Disobey

by Jacqui Rose

  Casey held the glass to her lips. She didn’t say anything, and for a moment held eyes with Alfie, before knocking back the whiskey.

  An hour and a half later, Alfie had decided not to open the club. Instead he sat at the bar silently watching as Casey became loud and brash. Her beautiful eyes were glazed and her speech was slurred as she recounted a hotchpotch account of her life for the second time.

  Never a particularly patient man and having never really approved of a woman being drunk, Alfie was beginning to lose patience.

  ‘So that’s when I met Vaughn … do you remember, it was in here, or I think it was. Or was it in Lola’s café? Can you remember, Alf? Oh no, it was …’

  Alfie interrupted abruptly. ‘Enough Cass! Fuck me, you’ve been chewing me ears off for a couple of hours, and to tell you the truth, darlin’, I’ve never liked women’s chatter. I certainly don’t like it when they’ve got a drink inside them. So do us a favour and keep it shut. Better still, go and clean yourself up.’

  Casey’s eyes filled with tears, giving cause for Alfie to roll his. A drunk emotional bird was not what he needed.

  ‘Alfie … Please, you don’t understand, me and Vaughn, well I … I … oh Christ, I think I’m going to be sick.’

  Alfie ran round to Casey, dragging her up from the chair. ‘Not in here you’re not. Swallow it down until I get you into the ladies for fuck’s sake.’

  Casey draped her arms around Alfie’s neck. He turned his head, pulling a face as she spoke, the stench of alcohol overpowering. ‘I love you, Alfred Jennings.’

  ‘You don’t and it’s Alfie not Alfred and you stink.’

  The drunken howl from Casey blasted into Alfie’s ear. ‘I don’t stink! I don’t.’

  ‘Alright darlin’, keep it down. Let’s get you into the bathroom.’

  Alfie had only managed to get halfway across the dance floor when he heard a voice behind him. One that he knew, and one that he could certainly do without hearing.

  ‘What the fuck is going on here?’

  Slowly, with Casey still draped around him, Alfie turned round. Standing by the bar was Vaughn.

  Always one to try to play things down, Alfie chirpily greeted Vaughn. ‘Alright, mate.’ He paused as Del Williams and Frankie Taylor walked into the club. Shit.

  ‘Well, what have I done to deserve this pleasure?’

  Del piped up. ‘Oh, plenty.’

  Panic began to rise in Alfie but he was long experienced not to show it. ‘Listen guys, why don’t we all sit down and have a drink.’ He held his smile but it didn’t go unnoticed that Vaughn hadn’t said anything, instead continuing to stare on in horror.

  Alfie decided that ignoring the fact he had Casey clinging onto his neck in a semi-conscious stupor was maybe the best ploy. ‘So gentlemen, like I say, just help yourself. It’s all on me. I haven’t bothered to open up tonight, what with everything going on. I thought it was best because of the way things were.’

  ‘Have you heard about Frankie’s club?’ Del spoke, also feeling uncomfortable at the sight of Casey in front of him. It was embarrassing, but seeing as everyone else was choosing to ignore the fact that Vaughn’s missus was sprawled across Alfie, he didn’t think it was his place to say anything either.

  Alfie looked puzzled. ‘No. What happened? I’ve been here most of the time.’

  Del narrowed his eyes. ‘What? You didn’t see or hear anything?’

  ‘Nope.’

  ‘Well it’s been scorched. Blew up like a fucking petrol can.’

  Alfie paled, feeling the weight of Casey on his neck. Before he managed to say anything, Vaughn broke from his trance, yelling loudly.

  ‘Are you all taking the fucking piss? Ain’t your eyes working?’

  The men put their heads down and said nothing as Vaughn continued to rant, walking forward to confront Alf. ‘What’s your game, Alfie? What have you done to her? What is it, hey? You can’t have her in the normal way so you have to drug her up?’

  ‘Hey Vaughnie, you’ve got it all wrong.’

  ‘Don’t fucking Vaughnie me. What have you given her? Come on …’

  Alfie encouraged Casey to sit down on the nearest chair which she did unsteadily, enabling him to square up to Vaughn.

  ‘I’d stop right there if I were you, mate. I’ve done fuck all to Cass.’

