Sudden Death

by Phil Kurthausen

  Erasmus had made the phone call to Steve Cowley. As expected, Cowley had been apoplectic with rage at the thought of his star client staying with his scorta and he had screamed down the phone at Erasmus who had held the phone away from his ear and then passed it to Wayne who had explained that he was staying there for a few days and that was an end to the discussion. Erasmus had been impressed by the boy’s firmness and he guessed that Wayne was beginning to understand the relative values and power dynamics of the client-employee relationship pretty well.

  Erasmus had also put a call into Ted telling him of the development. Ted had been pleased. Even though Wayne had scored three goals in his last two games, to Ted’s mind it had only wallpapered over his general poor performance, and he still wanted answers.

  He had tried probing further, even asking Wayne directly what he had meant by Steve taking care of the business in March. But Wayne had just shaken his hand and said he didn’t know what Erasmus was talking about, he couldn’t remember anything from the other night. Erasmus didn’t believe him but he didn’t press. He was clearly hurting.

  ‘What’s narcissistic?’

  ‘It means big-headed.’

  Wayne laughed.

  ‘You’re only saying that because I’m battering you!’

  Erasmus put down the controller.

  ‘I’ve had enough of this. I only like to play games I know I can win. Do you want a beer?’

  Wayne shook his head.

  ‘Match Wednesday. Chelsea away.’

  It might as well have been Morse code to Erasmus.

  Wayne looked sheepish.

  ‘Can I ask you a favour?’

  Erasmus opened a can of Black Sheep and took a sip.

  ‘You can ask.’

  ‘Will you speak to Steph for me?’

  ‘Don’t you think it would be better if you spoke to her?’

  Wayne looked at the floor.

  ‘I think she likes you, Erasmus. She would listen to you. She’s not even returning my calls. Will you do it for me?’

  Erasmus took a deep swig. He was already thinking of going to see Natalie today. He wanted to ask her about last March. Something else Wayne had told him made him think he might get some answers from her now.

  ‘Sure, why not. What do you want me to tell her?’

  Wayne looked up from the floor; he was excited now, hopeful. Erasmus wanted to tell him to can the hope, to kick it to a dark place because it was that hope that would torture him. If Erasmus was right, there was no going back with Steph.

  ‘Can you tell her I love her and I’m sorry? That’s all.’

  Instead of telling him that all was lost, Erasmus smiled and said he would see what he could do. He just wasn’t in puppy kicking mode. The thought that he was going soft crossed his mind, but he dismissed it. He knew why he would do it, he would do it because he knew that however hopeless, the pain of lost love clung to hope like a man dying of lung cancer clung to the thought of a last cigarette.

  That evening he headed out to Formby. This time he was buzzed straight in. Steph was waiting for him on the steps of the house, a bemused grin on her face. She was dressed in a tight-fitting velour tracksuit that was cut high showing off her slim, tanned midriff. Erasmus gulped.

  She pointed at his car as he got out.

  ‘You need new wheels, Erasmus. That thing is an embarrassment.’

  Erasmus tapped the old black Golf.

  ‘This is a classic. Money can’t buy class.’

  She frowned.

  ‘If that was a dig at me you might not want to drink the coffee I’m about to give you.’

  He followed her inside. This time she led him into the kitchen. The walls were white, the kitchen units were white and there was a white table with white chairs to one side. He sat in one at her bidding.

  ‘White. Nice,’ he said.

  ‘Wayne saw a kitchen like it in a magazine abroad, on some trip away. When he came home he wanted it and what Wayne wants, Wayne gets. After all, he’s a superstar.’

  She placed a mug of coffee in front of him.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘I now that he’s sent you here to ask me to take him back but you know that’s never going to happen.’

  ‘Why did you throw him out? Wayne’s not really told me.’

  She placed a hand on her hip.

  ‘Did he tell you Gary Jones, the philandering shit, is getting married?’

