by Jacqui Rose
For the clients’ benefit, Franny kept a wide smile on her face whilst hissing a whisper. ‘For God’s sake, just sit up, Alf. You look a mess. This isn’t the time or the place.’ Half-cut, Alfie stared up at Franny. He winked at her. It always surprised him that even when she was angry she looked beautiful. In truth, she looked even more beautiful when she was annoyed, which didn’t mean to say she pissed him off any the less. In fact, it just added to his irritation.
‘Oh, that’s nice, ain’t it? No hello, no kiss, just straight in chewing me ear off.’
‘I wouldn’t have to if you carried yourself properly.’
Alfie shook his head. ‘Jesus, Fran, leave it out. All I’m doing is having a drink in my own club. No more, no less. It’s not a crime.’
Still holding her smile as she seethed, which she knew was more to do with her encounter with Vaughn, than Alfie, Franny snapped, ‘Like I say, you look a state, and you’re embarrassing yourself. Having the girls fall over you isn’t the way to run a place, not this kind of place anyway. And before you ask, Alf, I’m not jealous – far from it. This is about business and this business is supposed to be a classy joint. Now I get that something’s going on with you, but don’t bring that something to work.’
‘Cometh the ice maiden.’
‘Grow up, Alfie!’
With Franny’s arrival acting like a bucket of cold water, Alfie sat up, glaring, his blue eyes piercing from underneath his fringe of thick black hair. ‘Listen to me, if you only came down here to give me grief, why don’t you just turn your pretty backside around and go home. I can do without another lecture.’
Franny sighed, her voice softening as she touched his hand gently. ‘If you must know, I came here to see if you were all right. I was worried. You haven’t been yourself. Look what you did earlier. I just want to know what’s happening … Come on, talk to me, Alf.’
Alfie stayed silent for a moment before shrugging, trying to dispel his gnawing unease.
‘I’m fine. How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Alf, it’s me you’re talking to. There’s something going on, I know there is. You’re distant. I can feel you pushing me away.’
Alfie looked at her evenly. ‘You think this is about Bree and you, don’t you?’
Franny bristled, her voice tight. ‘What … what are you talking about?’
Gently, Alfie took her hands. ‘I’m talking about you. You think I still miss her. That I’m still in love with her, don’t you?’
A flicker of relief crossed Franny’s face and more relaxed she said, ‘I don’t know – are you?’
‘No, and you know why?’ Franny shook her head but let Alfie continue to talk. ‘Because why would I want to waste my time on someone who didn’t love me back? I mean, she can’t have cared. She can’t have given a damn about me if she just dropped me the way she did. Going off like that without even a goodbye. I don’t know what I was thinking getting together with her in the first place.’
Seeming slightly distracted as if wanting to get on with what she had to do, Franny said, ‘You were hurt, Alfie. I understand. You thought I’d left you. It’s as simple as that.’
Alfie shook his head, genuine warmth and regret in his tone. ‘No, I was wrong, Fran. I’m surprised you don’t hate me. I put you through shit and hurt you badly, yet it’s not Bree sitting here, is it? It’s you … And I know this sounds bad, but it’s a good job that the pregnancy didn’t work out, otherwise if the baby had turned out to be mine, I’d have been lumbered with Bree for the rest of my life.’
‘Exactly, and I’m not holding any grudges, Alf. Bree is in the past now. She’s forgotten. What’s done is done. We don’t have to mention her again.’ Franny squeezed his hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek, indicating that the topic of conversation was now closed.
With the cocaine in his system making him flick from one mood to another, Alfie growled as he pulled away from Franny, snatching hold of the glass of whiskey on the rocks in front of him. He raised it.
‘Well let’s drink to that. Good riddance to her, that’s all I can say. I had a lucky escape from that bitch …’ Alfie paused, his demeanour once again changing as he thought about the letters. ‘But the point is, Fran, what’s going on with me, it isn’t about her. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. You know, making a go of this place, all the long hours, it catches up on a person. I’m not as young as I use to be.’
