by Kerry Kaya
Stevie hastily averted his eyes and looked to the floor, wishing more than anything that Frank would shut up. He had a horrible feeling he just couldn’t shrug off, and the last thing he wanted, was for Billy to take it upon himself to see what was taking the two of them so long.
He looked up as the lounge door opened, saw their flushed faces as they entered the room, saw the gold chain hanging from around Susan’s neck—the very same gold chain Fletch had bought just that morning—and inwardly groaned. What the fuck was his best mate playing at?
“What kept you two so long?” Holding out his hand for the glass, Billy eyed his wife suspiciously. Still, Joseph’s words rattled around inside his mind, and he swallowed down ripples of mistrust and jealousy.
“Nothing.” Susan gave her husband a wide smile. As he lowered his eyes to take a sip of his drink, she quickly slipped the locket inside the neckline of her dress, hidden out of sight.
“We were just chatting about Christmas, that’s all.” Fletch glanced toward Susan.
“Yeah well, next time, less of the fucking chat.”
“Whatever you say, boss.” He gave Billy a wide smile, then moved across the lounge to sit on the sofa. “You okay, mate?” He slapped Stevie on the shoulder, and without waiting for a reply, he turned his head to watch Susan as she moved around the room handing out drinks. Unable to tear his eyes away from her, a beaming smile was spread across his face.
“Yeah.” Eyeing his mate, Stevie swallowed down his anger. He couldn’t believe that Fletch would be so stupid, so careless. After all, this wasn’t just any woman. It was Billy King’s missus, a missus who, by all accounts, he adored. He continued to seethe as Fletch sat beside him. His best mate couldn’t be more blatant even if he tried.
* * *
At the end of the night, Susan and Billy stood on the doorstep, watching the three younger men leave.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna call a taxi?”
“Nah.” Spinning around, Fletch grinned. “Need to walk off all of those mince pies.”
“They’re good lads.” Billy chuckled, leaning against the door frame.
Silently, Susan nodded her head. Automatically, her fingers reached up to touch the gold locket Fletch had given her. It may not have cost the earth, but it was the most precious piece of jewellery that she had ever received.
Straightening up, he slung his arm around his wife’s shoulders and pulled her forcefully toward him. “Yeah, they’re good lads,” he repeated, his tone becoming serious. “But if I ever catch one of them sniffing around you, I’ll cut their fucking bollocks off. You belong to me, remember that. I own you … lock, stock, and fucking barrel.” He gave her a chilling smile, kissed the top of her head, then walked back through to the lounge.
Left standing on the doorstep, Susan turned to look at her husband’s retreating back. Was he suspicious of them, she wondered? A slither of fear ran down her spine, and glancing once more toward the empty driveway, her body shuddered.
Billy would never let her go, she knew that as well as she knew her own name. He would rather see her dead, than see her happy with another man. There and then, she knew what she had to do.
As much as it was going to pain her, she would need to end the affair. Tears filled her eyes and she swiped them away with her fingertips. She would have to tell Fletch it was over between them. She had no other choice on the matter. It was either that, or certain death for the both of them.
* * *
“What the fuck are you playing at?” The three men had reached the halfway point of the lane, and stopping abruptly, Stevie hissed out the words.
“What?”
“You know what? You and King’s missus? I saw it. I saw the fucking necklace.”
“You don’t know anything.” The hairs on the back of Fletch’s neck stood up on end. He bounded across the pavement, slammed his best friend up against a hedgerow, and clasped the front of his shirt in his fist. His breath streamed out in front of him. “You don’t know fucking anything.”
“I saw it.” With ease, Stevie pushed Fletch away from him and breathed heavily through his nostrils. “Are you on a death wish or something?” He tapped the side of his head. “Have you got a screw loose, eh?”
“What’s going on?” Spencer looked from his brother to Stevie.
“Keep out of it, Spence,” Fletch growled, looking over his shoulder.
