An Old Score

by Edie Baylis

  James’ mouth flapped up and down as he tried to think of something to say, his cheeks burning at being dressed down in public. People must have heard what Helen had said. Was this how it was would be? Was her illness making her aggressive? How much worse would it get?

  Helen linked her arm through his. ‘Come on,’ she hissed through her false smile. ‘I can’t stay here with you like this.’

  Almost pulling James from the room, Helen marched forward, leaving James to mutter an embarrassed apology to the two large men he bumped into standing against the bar.

  Twenty

  JOE HADN’T EXPECTED DAVE TO BE IN, but then he hadn’t expected to be back tonight himself either.

  He’d avoided his usual drinking holes because he couldn’t face the insult of being publicly ignored by Alan and Dave in their crusade to continue their silent treatment over this Teagan business. He knew the usual pubs they drank in would have been where they’d headed on tonight’s jolly, so he’d had no choice but to go somewhere else.

  He scowled. The only other place within walking distance was an upmarket gaff. Wine bars and that sort of shindig weren’t his cup of tea, but he’d given it a go. Not that there had been any point because he hadn’t even got one foot over the threshold. Literally.

  The silverback bouncer had obviously made his decision watching him come along the road, but had waited until he’d reached the door before, much to Joe’s utter humiliation, barring the way with his log-like arm.

  ‘No trainers in here, mate’, the guy had said, or rather shouted – just in case the group of gorgeous birds not far behind him hadn’t heard.

  Unable to sway the bouncer’s decision, Joe had no choice but to slope off rapidly, his cheeks redder than a hooker’s lipstick. Fucking poncey wine bars. Oh well, he hadn’t wanted to go in there anyway.

  Despite this setback, Joe dismissed the idea of the usual pubs for the second time and instead, grabbed some crisps and a four-pack of supermarket own lager from Tescos and sat on a bench to consume them. He’d done a good job of pretending he was having a good time and didn’t miss Alan and Dave’s friendship at all. That was until it started to bucket down and then he’d thrown the towel in and come home.

  Rolling a joint on the kitchen table, Joe swigged at another can of lager, ignoring his socks were soaked through. He’d probably end up with trench foot because of this, but at least Dave wasn’t ignoring him. So far.

  ‘Where’s Al?’ Joe asked. ‘Thought you two were out on the piss tonight?’ He kept the bitterness about his lack of invitation, along with the irritation that being as they hadn’t ended up going out, he could have gone to the usual boozers after all. If Dave was speaking to him right now, he didn’t want to rock the boat.

  Dave shrugged. ‘We were supposed to be going out. I went to grab some chips for us first, but when I got back, Alan wasn’t here. I must have only been gone about twenty minutes.’

  Joe frowned. ‘What time was this?’

  ‘Dunno. About eight?’

  A glimmer of fear hovered in Joe’s brain. ‘Erm, any calls or anything for me?’

  Dave shook his head. ‘Nope and I’ve been here all night, apart from the chips thing. Weren’t those nutters supposed to be returning tonight? I thought I saw them on the way back from the chippy, but it couldn’t have been because they were heading the opposite way.’

  Joe’s fear grew. ‘You saw them?’

  Dave accepted the joint Joe held out and took a deep drag. ‘Yeah, a few streets away in a car. It looked like them, anyway.’

  ‘Was anyone else with them?’

  ‘No, just the two of them, but it wasn’t them otherwise they’d be round here by now.’

  Relaxing, Joe lit his joint. Thank fuck for that. ‘It wasn’t tonight they were due back anyway,’ he lied.

  Getting up from the table, Dave ambled towards the fridge for another can. ‘I still can’t think where Alan’s got to.’

  ‘He’s probably with that Hairy Mary bird he pulled the other week. Perhaps she’s finished shaving her fucking beard and wanted to see him again,’ Joe winked and hearing Dave laugh, felt he’d now been forgiven.

  As the joint took effect, the beginnings of laughter bubbled at the back of Joe’s throat. Dave was cool with him, so it was a shame Alan was missing them getting on again. It just proved that Alan was the one being a big girl’s blouse about the situation. Dave wasn’t flapping around like an old woman, treating him like he’d got leprosy anymore, so when Alan returned from chucking his teddy out of the pram, he’d just have to accept he’d overreacted. If he still found everything so unpalatable, then maybe Alan should be the one to look for somewhere else to live?