Seeing an opportunity, Franny stared at Alfie. ‘That’s why you should get away. Take a break. Go back to Spain. We could even open another club out there. You were happier when we were living out there. Think about it, Alf, it could work out great.’
‘You’re keen on getting rid of him all of a sudden. That’s all I seem to hear these days. If you ask me, it seems a bit odd.’
For the second time that evening, Franny jumped as she turned around to see Vaughn again, and like before he stared at her coldly.
With Vaughn making her feel paranoid, Franny hissed, ‘Well I didn’t ask you, and it’s not about being keen, Vaughn, or about it being odd. It’s about what’s best for Alfie, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s not himself at the moment. If you want to see something else in that, be my guest, but let me tell you something, you’re wasting your time.’ She turned back to Alfie. ‘Look, Alf, I’ll see you later.’
Franny began to walk away through the crowd of noisy, milling people, but she stopped in her tracks as Vaughn caught up with her, speaking out of earshot of Alfie. ‘Where are you going, Fran?’
Slowly, Franny turned on her heel to stare back at Vaughn who stood inches away, his muscular body rigid with anger.
‘What?’
‘You heard me, where are you off to?’
Franny’s expression spoke hatred. ‘You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you, Vaughnie? What’s your problem?’
‘Just answer the question, Fran. It’s not that hard.’
Expert at keeping her temper even, Franny’s voice was devoid of emotion. ‘I’m going home. It’s been a long day. Happy now?’
‘Home? Are you sure about that?’
Snorting with derision, Franny shook her head. ‘Whatever it is you’ve got to say, just say it.’
Giving a cloying smile, his handsome face twisted with a hatred that matched Franny’s, he leant forward to whisper in her ear. ‘Oh, I will, when the time’s right, that is. When I’ve worked out what exactly it is you’re up to.’
Franny laughed scornfully, and then said above the music, ‘You’ve clearly got too much time on your hands, Vaughn, or maybe you just need to go and get laid. Now if that’s all, I’m going home.’
‘Not quite all … Tomorrow I think you and me should go over the club’s accounts and then you could explain to me why there’s a lot of unaccounted money going out of the business.’ Franny didn’t turn to acknowledge Vaughn’s words; she continued to walk straight out the door.
Outside in the street, Franny leant on the black, wrought-iron railings, welcoming the cool. Shaking, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the beginning of a tension headache. There was no way she could meet Vaughn and go over the books because he would want answers, and she had none to give him. The last thing she could do was tell him why she’d been taking money out of the business without telling either him or Alfie. But she knew Vaughn well enough to know he wouldn’t back down, and very soon he’d cause her real trouble, which was one thing she couldn’t afford to happen. So she had to work out what she was going to do about Vaughn. One way or another she was going to have to stop him.
After taking a couple of minutes to compose herself, Franny pulled out her phone and dialled a number. It was answered after only two rings.
‘Hi, it’s me … Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so angry, it’s just that you know you shouldn’t call me on this number; anyone could’ve picked up, and things are becoming really difficult. I think Vaughn’s on to me … Anyway, I’m coming now, okay? See you so
on.’
As Franny pushed down her sense of guilt, she slipped the phone back in her pocket, hurrying along Sutton Row, not noticing Charlie Eton and his men striding towards the club.
4
Charlie smiled as he held a small machete in his hand. ‘So, come on then, ladies and gentlemen, who’s first?’ He tapped the weapon in his palm as he nodded to one of his men to lock the door. Terrified by the intrusion, the club girls and clients began to scream, running in panic towards the fire exit, but their way was soon blocked by a handful of Charlie’s men, who herded them into the corner like sheep.
Having just come back from the bathroom located at the back of the club, it took Alfie a few moments to realise what was happening. Directly, he jumped into action, catching a glimpse of Vaughn smashing a bottle into the face of one of the intruders on the far side of the room.
