‘But I was like, whatever, don’t bite the hand that feeds. So I left that place, - don’t get me wrong me and Barney we got on alright, we were pretty tight - but after a year of managing that place I thought: fuck this, I could do this…besides I was never gonna get rich managing someone else’s club, was I?
‘Well nothing ever happens by sitting on your arse, so I checked out a few venues and found that place near Brick Lane and thought: I’m gonna need a shitload of dosh to get this going, who the fuck is gonna give me that?’
‘You didn’t go to Barney, did you?’ I asked.
‘You must be joking, he’d chop your fingers off if you missed a repayment…honestly? I wanted to go legit, I was sick of seeing all the shit that went on in Barney’s place, I wanted out of all that bollocks, so I went to a bank, see what they said…so yadda yadda, blah, blah, blah…business plans here, patrons there, I managed to scrape it together and the rest, as they say, is history.’
‘So Barney comes in, and…?’
‘As I said,’ said Rich, ‘he comes in as were fitting the place out and wanted a piece of it, but I said I wanted to do my own thing and I learned loads off of him, he was a bit of a father figure, this was my baby and success or failure it would be my success, my failure – whatever I could think of, to get shot of him without offending him and getting my elbows shot off.’
‘So why’s he taking revenge, sounds like it was all pretty amicable?’
‘He came back a few months after I opened, and we were turning people away, you remember? It’s always like that with a new club in town. This time he was a bit more insistent.’
‘What, did he threaten you, did he have some heavies with him?’
Rich laughed, ‘don’t be soft, you’ve watched too much Eastenders – he was just very insistent, ‘cos I was raking it in, and his place - let me put it this way, it ain’t open any more – he has loads of little ventures here and there, he wasn’t short of a bob or two, that wasn’t the issue…I was on his patch, making a few quid and he wasn’t part of it – and I used to work for him – it looked bad, know what I mean?’
‘So, what’d he do then, break your windows, send some muscle round?’
Rich rolled his eyes, ‘course not, fuck’s sake,’ Rich pushed me a bit and shrugged, ‘but it freaked me out a bit, cause I could see how it looked and that’s why I bought the piece, I just got a bit spooked and…I should probably get rid of it, probably doesn’t work any more.’
I pointed at the door, ‘It does brother, It works fine.’ Rich laughed. I turned back to him, ‘where’d you get it anyway?’
‘Some bloke who comes into the club every now and again, wouldn’t think he was an arms dealer.’
‘Like a proper arms dealer? Missiles and shit?’
‘Think he specializes in small arms, but I’ll ask him to pick you up a Patriot missile next time he’s down the warehouse.’
‘So he just takes one out of a box and asks a for a few hundred quid?’
‘I dunno, I guess, he says it’s untraceable, got no marks or serial numbers on it.’
‘Suppose you should contact him again,’ I mused, ‘get some better firepower for the job.’
‘I’m not sure about that, I want to keep myself distanced from anyone who knows us, the old bill will put two and two together, no problem,’ said Rich.
‘Well, Rich, we need to contact someone, if not this guy then who? Barney?’
‘I guess,’ conceded Rich.
‘Rich, listen, if this thing happens…’ I paused and collected myself, ‘Rich, everything I say is always going to be in the borough of If, okay? If, If, If. I am working really hard to find a way out of this, so If is the magic word.’
‘Okay, I hear you…If’ said Rich, with a grin on his face.
‘If – remember that word, Rich, it’s important,’ Rich nodded enthusiastically. ‘If this thing happens, I’m not killing anyone…in fact, I’m not even gonna shoot at anyone.’
‘Shit Bro,’ said Rich, scratching his chin, ‘what are we, the A-Team? what happens if it all goes tits up?’
‘Well, then I throw my hands in the air and shout: it’s a fair cop, I’m a lover not a fighter.’ Rich turned back to the racing and didn’t say much for a while. I watched him watching the race and waited for him to speak.
‘Dan, if we rush into this bank with a bunch of guns and we’re not willing to use them…I dunno…what if someone in the back, a security guard, decides to be a hero? Tackle one of us, seize a gun, then what?’
