott said, and handed the driver a twenty. ‘Keep the change.’
‘Thanks, will you be wanting a lift back home later on?’
‘I don’t know. I’ll be sure to call though if I do.’
‘Ahh OK,’ Reg said with a wink and tapped a nicotine-stained forefinger against his nose, indicating the secret was safe with him. ‘Enjoy yourself then.’
Not bothering to correct the driver, Scott turned and made his way through the unlocked entrance door into her block of flats. Angela had lived here for as long as Scott had known her, and after the flats where Putty had lived were torn down he had moved to a neighbouring block here as well. They were far from the luxury of the Walker building where Jack lived but at least they were a step up from the dilapidated ruins that Putty had once inhabited.
Scott climbed the stairs to the third floor and rapped the knocker on Angela’s door. The metal on metal echoed coldly across the old linoleum and down the deserted stairwell. Within a few seconds the door opened and Angela motioned for him to come inside.
She led the way into a small sitting ro
om where a table lamp gave sparse illumination of the floral print wallpaper.
‘I still didn’t get around to decorating yet,’ she said catching Scott’s eye, and attempted a smile.
They both sat down on the faded blue three-seater sofa. Angela tucked her knees underneath her chin and, despite the temperature in the room being warm, hugged them as though she were cold. Two cups of steaming coffee sat on the table in front of them. Angela must have been watching out of the window for him to arrive.
‘Have you had any more news of Stephanie?’ Scott asked. Angela shook her head, as she slowly rocked back and forth in the seat. Scott took off his jacket and reached for his coffee. He didn’t realise she had begun crying at first as there was no noise. Only when he looked at her to ask another question did he see the tears slowly spilling down her cheeks. Closing the gap between them on the sofa Scott wrapped both of his arms around her, holding her against him, and felt her chest heave as she began to sob.
‘You should have seen her face,’ Angela said as she gasped for a breath. ‘How could someone have done that to her?’
Scott didn’t say anything, but just kept holding her until the sobs eventually began to subside. Angela pulled away from him and brushed at the wet patch her tears had made on his shirt.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he said, taking hold of her hand. She looked up and held his gaze. Her eyes still wet from tears sparkled, the lashes gathered together in dark clumps. She leaned in towards him and he did the same. Her tongue warm, and soft as velvet brushed against his as they began to kiss. Angela’s hands felt cool as they slid underneath Scott’s t-shirt and up his back. She dragged her fingernails insistently down either side hard enough to cause some pain, making Scott want her even more. Again he swore he could taste strawberries. Their kissing intensified and they began to peel away each other’s clothes. He brushed a hand over her breast and she bit down on his lower lip.