‘Jamaica!’ Carla exclaimed.
‘Yeah. Why not? We can afford it now.’
‘We can’t go to Jamaica, Nick,’ she said and sat back in her seat. ‘It’s too far. And we’ve both got family here.’
‘Well we’re gonna have to steer clear of north London from now on. It’s Tony’s manor. If we just happen to bump into him…’
‘And what if he goes round to your house and gives your mum and sisters a ‘friendly’ grilling concerning your whereabouts? Have you thought of that?’
Nick’s eyes widened. No, he hadn’t thought of that. ‘I’ll-I’ll tell ’em to call the police if he comes near them,’ he said, flipping his hand nonchalantly on the air.
Yeah, that’s what I’ll do…
He reached out and took Carla’s hand. He smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘Everything’s gonna be okay. We just have to leave London for a little while, sell the stuff. Then we’ll find a home, have kids…’
‘Perish the thought!’ Carla said.
‘What? Look at the kind of father I’ll be—providing for them.’ He tapped the holdall as he spoke. ‘They’ll have everything they’ll ever want.’
Carla gave him a wide-eyed look and shook her head. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said.
Nick nodded in return. ‘I know,’ he told her. ‘I know. Now drive. We’ve got work to do.’
*****
Charlie was sitting on the park bench at Woodside Park tube station, at war with both himself and the voices in his head.
Maria’s sad, beaten face surfaced in his mind, and his heart felt heavy like it had suddenly been encased with lead.
‘Arr, is Charlie boy in love?’ the Old Witch goaded him, and cackled. ‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you, boy. She wouldn’t look twice at a cursed wretch like you.’
Charlie looked away, wringing his hands hard. The old bitch was right—Maria wouldn’t want to go near a freak like him. No one would.
But that didn’t excuse Mario. Didn’t excuse him using her for a punch bag. He was lucky—no, blessed, to have her, and the prick had to be made to realise that.
‘So, what are you going to do about it, Charlie?’ the Old Witch asked, reading his thoughts to perfection.
‘I’ll show him,’ Charlie answered.
A train pulled in at the station and Charlie locked eyes with a young lady sitting inside a carriage; she stared uneasily back at him. The train doors clunked open and the ensuing silence now made her shift around even more nervously. Charlie turned away, still wringing his hands. He was used to being looked at that way, like the freak that he was. And that was why a girl like Maria would never go for a bloke like him. He saw the way she looked at him, and he saw that same look in the eyes of the lady on the train.
Thankfully for them both, the doors clunked closed, severing the temporary psychic link that had been binding them. The train pulled away, disintegrating it completely, leaving Charlie alone on the platform with only the voices in his head for company.
‘Show him will you?’ the Old Witch said. ‘Pah! You couldn’t punch your way through wet newspaper!’
‘Even with a fucking machete in his hand,’ Zorba piped up from nowhere, and they both laughed. Laughed at him. ‘He doesn’t have the balls anyway!’ Zorba added. ‘Re, Charlie, you want that pussy? You got to stop acting like one first.’
‘Don’t talk about her like that,’ Charlie replied.
‘So, what are you going to do about it, Charlie?’ the Old Witch asked again. ‘Hmm? Are you just going to sit there and do nothing? While the other man shows her what it’s like to be with a real man.’
‘While he fucks her and beats her?’ Zorba added with malice.
‘And laughs at you while he’s doing it?’ The Old Witch asked.
‘Calls you a fucking pussy behind your back, re. Tells everyone how weak you are.’
‘Treats you and her like he owns you both?’
‘Or are you really just a pussy, re?’
‘I think he is,’ the Old Witch declared.
‘Told you he’s got no balls,’ Zorba said. ‘Look at him, sitting there, doing nothing…’
‘Too scared to do anything,’ the Old Witch added.
‘A fucking disgrace! Malaka!’
‘Come on, Charlie, show us what you can do.’
‘Dance for us, sing for us!’ Zorba ordered.
‘Perform for our entertainment, Charlie…’
Charlie just sat there and stewed. And did nothing.
‘Well, it’s a big ‘no’ from me, re, that’s for sure…’ Zorba voted.
