by Martina Cole
The girls clattered inside, their overly made-up faces and eager expressions were something she had come to expect. They were all the same, and she knew that if she played it just right, she could have them for life.
Kenny Boy was a bit drunk, he had allowed himself a few brandies to celebrate his latest deal. He had just negotiated a good take from a fleet of hire car companies. They gave him a drink, and he made sure that any aggro concerning their drivers disappeared; whether it was being drunk while in control of a motor vehicle, to dangerous or careless driving resulting in an accident of some sort, he had the market sewn up. He also had an endless fleet of motors to drop his packages around town. As he lay in the bed, he could feel the fluttering of the girl’s heart as she lay against him. She was warm and friendly, and he knew she was with him because of his name. He had met her and bedded her within hours. But she had been a game little bird, not averse to a few of the more exotic moves he required. She had a very pretty face and good legs. He had a thing about legs. They were the first thing he noticed on a bird; he clocked the legs first, then the boat race. If the legs were spectacular enough, the bird could be pug-ugly. He only wanted to fuck them, not marry them. If they were a bit fucking rancid he did not entertain them to a few drinks beforehand in a public place; he would do them in the back of a motor and drop them off with a wave and a smile. But the legs were the thing for him, and this girl had killer legs. They were long and slim, and she wore clothes that showed them off to their full advantage.
Lisa Marks was in her element; she had fancied Kenny Boy Dooley since she was thirteen and had seen him out and about in the local pubs. He had the dangerousness that she required to warrant her interest.
She liked a good bounce round the mattress, and he had given her a decent seeing-to. As she lay there beside him, she was happy; she had achieved her objective and, if she played her cards right, he would maybe see her again and she could have her name linked with his. It would afford her a bit of kudos and the guarantee of five minutes of fame. She understood the way her world worked, and she was quite happy to use whatever she had in order to get what she wanted from life. She also had a great sense of humour, and she was already known for her ability to tell a joke and tell it well.
‘Can I get you a drink or anything, Kenny?’
She had a nice little flat, clean and well furnished and he knew he would become the next man to provide a piece of furniture or pay a few bills. He was happy to do that, it was part of the game.
He hugged her close. ‘I’m all right, mate. Relax for five minutes.’
He was ready to go to sleep, a few hours’ kip was just what he could do with now; she was a real nice little thing and he could think of worse things than waking up beside her and getting a repeat performance a few hours down the line. She snuggled into him, her long legs entangled with his, the softness of her skin felt good against his and he squeezed her tightly once more.
Lisa loved this bit, the knowledge that for these few hours she was the only thing on the man in question’s mind. Kenny Boy was a real feather in her cap as far as she was concerned; she would be bragging about this for weeks. She would exaggerate it with a few well-chosen phrases, and her ebullient praise for his sexual prowess would make it sound like a real relationship.
As she was basking in the afterglow of their encounter her phone rang, its shrillness breaking the cosiness of their embrace. Lisa answered it quickly, she was half angry at the intrusion, and half pleased at the opportunity to name-drop Kenny Boy and prove he was there with her. It was a double-edged sword, though, he was quite capable of getting up and leaving while she was on the blower. It had happened to her before.
‘Hello?’ She was sitting up in the bed, her nakedness fully exposed; she had a good body and she was not shy about letting it be seen. She was also hoping her provocative stance would keep Kenny Boy there for another bout.
Kenny yawned and lay back on the pillows. The mood was broken now, real life had just forced its way in. He was about to pull the sheets back and go for a well-deserved piss when he caught the tailend of her conversation.
Lisa was now overjoyed at the call, she felt it was like destiny or something. This call could actually make Kenny see that they had a lot more in common than he realised. She turned around and lay on her back, her heavy breasts and tight belly were evident as she feigned a stretch to keep his attention. She winked at him saucily as she said with as much guile as she could muster, ‘Tell Jamsie I can’t, I’m busy. I know Dexter has the numbers, he got them from Imelda. She deals with that anyway. I only know Cassie’s number because she sometimes works the bar in Soho.’
