by Graham Guy
A woman that may be interested in spending time with him. He wasn’t sufficiently versed in male-female relationships to realise the only interest the woman had in him was his access to what seemed an endless supply of cash.
The woman’s name was Marcella. About 35 years of age, Italian, olive skin with long black hair and far too much cheap make-up. Her breasts were firm, her stomach flat and it was obvious she was very proud of her great legs, which she showed off mercilessly. When John James, who introduced himself as Peter Heatherington, offered Marcella, within minutes of meeting her, a thousand dollars to spend the night with him, she didn’t hesitate.
Marcella lived only two blocks from the club. They covered the distance on foot and when they entered her apartment, she turned and smiled. “OK, lover boy. You want a coffee first or do you want to get right down to it?”
John James was incredibly nervous. He had no idea what to expect or what to do.
She could see he was more than slightly embarrassed. She moved to turn out the light, throwing back the curtains as she went to allow the reflections of the city to light their way. “Feel happier now?” she asked softly.
John James didn’t answer.
Marcella looked at him in the dimly lit room and was unsure what to do next. She decided to sit down. “You change your mind?”
“No, no,” he blurted with great urgency.
“What then? You want to sit and talk?”
“I just want to look at you.”
Marcella laughed. “Oh, Jesus, a fucking weirdo… !” she exclaimed before John James abruptly cut her off.
He shook his head frantically. “I’m not a weirdo!” he protested, a high-pitched panic in his tone. “I’ve… I’ve never been with a woman before,” he told her, ashamedly.
“For Christ sakes!… really?”
John James shook his head. “Hardly ever spoken to one,” he went on, his voice dropping away to almost a whisper.
“Well, you’re alone with one now. You wanna fuck me?… or do I have to show you how? Bloody hell, for the dough you’re paying I’ll do fucking hand stands on you. You say.”
John James by now was most uncomfortable. “I… I only want to look at you,” he mumbled.
“You do that at the bar. You want to see me naked?”
John James dropped his eyes, too embarrassed to face her.
Marcella gave a slight chuckle. “If you want to do that, you’ll have to take my clothes off,” she told him. “Come on, I won’t bite.”
John James hesitantly made his way to Marcella. He tried undoing the hook and eye at the back of her dress but was all fingers and thumbs.
“I’ll help you.”
Within moments, Marcella was standing naked in front of John James. She took hold of his hands and ran them over her breasts then down to her patch. “What do you think?” she asked him.
Suddenly he undid his trousers and began to masturbate.
“Jesus, don’t waste it!” Marcella cried out, grabbing his hand and leading him into her bedroom. She was quickly on her back.
“Jam that fucking thing inside of me… Christ, don’t just bloody jerk off.”
John James hadn’t even got inside of Marcella when it was all over. She laughed. “You’re gonna be here all night, so there’s plenty of time to try again,” she told him.
In the weeks that followed, John James would turn up at Lay Lady Lay once a week, always unannounced. He’d immediately look for Marcella, hand her a thousand dollars and the two would be gone. He spoke to no-one else.
Gradually, after their third or fourth time together, John James began to talk a little. Not very much, but enough for Marcella to learn he didn’t have a living soul in the world who cared for him. If she asked any questions, he totally ignored them. Except one.
“Peter… how would you like to be really rich?”
Suddenly his eyes came to life and the whole of his face became animated. Marcella was a little taken aback at the visual response to her question.
This guy might be my man, she thought.
“I wish I had all the money in the world. That’s all I want. To become richer than anyone else on earth.”
“Why?” Marcella asked him.
John James looked at her. All he could offer was a puzzled expression. “I’ve never asked myself that,” he told her. “All I know is that’s what I want.”
“I may be able to help you get at least some of it,” she told him coyly.
“How much is some of it?”
“Can’t say. But I’ve got a gut feeling that some people I know are planning something big — really big — in September.”
“What sort of something?”
“I’ve tried to find out, but I can’t.”
“Who are the people?”
“They come to the club. You may have noticed them. There’s three brothers and a woman, Gina. She’s Sicilian. They always sit in a tight group over by the far wall. They used to be the life of the joint. Now they only sit and talk all night. They used to be here up to three times a week. Now… maybe they turn up once a fortnight. One of the brothers, he told me the other night they’re gonna do a big job in September. So I challenged Gina. She was pretty pissed at being asked about it. Tried to laugh it off. The guy was just mouthing off about a suprise party for one of the brothers. Well, I say bullshit to her. I reckon something’s going down and I’d like to be part of it. It may be jack-shit, but my guts tells me different. You want to be part of it, Peter?”
“I… I’ve never done anything like that,” he lied, trying hard to sell his innocence to the Italian woman. “You don’t know me, Marcella. Why would you want to cut me in on something that could be worth a lot of money to you?”