‘We twat ‘em, pistol whip ‘em,’ I said. I looked at Rich, who was looking at me like I was a little mad. ‘What?’
‘Pistol whip ‘em? What’re you on about?’
‘You know, twat ‘em with your gun, like a mafia dude?’
‘Hmppff,’ grunted Rich without taking his eyes off of the cars.
I could see that Rich had a point, going into combat without the intent to hurt someone is pointless. I remember a day in school when I had a really good mate, a little red headed fella called Anthony Something-or-other – I can’t remember, and like a lot of school buddies he slipped through the net, went to a new school, moved away, something like that.
One day we were all playing a game of school-yard football, Sports bags for goal posts. You knew they were sports bags, because they had the word ‘sports’ written upon them. I was lurking around in defense, as ever. I was shite at football but it was customary to put the big lad in defense as if their stature makes up for their lack of soccer technique. Anthony was skipping down the pitch, the ball stuck to his foot as if by Velcro. I was doing my scuttling crab impersonation, each foot bouncing in the air alternately. He scoots by me by employing the feint, again. I try and justify my being picked (last) by scything him down in a truly career ending tackle which is compounded by the fact that school architects in the seventies had a predilection for building football pitches out of concrete or, imaginatively, tarmac. He went down in a graze causing way, did a couple of A-Team rolls and then was on his feet straight away.
He came at me and pushed but I just stumbled backwards a bit, already feeling a bit bad for crunching him. Everyone started to form the ring because every kid wants to see a good fight and I’d (almost) become a teacher for that reason alone. Bare knuckle fighting? For free? Whilst sipping tea in a warm staff room? I say, sign me up.
He was obviously right fucked off, you would be, wouldn’t you? He kept on saying, ‘come on then! Come on then!’ But, he was my mate and I was bigger than him and a better fighter as well, I had some form and the school hardness hierarchy was well established with me easily in the premier league, he would have stood no chance. But he kept going at it, swung a punch which caught me on the shoulder and the crowd were getting a bit restless with a few shouts of ‘come on Collins, ‘ave ‘im!’ I had a reputation to keep and they knew it, if I backed down against this little whipper-snapper, well, my position on hard hill was up for grabs, every little wannabe would have a go, until I had established my credentials again.
So, I swung a punch back – not hard – and caught him on the shoulder. This seemed to rile him a little bit more and he went nuts. He came at me like a game of doubles swing-ball and momentarily I was taken aback and he connected a few blows, nothing serious, but enough to make me have to – for reputations sake – react.
I gave him a couple of rabbit punches, winded him with a low haymaker and a quick left to the ribs and grabbed him in a headlock and forced him to the ground. I started punching him in the shoulder, but because of the angle it must have looked like I was giving him a right pasting, but I was all the time saying through clenched teeth, ‘I don’t want to fight you Ant, I’m sorry, it was a shit tackle.’
Just then Mr Whelen, the P.E Teacher, came through the throng like horn-rimmed battle-cruiser and pulled us both upright and then pulled us apart like a bunch of bananas. My heart wasn’t in it, I never wanted to fight but I still had to lay down a bit of pain to get throug
h that situation. Ant and I made up, of course, but that was a schoolyard fight, what was I going to do when I was holding a gun was anybody’s guess…shoot them in the leg?
‘Okay, Rich, I’m gonna maybe revise my strategy, but I’ll think of something,’ Rich shrugged. ‘So, this dude with the guns, how am 1 going to meet him?’
‘I’ll set something up, don’t worry.’
‘How much do guns cost?’
‘Depends on which ones you want.’
‘I dunno, I only know the guns from Unreal…can you buy miniguns?’ Rich looked at me and shook his head. ‘I guess shotguns. Simple, wide angle of fire easy to buy ammunition. Think you can buy ammo in Harrods.’
‘Okay,’ said Rich.
‘What do you think, Rich? Do you want slow rate of fire, but you can’t miss or high rate of fire, but wildly inaccurate?’ Rich looked at miss sideways.
‘You’re not taking this very seriously,’ said Rich.
‘Of course I am, but I don’t know anything about guns.’
‘Neither do I.’
‘Yes you do, you own one.’
‘Cheap shot,’ said Rich.