  Vaughn’s face reddened with anger. ‘No? Then tell me why she looks like a crack head on a bad day?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because she came looking for a drink like she was a camel in a desert. Begging me, fucking begging me she was, to give her some booze. What didn’t she tell you? Seems strange that she couldn’t come to you; says something when your missus has to come to me.’

  ‘Shut up Alf, what yer doing, mate? You looking for an early grave, son? ’Cos spiking me missus with fuck knows what is sure going to get you there.’

  Alfie’s face was scornful. ‘Look at yer, Vaughn; you’re embarrassing yourself in front of everyone. You look a right mug. Think about it. Why would Casey be here if she didn’t come on her own accord? Are you saying I kidnapped her and brought her here? Do me a favour. Face it, your missus would rather come and booze with me than be with you.’

  The words were like a shockwave going through Vaughn’s body. He leapt forward, grabbing hold of Alfie’s collar. With a swift flick of his head, he headbutted Alfie, splitting open his skin just above his eyes. Blood spurted out, covering Vaughn with a splash of red before he began to grapple Alfie.

  Adrenaline rushed round Alfie’s veins; he pushed Vaughn hard, giving him no chance to attack back. Expertly he brought down his elbow; grinding it down. Ignoring the blood dripping down his forehead which blurred his vision, Alfie smashed the glass sitting on the table.

  With the jagged edge of the glass, Alfie prepared to slam it into Vaughn’s mouth but he felt his arm being pulled back.

  ‘Give it up Alf!’ Del bellowed as he yanked Alfie off Vaughn.

  ‘Get the fuck off me!… Get off me!’

  Del snarled as Vaughn stood back up, wiping his face. ‘This is going to be the last of your worries when we’ve finished with you.’

  Alfie spat his words at Del. ‘Ain’t that nice, Vaughn’s got his Flower Pot Men to fight his battles.’

  The blow to Alfie’s stomach winded him, and for a minute he couldn’t get his breath as the sharp splintering pain gripped hold of his body. Eventually he managed to stand up and faced the three men.

  ‘What is this, guys?’

  ‘It would be easier all round if you stopped the games, Alf. We know what you’ve been up to.’

  Alfie feigned innocence. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. It might be okay in your book for you lot to come round here talking shit, but it ain’t okay in my book.’

  Vaughn stood nose to nose with Alfie. ‘Give it up. I’ve known you for too long not to know when you’re spewing bullshit. Ain’t worth lying to us.’

  ‘Fuck me, it ain’t the Flower Pot Men, it’s the Three Stooges. Whatever you guys have got blown up your ass, you’re barking up the wrong tree.’

  Del spoke again. ‘Alf! Alf! Give it up. We know, pal. We know what you’ve been up to with the casino and breaking the rules between the triads and us.’

  ‘Well then you know more than me.’

  The backhand from Del drew hard across Alfie’s face, busting both top and bottom lip. His expression was hard and steely as he glared at Alfie, his tone low. ‘This isn’t a joke, Alf. You’ve fucked up here; big time. You’ve brought more shit to Soho than an elephant in a circus.’

  ‘Fuck you!’ Alfie, defiant as ever, stood firm as Del continued.

  ‘You must know why we’re here. Alf, you know you can’t disobey the rules and get away with it. You’ve brought carnage into Soho, and for what? A few shillings. You also know what happens when you betray those close to you.’

  For the first time, Alfie genuinely felt uneasy. His voice gave away his anxiety as it wavered. ‘What … what are you
going to do?’

  Del pulled out a gun from his jacket pocket. He pulled back the trigger. ‘It’ll be over in a minute.’

  Forgotten for a moment by the others, Casey, who was sobering up and aware of what was happening stood up, albeit slightly shakily. ‘Have you lost your mind, Del? You can’t go round just shooting people because you feel like it.’

  Vaughn cut Casey a stare. His voice was solidified with anger. ‘Stay out of it Casey! I’ll deal with you later.’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘You heard. Don’t embarrass yourself or me. There’s a conversation to be had about what the fuck you were doing here, but for now, get out of here.’

  Casey Edwards, like a lot of the women in Soho, was strong and fiery and objected to being ordered about, especially when it was from Vaughn.

