by Kerry Kaya
“I think you’re gonna knock his socks off,” Joanne beamed. “He won’t be able to keep his hands off of you.”
“That’s the general plan,” Tina giggled.
* * *
“So, have you had the low-down yet on where the next rave is gonna be? I don’t want them little fuckers to try and get one over on us.”
“No,” Fletch scowled.
Billy narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve been a right miserable fucker lately.”
“Tell me about it,” Stevie mumbled. He felt Fletch punch him, and he rubbed at his arm. “Well, Billy’s right, you have been a miserable fucker.”
“It ain’t none of your business, I keep telling you that.” He lit a cigarette and exhaled a plume of smoke above his head. The truth was, he was engulfed in misery and he just couldn’t, for the life of him, shake it off. He didn’t know how to.
“It’s bound to be something to do with a bird.” Billy stated. “Bound to be.” He heard Fletch give an annoyed sigh and he snapped his head toward him. “Well, am I right, or am I right?”
At that moment, the dining room door opened, and as Spencer walked in balancing a tray of drinks, he could see Susan hovering in the hallway.
“If you must know, I’m happy with Tina.” His voice was loud, loud enough for Susan to be able to hear, and as she looked into the room, he locked eyes with her. “Very happy actually. In fact, I’ve never been fucking happier.”
The door closed and he slumped backwards in his seat, feeling miserable once more. It wasn’t true, and he’d only said the words for Susan’s benefit. He wanted to hurt her, just like she’d hurt him.
“Well, if you’re that fucking happy, smile for once. I’m sick to the back teeth of looking at your miserable boat race.”
He gave a mock smile and lowered his head. As for Tina, she was doing his nut in, constantly phoning him, constantly wanting to know where he was, checking up on him, checking that he wasn’t talking to any other women. It wasn’t as if she was even his bird. He’d only taken her out a couple of times, and even then, he’d done so begrudgingly. There and then, he knew what he had to do. For his own sanity, he had to get shot of her, and the quicker the better.
“Seeing as you’re so happy,” Billy chuckled, “you can bring this mystery woman to meet us tonight.”
“What?” Fletch’s head sprang upwards. “Bring who?”
“This bird of yours.”
He wrinkled up his nose, and sank lower into his chair. “Nah, I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”
“Tonight,” Billy reaffirmed, “and that’s a fucking order.”
Inwardly, Fletch groaned. Introducing them to Tina was the last thing he wanted to do. He had zero intentions of making her a permanent fixture in his life. She was nothing but a stop-gap until he found a way to get Susan out of his system, not that he could tell Billy that.
Left with no other choice, Fletch nodded his head. One drink and that would be it. After that, he would make his excuses and get the hell out of there, dragging Tina behind him, kicking and screaming, if need be.
* * *
Closing the front door, Tina fluffed out her hair, before making her way down the pathway toward Fletch’s car. It was a brand-spanking-new black BMW with tinted windows and cream leather seats. She couldn’t help but feel like a million dollars each and every time she climbed into it.
Instinctively, she knew he had money, not that she knew exactly how it was that he earned his living. He’d never divulged that little piece of information, despite her best efforts to try and get it out of him. Still, she guessed it must be something important. The fact that they had always been given the very best tables in restaurants was enough to tell her that.
He was obviously a man who commanded respect, and she loved that about him. A smile creased her face. Little did he know that he was about to become her meal ticket, a means to a better life. She could just imagine it now—the big wedding, a beautiful house, holidays abroad, a life where money was no object. Oh yes, it was definitely the type of life she wanted for herself, and with a little bit of luck, his seed was already growing inside of her, cementing the deal.
“Hiya, babe,” she grinned, pulling open the car door and climbing inside.
He gave her a tight-lipped smile in return, and as she tore her eyes away from him to secure her seat belt, she noticed that he didn’t wear his own.
“You should wear a seat belt,” she scolded.
“I’ll be all right.”
“It’s the law.”
She heard him sigh, and as he started the ignition, there was a bored tone to his voice. “Like I said, I’ll be all right. We ain’t going far anyway.”
“Okay.” She smiled once more. “I called you earlier, but you didn’t answer.” In actual fact, she had called him more than once—it must have been at least twenty times.
“I was in a meeting.”
“Oh.”
He watched as she rummaged around in her handbag, and took out a tube of lip gloss. Without asking his permission, she pulled down the sun visor and studied her reflection in the tiny mirror there. It was as though she owned the car and it was her given right to man handle it. The simple act grated on his nerves. She was far too comfortable around him and his possessions for his liking. He gritted his teeth, started the ignition, flicked the indicator, and pulled out onto the road.
“So, where are we going then?” As if on cue, he pulled the car back over to the kerb, and she craned her neck to look around her. They had barely reached the end of the street, and she knew for a fact there weren’t any restaurants or bars this side of town. Her forehead furrowed. “Where are you taking me then, babe?”
Fletch sighed. Fuck Billy and his orders. Enough was enough. Hell would freeze over before he even contemplated taking her to meet the firm. “Look, Tina …” He paused and gripped the steering wheel tightly.
