Marley (Carnage #3)

by Lesley Jones

  I liked Lorna. She was a bit older than me, and wasn’t fazed by who I was.

  “Nah, that’s all right. I was hoping to surprise her.” I told her with a wink.

  “Oh, so she’s not expecting you?” She asked and something in her tone had me questioning her.

  “No, why’s that?”

  She tilted her head sideways and folded her arms across her chest.

  “I’ve no idea what’s gone on between the two of you, but I don’t think you’re her favourite person right now, Marley.”

  “Lorna, I know I’m not her favourite person right now. That’s why I need to speak to her, and if she knows that I’m looking for her, she won’t see me so please, would you give me the chance to put things right? I fucked up and I need to speak to her.”

  “Yeah, well, good luck with that. I won’t say I’ve seen you, but you better put things right. She’s a good girl, Ashley is, and I’ve hated seeing her upset these past few weeks.”

  “She’s been upset?” I asked, feeling bad for sounding so hopeful.

  “Yeah, she’s been upset, especially when she sees that.” She nods her head towards the coffee table where there’s a copy of Hello Magazine sitting. My ugly mug was smiling from the front cover, Alexis Kanchelski, some model I met in a club a few weeks back, wrapped around me.

  “Fuck.” Is all I could say. I actually planned on her seeing this. I’d hoped that she’d see it and hate my fucking guts. That in turn would make it easier for her to move on and forget about me.

  Well, job well done, Marley. Job well-fucking-done.

  “Right, yeah. Well, like I said, I’ve fucked up and I need to put things right, so I’d really appreciate you not saying that I’ve been here.”

  “She won’t hear it from me. Now piss off and put a smile back on that girls dial.” She ordered. I step in and kiss her cheek.

  “I’ll do my best, Lorna. I’ll do my very best.” I promised.

  I got Dave, who picked me up from the airport, to drop me off at home. My plan was to take a shower and drive back to Ashley’s flat and wait for her arrival.

  The first I realise that there was a problem was when I couldn’t get my key in the lock. I called Ronnie, one of the doormen up to take a look. He called out a locksmith when he couldn’t do anything with it. The locksmith arrived and promptly told me that a key had been snapped off inside the lock.

  He drilled it out, but ended up having to replace the whole barrel. I couldn’t stand the damage that it did to my front door, so ended up telling Ronnie to tell maintenance to order me a new one.

  As soon as the door was opened, it was apparent that the place stunk.

  “Bloody hell, mate. You forget to empty your fridge before you went away?” Bert the locksmith asked.

  I was already pissed off at that point, so I bunged him a twenty quid tip and told him to invoice me for the bill.

  Once I stepped all the way inside, I could see where the smell was coming from.

  Sitting on my kitchen work top was the contents of my freezer. Two chickens, a whole salmon, a loaf of bread, a box of ice poles, and a tub of ice cream. I assumed that the freezer had broken, but why the stuff wasn’t thrown out, I had no idea. To make things worse, the place was like a sauna. The heating had obviously been left on the whole time I was away.

  I go to call Maca to find out what the fuck had gone on when I realised I had no way of contacting him. I didn’t know his new number.

  I grabbed a black sack and threw everything in it, then ran it down to the bins. When I got back up, I sprayed the place with what I thought was air freshener, but turned out to be furniture polish. Still, lemony pledge smelled a whole lot better than rotten chicken and fish.

  When I walked into my bedroom, I was hit by another strange smell.

  “What the fuck?”

  I looked down to see what was causing the strange squelch under my feet and realised at once the cause.

  My bed had been stripped back to the bare mattress, and the carpet had a two inch layer of water cress growing over it. The carpet was wet, and when I pushed down on my mattress, so was it. On the night stand next to the bed was the note that I left Ashley, along with the front door key I left for her, half of it snapped off.

  Underneath what I had written, Ash, I assume, had added,

  WELCOME HOME

  FUCKER!!!