  ‘That was the catalyst?’ Erasmus asked.

  ‘Damn right it was. I asked him when we were moving on and do you know what the little shit said? That I was lucky, I was lucky to be his girlfriend and that he didn’t want to be tied down. He went out to the Blood House and when he came home, stinking of cheap perfume and pussy juice, I told him to do one. So you’re wasting your time if you think I can be talked around.’

  She jutted out her tiny chin but appeared to be on the brink of tears.

  ‘I haven’t come round to tell you to take him back. I know you won’t. I’ve come round to ask you to go easy on him. The first time your heart is broken is the worst and he’s not going to know what hit him.’

  Steph seemed taken aback. She sank into a chair opposite him.

  ‘And why do you care so much, scorta?’

  ‘He reminds me of myself at his age. It can change the course of your life, your heart being broken.’

  The corner of her top lip turned up slightly. She was amused by him.

  ‘A sentimentalist, you surprise me.’ She sighed. ‘I do love him, you know. We grew up together but this life, I know it’s fucking privileged, but it’s a nightmare at times. The pressure is so intense.’

  She looked down and then brought her eyes up to look at him. They were moist with tears. For a moment she looked very young and lost.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘but he will be devastated when he finds out about De Marco, he’s his friend.’

  Steph’s face paled.

  ‘I don’t – ’

  ‘I recognised his car at the ground the other night. It was the same car I saw parked down the street when I came here, and when he lied to me and said he had just arrived at the ground the other night despite the engine of his car being stone cold I knew. If you tell Wayne it will break him.’

  Steph began to cry.

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with De Marco. He was just there. He’s not the reason. I promise you.’

  Erasmus took her hand. He wanted to tell her that he had heard this speech before but he held back.

  ‘I know. It’s just one of those things and I know you might have been thinking of telling him about De Marco and I think you should, but maybe in two or three months. Give him time to accept he’s not coming home.’

  Her tears fell on Erasmus’s hand.

  ‘Will you do that for him?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Thank you, for his sake.’

  Erasmus left Formby and headed to Netherton. The Ramsay Estate was only five miles from Steph’s house on Formby Beach but it may as well have been on a different planet such was the contrast. The entrance to the estate was guarded by a large, flat roofed pub with steel shuttered windows, which looked more like a fortress than a place to go and relax. Three teenage kids dressed in black tracksuits, with hoods pulled up over caps, eyed his car. One of them spat on the floor as he drove past. Erasmus inwardly cursed that the old VW didn’t have central locking.

  As he drove deeper into the estate he passed a row of shops, all of which were boarded up save for a newsagents, which had steel grilles plastered over it. An old woman stood outside aiming kicks at a thin, ill looking dog.

  He had entered the postcode that he had found listed on the internet into the sat nav on his phone and it led him deeper and deeper inside the labyrinthine streets of the estate. Identical housing, a the lack of any landmarks – save for a row of burnt-out houses he passed that looked like the rotting stumps of blackened teeth – left him disorientated.

  Eventually, directed b
y the emotionless voice of the sat nav, he turned into a small cul-de-sac of small, beige, box-like houses. Each had a small front garden and there were primary coloured children’s plastic toys scattered in most of the gardens. A small boy, naked from the waste down, stood alone in one of the gardens, looking at Erasmus’s car as he pulled over next to the final house in the cul-de-sac, his destination.

  Erasmus hummed the first few notes of ‘Duelling Banjos’ and got out of the car. Apart from the boy there was nobody else outside but he had the feeling that he was being watched. He pulled up the collar of his coat and walked down the drive to the front door of the house he had come to visit.

  A doorbell box hung loosely beside the door. He rang it.

  A few seconds later the door was opened but only a little, prevented from doing so by a thick metal chain. Natalie eyed him with suspicion.

  ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  It was the same girl he had spoken to in the Blood House Bar but she looked very different. The make-up and glamorous dress were gone, replaced by a young, almost innocent face and a pink fleece dressing gown.