‘Cheap gag,’ I replied. Rich sighed.
‘Okay, I’ll set up a meet with my contact, I don’t know anyone else.’
‘Does he know Barney?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rich , turning to me, ‘I don’t think so, but he might.’
‘Wait a fuckin’ minute…you called Barney, you were the one who phoned him.’ It suddenly dawned on me. ‘Why the fuck did you call him when you knew you’d fucked him over before and that he was always going to be looking for a way to fuck you back?’ I turned to Rich, jabbing my finger at him. ‘This is your fuckin’ fault, when it comes down to it, if you hadn’t phoned your bloody gangster mate…’ I stood up and started pacing the room.
‘Wait a minute, bro,’ said Rich, getting up.
‘Don’t give me ‘bro’, you fuckin’ shyster – I can’t believe I forgot that. You phoned that fucker and now he’s fuckin’ us over because you stuck our heads on the pavement and now he’s kicking them!’
‘Dan…’
‘Didn’t you see this coming?’ I shouted.
‘Dan…’ I pushed him and he flumped back on the sofa.
‘Why the hell did you phone him Rich, after all you’ve told me? Why?’ I was panting a bit, I had my hands on my hips and my forehead hurt from being creased in anger.
‘Because...because I saw it as a way…,’ Rich scratched his chin, ‘I just wanted to get him off my back, he was like a monkey on my back and I just wanted to get rid of him.’
‘Why? I just don’t understand this, it doesn’t make sense.’
‘Look, I saw this as a way to appease Barney, make him alright again. ‘
‘The fact is you told someone you knew – you knew – was a class A fuckin’ psycho about something that you also knew would be used against you – and me – as a form of…form of…what?’
Rich just sat there looking at his hands.
‘Revenge? What is he taking revenge for?’ Rich opened his mouth, then shut it like a big koi carp. ‘Rich, you’re starting to freak me out – did you borrow money off of him?’ I studied his face, he looked at his hands - just for a mili, nano, micro second - and then began to answer.
‘I –‘ started Rich
‘You did.’
‘If you’ll let me finish,’ said Rich. I raised my eyebrows. ‘I didn’t borrow any money off of him. As I said before, I got the start up money legitimately.’
‘Oh yeah, from where? A bank? Which one?’
‘It’s an investment back in the city, you wouldn’t know it.’
‘Try me, I know loads of banks.’ He looked to the heavens. ‘I know loads of banks that will lend you money - on the back of zero business experience, I might add, let’s not forget that.’
‘The club does really well, don’t go starting that I’m a shit at business.’
‘I didn’t, but the bank at the time didn’t know that. Also, you bought the place in an auction.’
‘So?’
‘So, you need the money within, what? Twenty-eight days? Thirty days?’
‘Twenty-eight, but I had already borrowed the money hadn’t I?’
‘From where though, Rich, from where?’
‘I’ve said.’
‘No you haven’t, name the bank.’ I sat down and lit a cigarette.
‘Contance…Cont,’ Rich put his head in his hands, ‘okay, busted.’
I shook my head and looked away.
‘Dan?’ I looked back at him. His eyes were wet, he wasn’t crying, but he wasn’t far away.
‘Jesus, Rich, tell me how bad?’ I tapped my cigarette and looked at him. ‘We’re a right fuckin’ mess we are, aren’t we?’
‘It’s a lot, a fuck of a lot.’ He rubbed his face and then his eyes. ‘I need a drink. You? God, I’m drinking too much at the moment…’
‘No…actually, yes, hell yes.’ Rich walked off to the kitchen, I heard him opening cupboards and doors.
‘Dan?’ He shouted from the kitchen.
‘No, I don’t know which one is any good and I don’t know where the cork screw is either.’ Rich came in a couple of moments later.
‘Don’t worry I found beer.’ I took a gulp of beer.
‘Okay, I’m going to summarize, is that okay?’ I asked.
‘Go for it.’
‘You owe Barney a van load of money, who cares how much, but a lot, more than you have?’
‘Sounds about right,’ mumbled Rich.
‘So, your simple minded brother turns up one night with a gift horse and you think; my ship has come in, it is on the horizon and it’s the QE2, the Bounty. Stop me if I mess up here?’