“If I’ve sussed it out, then how long before Billy does the same, eh?” Stevie spat.
“Sussed what out?” Spencer asked, his eyes wide.
“I said, keep out of it,” Fletch roared, pushing his brother across the pavement and away from him.
“Look at you, like a rabbit caught in headlights. No wonder you didn’t want to tell us who she is. You’re too scared your dirty little secret is gonna come out.” He gave a bitter laugh. “He’s gonna find out, you know that, don’t you? And then what, eh? I’ll tell you what you’ll end up with, a bullet in the back of your nut.”
Beads of cold sweat broke out across Fletch’s forehead. “Don’t say anything, don’t say a word.” He put out his hands. “Billy will kill us; you know he will.”
“Why will Billy kill us?” Narrowing his eyes, Spencer looked from his brother to Stevie once more. He tilted his head to one side as he thought it over. “Why would he kill us? What have we done wrong?”
“Not you,” Fletch snapped, looking over his shoulder. “Me.” He lowered his voice. “He’s gonna kill me.”
“But why? What have you done, Fletch?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t matter, just forget I even said anything.” He turned back toward Stevie; his eyes beseeched him. “Please, mate, don’t say anything. I’m begging you not to … please.”
Stevie gave a long sigh. “I’m not gonna say anything. You’re my best mate. Do you really think I would do that?”
Visibly relaxing, Fletch’s shoulders sagged with relief and he shook his head. Of course Stevie wouldn’t say anything. He should have already known that; they were more like brothers than mates, and had always had each other’s backs in the past.
“You’re playing a dangerous game though, Fletch. It’s gotta stop, you know that, don’t you? You and her … it’s gotta stop.”
“I can’t.” Fletch spread out his arms. “I love her. I wouldn’t be able to stop, even if I wanted to.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and resumed the long walk down the lane.
“It needs to stop,” Stevie called after him. “You’re gonna get yourself killed. You’re gonna get the three of us killed.”
Fletch spun around and lifted his shoulders. “I’ve already told you, I can’t.” He gave a half smile and turned his back on his best friend. The truth was, he was in too deep, far too deep. No woman had ever been able to keep his interest like Susan King had. The bottom line was, for the first time in his life, he was in love.
Chapter 7
After a long, sleepless night, a deep-rooted fear resonated throughout Susan. She had spent the morning crying, and as a result, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, and her cheeks were blotchy. She couldn’t bear to let Fletch go, but even she could see there was no other alternative, not unless she wanted to see him seriously maimed at Billy’s hands, or even worse, dead. The very thought of what Billy would do to them if he ever found out about the affair made her feel physically sick and her body shake with fear.
She heard his car pull onto the drive, and walking out to the hallway, she paused in front of the ornate gilded mirror that hung there. Wiping away smudges of mascara from underneath her eyes, she hastily smoothed down her hair and made her way wearily toward the front door, thankful at least that her husband was out for the morning, and that he was unable to see her looking and feeling so heartbroken.
With a half-smile, she pulled open the door, took one look at her lover and promptly burst into tears.
“Hey, what’s all this?” The hairs on the back of Fletch’s neck stood up on end. He pushed his way
into the house and kicked the front door forcibly closed behind him. “What’s happened?”
He braced himself for her reply. If someone had hurt her, he would kill them, stone dead. Without even giving the matter a second thought, he would smash his fists repeatedly into the bastard’s face and happily go to prison for the remainder of his life.
Susan shook her head, the lump in her throat restricting her from speaking.
“What’s wrong?” Fear was beginning to get the better of him, and as he pulled her into his arms, his voice rose. “What’s happened? Has someone upset you? Has someone hurt you?”
She wrestled herself free from his embrace. “Us,” she choked out.
“Us?” Her answer surprised him, and as he furrowed his forehead, a new shiver of fear ran down his spine. “What do you mean, us?”
She saw his face pale and wanted to cry even harder. “Us,” she repeated.
I don’t understand, what about us?”
