The Front

by Mandasue Heller

  He whistled through his teeth respectfully. ‘Very nice!’ Turning it around, he squinted down into the barrel. ‘Loaded?’

  ‘Course!’ Lee said, his voice thick with pride. ‘It ain’t a toy, you know. That’s the real McCoy, that is!’

  Turning it streetward, Mal closed an eye and peered along the barrel, setting his sights on a young mother pushing a pram along the pavement. His finger quivered on the trigger, the urge to squeeze almost overwhelming.

  Kaboom . . . Kaboom!

  Blowing imaginary smoke away as the girl and her unseen sprog mentally hit the deck in a pool of blood and gore, he asked again where Lee had got it.

  ‘Jamie Wotsisface from the Eagle,’ Lee told him, jealously reclaiming the gun. Slipping it back into the bag, he stashed it safely back under the seat.

  ‘Junkie Jamie?’ Mal sneered, rubbing his tingling fingers on his thighs. ‘That rip-off merchant? How much did he rush you?’

  ‘A tenner,’ said Lee smugly. ‘He wanted fifty, but I bunged him a brownie and promised the rest later. Yeah, like he’s ever gonna see it,’ he cackled. ‘Suck-er! Anyhow, he wasn’t gonna say no, the state he was in, snottin’ and shakin’.’ He wrinkled his nose in disgust. ‘Bleeding junkies, man. They’ve got no sense.’

  Mal nodded, totally agreeing with this sentiment. Smack was a mug’s game, in his opinion: it took a man’s pride, ate it up and spat it out. Now Charlie – that was the stuff. The essence of life. Mother of recreation. Charlie was the main man!

  ‘It’s only in case,’ Lee was saying now. ‘Just to shut him up if he gets lippy, like.’

  Mal pictured Pasha on his knees behind the counter, begging for mercy as Lee thrust the gun into his face, demanding all the dosh from the till. He shook his head. ‘Nah, he’s a pussy. You won’t need it.’

  Looking out of his window as they turned on to Barlow Moor Road, Mal’s forehead tightened into a frown. South Manchester sucked the big one. All twitching net curtains and 999 on permanent redial. You couldn’t blend into the background in places like this. Load of creepy bastards! He didn’t care how posh it was, he didn’t want to be here, and he’d make damn’ sure they didn’t stay too long. He didn’t know why Sam and Wendy had wanted to move up here in the first place – or how. It was supposed to have something like a ten-year waiting list.

  As if reading Mal’s thoughts, Lee said, ‘I think they were dead lucky getting a gaff up here. You seen it yet?’

  Mal grunted, ‘Nah. I ain’t had me invitation yet. Must’ve got lost in the post, eh? Anyhow, it’s a bit toffee for me. And I thought Sam would’ve had more sense and all. What’s he want to get stuck up here for?’

  Lee shrugged. ‘You know what Wendy’s like once she’s made her mind up about something. Remember how bad she kicked off when they offered her that dump in Sharston?’

  ‘Yeah.’ Mal smirked, remembering only too well. Wendy had an evil temper, and a tongue that could slice you in half.

  ‘I reckon they shoved her here to keep her quiet,’ Lee went on. ‘Her threatening to go to the news if they didn’t give her somewhere decent. They couldn’t exactly risk that with her fit to pop, could they? Ah, here it is.’

  Swinging through the gateway of a neat, pebble-dashed semi with a tidy gravel drive and a well-tended garden, he screeched to a stop, sending a spray of small stones across the lawn.

  ‘All right, isn’t it?’ He nodded towards the house, as proud as if it were his own. ‘And Sam’s well made up, being this far out, especially with that posse after his arse an’—’

  ‘You what?’ Mal cut him off with a frown. ‘I thought he’d sorted that?’

  Lee shrugged, opening his door. ‘So did he, but Jimmy Feeley give him the tip-off the other week that they ain’t too happy with his attitude now. They reckon he’s been dissing ’em, or something. Load of bollocks, but what can you do?’

  Mal was not happy about this last piece of information. The City Road Posse were an evil bunch of bastards, and Pasha’s shop was smack in the middle of their turf. Being seen with a marked man would be very dangerous, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to take that chance.

  ‘Hang about a minute,’ he said. ‘You reckon we should let Sam in on this? You know what that crew are like, man. It won’t just be him who cops it if they see him. We’ll all get it.’