She put the phone down a few seconds later and, grinning at Kenny Boy, she said huskily, ‘We have more in common than you think.’
Kenny Boy was still digesting her words, and he was not impressed with any of them. ‘Who’s Cassie?’
He was calm, he sounded just interested enough to not make her suspicious. Lisa shrugged, as if bored by his question, thinking it would make her look sophisticated. ‘She’s one of your mum’s girls. I used to work for Jamsie in his bar, not as a brass obviously, but actually behind the bar. I would often have to help him keep a tab on the girls he was running. Cassie was a nice little thing, and she would often be there; let’s just say her and Jamsie were close.’
Lisa was smiling still, talking to what she assumed was a man of the world, unaware that his sister was actually Jamsie’s other half, and had been for a long time.
He laughed then. ‘Jamsie is a bit of a lad, I understand. I often wonder if he is all talk, to be honest.’
Lisa flicked her long black hair over her slim shoulders and, lighting a Benson & Hedges cigarette, she took a deep draw on it before saying, ‘He is a fucking nightmare, if it has a pulse he will poke it. I’ve had to fight him off enough times meself.’
Kenny knew that meant she had slept with Jamsie at some point herself; she would sleep with any man who had the name or the money to boost her ego. It wasn’t something he would hold against her, it was the only reason he was with her now.
‘Cassie was a real little schoolie though, but you know Jamsie, he likes the babies, don’t he? He’s only a half-inch from a nonce, as your mum says.’
‘She still looks out for his girls, does she?’
Kenny Boy was finding it very hard to contain the anger that was building up inside him. He knew he had been taken for a right fucking dimlo, and that was not something he was prepared to overlook.
‘From what I saw, she just gets them acquainted with the life. She gives them the rules and regulations needed to make sure they don’t fuck up. Jamsie knows that Dexter is useless, and Dexter hates the job anyway, so your mum basically does all the graft for him.’
Kenny was afraid to speak for a few moments, the girl really thought she was a fucking player by telling him this in such a light-hearted tone. He wanted to smash her face in now, wanted to make her understand that she was not endearing herself to him with her fucking banter. She only made him want to hurt her, want to see her pay for her treachery. Like Jamsie and that whore of a mother would when he got his hands on them.
‘How old is this Cassie then?’
Lisa shrugged once more, her lightly tanned skin was almost translucent in the lamplight. She knew she looked good.
‘About fifteen or sixteen now, she’s been on the scene for about a year or so. Your mum picked her up at the Cross, like most of her girls. She would bring them to the bar sometimes and we used to chat a bit, you know. Jamsie thinks the world of your mum, Kenny Boy. She even puts the new girls up for a while when they first get involved, they need a stabilising influence at first, I suppose.’
Kenny was nodding once more, unsure if he was capable of coherent conversation. He also knew that Lisa was willing to keep talking if he kept quiet. She was trying to establish a common bond between them, and he let her think she was succeeding. He knew the girl was a dangerous fuck because this was knowledge sh
e should have had the sense to keep to herself. As if she was determined to prove this point she asked him archly and with maximum emphasis, ‘Is everything all right with him and old Basil now? I heard they had a bit of a tear-up.’
Kenny snapped his head around to look at her and Lisa felt the first shivers of apprehension. Kenny was breathing in short, sharp pants. He could feel his heart as it raced inside his chest, knew that he was beyond any kind of pretence now.
‘Over what? Why did they fall out?’
She knew then, without a doubt, that she was going to be the cause of something very big, and something very dangerous.
‘Well, answer me, you fucking scab.’ He was bellowing at her now and kneeling on the bed, he grabbed her by her throat and, holding her down so she couldn’t move, he said nastily, ‘Answer me or I will fucking take your face off! I will punch you until you look like a fucking piece of raw beef. I’ll break every bone in your fucking face, and I’ll rip your fucking lips off. When I am finished with you fucking Baby Jane Hudson will pull more blokes than you will.’