  ‘Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not one of your men.’

  ‘No, because they wouldn’t act like a slut.’

  Casey slapped Vaughn across his face, hard.

  ‘Whatever your problem is, that is the last time you speak to me like that.’

  Del spoke to Vaughn sympathetically. ‘I’ll give you a minute.’ He moved away, but spoke to Alfie as he did so. ‘But you. You stay where you are.’

  Vaughn grabbed hold of Casey’s arm, shaking her with enough strength for her head to jerk forward. His voice was a whisper. ‘You never change, do you? Couldn’t keep it up, could you; the good girl image too hard for you, Cass? Look at the state of you.’

  Casey pulled her arm away. ‘Whatever you do or don’t think about me, Vaughn, it’s no longer any of your concern. Remember? You were the one who finished it. Oh and whilst you’re here, why don’t you take this.’ With a large tug, Casey pulled off her yellow diamond ring and threw it at Vaughn, who stood feeling as if a large freight train was about to hit him. He refused to let his emotions get the better of him, and decided to concentrate on what was about to happen to Alfie.

  His tone was hard and icy.

  ‘Get out, Cass.’

  ‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, you hear me?’

  ‘I said … get out!’

  Slowly, Casey began to back away. She looked at Vaughn, then Del and lastly at Frankie before she began to run.

  18

  Chloe-Jane sat on Franny’s bed, going through photographs. ‘Who’s that then?’

  ‘That’s Patrick; my father when he was little.’

  ‘He’s a bit of alright ain’t he?’

  Franny smiled. ‘Oh yeah, I think the ladies loved him, but he wasn’t really interested. As much as it’s a cliché, he really only loved my mum.’

  ‘You don’t get fellas like that anymore; once they get your knickers off, you don’t see them again.’

  Kindly, Franny asked, ‘Have you ever thought of not getting your knickers off, Chloe?’

  Chloe-Jane looked amazed at Franny’s suggestion. ‘No! What good would that be? They ain’t going to like you if you don’t put out, are they?’

  ‘But they don’t really like you if they just sleep with you and then don’t want to have anything to do with you afterwards.’

  Chloe-Jane burst into laughter. ‘You’re so funny Fran, you sound dead old-fashioned.’

  Franny knew when she was on a losing battle and carried on looking at the photos of her life, taking herself on a trip down memory lane. As she continued to look, Chloe-Jane’s phone rang.

  ‘Hello?’ Chloe listened to the caller on the other end of the line. After only a minute, she put down the phone.

  Neutrally Franny spoke. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Who was what?’

  Franny, who hadn’t been really interested in who was calling Chloe, suddenly began to get curious. She stared in bemusement. ‘Chloe. The phone call, who was it?’

  ‘No one … Unless you call my mum someone. She wanted money. That’s the only reason she calls me.’

  Franny’s face was full of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, Chloe.’

  Chloe-Jane smiled at Franny. It was strange having someone to care for her, and it was hard to get her head round it. ‘Oh, don’t worry about it. You get used to it.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have to … you’re not going to give her any, are you?’

  Chloe-Jane smiled as she pulled on her pink denim jacket. ‘No. Probably why she put the phone down on me … Oh well … Listen, I’m off out now. I’ll see you later.’

  Franny saw the sadness in Chloe’s eyes as she walked out of the room. A moment later she heard the front door open and close leaving her in the silence of her flat.

  It was only recently Franny had learnt to be able to be at peace on her own and not have to keep busy until she fell exhausted into bed. The memories of her life had haunted her but now they comforted her, and lately she’d relished the solitude instead of run from it. Not that she minded Chloe-Jane staying; the idea of a kid of seventeen having nowhere to go apart from her uncle’s girlfriend made her feel sad.

  Franny had been lucky with her upbringing. Full of love. Full of laughter. Having her father Patrick and her Uncle Cabhan dote on her. Lavishing her with gifts and supporting her in everything she did, as well as teaching her how to look after herself.

  About to look through more photographs, the doorbell rang. Then it rang again.

  ‘Okay I’m coming … Hold on,’ Franny shouted out as the person began to bang on the door.

