‘Nice wedding innit?’ Christo asked, making conversation while waiting for Tony to prepare their coke.
‘Nothing fucking nice about it, re, believe me,’ Tony curtly replied. ‘I mean, what’s all that they got written on their cake about? Mario and Maria, separated only by a letter.’ Tony huffed. ‘Skata!’
Christo laughed. ‘Could be worse, re.’
‘Could it? How?’
Christo shrugged. ‘Dunno. He could be a real arsehole.’
Tony’s head snapped round and he stared hard at Christo. ‘What do you mean could be?’ he asked, and then turned back to the coke.
Christo chuckled, and then silence ensued. ‘My little brother just got back from Thailand,’ Christo told him, seeking to change track.
‘Yeah?’ Tony said over his shoulder. ‘Did he like it?’
‘Said it’s wicked out there, re.’
‘Really?’
‘Said all he did was take drugs and fuck Thai girls!’
Tony looked up from what he was doing and stared at the tiled wall. ‘Yeah? Thailand? That’s India ain’t it?’
‘Kind of.’
‘Heard there’s a lot of them ladyboys out there,’ Tony said, a suspicious look emerging on his face.
‘Well, if you like that type of thing, Tone…’
‘Fuck you, man! I ain’t no pushti!’
Christo laughed. ‘Nah, he said there’s loads of birds out there, re. Real girls. Best he’s seen. Says they’re all horny and up for a fuck, especially with foreigners.’
‘Yeah?’ Tony asked, and in his mind: this place is sounding better by the second!
‘Yeah.’ Christo then rubbed his thumb and index finger together. ‘They love the lires, re… And he said there’s pills and coke everywhere. All cheap and easy to get. Cheap booze as well…’
‘Serious?’
‘Serious, man.’
‘Thailand?’ Tony echoed, staring starry eyed at the tiled wall, rolling a score in between his fingers.
‘Thailand,’ Christo reaffirmed, nodding his head.
Hmm, sounds like my kind of place, Tony contemplated.
‘You done there?’ Christo asked, pointing at the fresh lines of coke waiting for them.
‘Huh?’ Tony uttered as if he had just been woken from a dream. ‘Oh yeah, yeah. Here.’ He handed Christo the rolled up note. He took it, bent over the toilet tank, and hoovered up his line in one long snort. He stood upright and stared at the ceiling, sniffing in a manner akin to a wine expert checking the nose on a vintage Claret.
After a few seconds he began nodding. ‘That’s good shit, re.’
‘I know.’
‘Who’d you get it off?’ Christo asked, handing Tony the rolled note.
‘My friend, Nick,’ Tony answered, taking it from him.
‘Nick? Nick Mavro?’
‘No, no, no. Nick Theodorou. The one who drives that flash XR2.’
‘Oh, him.’
‘Yeah, him. But, now you mention it, don’t talk to me about the Mavro, man. Fucking hell…’ Tony shook his head in disappointment as he spoke.
‘Why, what’s he done?’
‘You haven’t met his bird yet?’
‘Didn’t know he had a bird. She here with him?’
‘Yeah, she’s here. Fucking mavro by name, mavro by nature,’ Tony said, staring at his cousin gravely.
‘You mean she’s black?’ Christo asked, his voice brimming with incredulity.
‘Black as your fucking eyebrows, re.’
‘God damn!’ Christo exclaimed, a disgusted look emerging on his face.
‘Fucking embarrassing. In front of my family as well, re…’
Christo shook his head. ‘Terrible. Where did he meet her?’
‘She’s a Uni nerd like him. Fucking students hate the lot of ’em! But, it ain’t just that though, re. He’s changed a lot since he met her.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘She’s twisted his mind. Always wants to be with her and not us.’
‘Well, that’s how it goes, Tone. People get together and you can’t keep em apart.’
‘That’s not the fucking point! The prick’s forgotten who his fucking friends are, re! You don’t know half the skata we’ve all been through together. No fucking bitch can ever take that away!’
‘Give it time, Tone,’ Christo reassured him. ‘He’ll realise what’s right, and he’ll come back.’