  Forcing himself to his feet, Joe was about to suggest putting on some chillout music when there was an almighty bang from the direction of the front door.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ Dave cried. ‘It sounded like someone just booted the door!’

  Joe froze. It wasn’t those blokes again, was it? He couldn’t take that right now. He still hadn’t heard from Teagan and didn’t know what he could possibly say to fob those men off this time.

  Dave fidgeted. ‘What shall we do? What if it’s th...’

  ‘It’s won’t be them,’ Joe groaned. ‘If it was, they’d still be banging on the door. There was only one thump, so it’s probably the wheely bin falling over. You know what it’s been like since one of the wheels fell off.’

  Dave nodded, but didn’t look convinced. ‘We’d best go and look though, don’t you think?’

  Joe hesitated. He didn’t want to look. He was knackered and if he was honest, the small possibility that it was those gorillas lurking about outside was filtering, albeit slowly, into his half-stoned brain.

  ‘Come on,’ Dave insisted, pulling at Joe’s T-shirt. ‘I’m not going on my own just in case.’

  Joe begrudgingly got to his feet and followed Dave into the hallway. If it was those blokes, then it was irrelevant if both him and Dave fronted up to the door because neither of those brick shithouses would have any trouble getting past.

  At the front door, Dave hovered with his hand over the latch whilst Joe’s ears strained for movement or obvious sign of two six foot six bruisers standing on the other side, but all was silent.

  Joe turned on his heels, shaking his head in exasperation. ‘There’s no one there. For God’s sake, Dave, stop worrying!’ He wanted to finish his joint in peace. He’d left it propped in the ashtray and the last thing he wanted was it falling out and then having Alan on his back again when he returned to find there was a burn mark in his fair trade ethnic rug he’d bought from the market a couple of weeks ago.

  As Joe made his way back to the kitchen, horror froze him in his tracks hearing Dave make a strangulated screaming noise.

  ‘MAKE SURE YOU only have the one, Lena,’ Jonah said, as Lena swigged from a glass of white wine.

  Anger flickered behind Lena’s eyes before concealing it with a well-timed flutter of her false lashes. ‘It’s fine to have the occasional glass, babe,’ she purred. ‘The doctor said it’s beneficial to drink small amounts. Does me good and it won’t do the baby any harm.’ Especially being as there isn’t one.

  She’d had no choice but to have a glass on the go when Jonah had got back otherwise he’d smell the vodka she’d been drinking the best part of the afternoon. She’d snorted enough coke to liven her up so no traces of the spirit were visible behind her eyes, but she had to make sure the smell was masked. He’d go ape otherwise.

  ‘The doctor said that?’ Jonah’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘When did you go to the doctors?’

  Lena flapped his question away. ‘Oh, sometime last week... I don’t remember exactly...’ Shit. She needed to be more careful with what she said.

  ‘You didn’t mention anything.’

  Lena paused pensively. ‘Didn’t I? I thought I had. I went to arrange my first scan. Oh well, I must have forgotten to tell you.’

  Walking over to Jo
nah she made a big show of forcing her fingers into the waistband of the extra tight skirt she’d put on in readiness of his arrival. ‘God, my clothes are getting tight now, don’t you think?’

  Jonah glanced at Lena’s still perfectly flat stomach and shrugged. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘You could act interested! This is your baby, you know?’ Lena huffed.

  Jonah forced a smile and pulled Lena towards him, brushing a lock of her hair extension off her face. ‘I am, course I’m interested. It’s been a difficult day.’

  Lena pouted up at Jonah and pressed her breasts up against his chest. ‘I don’t expect it’s crossed your mind that I’ll need a new dress for our party next week? There’s only four days to go and I want to look my best. Especially with the press being there.’

  Jonah kept his smile fixed, even though it was becoming increasingly difficult. Yes, the engagement party. How could he forget? All he knew was that he wished he could bloody forget. Forget all of it. Sadly, that was no longer an option.

