by Kerry Kaya
“Yes, now,” Fletch snapped. He slammed his glass down on the bar, gave Joseph one last seething stare, and stormed out of the pub.
“Well?” Following Fletch out of the pub, Billy lit a cigarette, whilst waiting for the younger man to explain what the problem was.
“Joseph,” Fletch spat.
Billy exhaled a plume of cigarette smoke above his head. “What about him?” he asked, with a shrug of his shoulders.
Fletch began to pace.
“Well?” Billy demanded.
Stopping abruptly, he came to stand just inches away from his boss. “It was him.”
“Him?” Still unsure of what was going on, Billy tilted his head to one side, his forehead furrowed. “What the fuck are you going on about? Are those pills messing with your nut again?”
Fletch shook his head. “It was him, Billy. It was him who tipped off the old bill.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Snorting with laughter, Billy began to make his way back inside the pub.
“I’m telling you, it was him.”
Billy’s laughter tapered off. Aware that Fletch was actually being serious, he came to a halt and swallowed deeply before answering. “Nah.” He waved his hand, dismissing the notion. “No way, no fucking way. You’ve made a mistake; you’ve misread the situation. Those fucking pills that you shove down your neck are clouding your judgment. We go back years; he wouldn’t do something like that.” He stabbed his finger forward, rattled by Fletch’s accusation. “Joseph, all of people, would never betray me. He’s like a brother; he’s like family.”
With his eyebrows raised, Fletch argued his point. “Think about it, Bill. We both know that he doesn’t like me …”
“And?” Billy’s loud voice became menacing. “That’s hardly a fucking crime, is it?”
“Who else would have gained from me being sent down?” Fletch persevered. “Think about it, Bill, it was him.”
“Nah.” Having heard just about enough, Billy continued to walk back inside the pub. His back was up, his mind reeling.
“Billy.” Fletch called out after him. “Think about it. Think about what I’m saying. Deep down, you know it makes sense.”
Billy placed his hands on either side of the door frame, his head bowed. Straightening up, he stared inside the pub, before turning back around. As much as he didn’t want to acknowledge the obvious, he could see that Fletch had a point, and as much as he hated to admit it, it was a valid point at that. Whoever the grass was, they had to know him well; they knew of his movements and knew what went on within the firm.
“Well?” Fletch took a step closer. There was an urgency in his tone. “Do you see my point?”
“Yeah.” Dragging his hand across his jaw, Billy turned once more to look inside the bar. He could recall the snide comments that had come from Joseph, and his expression of contempt each and every time Fletch’s name had come up in conversation. Why had it taken him until now to see what was right underneath his nose? To know that it could be Joseph who was responsible, was like a punch in the gut—the ultimate kick in the teeth. After a moment of silence, he spoke. His voice was a low growl, his expression hard. “Keep schtum about this. Don’t breathe a word of it to anyone, right?”
“I won’t.” Fletch nodded his head in agreement. Like Billy, he glanced inside the building. “But he needs to be sorted out, Bill, and fast. We need to deal with this.”
Without saying another word, Billy walked back inside the pub. Outwardly, nothing appeared to be amiss. Only a pulsating vein at the side of his temple, gave away his true thoughts. He reached the bar and lifted the champagne flute to his lips.
His eyes were hard as he studied his number two. If what Fletch said was true, then Joseph would have to go. Deep down he knew that, and as much as it would pain him, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that the man, his best friend, would need to be disposed of. There was simply no other alternative.
* * *
Six weeks later, Tina lay staring up at the ceiling. Beside her, Fletch was softly snoring. She turned her head and watched his chest rise and fall as he slept. An idea formed in her mind, and she gave a crafty smile. Rolling onto her side, she ever so slowly inched herself forward, until she was snuggled up against his bare back.
The last thing she wanted to do was wake him up, at least not yet anyway. She held her breath, as she slipped her arm underneath the bed sheet. When he didn’t stir, she snaked her hand down inside his boxer shorts. One way or another, she was determined that he would give her another child, even if it meant using dirty tactics to get what she wanted.