  Lee shook his head, dismissing Mal’s concerns with a wave of his hand. ‘It’s cool, man, I’ve got it covered. I’ve got us some masks. And wait till you see ’em. They’re the works, man!’ With that, he got out and marched up to Sam’s front door.

  Mal followed reluctantly, unable to share Lee’s confidence. If Lee was wrong – which was extremely likely – bringing Sam along could seriously damage Mal’s health.

  Sam frowned when he peeped out through the net curtain and saw Lee and Mal standing on his step. He was already having a crap day, thanks to Wendy making him look a complete bastard in front of his kids that morning, and these clowns turning up unannounced did nothing to raise his spirits. He was just glad she was out now or there’d have been hell to pay. It wasn’t Mal so much – she didn’t seem to mind him, for some reason Sam had never quite fathomed. It was Lee. She hated him with a passion, and had fully expected him to vanish off the face of the earth after they moved. She wouldn’t be too pleased if she came home and found him here now.

  With that thought in mind, he crept away from the window, hoping they’d think he was out and go away. But it was too late. Lee had already spotted him. With another glass-rattling hammering on the door, he lifted the letter-box flap and shouted: ‘I know you’re in! I saw the curtain move!’

  Sam cursed under his breath, knowing he couldn’t blatantly ignore them after that. It was Wendy’s fault, the bitch! She’d nagged him into submission – turned him into a pushover. She’d always been headstrong and opinionated, but these last few months, she’d turned into a Grade A ball-breaker. And there was nothing he could do about it, apart from belting her – and there was no way he was starting any of that shit, no matter how bad it got.

  Under this cloud of despondency, Sam opened the door without a word, then turned and sloped away, leaving Lee and Mal to make up their own minds if they were going to come in or not.

  Picking up on the atmosphere, Mal hesitated. But Lee had no such qualms. Hopping over the step, he followed Sam through to the showpiece lounge and threw himself into one of Wendy’s new chairs, jeering: ‘What’s up with you, you sad bastard? You look like you’ve had shit for breakfast!’

  Sam rolled his eyes and muttered, ‘It might come to that yet.’ Slumping even further down in his chair he stared at the floor, hoping they’d get the hint and leave in less than two minutes.

  Mal perched on the arm of the couch with a frown. Seeing Sam like this made him even more certain that they shouldn’t involve him in the job. The miserable shit would only put a damper on everything – if he didn’t get them wasted first!

  ‘Where’s the missus?’ Lee asked, helping himself to one of Sam’s cigarettes.

  ‘Out spending what we haven’t got,’ Sam told him glumly. ‘And don’t smoke that in here, she’ll have a fit. Take it out the back.’

  Lee laughed. ‘Piss off, I’ll open a window.’

  ‘I’m not joking!’ Sam snapped. ‘Take it outside!’

  ‘Behave yourself!’ Lee snapped back. ‘I ain’t a dog you can shove in the yard.’ Standing, he opened the window and parked himself on the sill, defiantly blowing his smoke outside.

  Sam gritted his teeth as a familiar wave of nausea signalled an impending migraine. He had to get rid of them ASAP. ‘Look, what you here for?’ he asked, looking pointedly at his watch. ‘Only I’ve got to go out in a bit . . .’

  Mal’s hackles rose at the obvious brush-off. He fought down an impulse to jump up and kick Sam’s head in. The bastard knew how far they’d come – the least he could do was act pleased to see them. Pushing himself to his feet, he looked down on Sam with contempt, saying icily, ‘Don’
t worry, we weren’t planning to stick around. You’re obviously too good for the likes of us now you’re living up here, eh?’ Still glaring at Sam, he motioned Lee to the door with a nod. ‘Come on, mate, we obviously ain’t welcome in his poncey new gaff.’

  Blushing at the partial truth of the words, Sam looked down at his feet. If they did but know it, Wendy had in fact said just that – about Lee, anyway. Still, he shouldn’t let her bully him into treating his mates like dirt.

  ‘Look, don’t go,’ he said as Mal made for the door. ‘Stay for a brew at least. I’m sorry for being such a git, but I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.’

  ‘We’ve all got shit to deal with,’ Mal snapped unsympathetically. ‘But you don’t see us moaning about it, do you? You want to sort your head out, mate.’

  Sam nodded contritely. ‘I know . . . I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll make that brew, eh?’

  ‘Four sugars,’ called Lee from behind the net, then: ‘ ’Ere! Who’s the bird with big tits going in next door?