Tony reflected, rolled up score in hand. ‘Maybe,’ he said, but wasn’t so sure. He bent down and sniffed up his line, then another one before handing the tubed note back to Christo. ‘I couldn’t really give a fuck any more anyway,’ Tony told him. ‘What’s done is done.’
Christo had the last line and gave Tony his money back.
‘All good?’ Tony asked, unrolling the note.
‘Perfect,’ Christo replied, a big druggy grin planted on his mug.
‘All right. You go out first and I’ll follow. Someone sees us both come out the same toilet they’ll think we’ve been blowing each other or something.’
Christo chuckled. ‘I’ll see you out there.’
‘Yeah,’ Tony replied without much enthusiasm.
Christo left the stall and went back out to the reception area. Tony hung back for a few seconds, thinking about Nick Black again. He had changed. Seemed to be more interested in that black putana more than anything else. More than him, more than Nick XR2, more than Charlie. They had history together. The kind of history that no other set of friends had. A history that should keep them tight like brothers. And brothers didn’t let anyone split them up, especially not women, especially not black women.
‘Fucking prick will get his!’ he said and spat into the toilet. He flushed it, and then left the stall.
Standing in front of a urinal was Uncle Chris. ‘Yasou, re, Antoni mou,’ he said once he saw Tony.
‘All right, Uncle?’ Tony replied. ‘Enjoying the wedding?’
‘Pola orea, re,’ he said, doing up his flies.
They both headed for the sinks. Uncle Chris washed his hands while Tony was splashing water on his messy hair so he could slick it back.
‘See you later, re,’ Uncle Chris said once he finished.
‘Have one on me, Uncle,’ Tony said after him, and then began rubbing his hot face, angry thoughts of Nick Black causing his system to heat up. He stood where he was for a few seconds, his hands covering his face, not wanting to go back outside to that fucking wedding, but not wanting to be stuck in the toilets either.
I should just do myself in, he thought to himself and then began laughing behind his hands. That was a stupid idea, what the hell was he thinking?
He pulled his hands away from his face and found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. A sardonic grin was spread across his face.
The little boy’s reflection alongside him in the mirror made him flinch. His head spun round and down to his right. He was now faced with his little cousin, Costa, just standing there, staring at him with big bug eyes like he had just seen a ghost.
‘Costa—?’ Tony began, but Costa cut him off straight away.
‘Marco says he’s gonna kill you,’ he said, his wide deep brown eyes brimming with fear. ‘He told me to tell you he’s gonna kill you!’
The little boy’s words numbed Tony to the spot, his feet feeling like they were stuck to the tiled floor as if the whole place were now covered in super glue.
Tony briefly glanced around him to see they were alone. He faced Costa once more. ‘Who—?’ he went to ask.
‘Marco’s gonna kill you,’ Costa interrupted again. ‘He’s gonna kill you!’
And now Costa was smiling as he spoke, and it was the evil grin of a demon kid, like the one from that film, The Omen. Damien.
Tony’s mind began working hard. What’s going on here, for fuck’s sake? How does this little prick know about—
Then Costa turned and ran for the door.
Tony slung an arm out. ‘H
ey!’ he shouted, just missing Costa’s shirt collar.
Costa made it to the door and ran back out towards the reception area. Tony regained the use of his numbed legs and gave chase. He couldn’t let the little prick get away. He had to find out what he knew. Where did he see Marco? Was he like Charlie?
Could he see…them?
He burst through first the toilet door, and then through the reception area doors to be greeted by loud Greek music reverberating all around him, and all the women now on the dance floor in a circle doing the Sousta. Costa was nowhere in sight, and at first he thought he had lost the little prick. Then he saw the back of his head bobbing up and down in between some tables where old time Greek Cypriots were clapping their hands while eying up the ladies on the dance floor.
‘Hey! Come back here!’ he shouted, making Costa turn his head for a second and glare at him with frightened eyes. He then turned back and carried on running. Tony chased, almost tripping over a handbag left in between two tables. He regained his balance and jumped over an upturned chair. He was gaining hard on Costa, even though the little prick was weaving in between the tables like a pro.