Fletch’s eyes flickered open, and for a brief moment, he froze. “What the fuck do you think you are doing?” he finally growled, as he ripped her hand away from him and threw it across the bed.
“What?” she answered, her voice full of mock innocence. In the darkened bedroom, she gave a coy grin. “I thought it was what you wanted.” She licked at her lips and nodded to the hard bulge between his legs.
“Leave it out, Teen.” He used his hands to cover himself. “It ain’t gonna happen, I’m telling you that now. What the fuck is wrong with you, eh?” He jumped out of the bed and moved across the room, adjusting his boxer shorts as he did so.
Thumping her fists down on the bed, the smile slipped from Tina’s face. Frustration coursed through her veins. She slumped back against the plump pillows with a long, exasperated sigh. “How am I meant to get pregnant, if you don’t come near me, if you won’t even touch me?”
“Pregnant?” Fletch chocked on the word. “What are you going on about? You’ve only just had a baby,” he spat.
“Yeah, but that was six weeks ago.” She flapped her hand and leaned up on one elbow to look at him. “The midwife said that it’s safe now.”
“Safe?” Fletch’s eyes creased together. “Safe for what?”
“To start trying for baby number two.”
“Have lost your fucking mind?” He pulled a T-shirt over his head and headed for the bathroom. “It’s not going to happen, Tina,” he said over his shoulder. “You caught me out once, and like fuck am I going to let you do it to me a second time.”
Tina pursed her lips, and scrambling off of the bed, she followed him through to the bathroom. “You promised me though.” She curled herself around the door frame, positioning herself so her short nightie rose up to flash a generous amount of bare thigh. “You agreed that you didn’t want Austin to grow up as an only child.” She batted her eyelashes, and pouted her lips, her voice sounding almost childlike. “You don’t want him to grow up lonely, do you?”
“I …” He tore his eyes away from her shapely legs. “Just get out, Teen.” He pushed her forcibly out of the bathroom, slammed the door closed, and snapped across the lock. “I’ve already told you, it’s not going to happen,” he called out as he leaned his head back against the closed door.
Silently, he counted to ten, then as quickly as he could, he undressed and proceeded to jump into the shower. He switched on the tap and allowed the cold water to wash over him, dulling his senses, before his body had the chance to betray him—before he ran back out of the bathroom, threw Tina down onto the bed that they shared, and pounded into her. After all, he was a red-hot-blooded male, and it had been months since he’d been with a woman. In fact, it had been so long that his balls felt like they were the size of watermelons.
Thirty minutes later, he emerged from the shower. Wearing dark denim jeans and a black hoodie, he was barefoot as he padded through to the lounge. He glanced in Tina’s direction and was more than thankful to see that she’d had the sense to put some clothes on.
Lounging back on the sofa, Tina looked up at him expectantly. “I need some money.”
“For what?” Slipping on his socks and trainers, Fletch didn’t bother to look up. She was always after something. If it wasn’t his body, it was his money, and even worse than that, his time.
She let out a long sigh. When it came to getting money out of her son�
��s father, it was like getting blood from a stone. “I need to buy nappies, some baby formula, oh, and I’ve seen the cutest outfit that he just has to have.”
At this, Fletch’s head snapped upwards. “I thought you were breast feeding?”
“I am.”
He shook his head confused. “Then why do you need formula?”
Tina glared. She pointed down at her breasts as though he were stupid. “Just in case he needs more milk.”
“Oh.” He pushed his hand into his denim pocket, pulled out a roll of cash, and passed it across.
Still holding out her hand, Tina looked up at him, her eyebrows raised.
“More?” he groaned, delving his hand into his pocket for a second time. “Fuck me, Teen, money doesn’t grow on trees, you know, and despite what you might think, I’m not your personal bank.”
At this, Tina began to laugh. She knew he was good for it. She’d seen how he paid for everything in cash, even the wine-coloured chesterfield leather sofa that had come to the grand sum of almost two-thousand pounds.
“But Austin needs it.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “You don’t want him to go without, do you?”