Lisa was choking, and he heard the sound of her absolute terror. It finally penetrated through his anger and his hate that she was near death. He loosened his grip on her throat and watched her as she coughed and spluttered, as she drew a long, deep breath into her lungs. He had nearly finished her off, and they both knew that.
Lisa was red eyed, and she was already crying. She was huddled against the bed now; bereft of her former confidence she looked what she was, a frightened young girl who had opened her mouth once too often. She knew that even if she walked away from this lot, she would still have to deal with Jamsie when he found out that she was the cause of his latest problem. And that was without this man’s mother; she was already well known as being five cards short of a full deck. How this had happened so quickly was the real frightener though, this man had gone from tender lover to a psychotic animal in minutes. The danger she had always been attracted to was now being shown to her in all its terrifying reality.
Lisa Marks had just learnt a very valuable lesson; in the world she was so determined to become a major part of, you keep your trap shut no matter who you might be talking to. If they knew what you knew, then why bother to enlighten them about it all over again? If they didn’t know what you knew, however, then there was probably a fucking good reason for that. Idle chatter could get innocent people banged up, beaten up or, in extreme cases, murdered. Talking for effect was a sin that was not to be tolerated by the likes of Kenny Boy or his peers.
They only survived because they kept a tightly closed mouth, and a healthy suspicion of everyone around them. That this little tart knew something he didn’t told Kenny Boy that his friendship with Jamsie had blocked people’s willingness to confide in him about anything that might pertain to his nearest and dearest.
That Jamsie was fucking around on his sister was bad enough, but he could swallow that. Men were men after all, but Jamsie’s collusion with their mother was another ball game entirely. That was something else again. And, as Lisa spewed out everything she knew, Kenny Boy listened with growing disgust. He had to sort this lot out, and sooner rather than later.
Chapter Twenty-Five
‘Look, Kenny. I have got the hump with Jamsie, but you can’t come here all fucking hellfire and threats; you should have fucking had your eye on the ball. He has been in cahoots with that skank of a mother of yours for a long time. They go back fucking years them two. He was trumping her at one time, I heard that one yonks ago. Dexter is his front; Jamsie just can’t resist the poke that can be earned off the young girls. He gets them on the pipe or the needle, depending on what the poor whores prefer, and then he outs them on the pavement. If they last five years they have had a result. I work in the flesh game, but I deal with fucking adults. I don’t want the skaggers, they fuck up, and when they finally fuck up big time, they tend to take you down with them.’
Basil poured himself a large brandy and, gulping it down quickly, he said sarcastically, ‘You made a rod for your own back there; you brought your mother back into fashion, and Jamsie was safe because of your sister’s association with him. Who the fuck was going to come and tell you that you were being fucking scammed by your own nearest and dearest?’
Kenny was still trying to control himself. He wanted to hurt Basil now, he knew that even though he was telling him the truth, his humiliation was such that he would happily knife him just to shut the fucker up. ‘Who else knew about it?’
Basil sighed. His heart went out to the boy, but this was a long time coming, and now it had finally happened, all they could do was get it sorted out and then put it behind them. ‘A lot of people I should imagine, Kenny, you made your mark, and you made it well. A bit too well, in many respects. No one wanted to be the one to bring you the bad news. You have a fucking habit of going Greek on people. You want to kill the bearer of the news, and in our world that is a fucking big no-no. Even I was wary of putting you wise; me and Jamsie have been at each other’s throats for a long time. I knew the score with him, but to everyone it looked like you were countenancing it all. No one likes the little girls being pumped out, and pimping isn’t the most respected of professions anyway. But if you keep to the rules you are all right. Once you step over the line you lose all your goodwill, your respect and your credibility. Jamsie has only been able to get away with it because of you. Because of Jordanna. He brought your mother in and she is the one who finds them, grooms them, and disables them. She ensures they are dependent on her and him, it ain’t like she would find something so despicable beyond her capabilities, is it? We all know she is fucking without anything even resembling morals or decency. She sees those girls without any compassion or guilt, they’re paper money to her, nothing more. I can’t believe she’s had the fucking front to do it all again. Not after last time. I thought I had taught her a fucking lesson. But she never changes. And what you need to do now is decide how you are going to sort this out. You have no need to feel any allegiance to your mother, she is a fucking hard old bird. But you know that Jamsie has Jordanna onside. And, whatever else I might think of him, he cares about her. He genuinely cares about that girl. Even he couldn’t fake that. I wonder if Jordanna will still swallow him, even if she finds out about this.’