‘Costa!’ Tony shouted. ‘Come back here or I’ll give you the beating of your life!’ He was barely audible over the music, but Costa got the gist of what he was saying. So he sped up. And so did Tony. He almost knocked over a waitress serving coffee as he bundled past her. But he was gaining regardless.
He upped the pace.
Costa reached the table he was aiming for, and threw his hands around the man sitting there knocking back whisky. Tony got there at the same time and grabbed Costa by the back of his shirt collar.
Costa screamed.
‘Come here and tell me where you heard that!’ Tony said sharply.
When the man drinking whisky heard Tony shout at Costa, his face turned dark. ‘Re, Tony,’ he said in a tetchy voice. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I just want to talk to your grandson, Uncle Spiro,’ Tony informed him. ‘So, if he would just come with me…’ He yanked Costa’s arm as he spoke.
Costa screamed again.
Uncle Spiro pulled him away from Tony’s grip and closer into his own chest. ‘Hey! You’re scaring him, re!’ he said. ‘He’s just a child and you pull him around like a fucking doll? What’s the matter with you?’
Tony pulled his arms away and held his palms in the air, pleading innocence. ‘I just want to ask him something, Uncle,’ he said calmly and respectfully.
‘Tell him to leave me alone, Pappou!’ Costa blubbered into Uncle Spiro’s chest.
‘Shhh! It’s okay, mana mou…’ Uncle Spiro said, soothing his grandson, kissing him lightly on the side of the head. ‘Go on, re Tony,’ he then said. ‘Clear off! You’re upsetting him.’
Tony stared hotly at the back of Costa’s head. He wanted to know where he got that name, and where and how he saw Marco (if he did). But on the other hand, Uncle Spiro wasn’t a man to mess with. Rumour had it that back in Cyprus he once took on and battered a five-handed crew of Old Bill, even biting the nose off one of ’em. And with all the coke Tony was doing lately, he wanted his nose just where it was.
Tony put his hands together as if praying, sighed hard, and then turned and walked back the way he came, thinking it was the best thing to do. The music was still blaring around him, and the ladies were still dancing in a spiral. He walked past it all, cursing under his breath. This was already always going to be a shitty day, now made worse by the fact that fucker’s name had been mentioned. And as he hadn’t heard it for so long, it came like a bolt out of the fucking blue.
Suddenly his memory was jogged.
He wanted more coke.
And more booze.
He grabbed a half done bottle of whisky from a nearby table, threw away the bottle cap, and drank deep.
‘You all right, Tone?’ The voice came from behind him and he spun round, the bottleneck still in his mouth.
He removed it and wiped the residue from his lips. ‘Yeah, Nick,’ he replied to Nick XR2, who was standing there, immaculate in his expensive shirt and tie. Not a hair was out of place on his head neither.
‘What was all that about with your uncle?’
(Marco’s gonna kill you!)
Tony shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Nothing. Just my little cousin being a bit lippy.’
Nick nodded in understanding.
‘Look at ’em!’ Tony then said in disgust, staring the other way, taking long drags on of whisky.
Nick turned round. He saw the happy bride and groom going around talking to the various members of the groom’s family, thanking them for coming and all that. ‘I don’t really like him either, Tone,’ Nick told him. ‘She could do much better, but it’s what she wants…’
‘Huh?’ A look of confusion emerged on Tony’s face, and he glanced over to where Nick was looking to see his sister and Mario, frolicking like kids. ‘I’m not talking about them, for fuck’s sake,’ he said. ‘Although don’t get me started… Nah, I’m talking about the Mavro,’ he informed Nick, taking another swig of whisky and pointing over to where Nick Black was sitting with his new girlfriend, Carla.
Nick glanced at them. They were laughing and being all touchy feely with each other. ‘Oh,’ said Nick. ‘I see.’
‘Makes me fucking sick!’ Tony added.
He looked at Carla; at her black skin and the way it contrasted with her white dress; at her smile; at her laughter; at her obvious happiness, and something brewed in his heart. It was hatred. Pure, unadulterated hatred.
‘You seen Charlie?’ Nick then asked.
‘Charlie? He was here…’ Tony replied, his eyes never leaving Nick Black and Carla. ‘Now he’s gone.’
‘He’s back on the shit,’ Nick said.
‘So what’s new?’ Tony asked.