About to go and help, Alfie felt a hard punch to his head, which had him spinning round to come face-to-face with a short, Mediterranean-looking man, holding a large knife. Undeterred, Alfie grabbed the chair next to him. He swung it round, hitting and opening the side of the man’s face who cried out in agony, but spurred on from the pain, the man, now covered in his own blood, threw his weight on top of Alfie, sending them both crashing to the floor.
Quickly, Alfie scrabbled along the polished floor on his knees, lunging forward to grab the man’s neck and twisting him round in a headlock. He forced his fingers into the man’s eyes until he heard the squelching of flesh. Panting, he shoved the man away and watched for a moment as he squirmed about on the floor in agony. Then Alfie barked, ‘You prick – who sent you? You think you can come into my club and try to scare off my punters? I’ll show you.’ Raising his fist ready to finish off the job, Alfie froze as a piercing scream filled the air. He turned and was shocked to see Charlie Eton – who he hadn’t realised was behind this until that very moment – standing and grinning as he held his machete against the neck of one of the girls.
Seeing the expression on everyone’s faces, Charlie filled the room with a wheezing laughter. ‘At least now I’ve got everyone’s attention …’ He stopped as he noticed Alfie on the far side of the club. ‘Hello there, Alf, good to see you. I thought for a moment I’d miss you …’ Charlie sniffed then drew the machete slowly down the woman’s chest.
‘Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I must say, Alf, you know how to pick your women.’
Alfie stood up, eyes firmly fixed on Charlie who walked slowly towards him. Alfie was aware that Vaughn, as well as the other men who worked for him, had been blindsided by Charlie’s attack.
‘Leave her alone, Charlie. I don’t know what this is about, but I do know your beef isn’t with her.’
Charlie Eton grinned again, his fat cheeks folding up in layers. ‘You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to cop a feel.’ Still holding the machete in one hand, Charlie’s other hand went under the woman’s skirt and between her legs. She shuddered in disgust, tears beginning to roll down her face as Charlie’s lardy fingers pulled and grabbed at her knickers.
Sliding his fingers inside her, a lecherous smirk on his face, he groaned in pleasure.
‘Mmmmm, that’s right baby, big daddy’s here. Does that feel good, sweetheart?’
Alfie’s face screwed up in rage. ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, let her go! Whatever it is you want, I’ll give it you. Just name it.’
‘Now that is a big promise, Alfie.’
Alfie, feeling desperate but trying to sound calm, said, ‘Please, Charlie. I’m begging you, just leave her alone. Come on, mate, what do you say?’ Getting no response, Alfie brought down his voice to a warm murmur. ‘Charlie. Charlie, for me … just let her go … as a favour, to me … you know what I’m talking about.’
A tiny flicker of acknowledgement passed over Charlie’s face for the briefest moment before it disappeared again. He considered the girl for a second, sneering, then pushed her forcefully aside, sending her flying into the bar and causing her to hit her head on the sharp corner.
Ignoring the blood now pouring from the girl’s head, Charlie stared hard at Alfie. A small vein pulsated on his temples. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that you’re getting soft and maybe that’s why you think it’s okay to run this club right underneath my nose. You know me, I don’t like anyone taking away my business, so I thought I’d come and pay you a visit. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Alf?’
In the silence of the club, Alfie, feeling the pressure beginning to mount and knowing he had to play the game before someone got really hurt, walked behind the bar, his eyes still on Charlie, and grabbed a whiskey bottle off one of the silver shelves.
He unscrewed the top and poured a large measure into one of the glasses before walking back across to Charlie, offering him the drink as he struggled to control his trembling hands. ‘What are you on about? I’m not taking your business. We haven’t got the same clientele, and we certainly haven’t got the same kind of girls as you. I’d say yours were rather specialised, wouldn’t you?’
Knocking the whiskey back in one, Charlie winced as the burn of the drink reached the back of his throat. ‘You must be doing well if you can serve this stuff, which goes back to my point really. There isn’t room for two of us. Times are hard, it’s not like it used to be, so the way I see it is, I was here first.’