  Assuming it was Chloe-Jane, Franny opened the door with a smile which froze when she saw Casey looking hysterical. Hysterical and drunk.

  ‘You’ve got to come!’ Casey’s voice was urgent.

  ‘Where? Why, what’s happened? Are you alright, Cass? What the hell’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Alf.’

  Franny’s face drained of colour. Her mouth began to dry up as fear rushed through her. ‘Is he alright? For fuck’s sake, Casey, tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘Vaughn, and the others; they’re in the club with him. They’re saying it was because of him the triads have started all the attacks. And Del …’ Casey began to trail off but Franny grabbed hold of her, frantic to find out the details.

  ‘And Del what? Come on Cass!’ Franny’s voice was loud as she gleaned the information from her friend.

  ‘Del— he’s got a gun.’

  Thoughts and memories rushed through Franny’s head. Images of what had happened to her father were triggered as she stood staring at Casey in silence.

  ‘Franny! Come on, we have to do something.’

  Snapping out of it, Franny nodded her head, but to Casey’s surprise she didn’t immediately run to the club. ‘Wait there, Cass.’

  ‘But …’

  Franny didn’t bother waiting to hear what Casey had to say. She ran back up the stairs, two at a time. Charging into her father’s old bedroom.

  Quickly moving the large leather cream chair to where the wardrobe was, Franny climbed up on it, giving her leave to reach the top of the doors. She reached up, feeling about on the top of the maple wardrobe. Right at the back, she found what she was looking for.

  Pulling the small bag down, she jumped back off the chair, unzipping the small holdall. And there it was. Inside, right at the bottom was her father’s Colt .380 Mustang.

  Finding most of the streets were still blocked off, Franny and Casey ran along the outside of Soho. They were both out of breath as their hearts beat fast. Ignoring the crowds, Franny pushed through, knowing time wasn’t on her side – or more to the point wasn’t on Alfie’s.

  Cutting through the small alleyway into Wardour Street, the women finally found themselves at the top of Old Compton Street, where Whispers nightclub was.

  ‘Do you think we’re too late?’ Casey panted to Franny.

  ‘I dunno … I hope not … Christ, I don’t want to think like that. I can’t bear it. Come on, let’s go in the back way.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Franny looked at Casey square on then proceeded to pull out the gun from her jacket poc
ket. She cocked the striker on the gun, ready for action. ‘I’ll worry about that when I get there. But whatever happens, do as I say and make sure you stay behind me.’

  19

  Chloe-Jane sat in the front seat of the old brown Ford Fiesta. The punter she’d picked up wanted a blow job. So she’d got in the car, agreed on a price; a fiver, and then sat in silence as they sped along Theobalds Road, turning left at Grays Inn Road before hitting the gridlock of King’s Cross.

  She chewed on her piece of gum and thought about how many blow jobs it’d take her to get the eighty pound to give Franny. Chloe-Jane had never been great at maths, and by the time the punter pulled up at the car park behind Goods Way in King’s Cross, she’d convinced and depressed herself thinking five into eighty was thirty-three which meant excluding this one, she’d have to give another thirty-two blow jobs to get the money.

  Chloe-Jane sighed as she gave the man a sideways look. She shivered. He had thinning brown greasy hair with a ridiculous sweep-over and his thick rimmed glasses were ugly and harsh in their appearance, making his already small eyes look even smaller. His fingers were short and pudgy, as was he, and Chloe-Jane knew she’d have to brace herself to get through the next ten minutes.

  They parked up and immediately the man locked the door, causing Chloe to get nervous. She hadn’t brought anything such as a penknife or razor to be able to fight him off, so she could only hope he wasn’t a complete nutter.

  The man leered at her, licking his lips as he gawked at her large breasts. With hurried movements, he unzipped his trousers, going into his pants to pull out his erect penis as if he was dipping his hand into a tombola at a summer fete.

  ‘Go on then.’ He nodded encouragingly to Chloe-Jane who shook her head fervently.

  ‘I ain’t sucking it without a condom.’

  The man’s eyes darkened. ‘Don’t mess me about. I don’t take kindly to piss takers.’

  Chloe-Jane held her ground. ‘That’s not what we agreed; I don’t do bareback, not with me pussy or with me mouth.’