‘And from me,’ the Old Witch agreed. ‘Such a disappointment, Charlie…’
Charlie then snapped, unable to take any more. He growled with anger. His fists curled up into balls. His nails dug sharply into his palms, leaving marks.
He jumped to his feet. ‘Shut up! Shut up! I’ll show you!’ he shouted, and if there had been anyone else there to see and hear him, they would instantly class him a mental case, and give him a very, very wide berth.
‘That a boy, Charlie,’ the Old Witch said. ‘Let it all out.’
‘Go do your thing, Romeo,’ Zorba said.
‘Perform well, and you’re in the next round…’ the Old Witch promised him with a rusty cackle.
And Charlie, now a smouldering volcano of rage, marched straight for the exit.
*****
Nick XR2 had a missed call from his cousin John.
The first thought that entered his mind once he noticed it on his phone was: Nick Mavro.
And that thought had disrupted the only thing he had been able to think about for the last twelve hours—Maria’s beaten face and the piece of shit that done it to her. All night and all day he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He wanted to do something, but felt powerless as he knew he couldn’t get involved. Besides, Tony had told him that he would take care of it, and that was good enough for Nick because that meant Mario would get his dues. Tony didn’t fuck around.
But, that didn’t diffuse the feelings of anger and the non-stop thinking of her all morning.
That was until he saw he had a missed call from John. And now the thought it triggered off cut into his mind and took it over like a new CD placed in the player—Nick Mavro.
He called John back at the Storage Centre straight away.
‘Nick,’ John answered.
‘Johnny. You called me?’
‘Yeah. I called you earlier, but kept getting voicemail…’
‘Yeah, I’ve been busy,’ Nick replied, taking a sip off the coffee he just bought at the BP station he was parked outside. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, trying his best not to sound anxious.
‘Your mate came by earlier,’ John told him.
‘Nick Mavro?’
‘Yeah. Came by, went into your storage unit, and left with a bag.’ Nick took in a deep breath and shook his head in irritation. ‘Looked pretty wired too,’ John added.
‘How do you mean?’
‘You know. Nervous.’
You’re damn right he’s nervous, Nick thought to himself with irony. He’s just stolen my fucking bling!
‘You told me to call you if he came by…’ John said.
‘Yeah,’ Nick replied, trying to sound upbeat. ‘You done good, man. Do you remember what time this was?’ He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his eyes closed tightly, a slight migraine forming in his head.
‘Yeah, it was half eleven.’
Nick checked his watch: 12:43. So, he’s got about an hour head start…
‘Is everything all right with you lot, re?’ John then asked.
‘Yeah, no worries,’ Nick replied, laughing casually. ‘It’s just that he’s not supposed to put in, or take anything out of the unit without consulting the group first.’ He sighed. ‘But, he’s broken that rule. I’ll-I’ll catch up with him, though. Thanks again, yeah.’
‘No worries, re. I’ll talk to you soon.’
‘Yeah. Bye.’ Nick pushed ‘end call’ and slung his phone down on the dash. Fucking Nick Black! Knew he’d fucking cross us!
Now, he’s no longer a brother, but an enemy…
Nick stared at his reflection in the rear view for what seemed like ages, watching how hot and alert his eyes were. ‘Marco’s gonna kill you,’ he then said to himself in a lifeless voice. ‘Marco’s gonna kill us all…’
He finally broke the stare, and began blinking as if waking up from a dream. He went to sip more coffee, but instead it burnt his lip. He slung the coffee out of the window with a growl of rage, and then immediately picked up his phone again to begin the hunt for Nick Mavro.
*****
‘Geezer outside wants to speak with you,’ Vernon told Tony, who had his head inside the engine of a VW Golf.
Tony glanced over his shoulder. ‘What geezer?’ he asked.
‘Dunno, didn’t give his name.’
‘What does he look like?’
‘A fucking crackhead,’ Vernon replied. ‘Ginger stubble and a hoodie. Says he knows you…’
Ahh, thought Tony to himself, and in his mind, he rubbed his hands together. That, Vernon my boy, is my hired help, and he’s reporting back for duty.