She brought her finger up to his lips, silencing him. “It’s over, Fletch.” Even though her heart screamed at her not to say the words out loud, she knew she had no other choice. She was doing the right thing, she decided. She had to keep telling herself that she was keeping him safe. “It’s over between us.”
“No.” Fletch pushed himself away from her, and as he brought his hands up to his head, he tugged at his dark hair. He felt sick, like he’d been punched in the gut. “You don’t mean that.”
“Yes, I do.” She solemnly nodded her head. She had to be strong; his life was in her hands. “It’s over between us.”
“Over … but I don’t understand,” he repeated. “Everything was okay between us yesterday.” He looked down at her; his heart was in his mouth. “You don’t mean this, Suze. It can’t be over, not now, not just like that. What did I do wrong?” he begged of her.
Susan choked on her reply. He looked so helpless, so hurt, that she wanted to pull him into her arms and soothe away his fears, to tell him she didn’t mean it and that everything would be okay. She knew she wouldn’t though; she couldn’t. Why complicate matters? To give him hope would be cruel.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Fletch, in fact, the complete opposite.”
“Then why? I …” He snapped his mouth shut before he could say the words, before he could utter out loud that he loved her. “You can’t do this to me,” he spat. He narrowed his eyes. “It was the necklace, wasn’t it? It wasn’t good enough for you?”
“No, of course not.” She gasped at the accusation, and reached out to touch his arm, but he snatched it away.
“Yes, it was.” He glanced around the grand hallway. “You know that I can’t give you all of this, that I’ll never be able to give you what Billy can.”
“No, that’s not true.” She stood open-mouthed, shocked by his words. The house, the wealth that Billy had, meant nothing to her; it never had. “Don’t you see that I have to do this, for both of our sakes. I have to.”
“Nah,” he growled. “All I see is you wanting to keep a hold on all of this.” His eyes flashed dangerously as he stabbed his finger around the hallway.
“Billy,” she began.
“Fuck Billy,” he spat back. “You used me. You got what you wanted from me, and now you’re fucking me off out of it. Thanks a fucking lot for that.”
“No.” As he headed for the front door, she chased him across the marble hallway. “It isn’t like that, honestly, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.” He shrugged her away from him. “You took what you wanted from me and now you …”
He could feel the start of tears well up in his eyes and he shook them away, swallowing down the hard lump in his throat. He wouldn’t cry, not in front of her. No matter how much he might want to, he wouldn’t shed a single tear in front of her. He was determined of that.
“You got what you wanted,” he repeated. “And now you want to finish it. You want to fuck me off out of it, like I’m nothing, like what we have is fuck-all.” He flung open the front door, stormed across the driveway, and climbed inside his car. “Thanks for nothing. See you around … maybe.”
With those parting words, he slammed the car door shut, started the ignition, and sped away from the house, leaving a plume of exhaust fumes in his wake. Pushing his foot down on the gas, he hurtled down the lane at an alarming speed. Finally, he eased his foot off of the gas, brought the car to a halt beside a grass verge, and leaned his head against the cool steering wheel.
Tears rolled down his cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t believe she would do this to him. He’d bared his soul to her. He’d even told her things that no one else knew. He could barely breathe, so intense was the anger that shuddered through his body, engulfing him. He thumped his fist down on the dashboard, all the while, his heart was breaking in two for the only woman he had ever loved.
* * *
“Don’t look now, but your uncle is up to his old tricks again.”
That evening, as he gulped down his fifth pint of beer, Fletch didn’t even bother to turn his head. He had zero interest in Frank, or anyone else around him, for that matter.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he growled.
Raising his eyebrows, Stevie continued watching Frank from across the bar. They were in Chains nightclub, in Barking. Music pumped out of the sound system, whilst men, mainly jumped-up city blokes wearing cheap polyester suits, strutted around as though they owned the gaff.
“You have to sort him out, Fletch. He’s making a proper nuisance of himself. Look at him, he’s had that much chisel, his jaw is still at the fucking bar.”