He shook his head. Of course he didn’t want his son to go without, but even he had to question why Austin needed designer outfits? The boy was barely six weeks old, and within a matter of weeks, he would outgrow them. “Just go easy, yeah?” He passed across a second bundle of notes.
“I will do.” Tina smiled sweetly. Already, the money was burning a hole in her pocket.
Littered around the lounge were unopened parcels, items that their son needed, she protested. Each time, Fletch came to question her shopping sprees.
“I mean it, Teen,” he scolded. “Enough is enough now, this has to stop.”
Tina rolled her eyes. “Okay,” she answered dismissively. She had no intentions of stopping—not now, not ever. Her shopping sprees filled a void in her life that only he could fill. She watched him as he peered inside a cardboard box containing a pile of still unopened packages, shaking his head at her as he did so. “What?” She lifted her chin in the air defensively. “I said I’m going to stop.”
“Make sure that you do,” he warned. He straightened up, slung on his jacket, and fished around for his car keys. He had a big day ahead of him. The fact that today was going to be Joseph Hatton’s last day on earth, lay heavy on his mind. He hastily planted a kiss on his sleeping son’s forehead, and after barely even giving Tina a second glance, he slipped out of the flat, without so much as a goodbye.
Exiting the lift, he pushed through the heavy entrance door and lifted his arm up in the air in a greeting. Stevie sat on the bonnet of his BMW, his head buried in his mobile phone, while Spencer lounged casually against the driver’s door, smoking a cigarette as they waited for him.
“You took your fucking time,” Stevie growled, as Fletch approached them.
Fletch rolled his eyes. “Try living with Tina,” he answered, in the way of an explanation.
“I told you she was bad news. I don’t like her,” Spencer grumbled. “Why can’t you just get shot of her, Fletch? Tell her to go away.”
Clouting his brother around the back of his head, Fletch sighed. If only it was that simple. “Just get in the motor, Spence.”
He used his key fob to unlock the car doors and watched as his brother climbed inside.
“Are you gonna get in?” He narrowed his eyes at his best friend, who’d so far, made no attempt to move off of the bonnet.
“Not yet.” Stevie shook his head, hopped down from the bonnet, closed the passenger’s door, and leaned back against the car. “Talk to me, man.”
“About what?”
“You and her.” He flicked his chin toward the block of flats.
“There ain’t nothing to tell.” Fletch averted his eyes.
“I know you, Fletch, just remember that, and I haven’t ever seen you look this miserable.”
With a long sigh, Fletch crossed his arms over his chest. “What?” He gave a small shrug of his shoulders.
“Spence is right; you need to get shot of her.”
“It ain’t that easy, is it?” He glanced upwards. “She’s got me by the fucking bollocks, mate. She’s got my kid. How can I just walk out on him?” He rubbed his hand over his face. “I grew up without a dad. I know how it feels to always wonder if he cared about me. I can’t do that to my own son. What kind of a hypocrite would that make me?”
Stevie thought this through. “I get that, mate. I get that you want to do the honourable thing, but you can’t live like this either, can you? She’s destroying you, but you just can’t see it yet.” He clapped Fletch on the back, opened the car door, and climbed inside.
Taking a deep breath before he climbed into the car and took position behind the wheel, Fletch looked up toward the balcony. Tina was outside looking down. Her eyes burned into him, watching his every movement. He shook his head and inwardly groaned. Stevie was right. No matter what he said to her, she never seemed to take the hint.
Preoccupied with his own thoughts, he failed to notice the excited glint of what was to come in his brother’s eyes.
* * *
Joseph didn’t have a care in the world as he followed Billy and the rest of his firm into one of the safe houses. On the pretence that they were distributing out profits from the latest rave, he eagerly descended down the cellar steps with more than just a spring in his step. The sight that met him caused his breath to catch in his throat and his heart to beat faster. The entire cellar had been covered over in plastic sheeting.
“What’s this?” he asked, spinning around. It wasn’t the first time that he’d seen the cellar covered over, but it was the first time he hadn’t been privy to what was about to go down. As a result, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up on end and his forehead furrowed. “What the fuck is going on, Bill?”