  ‘Nice to see you too,’ said Erasmus cheerfully. ‘I need to talk to you. Can I come in?’

  She didn’t move.

  ‘You see what happens when I talk to you?’

  Her black eye looked a few days old. Erasmus could guess when she had gotten it.

  ‘Who did that?’

  She looked at the floor.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Was it Gary?’

  Shit flowed downhill and there was no doubt that Natalie was used to being at the bottom of that hill. Erasmus felt sick; he should have seen that coming. Bullies always take it out on someone weaker. It had been that way at school and adult life had taught him that nothing really changed beyond the school gates.

  ‘I won’t let that happen again.’

  She snorted in disbelief. He guessed she wasn’t someone who had seen life come up trumps as far as hope was concerned. It made what he was about to do even worse.

  ‘Please can I come in? I have something to tell you.’

  From somewhere in the house a child began to cry. Natalie gave a quick look behind her.

  ‘I’m coming, babe. Is it about Gary?’

  Here was the guilt again. He felt like a complete shit.

  Her good eye widened in hope.

  ‘Yes,’ he said.

  She slipped the door off the chain.

  ‘Come in quick then. I don’t want people talking.’

  Erasmus entered the house.

  Inside she led him through to the living room. A child’s playpen was in one corner and a toddler was rolling on its back crying. Hanging from the picture rail on each wall were dresses in clear cellophane. Erasmus could make out the labels of some of them: Versace, D&G and Prada.

  Natalie went across to the child and replaced a retainer that had fallen out.

  ‘There you go Taylah. Shhhh, babe.’

  The baby stopped crying.

  Natalie slumped out one of the cream leather couches and lit a cigarette. She didn’t ask Erasmus to take a seat.

  ‘So?’

  ‘I need to know what happened last March with you and Jessica in the Blood House.’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’ve already told you. We partied.’

  ‘Do you mean sex?’

  Natalie laughed and took another drag of her cigarette.

  ‘You mean shagging, yeah, the boys like to let off steam but that Jess thought she was above all of that.’

  ‘Did she have sex with them?’

  Natalie put out the cigarette in an empty beer can.

  ‘You said you had something to tell me about Gary. What is it?

  Erasmus didn’t hesitate.

  ‘He’s getting married.’

  Natalie visibly blanched and sank back further into the couch. Tears formed and she gave a little sob.

  Erasmus twisted the knife.

  ‘It’s being announced in Hello magazine tomorrow. He’s marrying his childhood sweetheart.’

  Her face crumbled in despair and she looked at Taylah. He realised it wasn’t just love she was losing, it was her way out that was being snatched away from her. Erasmus took advantage of the breach in her defences he had caused by breaking her heart.

  ‘What did they do to you and Jess, Natalie?’

  ‘I love him.’

  Erasmus wanted to hold her and tell her that everything would be all right but he knew that wasn’t true and he had a feeling any attempts at comfort would be brushed aside, quite rightly, as condescension.

  Natalie shook her head and then used her forearm to wipe away the tears. She looked across at Taylah again.

  ‘You want to know what they did? Gary fucked me and pimped me out to his mates. He told me he loved me.’

  ‘In the Blue Room?’

  She nodded.

  ‘And Jessica?’

  ‘She was smarter. She wouldn’t let them touch her and it drove them crazy, especially Wayne. He got her in the end though.’

  ‘What do you mean “got her”?’

  She smiled lasciviously, mean and wounded.

  ‘You know what I mean. He was all over her like a rash and she kept pushing him away, you can’t keep doing that without expecting a man to break.’

  ‘What do you mean break? Did he rape her?’

  She pulled out another long cigarette from the box and placed it between her pale lips.

  ‘Rape, what’s that then? She wanted something, he wanted something. That’s all.’