‘All right, I’ll sort it,’ Tony said before putting his wrench down and wiping his greasy hands on his overalls. He went to the garage entrance to greet his phantom crackhead.
He stepped outside and there he was, staring all cagey at Tony with his cold eyes. ‘What’s going on, man?’ he abruptly asked, his body language aggressive. ‘I thought you gave the job to me!’
‘Whoa, whoa, stop shouting you prick!’ Tony said, looking round him to make sure there was no one else about. He faced the phantom. ‘I paid you didn’t I? Now, tell me what happened. Was he there?’
‘Yeah, he was there. But, someone else got to him first.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Exactly that, man. He had the shit kicked outta him when I arrived on the scene. Someone fucked him up proper. He was on the floor of his café, blood pouring out his nose, chairs and tables thrown everywhere.’
‘What?’
‘Yeah,’ the phantom said, nodding. ‘Now, how do you explain that?’
Tony looked away, his mind working. He couldn’t explain it. He sent this prick out to do Mario in, no one else. ‘I paid you and only you to do him over, trust me,’ Tony informed him.
‘Yeah, well, he must have pissed someone else off as well…’ The phantom then cleared his throat. ‘So, you gonna give me the rest of the money you owe me?’ he asked, and gave Tony an uneasy smile.
A bolt of anger surged up into Tony’s chest. ‘No I fucking ain’t!’ he replied, and kicked out at the phantom, who jumped back, avoiding a steel toe cap wedged in his balls. ‘I ain’t paying you for a job you didn’t do, now get the fuck out of here before I take my wrench to your head!’
The phantom stood his ground. Tony gave him a look that said I’m fucking serious, which the phantom heard loud and clear. He immediately turned and scampered away. Very soon he was round the corner, and out of sight.
Fucking junkie…Tony thought to himself and spat on the ground in disgust.
He then began to mull it over. If the crackhead didn’t lay into Mario, then who did? And more to the point, why?
Then, before he could come up with a logical answer, Charlie appeared out of nowhere. He was storming towards the garage, his head bowed, looking from side to side and behind him all nervous like he was being chased (or more likely thought he was being chased).
Christ, from one headcase to another, Tony reflected to himself with mild annoyance. ‘What’s up, Charlie?’ he asked without much enthusiasm once Charlie was close enough to hear him.
Charlie didn’t answer straight away. He stopped in front of Tony, still looking around him in that nervy way. ‘I’ve got something to tell you, Tony,’ he then said. ‘I just can’t keep it bottled up inside me any more.’
Tony glanced down to see Charlie nursing bruised fists and the odd split knuckle. ‘How did you hurt your hands, re?’ he asked him.
Charlie looked down at them and shook his head. ‘It’s nothing,’ he replied.
Then things began to form in Tony’s mind; jigsaw pieces slotting together smoothly. ‘Re, you haven’t just come the Olive Tree café, have you?’ he asked.
Charlie met his stare for a brief second, then looked up at the sky, his Adam’s apple sticking out of his neck like a shark’s fin jutting from the sea. He groaned, and for a split second, Tony thought he was going to cry.
‘Re. What did you do?’ Tony asked in a serious voice. Charlie lowered his head and just stared up at Tony, not saying a word. ‘Charlie!’ Tony shouted. ‘What the fuck did you do?’
‘I did what I had to,’ Charlie replied and his head twitched. ‘I did what I did because I love her, Tony. I love her like my own. She’s one of us, and I can’t stand by and watch some bastard treat her like that.’
Tony grabbed the sides of his own head, Charlie’s words now unravelling the mystery in its entirety. He stared down at him with a strange mix of confusion and admiration. On the one hand, he didn’t like Charlie saying that he loved his sister (cos that was a step away from saying he wants to fuck her), he had no right. But on the other, he admired him for standing up for her against her bullies, even if it wasn’t his place to do so.
But ultimately it was foolish of Charlie to do that because it could land them both in the shit.
‘Did anyone see you?’ Tony asked, addressing that very concern. Charlie didn’t answer, but just stared down at his trainers. ‘Re! Did he recognise you?’ Charlie still didn’t answer. ‘Tell me!’ Tony snapped.