“’Cause I can’t do it on my own. I can’t follow those sons of bitches to see what they’re up to. But you gotta promise me. If you stake them out and grab what they get, you gotta promise to look after me, OK?”
John James looked at her and offered a wry smile. “Half, Marcella. I’d give you half,” he said.
“Do you mean that?” she asked excitedly.
“I mean that,” he told her, a firmness in his voice.
“Take your trousers off again, baby, that’s worth one for the road.”
The last thing on John James mind was the woman he was with. The first thing was what the woman had told him. They sat and talked again for a lengthy period.
“Tell me all you know.”
“I have,” she replied. “But if I know Italian men, one will go missing from the group a few days before the others take off. He will be the organiser. So we better try and find out where each of them lives. The night one doesn’t turn up, we go to his joint and wait. When he takes off, we follow.”
“You reckon that’s how it will work?”
“I know that’s how it will work.”
John James pulled another wad of notes from his pocket. “Cab fares. You follow and find out where they live.”
Marcella took the money. “Might take a few weeks.”
“We’ve got plenty of time. September, you say?”
“Apparently.”
“I can’t see why you think it’s something big.”
“A woman’s intuition,” she smiled. “This guy, Enrico, he was a bit pissed, but it was the way he said it.”
“Has he got a mobile phone?”
Marcella told John James he had.
“Can you get the number?”
“Jesus, that’s a tough one. I’ll try.”
“If you get it, arrange to get him pissed then ring him up and pretend you’re… Gina, was it?”
“Yes, Gina.”
“Phone him and ask what’s the agreed split again. They would already have worked that out if something’s on. He’ll probably just blurt it out without thinking.”
“I’ll try.”
“I’d better go. See you in a week.”
* * *
Again John James didn’t leave his f
lat over the ensuing days. His mind was racing with the possibilities of what Marcella may have turned up. The following week, in the early hours of the morning, John James walked into the Lay Lady Lay. He saw the group of four huddled together by the far wall, then he saw Marcella seated at the bar.
“Hello,” he said softly as he sat next to her.
Marcella didn’t look at him. “Something wrong?”
“Get a good look at the group of four if you can, because we can’t come back here again. They could be on to me. Take a piss or whatever. But get a look at their faces. I’ll get a cab and meet you outside.”
John James eased himself off the stool and went to the men’s toilet. As he was standing at the urinal, the three brothers walked in after him.
Panic took hold of John James’ gut. Have they worked out I put Marcella up to calling Enrico? Has Marcella told them I might be a threat? Was she playing a double hand and really belonged to one of them anyway? Am I about to be dead over this September thing?
These questions raced through his mind as his breath shortened and instinct told him the shit was about to hit the fan. He stood at the urinal trying to pee, but nothing would come. Nobody spoke. Instead, the brothers just stared at him. Then Franco made his move. He lunged at John James, grabbing his trousers and reefing them hard up through the cheeks of his backside, pushing his head against the wall.
“Who the fuck are you, pally?”
“Jesus Christ, what have I done?” he squealed.
“That broad at the bar. The one you seem to be very cosy with every week. She’s my brother’s head job when he says so. OK? You understand what I’m saying? That means you stay the fuck away from her or we’ll cut your cock off and feed your balls to the rats. You get the message? You get the message, you little worm?”
“Oooh, Christ!” John James stammered, feeling his warm urine run down his leg. “How was I supposed to know? She didn’t say! You want me to stay away? OK, I’m staying away. Fucking hell!”
Franco released his grip on the slightly built man. John James felt relief run through his body.
Shit! And I was thinking all that other stuff!
But it wasn’t over. Enrico spun round and jammed his knee into John James’ groin. He screamed in agony, collapsing in a heap onto the toilet floor.
“That’s in case you change your fucking mind, arsehole,” he said, joining his brothers as they returned to the bar. He fought to regain his feet, but was unable to stand erect.
Outside, Marcella was seated in a cab waiting for him. She was beginning to panic when suddenly John James literally ran from the premises, his eyes wide open in expectation she’d be there. He fell into the cab.
“Go!” Marcella yelled to the driver. “What the bloody hell happened to you?” she asked John James, knowing it may take him a while to answer. He finally caught his breath.
“I just met the brothers,” he groaned, the pain still causing him to double up.
Marcella quickly gave the cab driver the address of a motel. “I booked a room tonight in case there was trouble,” she said. “With what I found out, there might be.”
The two didn’t speak as the cab driver drove to their destination. Inside the room, John James still couldn’t stand properly.
“What the fuck was all that about?” Marcella asked with genuine concern.
“Those bastards grabbed me in the can. Told me to stay away from you as you belonged to Enrico when he said so.”
Anger rose in Marcella. “They’re mongrels, those bastards. I told you, I fucked Enrico once and that was it. I don’t belong to anyone,” she said fiercely.
“They say you do.”
“Believe me. I don’t. But I’ll tell you one thing. I thought that little shakedown might have been about the phone call.”