‘I’m just saying. When Charlie’s bang on the speed, it means something’s going on in his head. You know…?’
‘The shit he sees and hears, like he told us back at the church that night,’ Tony said.
‘Exactly. We gotta keep an eye on him…’
‘Well, he can do what he likes,’ Tony declared, and took another swig of whisky. ‘Makes no difference to me. All I’m interested in is getting my money. Wish you’d just sell the fuck up to whoever wants ’em, I’m sick of fixing people’s cars.’
Nick sighed. ‘I told you, Tone. We gotta play it right. These things take time. I mean I’ve only just managed to convince Taki’s mum he’s done a runner and ain’t coming back…’
‘Yeah, whatever,’ Tony said, flipping his hand on the air. ‘I’ve just had enough of all this shit…’
Nick nodded. ‘I understand, Tone,’ he said.
He took a final glance at Mario and Maria and shook his head in disappointment, before walking away, giving Tony a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he went past him.
Tony meanwhile just stared at the Mavro and his bird, downing whisky like it was water, the jealousy and hatred growing in his heart by the second, while underneath it all like a bout of tinnitus, little Costa declaring that Marco’s gonna kill him buzzing feverishly in his mind.
TWELVE
Charlie grabbed his cue and sized up the break.
He bent over, lined up the cue, and then pulled it back. He stopped and licked his dry lips in anticipation, concentrating on the pack of balls, aiming to hit them full on, dead centre, spread them round the table, maybe pot one or two if he was lucky.
He took in a deep breath and held it.
And then pushed the cue forwards.
His head twitched hard just before he made contact, causing him to miscue. He sent the cue ball flying over the pack of balls he was aiming for and off the table entirely. It smacked into the far wall, leaving a neat round dent.
Tony ripped into a torrent of laughter, Stella spilling out of the pint glass in his hand and splashing all over his Nike Airs. Nick XR2—who was watching on from his seat—joined in.
‘Nice shot, re Charlie!’ T
ony said out loud between fits of laughter.
Charlie spun round and gave Tony daggers. ‘You know I can’t play this fucking game!’ he said, and his shoulder twitched, which looked to Nick like a shrug of indifference.
‘No fucking shit,’ Tony said, leaning his head in towards Charlie’s personal space. ‘Ronnie O’Sullivan you ain’t, boy.’
‘What’s the point anyway?’ Charlie asked forcefully, holding his cue tight with both hands and shaking it. ‘Hitting these stupid balls with these stupid sticks, trying to get them in the fucking hole, only to take them back out again? Why bother with all the bloody effort to get them in there in the first place?’
‘Because it’s fun, you miserable prick!’ Tony answered.
‘Fun for you. Not for me!’
Tony leant back and stared darkly at Charlie. ‘You gonna get the fucking ball or not?’ he asked.
Charlie chucked his cue down on the table. ‘No I ain’t,’ he replied in a tetchy voice. ‘You two play.’ He then stormed off towards the other side of the pub.
‘Good. Nick’ll give me a proper game anyway,’ Tony said after him.
Charlie didn’t turn round, but instead just held up a hand, his middle finger erect.
Tony laughed, then turned to Nick. ‘See that?’
‘Yeah,’ Nick replied. ‘He’s whizzing off his nut, you know? He’s lost a lot of weight as well.’
Tony gulped more of his lager. ‘Yeah, you said that at the wedding…’
‘Something’s up with him,’ Nick said grimly. ‘But, we need to keep an eye on him.’
Tony nodded in agreement. ‘You think it’s because of what happened, you know?’
‘Marco?’ Nick replied in a quiet voice.
Tony took a sip of his drink. ‘Yeah. He still…sees him.’
‘You don’t believe that shit do you, Tone?’ Nick scoffed.
‘Nah, nah,’ Tony replied nervously, shrugging. ‘It’s just he really believes it, doesn’t he?’
‘He just still hasn’t come to terms with what happened,’ Nick then said, and Tony turned to face him. ‘And so he makes this paranoid stuff up in his mind about ghosts.’
Tony nodded slowly, absorbing what he was hearing. ‘And you think that paranoid shit was what told him to knock off Taki.’
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