‘I-I don’t know. Maybe. Yes,’ Charlie stammered and looked away like a naughty school kid sent to the headmaster to explain himself.
Tony’s eyes darted from side to side as the consequences played out in his mind. If Mario could name the person who laid into him (and exactly how much damage had Charlie done? The prick could be in intensive care right now for all they knew), then he could have Old Bill knocking on his door by this evening, and then when Maria finds out, she’ll put two and two together and get five, thinking Tony had sent Charlie to do the job. At least with the phantom he could pass it off as a random crackhead doing what random crackheads do—that he decided to take his drug rage out on Mario. He could worm his way out of that one, but Charlie?
That was a toughie.
‘I’ll take the hit,’ Charlie then said, and Tony locked eyes with his; he was staring back at him with sincerity. His head then twitched and he carried on speaking. ‘You took one for us, so I’ll take this one for you,’ he added.
Tony felt a frown come onto his face, and he now found himself staring at Charlie for the first time ever with something sweet and overwhelming swelling in his heart that at first he couldn’t identify because it had been so long since he felt it, but after a few seconds finally recognising it. It was love. Unadulterated brotherly love.
He reached out and grabbed Charlie by the arm. ‘Come here, man!’ he said as he pulled him into his chest and gave him a tight bear hug. ‘You’re my brother!’ Tony told him as he patted him heartily on the back. ‘My brother, you hear!’
Charlie mumbled something, which was probably just a smothered groan, but Tony just kept on hugging him, not wanting to let go. He couldn’t remember anyone offering a gesture like Charlie had just offered him, couldn’t remember anyone doing anything for him like that, and it made him feel good. Very fucking good.
He planted a sloppy kiss on the top of Charlie’s head before finally letting go of him, allowing him to breathe again. Tony then slapped him on the shoulder, almost knocking him over like he was a ten pin, Charlie’s skinny, skeletal frame like a feather in the wind compared to Tony’s might.
Tony grinned broadly at him, his whole perception of Charlie now permanently altered. ‘You done good, Charlie,’ he declared. ‘I’m proud of you.’
Charlie stared at the ground shyly.
‘And you were saying the other day that I always solve things with violence,’ Tony said. ‘Then you pull off shit like this.’
Charlie shrugged. ‘Sometimes violence is the only answer, but not always,’ he replied.
Tony laughed and pointed a finger at him. ‘Very good.’
Then the reason why Charlie was there, a more pressing concern came back into his mind. He looked sharply up at Tony with serious eyes. ‘Look, there’s something I’ve gotta tell you, Tone,’ he said.
Tony stopped laughing and looked at Charlie with a faint smile still on his face. ‘What? What is it that’s so important?’ he asked.
Charlie stared at him darkly, his face shadows, his head twitching. ‘Marco’s back,’ he said, and Tony’s face changed. One second he was smiling, but that smile swiftly transformed into a grimace, and his eyes flashed with fear. He went to speak but no words came out of his mouth, and suddenly Costa popped up in his mind. ‘Marco’s gonna kill you,’ the little shit said.
‘I-I-I’ve been seeing him everywhere. Fucking everywhere,’ Charlie continued in his intense, maniacal way. ‘He-he-he was gone for a while, but now he’s back, and that means some bad shit is gonna happen. You understand? Something fucking bad is gonna happen!’
And now Charlie was grabbing handfuls of Tony’s overalls, pulling him in towards him, their faces now inches apart. When Tony looked into those two big saucer like eyes, into those pupils that were so dilated they were like black holes (Marco’s gonna kill you), a shiver juddered up his spine.
They remained that way, eyes locked, for a few seconds that felt like hours to Tony, his mind going—
‘Tony!’ Vernon called from the entrance of the garage, making both their heads spin to the side in sync. When Vernon saw them as close up to each other as they were, flinching as if they had just been caught doing something they shouldn’t, he stared at them sideways. ‘You got a call,’ he said, a cordless phone in his hand.
Tony glanced from him to Charlie, before pushing him away. Charlie went like a beach ball.
Tony cleared his throat, straightened his overalls, and headed for Vernon. ‘Fucking popular today ain’t I?’ he said as he snatched up the phone.
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