“You rang Enrico?” John James asked, brightening up a little.
“Cost me five hundred to the barman, but yes, I rang the prick.”
“Tell me?” he urged, still trying to overcome the pain in his groin.
“Two nights ago. The barman loaded him up with triple Jacks. I waited till they all left. Worked well, actually, because Gina wasn’t there that night. So I dialled the number. Enrico slurred some sort of hello and when I said, ‘Enrico, Gina, tell me again the split we agreed upon.’ He came out with a mouth full of abuse about being phoned on his mobile. Said it pissed him off that she was even going and if she wasn’t such a shit-for-brains wog Sicilian, she would have remembered it was five mill each. ‘Now go away and leave me alone.’
“He would had to have been pissed to speak to her like that because, from what I’ve observed, Gina calls the shots… make no mistake about it. But when you see them in the group, he’s all over her. He obviously hates her guts, but because of what’s going down, he’s sugar sweet when face to face with her. What an arsehole! But what about that, Peter? Five mill each? Surely that can’t mean five million dollars each?”
John James was nearly beside himself with excitement. “Tell me again? Enrico said her share was five mill?”
“I can still hear his voice.”
“Bloody hell, if that’s the case, it’s a twenty million dollar heist? In this country? In September? No way! They’re going overseas. Have to be. And Gina’s going with them?”
“That’s what he said.”
John James paced the room of the motel. Thinking. “Do those guys know where you live?”
“Wouldn’t be hard for them to find out.”
“Have you followed any of them yet?”
“Just Franco,” she told him, opening her handbag and handing him an address. “That’s where he lives. Quite a joint. Wife. Kids. Two cars.”
“Turramurra?”
“Top suburb.”
“OK.” John James pulled another wad of notes from his pocket. “Stay here tonight. Give me your mobile phone number. Move some-where else every day. This will cover it,” he told her, handing her a bunch of $100 bills. “Don’t go back to your place for five days. If you need anything, buy it,” he said, handing her more money. “I’ll go back to your place with you when you go so you can get what things you need. You’ll need to find another place to live. I’ll pay for it. I think once they get their head around that phone call, they’ll know it was you, and your life will be in danger.”
“I reckon Enrico would already have figured that. He’d be too scared to tell his brothers and he’d be racking his brain trying to remember just what he did say on the phone. I don’t think I have to worry about the other three. It’s Enrico who’ll want me out of the way. And he’ll think I’ve told you, so that means he’ll be after you, too.”
John James gave a shallow grin. “I’m not worried about him. He won’t get near me. But I am worried about you. I’ll go now…”
“Can’t you stay?” she pleaded.
But John James had enough problems of his own, namely one smart cop who was on his trail. He felt exposed being away from the security of his flat. He looked at Marcella. “I’ll ring you tomorrow. Lock the door when I leave.”
Marcella placed her hand on his crotch. “You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” she asked softly.
But the pain of Enrico’s knee was still most apparent. “That prick might have fucked me for all time,” he told her.
“You sure you’ll be all right?”
“Just lock the door, Marcella. I’ll ring you tomorrow.”
* * *
When Enrico awoke the next morning, recalling the phone conversation, his stomach twisted into a knot and his mouth filled with bile. He went to the bathroom and gargled.
That wasn’t bloody Gina. No way that was Gina. Jesus Christ, what the hell have I done? It had to be that Marcella bitch! But why would she suspect? Surely she didn’t believe that shit I told her the other night. Obviously she did. But how would she have got my mobile number? And who’s that prick she’s with? That scrubby-arsed, ugly little mongrel surely couldn’t be a threat to anyone! One th
ing I do know, if bloody Franco or Gina hear about this I’m fucked. Jesus, I’ve got to stop mouthing off when I get on the piss. But right now I’ve got to stop them from mouthing off or getting in the way of September.
But Enrico also knew he had to play it cool. What if it was Gina on the phone? He knew the answer to that question would be forthcoming as soon as they all met again. But that guy had him tricked. He didn’t know what the story was with him.
Maybe I’ll just kick his head in and see what happens. He’ll probably just disappear.
Enrico found out where Marcella lived and sat waiting for her every night. But to no avail. He checked with her neighbours. No-one had seen her, but no, she hasn’t moved out. All her stuff was still there, they assured him.
Her continuing absence frustrated him to the point of extreme anger. But he had to contain it and not show his hand to his brothers or to Gina. This was a problem he had to fix himself.
* * *
After his call to Marcella on the fifth day, John James picked her up at her motel at his favoured time of ten minutes to four in the morning.
“Hell of a time to get a girl out of bed,” she told him.
“It’s the safest time of the day,” he told her. “We’ll go to your place. Grab the things you need and come back here. Keep changing motels for another week then we’ll find you a place. Any luck with where the other bastards live?”
“All three.”
“Jesus, that was quick… how did you manage that?”