  ‘E’ yar darlin’!’ he yelled out through the window. ‘What’s your name, then? You got a fella? Fancy a sha—’

  ‘Pack it in!’ hissed Sam, running across the room to drag Lee away from the window. ‘She’ll tell Wendy!’

  Mal and Lee exchanged an amused glance as Sam hurriedly slammed the window shut. Scared shitless of his own wife. How sad was that? The bloke needed a bollock transplant to remind himself who wore the kecks in the house.

  ‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ Sam muttered, heading out of the room with his gaze cast down.

  Mal followed, all set to hammer a few more nails into the coffin of Sam’s manhood. Stepping into the kitchen, however, he was knocked back a step by the fluorescent yellow walls.

  ‘Fuck me!’ he exclaimed, throwing his hands up to shield his eyes. ‘Jesus wants me for a sunbeam or what!’

  Sam grinned sheepishly. ‘It is a bit, isn’t it? And if you think this is bad, you want to see what’s she’s planning for the conservatory!’

  ‘You ain’t got one of them, have you?’ Mal jumped up at the sink and peered out of the window to see for himself.

  ‘No,’ said Sam, ‘but it’s on her never-ending list, second only to the royal nursery!’ He shrugged dejectedly. ‘I’ve told her we haven’t got the money, but what Wendy wants, Wendy gets.’

  Lee popped his head around the door. ‘Does she want me?’ he asked hopefully. ‘ ’Cos she can have me anytime!’

  ‘In your dreams, you plonker!’ Mal snorted. Then, turning to Sam, he asked: ‘Is that what’s up with you? Dosh?’

  Sam nodded and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Man, I’m so far up shit creek I’m gonna need a passport to get back home!’

  Lee came in and jumped up onto the ledge. ‘Might be able to help you out there.’

  ‘I doubt that,’ Sam muttered, moving him out of the way to reach for the kettle. ‘Not unless you’ve got a couple of grand going spare?’

  Lee grinned. ‘And if I did . . .?’

  Sam narrowed his eyes. ‘Come off it. Where you going to get money like that?’

  ‘Where are we going to get it, you mean,’ said Lee, opening the cupboard behind him and helping himself to a chocolate biscuit.

  ‘Eh?’ Sam looked at him quizzically. ‘I don’t get you.’

  Lee looked at Mal. Mal hesitated, then nodded. It looked like Sam needed this even more than he did. The least he could do was let him in on it.

  Lee grinned and puffed himself up to play Santa Claus. ‘Right then . . .’ he began. ‘I’ve got this plan, see . . .’

  An hour later, Wendy and the kids arrived home, complete with the latest Sega games console and four brand new games. The console had cost a bomb, but Wendy didn’t care. It would serve Sam right for being too mean to buy the knock-off one they’d been offered that morning. She’d also treated herself to a couple of new dresses and a jacket. They’d cost almost as much as the kids’ stuff, but again she didn’t care a jot. Let Sam dare to complain – she’d soon set him straight. Anyway, he’d better get used to it, because she planned to buy lots more when she dropped this third – unplanned, unwanted – sprog he’d landed her with. She’d like to see him cart this monstrosity around for nine months without reward!

  Finding the driveway blocked by a car she had never seen before, she had no option but to park on the pavement, and she was not amused. After traipsing around the Arndale Centre all day, the last thing she needed was a further walk to get into her own house. And her with her swollen feet! Sam was such an inconsiderate shit!

  Marching up the path, she slammed the front door open and hustled the kids in, sending them straight upstairs to set the new game up on their week-old portable. Dumping her own bags in the hall, she stalked into the living room in fighting mood.

  ‘What’s that heap of shit doing up my path?’ she demanded, glaring at Sam. ‘It’s a fucking eyesore, and I want it moved right no—’ Her voice trailed off as she spotted Lee lounging in her chair with his filthy trainers on her new carpet and one of her china saucers on his knee catching his ash.

  ‘What the fuck is he doing here?’ she yelled. ‘And why is he grinning at me like a dog on fucking heat?’

  Mal suppressed a laugh as Sam’s face drained of colour. He had a lot of time for Wendy. She was feisty as hell, and gorgeous to boot. And today, she looked amazing. Her thick black hair longer and glossier than usual, her huge breasts straining at the soft material of her dress. But best of all were her eyes. Usually a sultry violet, they were now alive and blazing with vim and fire. Very horny! Feeling the stirrings of a hard-on, he stood up.