With his firm behind him, Billy took a step forward. Still, a part of him refused to believe that Joseph was the spy in his camp—that the man he had known since childhood, the man he considered to be more like a brother than a friend, could be the very same person ratting him out.
“What the fuck is going on?” Joseph roared. Panic began to set in, and he pushed his way forward. How had Billy even found out it was him? “Get out of my way,” he growled.
Billy shoved out his hand, sending his one-time number two flying backwards. “It was you,” he spat. “It was you, who betrayed me.”
In a blind panic, Joseph pulled himself to his feet and rushed forward. Once again, they pushed him back into the centre of the cellar, their large frames crowding around him.
“Nah.” He gave a nervous laugh. If he wanted to survive the ambush, then he had to play smart. He had to play the game, play dumb, and deny everything. “You’ve got it wrong, Bill. I haven’t done anything. It’s not me. I’d never betray you; you know that. We go back years, don’t we? We’re more like brothers than pals. Come on, mate, you know we are.” He was talking fast, too fast, and as beads of cold sweat broke out across his forehead and upper lip, he resisted the urge to swipe the droplets away.
For a brief moment, Billy faltered. Just maybe, Joseph was telling the truth and Fletch was mistaken. After all was said and done, he would give his right arm for Fletch to be wrong.
“Don’t listen to him, Bill. You know he’s the rat. Everything points to him. He’s a fucking grass.” Fletch’s face was murderous and he stabbed his finger forward. “You, you cunt,” he growled. “It was you! You ratted me out to the old bill. I went down, because of you.”
Joseph smirked, and the mask he wore in Billy’s company slipped away. As quick as a flash, he composed himself, his expression once again neutral, but it was too late, Billy had already seen the interaction.
There and then, Billy’s stomach dropped. Everything Fletch had said was true.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Joseph gave a carefree shake of his head. “Bill, come on, mate.” He tu
rned to face Billy and spread out his arms. “You don’t believe all of this old bollocks, do you? The kid is talking shit.” He held out his arms, throwing Fletch a sly grin. “As per fucking usual.”
Fletch lunged forward, his knuckles connecting just underneath Joseph’s jaw. The loud crack echoed around the cellar. “It was you,” he roared, “I know it was.”
Joseph rubbed at the side of his face. The punch had been hard, a lot harder than he’d expected. He had to keep face. He could handle himself; he knew that. After all, he hadn’t been Billy’s number two for no reason. A low chuckle escaped from his lips, the cackle growing louder, until he was doubled over laughing.
“Is that the best you can do?” he taunted. He dragged the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Seriously, Bill, I’m starting to worry about your judgement, mate. If this is the future of your firm, then fuck me, your reputation is gonna end up in tatters. All that hard work in the gutter, and for what, eh? For this little prick?”
Fletch swung his fist for a second time, sending Joseph hurtling to the floor. “Admit it was you,” he screamed. When he received no reply, he pulled back his heavy boot, ready and poised to kick out. “Go on, just fucking admit it.”
Joseph laughed even harder.
“Do him again, Fletch.” Spencer hopped from one foot to the other, excitement creased his face. “Fuck him up, finish him off.”
Ignoring his brother’s words, Fletch breathed heavily. Blood rushed to his head, filling his ears with white noise, while adrenalin coursed through his veins. “Fucking admit it,” he roared.
Blood trickled down from one of Joseph’s nostrils. He wiped the blood away with the back of his hand, leaving a red smear across his cheek. “Seriously, Bill,” he began again. More than a hint of laughter was in his voice, mocking. “If this little shit is the future of your firm …”
Billy had heard just about enough. He charged forward, shoving Fletch out of his way, and using every ounce of strength that he possessed, he pummelled his fists down upon his one-time best friend. Right from the beginning, when they had been kids, it had been just the two of them taking on the world together, getting into scrapes, building their empire. Why? He wanted to scream, why did you do this to me; why did you betray me? Behind him, his firm egged him on, baying for blood.