Turning his head, Fletch watched as a young girl tried to keep Frank at arm’s length. Slamming his beer bottle down on the bar, he pushed himself off of the bar stool and marched across the dance floor. He shoved his uncle away from the girl in question and stabbed his finger forward.
“Fuck off, Frank. She ain’t interested.”
Frank shrugged his shoulders. He knew better than to argue back, and without even hesitating, he moved on to his next unsuspecting victim—a right sort this time, who looked as though she would be up for a good time. Wearing a boob tube and a tight mini skirt that left little to the imagination, she looked like mutton dressed up as lamb and wouldn’t have looked out of place at a grab a granny night—just his type.
“I’m sorry about that,” Fletch shouted above the music. “He’s had too much to drink, but doesn’t mean any harm.”
Tina Fellowes smiled. “It’s okay, and you’re right, no real harm was done. Tina,” she said, holding out her hand as a way of introduction.
Ignoring the outstretched hand, he gave her a forced smile, then made his way back to the bar.
“Are you happy now?” he spat.
“Yeah.” Stevie narrowed his eyes and turned to look at Spencer. It wasn’t like Fletch to be in such a bad mood. “Get happy bollocks another beer,” he instructed his best friend’s younger brother.
Thirty minutes later, Stevie nudged his friend once more. “Don’t look now, but that bird you rescued ain’t took her eyes off of you.”
Fletch groaned. All he wanted to do was get out of his nut, without being interrupted every five seconds. He gulped at his beer and turned his head to look across the club. She was all right he supposed, not really his type, though.
His thoughts went to Susan and he felt his heart involuntarily constrict inside his chest. Without saying another word, he slammed his glass down on the bar and strode toward her.
“Do you wanna get out of here?” he asked, bending down to speak privately in her ear.
He allowed himself to give a forced half smile when Tina nodded her head in agreement. Petite and brunette, she may not have had Susan’s blonde hair, figure, or class, but to a certain degree, she was still easy on the eye.
He marched out of the club with her tottering on dangerously high heels closely behind him. She may not be his type, but she could be exactly what he needed to let off a bit of steam—a welc
ome distraction—and a way to get Susan King out of his system, once and for all.
* * *
Six days later, Tina Fellowes grinned happily. She was getting herself dolled up for her date. Strewn across her bed was every outfit that she owned. She tilted her head to one side as she inspected a fitted black dress. She held the garment up against her petite figure and turned to look in the floor-length mirror.
“I’ve got nothing to wear,” she groaned to her best friend, Joanne.
“Nothing to wear?” Joanne laughed out loud as she cast her eyes across the pile of clothes flung carelessly across the floral bed spread. “Where’s he taking you anyway?”
“I don’t know.” She spun around, a wide grin was etched across her face. “Oh, he’s so lovely, isn’t he?” A dreamy expression replaced her smile. “Fletch.” She said his name out loud, relishing the sound of his name upon her lips. “I think he could be the one,” she said, sinking down onto the bed and clutching the dress to her chest.
Joanne laughed even harder. “You’ve known him less than a week. How could you possibly know he’s the one?”
“Yeah, and so what?” Tina shrugged her shoulders. “When you know, you just know.”
Joanne rolled her eyes. This wasn’t the first time her best friend had claimed her latest squeeze to be the one. “So, where’s he taking you then?”
“I’ve already told you, I don’t know. He said it was a surprise.”
He didn’t actually say those words, but she wasn’t about to tell her best friend that. The truth was, she had hardly heard from him all week, and she had a horrible nagging feeling that he’d only agreed to this date to shut her up. She supposed it was her own fault, really. She’d opened her legs and given him what he wanted on the very first night.
“Oh, he’s so nice.” She flounced off of the bed, discarded the black dress and picked up a second outfit. “What do you reckon?” She gave a little twirl, whilst holding up a short emerald green and white polka dot dress that flared out at the waist.