  ‘I’ll need to get my hair done too,’ she pushed, her fingers interlacing behind Jonah’s collar.

  Pulling out his wallet, Jonah peeled a wad of fifty pound notes out and tucked them down Lena’s cleavage. ‘There’s a couple of grand there. That should do you,’ he muttered, wondering how long it would take to untangle her from his neck.

  ‘A couple of grand? What about the shoes and handbag? I’ll need those too. You don’t want me to look like a tramp, do you babe?’

  Jonah felt like he was drowning. This engagement rubbish and the added stress Lena was causing at the club on top of this Dulcie Adams business was driving him up the wall. Plus, he was on edge waiting for a call from Nero. Two things were happening tonight: one – they were meeting with that guy to arrange access to Dulcie Adams’ house and two, putting a tail on that bloke that the Shepherd woman had been seen with.

  He’d already received one call to tell him they’d located the estate agents involved in the sale of the retirement home apartments and as all of the staff were due at a function later on this evening, Nero and Keith were going along after seeing the stoner lad. But both of these things should have all but finished by now and he wanted an update and all Lena could bang on about was poxy dresses?

  Pressing closer against Jonah, Lena palmed her taloned hand over his crotch hoping to elicit a response, but scowled as he gently moved her aside and walked over to the drinks cabinet.

  Her mouth twitched as he poured a large measure of whisky. ‘It’s alright for you to drink then? Just not me?’ Lena snapped sulkily.

  Jonah peered through hooded eyes, his irritation festering. ‘I’m not the one who’s pregnant.’

  Swallowing her retort, Lena sat in the big round armchair and crossed her long legs. She’d tap him for more cash later. ‘Being as I’m not allowed to enjoy myself anymore, why don’t you tell me what’s been so difficult about your day?’

  Not that she wanted to know. He never told her anything anyway and she didn’t much care, providing he kept the money flowing and treated her like a princess. ‘You’re not the only one that has to deal with stress at that club of yours.’

  She uncrossed her legs and inspected her long bright pink fingernails. ‘The people there have a real problem. They get uppity with everything I say and you need to do something about it now beca...’

  ‘I want to talk to you about that,’ Jonah interrupted. Now she’d raised it, this was a good a time as any.

  ‘Ah, so you’ve noticed it too? I knew you would. Those tarts have no right to think they can do what they like. I know more about how the club works than them and if they aren’t go...’

  ‘I don’t want you interfering with the club anymore. I’ve already had to tell you once, yet you’ve gone and done it again,’ Jonah said. Shrugging off his suit jacket, he chucked it across the back of the leather sofa and unbuttoning his collar, he pulled his tie loose.

  Lena blinked in confusion, sure she hadn’t heard correctly.

  ‘Did you hear what I said?’ Jonah asked, his tone neutral. He wouldn’t go at her aggressively. He’d be rational however much he wanted to shout. ‘I said, I don’t want you interfering with the club.’

  Lena’s eyes hardened. ‘What do you mean, you don’t want me interfering with the club?’ she screeched. ‘I’m about to become your wife and now you’re saying that for some reason I’m suddenly fucking banned from my husband-to-be’s club?’

  Jonah inwardly sighed at the immediate rise in the pitch of Lena’s voice. She wasn’t dealing with this well, just like he’d suspected. ‘If you’d listened, I said, I didn’t want you interfering at the club, not that you’re banned.’

  Lena jumped to her feet, hands on her hips. ‘And why’s that?’

  Jonah pursed his lips. ‘There’s no point getting over dramatic. You said yourself that you’re exhausted and getting involved with a gentlemen’s club isn’t the best thing for someone in your condition.’

  ‘In my condition?’ Lena screamed. ‘What, so pregnant women aren’t allowed, is that it? Or does that only apply to me? Am I even allowed to come to my own fucking engagement party?’

  ‘Be sensible!’ Jonah barked, getting irritated. He knew Lena would rile him and hey presto, she had.