‘I will.’
‘So I tell you this is like taking candy off a baby, and so you figure that if you drop this one into Barney’s lap he’s be made up because you’ve given him a sure thing, minimal risk,’ I paused and took another hit of beer, ‘but Barney, Barney is like: fuck him, he missed a payment, in fact he’s behind. Actually, if I’m honest with myself, says Barney, Rich Collins is in deep shit, and he’s a nice bloke and everything, but I was going to get Goodfellas on his arse anyway just because, hey, it’s my job.
‘But, no, get these two idiots to do it, if they go down, well, who cares? They’ll get shanked in Scrubs, so problem solved. Or…if they get away with it then I get paid tenfold and everyone’s happy, and it re-enforces my rep as a player. Win-win situation.’
‘Sounds about right,’ said Rich nodding.
‘You had to tell Barney, didn’t you, just for some breathing space?’
‘I didn’t have any options, none, I’m flying on vapors, business wise, at the moment,’ Rich lit a cigarette, shaking his head. “I thought I could trust him, I thought…I thought I had so much on him, I’d worked with him on so many things – I’d heard so many stories that I thought, I have his confidence, he was like a father figure – ‘
‘Ha,’ I coughed a laugh.
‘Honestly, seriously, he taught me stuff about running clubs…’ Rich looked at me and shook his cigarette, ‘I could never have done it without him, never, I wouldn’t of had a Scooby doo. What would our old man said? Work ‘ard son, put in the hours, you’ll get there in the end…maybe he was right.’
‘Yeah, he hardest working accounts clerk in the world’
‘But Dad’s gone and Barney was there… I just thought that he’d treat me right, sort me out, I only borrowed enough to buy the lease and stock the bar,’ said Rich.
‘Couldn’t you just sell up, right it off as a bad investment?’
‘The club is worth ten – shit, twenty – times what I borrowed off of Barney, but the interest he charged me is off the scale. I went to him and said, Barney, is this some kind of joke? And he was like, this isn’t a fuckin’ joke son, this is business and I said that I’d worked with him for years and I thought he’d treat me right and h
e was just like, well, you’ve learnt a hard fuckin’ lesson then, ‘aven’t you son? Don’t trust fuckin’ nobody’
‘What a wanker,’ I said.
‘So I said, well you trust me don’t you? And he’s like, what the fuck’s that supposed to mean? And I said, you know what it fuckin’ means and he came right up to me,’ Rich put his palm right up against his nose,’ and says, if I ever catch you even thinking stupid thoughts again I’ll smash your fuckin’ teeth out with a hammer, you cunt’
I looked at Rich, he looked at me. ‘Blimey,’ I said.
‘Yeah, it was pretty heavy,’ said Rich. We sat there in thought as the Grand Prix reached it’s agonizing conclusion. Rich was in up to his ears, I didn’t see that coming. What a bloody week.
My brain was starting to inexorably turn, like a gargantuan supertanker, towards the idea that whatever way we flipped this bird, she was always going to end tits up. We now had to do this and we had to stop pissing about like a couple of old women and get this thing in motion. We needed guns, blokes willing to use them, a plan, a back up plan and an extra pairs of pants.
CHAPTER 7
‘Mr Collins?’
‘Mick, how’s things?’ Mick stood there in his usual attire, cap held between his hands, pair of trousers (why elder Irish builders haven’t embraced the concept of jeans, I’ll never know) and plaster splattered steel toecaps.
‘Not too bad, Mr Collins.’ I stood there with the door open, what was he, a vampire?
‘Do you want to come in, Mick?’
‘Right,’ Mick walked in and peered around, ‘this is a beautiful place, Mr Collins.’
‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘ do you want a cup of tea?’
‘That’d be lovely, Mr Collins.’ I Strode off towards the kitchen to make the tea, Mick followed and stood in the kitchen gawping at all the aluminum and polished copper saucepans. He knocked on one of the kitchen cupboards, ‘this is good stuff, costs a few bob.’ It was Formica, but Mick was doing the builders version of tyre-kicking and I didn’t want to piss on his rose bushes.
Insecure Page 9