Fighting his sense of alarm, Alfie tried to play it down. ‘Come off it, Charlie.’
Charlie narrowed his eyes, giving Alfie a cold stare. ‘No, you come off it. You and I go back a long way, Alf, and that means something, so I’m going to do something I wouldn’t normally do; I’m going to give you a choice. You either shut this place down … or you work for me.’
Amazed, and knowing this was the last thing he needed to deal with, Alfie cut in. ‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Glancing around, Charlie smiled. ‘If you let me finish, Alf, then you might understand. The fact is that even I can see it’d be a shame to see this place closed down. I mean it’s got a bit of class; you and Vaughnie have done a good job with it. So, I reckon – and this is only because I like you, Alf – that if you kept this place open and do what you gentlemen do best, then we could split the profits, say seventy-thirty to me, then everyone’s laughing. Well, I will be anyway.’
Alfie spoke bitterly through gritted teeth, his head beginning to pound. ‘You’re having a bubble. I would never give you a penny.’
Straight-faced, Charlie lowered his voice, his tone toxic. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’m afraid, Alf, whether you like it or not, you’ve got a decision to make … Let me know as soon as possible what you decide. The offer won’t be on the table for long.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘You’ve known me long enough to realise that wouldn’t be a good idea.’ Then without warning, Charlie purposefully dropped the empty glass he was holding onto the floor, shattering it into tiny fragments before inexplicably leaning forward to give Alfie a kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s good to see you, Alf, it really is. Next time we shouldn’t leave it so long.’ And with that Charlie turned and left, and as Alfie watched, stressed and tense, his mind wandered to the anonymous letters and a shadow of fear crossed his face.
Five minutes later, Alfie was running down Frith Street, pushing past a large crowd of Chinese tourists who were busily taking photos of the outside of Ronnie Scott’s jazz club with their iPhones.
Catching up to Charlie’s leisurely stroll, Alfie breathlessly blurted out his words. ‘Charlie, hold up. Wait! I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
Surrounded by his men, and looking surprised, Charlie turned around, beads of sweat pricking at his forehead, his overweight body heaving from the exertion.
‘I’ve already told you what the deal is, Alf, it’s non-negotiable. I’m not going to change my mind, but of course if you’ve already made a decision and you know what’s good for you, then I’m all ears.’
Turning pale, Alf
ie shook his head. ‘It’s not about that.’
Charlie shrugged his shoulders, the weight of his body making it look like a strain. ‘Then what?’
Glancing at Charlie’s men, Alfie stepped closer in, not wanting anyone but Charlie to hear. He spoke in what was almost a whisper. ‘Have you got them? Have you got them as well?’
Unable to fully turn his head to look at Alfie due to how close he was, Charlie, clearly curious whispered back, ‘Got what, Alf?’
‘You know: Have you got them?’
There was a long pause from Charlie before he said, ‘Are you asking what I think you’re asking? You want some young, fresh meat?’
Charlie’s words were like an electric shock to Alfie. He jumped back, staring at him in horror. ‘Jesus Christ, no! Who do you think I am? You know I’m not into that shit.’
Chuckling, Charlie spoke leeringly as he licked his lips. ‘Things change. People change. Tastes change.’
Wiping his face almost as if he could wipe the strain away, Alfie snapped, ‘Well not my tastes, and certainly not for that.’
Stepping back to let a kid on a bicycle go past, Charlie laughed, though his expression showed interest. ‘Then what are you talking about?’
‘I just … I just …’ With his hands in his jacket pockets, Alfie stopped, nervously curling his fingers around one of the anonymous letters he’d received last week. ‘I just … well I just wanted to know if you’d got them as well. If he’d sent …’
‘Got what, Alf? Sent what? For God’s sake, you aren’t making any sense.’
Retreating and feeling overwhelmed, Alfie, unable to bring himself to say what he wanted to, shook his head. ‘You know what, it doesn’t matter.’
Charlie stared at Alfie as he backed away. ‘Are you okay? You don’t look so good. In fact, mate, you look terrible.’