  ‘You’re the one who needs to be sensible! It’s not me you should be worried about. People don’t want to watch fat birds on stage. I only told those two thick bitches that they were getting too lardy. Christ, they must be a size twelve! You shouldn’t have girls bigger than a size eight; ten, tops - and even that’s pushing it!’ Lena couldn’t help but rant. Those ugly dykes should have been long gone by now. At least one of them had shagged Jonah in the past and she was having no one hanging around who had history with him. She wasn’t having his attention diverted anywhere else but one hundred percent on her and her alone. Not now she was almost where she wanted to be.

  She stomped to the cabinet, ignoring Jonah’s glare as she poured herself another wine. ‘I’ve already got rid of those two once and somehow they’ve been reinstated,’ she raged. ‘I can’t imagine you’d be so stupid to do that, so I can only presume that old has-been, Gwen, took it upon herself to override us both.’

  Anger bristled and Jonah snatched the wine glass from Lena’s hand. ‘You’ve already had a drink!’ He slammed the glass down on the side. ‘I told Gwen to reinstate those girls. You had no right to sack them. It isn’t your call to interfere. Even if I hadn’t reinstated them, Gwen has the right to. She’s got the right to run the show as she sees fit. Unlike you.’

  Jonah paced around the other side of the room. ‘You’re pissing people off and I won’t have it. Not in my club. Do you understand?’

  ‘But I’m your fiancée,’ Lena whined, changing tactics. She couldn’t believe this. He was putting what that old bat thought before her? She’d been about to suggest that she take over from Gwen. That way she’d have plenty of time to weed out all of the girls who had ever pissed her off whilst also having plenty of opportunity to sneak drinks for as long as this baby crap continued.

  ‘Being my fiancée is irrelevant.’ The word ‘fiancée’ jammed in Jonah’s throat. ‘It’s purely business and you’re not good for it.’

  Lena almost choked. ‘You’re saying what we’ve got together is business?’ she screamed, forcing tears from her eyes. ‘I’m having your baby! We’re getting married in a few weeks and all of that is purely business?’

  Jonah felt sick. He didn’t want Lena getting upset and stressed out – that wasn’t good for the baby, but he couldn’t back down. The Feathers was his club and she would not ruin it. ‘I didn’t say that, did I? I said the decisions I make over the club are purely business, not you.’

  Unplacated, Lena glared at Jonah. ‘So, what is it with you fighting Gwen’s corner? You’ve always sided with that old witch. I’d do a much better job than her, not to mention looking a damn sight fucking better!’

  She fronted up to Jonah, her finger pointing into
his face. ‘Or is there more to it? Is that what you’re trying to say? Are you fucking that savage old bitch? Is that why she hates me so much?’

  Jonah felt like slapping the taste out of Lena’s mouth. ‘You need to watch what you’re fucking saying, Lena. I will not have you insulting Gwen.’

  ‘See? You’re doing it again!’ Lena spat, incandescent with rage and jealousy.

  When Jonah’s mobile rang, he stared at Lena with cold hard eyes before snatching up his phone. ‘I need to take this call. We’ll discuss this later,’ he spat, marching from the room.

  Launching the half-empty bottle of wine at the wall as the door closed behind Jonah, Lena slumped into the chair, shaking with rage. No, we won’t discuss this later, Jonah, she thought.

  He didn’t want her involved at the club? Well, she would see about that. This was all down to Gwen and her band of tarts. Being side-tracked in favour of them was not something she would put up with.

  Grabbing her phone, she smiled seeing a new text message had arrived.

  Twenty One

  JOE’S BRAIN SPAN both from worry and fear, as well as the remnants of the joint he’d smoked. Courtesy of the weed, his mouth was as dry as the bottom of a bird cage and his tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth.

  He was sure it was stuck so tightly that he wouldn’t be able to speak. Not that he wanted to. He was scared that if he opened his mouth, he’d utter something to cause even more problems than he’d already got - if that were possible. Although it didn’t seem feasible things could get any worse, he had the sinking suspicion that they could.

  If those men’s intention was getting a message through to him, then they’d succeeded. Although neither he, nor Dave had spoken out loud that what had happened to Alan was anything to do with those two men, they both knew it had to be. And Joe was more than shitting himself about that. He didn’t want what had happened to Alan, happening to him. Nor did he want to think what had happened to Alan was his fault.