“What’s wrong?”
He stifled down the urge to not just come out with it and tell her to fuck off, to tell her that she wasn’t wanted, and that her very presence was a threat to everything he held dear. How could Susan even consider taking him back, with Tina clinging onto him like a limpet, as though she owned him, as though he was nothing other than one of her many possessions?
He switched off the engine and took a deep breath. Without even looking at her, he spoke. His voice was low, steady, and determined. He’d put off the inevitable for as long as he could, and seeing Susan just that afternoon only reinforced his feelings. She was the only woman for him—the only woman he would ever want.
“This isn’t going to work, Teen.”
“What isn’t?” A cold chill ran down Tina’s spine and her breath caught in her throat. Her dreams, and her hopes for the future, were about to shatter in front of her eyes. “What isn’t going to work, babe?”
“Us.” He turned in his seat to face her. “You’re a nice girl, it’s just that I’m not ready to have a girlfriend, not at the moment anyway. I’ve got a lot going on,” he said, in the way of an explanation. “I’ve got a lot of shit that I need to work out before I even think about settling down with someone.”
“Are you finishing with me?” Her voice rose and tears sprang to her eyes.
Rubbing at his temple, Fletch nodded his head. What was there to finish? They hadn’t even gotten started.
“You are, aren’t you? You’re finishing with me.”
“Like I said, you’re a nice girl and all that.” He clasped her hand tightly in his. “It’s not you, honest …”
“Don’t tell me,” she spat. “It’s not you, it’s me?” Story of her life … she’d heard those same words hundreds of times before. Only this time, she’d thought things would be different; she thought he was different. She narrowed her eyes. “You’ve met someone else, haven’t you?”
“No.” And in a way, he hadn’t. Susan had been there first; she would always be first.
“Yes, you
have.” Her cheeks turned scarlet and she snatched her hand away from his. “You’ve met some little scrubber and now you’re finishing with me.”
“She’s not a scrubber.” His eyes flashed dangerously. “She ain’t like that.” On hearing Tina audibly gasp, he leaned his head back against the headrest and briefly closed his eyes. “It’s over between us anyway. She finished it.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t expect you to understand, Teen. It’s complicated.”
“Complicated? Fucking complicated?” she screamed, unclipping her seat belt and throwing it away from her. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you, you rotten bugger?” She climbed out of the car. “You’re a rotten bastard, Fletch,” she screeched. “I got all dressed up for you for nothing.” She slammed the door shut and marched down the street with her arms folded across her chest.
“Tina.” Starting the ignition, Fletch wound down the passenger’s window, crawled the car beside her, and shouted across the passenger’s seat. “Don’t be like this. At least let me give you a lift back home.”
“Piss off,” she screamed back.
Shaking his head, Fletch put the gear into first and sped away from the kerb. With a bit of luck, it would be the last he saw of her. Sadly for him, it would turn out to be wishful thinking.
* * *
At that very moment, Joseph was pulling his car over to the kerb. Looking through the windshield, his beady eyes darted around him. Beside where he had parked the car was a telephone box. He sat for a moment, contemplating his next move.
That fucking Fletch. His hatred of the younger man went beyond jealousy. It ate away at him like a cancer. Three-hundred lousy quid, that was all he had been given from the rave turnover. He knew for a fact that Fletch had been given at least twenty times that amount. He’d seen the carrier bag filled to the brim with cash that Billy had handed over to him.
He stepped out of the car, dug deep into his pockets, and pulled out a scrap of paper with an address scrawled across it. He looked up and down the busy street, checking that the coast was clear, then made his way inside the telephone box.
An overwhelming scent of urine filled his nostrils, and he wrinkled his nose at the sour stench. The floor was littered with cigarette butts, and pinned to the board above the public telephone, were advertising cards promoting the services of masseurs and call girls.
With one final glance around him, he snatched up the telephone receiver. He began to perspire, and with his free hand, he pulled out his shirt to fan himself. The enormity of what he was about to do engulfed him, and for a brief moment, he questioned whether or not he could actually go through with it.
Yes, he could, he decided. Hatred spurned him on, and he pushed down on the metal keypad a series of digits.
“Police,” he said to the operator.
After a few beats, his call was answered.
“I’ve got some information,” he told the dispatcher. “Drugs are being stored at a premises.” He rattled off an address and a name for the culprit responsible, then slammed down the receiver with such force that it almost broke in two.
His breath came in short bursts and he placed his hand on the back wall of the telephone box to steady himself. After an age, he straightened up and dragged his hand across his clammy forehead and neck.
How the mighty were going to fall, he smirked to himself, feeling happier than he had in a long time. He pushed open the door and stepped out onto the street with a spring in his step. Yes, how the mighty were going to fall.
* * *
The banging on the front door had all the hallmarks of the old bill turning up on the doorstep. Shrugging on her dressing gown, Jenny Fletcher made her way wearily down the staircase.
“Who is it?” Yawning loudly, Fletch hung his head over the bannister rail.