Kenny had never felt like this before. He knew now what it was to be too revered, and he saw that his reputation for violent retaliation was such that even the powers-that-be were loath to bring such terrible skulduggery to his ears. They saw it as his problem, not theirs, so it was up to him to find out about it, and eventually do something about it. And he would, but he had to sort it out in such a way that he kept his self-respect along with his sister’s affection.
Mary Dooley was astounded at what she had heard. She knew there was something snidey going on with Imelda but she couldn’t prove it. But then there was always something snidey going on with her, it was what she was. Imelda was capable of literally anything, as she had proved over and over again.
Kenny was a broken man; he was still too young to have the experience that something of this enormity needed so that it could be dealt with properly.
‘She killed your father and she blamed poor Jordanna; she destroyed her own daughter without a thought. She’s caused more death and hate than anyone else since Hitler decided to grow a moustache and give himself a fucking comb-over. She has ruined my life, both of your lives. She is now ruining other lives. Jamsie and her in cahoots, well, you know what they say don’t you? Show me the company you keep and I’ll tell you what you are. My husband used to say that, and never a truer word was spoken. Jorge will have to be told and you’ll have to do it. She will believe it if it comes from you. But it will destroy her all over again.’
Kenny Boy was not saying anything, and that alone told Mary how serious this situation actually was. He was sitting there in her lovely comfortable armchair just staring into space. He looked strange, he looked as mad as people said he was once they were away from him
, and behind closed doors. Kenny Boy was the product of his mother’s life, as was poor Jordanna.
Kenny Boy had that same coldness about him that Imelda possessed. But, unlike her, he was capable of deep feelings for the people he cherished whereas Imelda had been gone from them all the day she had been delivered of her first armful.
It was always about the drugs with her, and the people who gravitated to the addict’s lifestyle. She was drawn to the filth and the scum of society; people who were like her. Whose whole existence was about nothing more than getting enough money to bankroll their habit, to keep themselves on the right side of chemical numbness.
Mary felt old suddenly. Her sons had been in her mind a lot recently, she knew their renewed interest in her was because they wanted to cash in on Kenny Boy’s notoriety. She remembered the way she had been held over a barrel time and time again by her daughter, and how she had been forced to sit back and wait for her to get fed up with her kids before she would once more leave them with her. Then she would have the unenviable task of trying to undo all the damage their sojourn with their mother had caused them. Now, after all these years, Imelda had managed to do it again; she had destroyed her children’s lives without even trying.
Mary went out to the kitchen to get some more tea, it was all she could think of to do. The fear was already upon her, and she knew that, this time, there would be no going back for any of them.
Jordanna was watching Jamsie closely; he was like a nervous schoolgirl and she knew instinctively that whatever was wrong with him also affected her somehow. His skin was almost grey and he looked like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He was slumped over somehow, his shoulders drooped, and he looked beaten. She was frightened to question him about it, she knew that whatever he said would only break her heart. She was still recovering from the loss of the latest foetus. She always thought of them as a foetus, the term baby had far too much resonance for her. ‘Baby’ conjured up images of prams and cots, of crying and love. A baby had the capacity to become a person and engendered hope and dreams; it was far too emotive a word. So, foetus was the lesser of two evils where she was concerned. It was no more than a bunch of cells that could become a baby, but wasn’t one quite yet.