  ‘Hi, babe,’ he crooned, pulling her into a hug and breathing in the heady scent of musk oil. ‘You’re looking particularly sexy today.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she sniffed, knocked off balance by the compliment – despite feeling about as sexy as a walrus right now. ‘Look, no offence, Mal,’ she went on. ‘It’s not you I’m pissed off with, it’s that nonce!’ She jabbed a finger towards Lee. ‘I don’t want him in my house!’

  Mal laughed softly. ‘No offence taken, babe, but you don’t need to go upsetting yourself in your condition, so we’ll get off. Come on, Lee. On your feet.’

  ‘How come we had to go?’ Lee pouted as they pulled out of the drive minutes later. ‘I haven’t seen Wendy for ages. I could have stayed all day just lookin’ at her tits!’ He groaned lustfully. ‘Man, did you see ’em? They’re gi-fuckin’-gantic! One of these days I’m gonna—’

  ‘Are you thick or what?’ Mal cut him off sharply. ‘She can’t fucking stand you. She ain’t gonna let you nowhere near her tits. She doesn’t even want you in her house.’

  ‘She does!’

  ‘She just said she don’t, you dense bastard!’

  Lee sniffed sulkily. ‘She’s just playing hard to get.’

  Mal shook his head in despair. ‘Shut the fuck up, man. You’re doing me head in.’

  ‘Be like that!’ Lee muttered. ‘But I know what I know.’

  Settling back in his seat, Mal closed his eyes and tuned Lee out, thinking instead about what he was going to do with his dosh. After tonight, all being well – which was a long shot, considering whose idea it was! – he’d be rolling in it. And just think how much Charlie he’d get with a few grand in his pocket!

  As soon as he thought of Charlie, his stomach tightened, as though an invisible hand were in there, squeezing his guts. Recognizing the signs, he groaned. Come-down city! Bummer!

  Back at the house, Sam sighed heavily as Wendy sprayed air freshener all over the chair Lee had been sitting on. She was fuming, hissing her tirade at him through gritted teeth.

  ‘I’m telling you now, Sam, I ever catch that dirty little bastard in my house again you’ll know about it! It bloody stinks in here now! And look at that filth!’ She pointed at a faint scuff on the carpet. ‘Well, that’s it! I’ll have to get a new bleeding carpet now!’

  ‘That’s going a bit far, isn’t it?’ Sam sa
id. ‘It’ll wash off. It’s only dust.’

  ‘Dust!’ Wendy screeched. ‘It’s shite! It’ll never come off.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ Sam said, pushing himself to his feet wearily. ‘And keep your voice down, will you? The kids will hear.’

  ‘Keep my bleeding voice down!’ she snorted. ‘Why? So the kids won’t know what a stupid useless git they’ve got for a father? Bit late for that, mate!’

  ‘Thanks, Wendy,’ Sam muttered unhappily. ‘Just leave that, I’ll do it later.’ Turning, he made for the door.

  ‘That’s right,’ Wendy sneered. ‘Slope off and leave me to sort your mess out as per!’

  ‘I’m going to get a shower,’ Sam told her. ‘If that’s all right with you?’

  ‘Oh?’ she raised a brow. ‘Going out, are we?’

  He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. ‘If you must know, we’ve got a job on tonight.’

  ‘A job?’ Wendy demanded. ‘What kind of job? And who’s we?’

  ‘Me and the lads,’ Sam said. ‘And I’d have thought you’d be happy. God knows we need the money.’

  ‘Well, don’t think I’m staying in,’ Wendy said, viciously shaking out the cushion Lee had tainted. ‘If you’re going out with the lads, I’m off out to see my mates and all. In fact, I might just pay Suzie a visit, find out what you’re up to when I’m not around!’

  ‘Suit yourself,’ Sam said, walking out.

  Wendy glared at the closing door. ‘Oh, I will, mate!’ she hissed. ‘Believe me, I will!’

  Mal was completely pissed off by the time they reached the Crescents: itching to get a line, and ready to pick holes in anyone who crossed his path. Sensing this, Lee sensibly kept his mouth shut as he followed him up the foul-smelling stairs to his flat. Mal would be sorted once the God of White was floating up his nose.

  Inside, Suzie was relaxing on the couch, watching TV. Hearing Mal’s key in the lock, she jumped up guiltily. He couldn’t stand it when she slobbed around in the middle of the day – as he called it. Switching the TV off, she did a frantic scan of the spotlessly clean room. Fussy to the point of obsession, Mal had a knack of spotting even the tiniest speck of dust she’d overlooked, and he could go days without speaking to her if he thought she hadn’t tried hard enough.