“I don’t know.” Glancing upwards, Jenny gave a shrug of her shoulders. Who the hell could be banging on the front door at this time of the morning? She’d barely pulled across the chain, when the front door was smashed open, sending her flying backwards.
“Police!” The screams and shouts came from the rush of bodies storming into the house.
“What’s going on?” Jenny cried. She watched helplessly as police officers raced up the wooden staircase. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
A search warrant was pushed underneath her nose, and she blinked rapidly as she tried to focus on the words. “I don’t understand,” she cried. “A search warrant, for what?”
“Drugs,” a booming voice shouted out.
“It’s all right, Mum,” Fletch called out. “Don’t worry. They ain’t gonna find anything.” And it was true. He knew for a fact that there was no incriminating evidence in the house.
“You heard my son; he’s done nothing wrong.” She watched as the police officers dragged him bodily down the stairs and she rushed forward to intervene. “Leave him alone, he’s done nothing wrong. Drugs? My boy would never get himself involved in drugs.”
“Mum, it’s all right,” Fletch reassured her.
“What’s going on down there?” Wiping sleep from his eyes, Frank stood at the top of the stairs, wearing just his underpants and a singlet vest.
“It’s nothing. Tell Billy to ring a brief for me …” The words caught in Fletch’s throat as he was dragged down the remaining steps. “All right, fucking hell, I’m coming,” he roared.
“Leave my son alone!” Jenny continued to cry. She wrung her hands in front of her body as tears filled her eyes. “He ain’t done nothing wrong. He’s a good boy. He would never get involved with drugs.”
Her pleas were ignored and in the pandemonium, she was pushed out of the way, causing her to crash heavily to the floor. It was just enough to make Fletch see red, and clenching his fists, he lashed out at the police officer responsible.
“You bastard,” he screamed. “You fucking mug. I’ll have you for that. Who the fuck do you think you are?”
It took three officers to pin him to the floor, and with his face pushed into the threadbare hallway carpet, he screamed and hollered even louder.
“Assaulting a police officer.” A hint of amusement could be heard coming from the booming voice. “You’ll be going away for a very long time, sunshine … a very long time.”
“You dirty bastards,” Fletch screamed. “You’ve fitted me up.”
Jenny pulled herself to her feet, tears streamed down her face. “He didn’t mean to do that,” she cried. “Tell them, Frank! Tell them that he didn’t mean to! It was an accident, that’s all.”
For the first time in his life, Frank showed some compassion toward his sister and pulled her into his arms. Even he knew what this meant, and fair enough, they wouldn’t find any drugs in the house. After all, he knew the boy wasn’t that stupid to bring any home with him, but as for swinging for the copper, well, they would throw the bloody book at him for that. They were bound to, weren’t they?
“I’ll get on the blower to Billy,” he told her. “He’ll send the very best brief there is down to the nick. Don’t you worry, darlin’, we’ll have him back home before you know it.”
* * *
“Six fucking months. It’s a crying shame.” Frank shook his head. They had just come out of court for Fletch’s sentencing. “Six fucking months,” he repeated.
Billy blew out his cheeks. In a way, it could have been a lot worse. The judge, a miserable looking old bastard, had looked set to lock him up for life and throw away the key.
“He’ll be all right,” he said. “It’s only six months. It’s not like he’s been given proper bird, is it?” He paused, as he took in Jenny’s grief-stricken face and his voice softened. “I’ve got a mate doing a ten stretch. I’ll tip him the wink and tell him to make sure he has an easy time of it,” he said to reassure her.
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Jenny nodded her head. She still couldn’t believe it. Her boy, her eldest son, was being sent down. A fresh set of tears filled her eyes and she began to cry once more.
“He’ll be okay, Mum.” Spencer pulled her into his arms. “Like Billy said, Fletch will have an easy time of it, and you can even visit him, if he sends you one of those visiting orders.”
“I know, darling,” she said through her tears. “But six months,” she cried. “It’s a bloody joke. He was only trying to be a good son by protecting me.”
“I don’t think Fletch will find it very funny.”
Jenny sighed and linked her arm through her youngest son’s arm. “I didn’t mean it like that, darling. Of course, it isn’t funny.” In a cloud of misery, she followed her brother to where he had parked the car, and with one final glance at the court, she climbed inside. “Six whole months,” she repeated to herself.
Chapter 8
Four weeks later, there was a knocking at the front door. Drying her damp hands on a tea towel, Jenny patted down her hair before making her way down the hallway. Opening the front door, she stared at the girl before her.
“Hello, darling, can I help you?” she asked.
Tina Fellowes gave a shy smile. “Mrs. Fletcher?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Tina, Fletch’s girlfriend.”
Jenny’s face lit up. “Come on in,” she cried, ushering the girl over the doorstep. “Well, this is a lovely surprise. I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend. Well, when I say I didn’t know, what I mean is, I thought that maybe he did, but he never really confirmed it, if you know what I mean. He was keeping things close to his chest. He does that sometimes, has done ever since he was a little boy.”
Tears sprang to Tina’s eyes. “Oh, Mrs. Fletcher,” she interrupted. “I’ve been in such an awful state.”