  ‘Did you send Ted Wright a letter telling him to look into what happened at the Blood House’

  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a mascara trail that looked like a tyre track on her high cheekbones.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’

  She was the kind of person whose emotions were written clearly on her face and Erasmus didn’t think she would be able to convincingly lie to him even if she wanted to. He believed her.

  Erasmus took a step towards her and she cowered back into the couch like a frightened animal. He realised she expected him to hit her. He held his hands up.

  ‘What about Jessica?’ Erasmus asked.

  ‘I don’t know. She just said she had something on him, that’s all. I don’t know what happened. That’s all I know. After that we were all banned for a bit. Until she went away.’

  Natalie looked small, and broken. Erasmus believed her.

  ‘Do you think they could have harmed her?’

  Natalie pointed at her black eye.

  ‘They would do anything to protect the players. Anything.’

  She stood up and stepped closer to Erasmus. She was pretty, for sure, and someone who was used to using her sexuality. Erasmus swore inwardly as he realised he was getting turned on by her.

  Her dressing gown was open loosely at her chest and he could see the side of one of her enhanced breasts.

  ‘Like what you see, do you?’

  She moved even closer, standing an inch away from him. Every nerve ending in his body was sending the same message: take her, take her right now. He took a deep breath. Her smell was intoxicating, feminine and fresh.

  ‘You can have me if you want,’ she whispered, ‘if you promise to get me an invitation for the wedding.’

  Erasmus took a step back. In the battle between heart and body, his heart had won. He couldn’t do this any more.

  ‘I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

  She shrugged her shoulders.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on. I’m the best lay you’ll never have.’

  Taylah began to cry again. She sighed and took out another cigarette.

  ‘Well, if we’re not going to fuck you better leave now. I don’t want the nosy bastards in the street talking.’

  He handed her his card. She took it.

  ‘Listen, if anyone else tries to threaten you c
all me straight away, do you hear’

  She shrugged. Erasmus took another look around and then peeled a couple of twenties from his wallet and handed them to her. She took them silently, with a look of resentment.

  Outside Erasmus sat for a moment, thinking. He pulled out a packet of rolling tobacco and Rizlas he kept in the glove compartment for emergencies and rolled a cigarette.

  Jessica had something on Wayne, Wayne had gone away in March and Jessica had gone to Australia at the same time, according to her father. He hadn’t seemed concerned about her but when was the last time he had heard from her? And if it was by email alone, could it be a sock puppet account? If Pete could invent someone maybe someone could pretend to be Jessica?

  Erasmus smoked the cigarette and blew smoke out of the window. He needed to talk to Wayne. But first he needed to pay a visit to Gary Jones. He had a good guess where he would be.

  ***

  Dave was standing outside the Blue Room door as per usual. He was surrounded by a semi-circle of dancing young girls but who, in reality, had their eyes locked on to the door, waiting for a chance to slip through to an imagined Nirvana.

  Erasmus nodded at him and Dave nodded back. Dave was a man of few words and even though the club wasn’t packed the music from the sound system made it difficult to communicate.

  Erasmus leaned in to Dave and shouted in his ear. ‘Jeff wants a word about security clearance for some journo. He wants to speak to you about it now. I’ll take over here.’

  Dave looked doubtful but Erasmus guessed that he could use a break to phone his wife Tracey who he had complained to Erasmus was always ‘giving him grief’ for not being in touch. He guessed right. Dave extended his thumb and little finger and wiggled his fist next to his ear. Erasmus nodded again. Dave walked away, pushing past the gaggle of girls.

  As soon as he had gone Erasmus punched the code into the pad. He pushed the door open, quickly shutting it behind him to stop the girls swarming in, and walked into the Blue Room.

  It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dim lighting inside the Blue Room. When they did he could see three players sitting at the centre booth. He recognised Gary Jones, Kristos and one of the younger players from the youth team. All three were looking down at their laps and had contorted expressions of pleasure or amusement on their faces. In the dim light their skin looked yellow and dark shadows hung on their faces like shrouds.