  I laughed. I didn’t actually know what else to do, so I stood on my water cress carpet and laughed.

  Fuck. If I didn’t love that girl before, I definitely did now.

  Yes, so fucking what. I’ve admitted it. I love her. I knew it a month ago and I sure as shit knew it now.

  I took off my cap and scratched my head.

  “Ah, Ashley Morrison, what are we gonna do with you?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  1989

  I contacted Andrea and asked her to send a cleaning crew to my place.

  It only took the supervisor one look at my bedroom to tell me that I needed new carpet and a new bed. I decided to play it safe and opt to leave the original timber floor exposed instead of having new carpet laid.

  Chances were, this wouldn’t be the only time I’d piss Ashley Morrison off and she’d pull another stunt like that.

  I eventually showered and changed and left my house to a team of cleaners, who had also, for an undisclosed amount of cash, agreed to rip up and dump both my carpet and mattress.

  I arrived back at Ashley’s just after five. There was a brand new silver Ford Fiesta sitting in the parking spot assigned to the flat at the back of the shop.

  The problem I had now was that I didn’t know if Ash was in the shop or at home. I really didn’t fancy arguing with her in the shop, so I walked to the nearest pay phone and called Georgia’s old number, assuming Ash has kept it. It picked up after the third ring.

  Like the complete coward that I was, I hung up. I walked back to her flat and went up the stairs and pressed the buzzer.

  “Hello?” A bloke answered.

  Fuck, a bloke. I wasn’t counting on that. Fuck my luck. Oh well, I’ve come this far, I’m not backing down now.

  “Delivery for Ms. Morrison.” I held my nose and said.

  Fuck knows why I held my nose, but I did.

  “Yeah, come through.” The bloke, fuckhead, told me.

  I cracked my knuckles, unsure of what I was about to encounter as I headed through the first set of doors and along the short hallway to the front door.

  What I wasn’t expecting was a bloke of about a hundred, holding a screwdriver.

  “All right, mate. She’s just popped downstairs to the shop for minute. I’ll take...” He trailed off, pushed his glasses up his nose and looked a bit closer at me.

  “‘Err, ain’t you one of Frank’s boys? The rock star one?”

  Ha, result. I knew this bloke. He’d worked for my dad for years.

  “Yes, mate. Bloody hell, Joe, ain’t it?” I held my hand out to shake his.

  “Sammy, actually, but close enough, son.” I’m so shit with names.

  “Sammy, of course. Sorry mate.” He shook my hand anyway.

  “I’m here putting a new bed together that that young Ashley had delivered. She shouldn’t be long. I was just hanging about till she came back, but if you’re here, I can shoot off.” He said.

  “Yeah, yeah, you go, mate. Get off home.” I pulled a twenty out of my pocket. “Thanks for helping my girl out. I’ve been away, else I would’ve done it myself. Get yourself a beer on the way.”

  “Well, that’s very nice of you, boy. Cheers, I’ll do just that.” He gives me a salute and heads off out the door.

  And that’s how you dealt with fuckheads, or in that case, really nice eighty-year-old handy men.

  I knew it was wrong, like really wrong, but I nipped into Ashley’s bedroom and bathroom and checked for any blokey stuff. There was only one toothbrush, which was a good sign, no aftershave, deodorant, or hair gel in any of the bathroom cabinets, and nothi
ng hanging in her wardrobe.

  Back with the ex, my arse. She’s full of shit.

  But then I felt bad. She probably only made that story up to save face. What an arsehole I was. She worked for my sister and my mum. How the fuck must she feel facing them at work, knowing all the things we did the night before I left her?

  I went back to the living room, sat on the sofa and waited. I went over what I was gonna say in my head. I decided that honesty was gonna be the best policy. Ash would see straight through any bullshit excuses I came up with.

  I stood up and went into the kitchen, leaning my elbows on the work top and faced the front door, then I paced, wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans, and then leaned back down on my elbows.

  I’d played sell-out concerts at Wembley, for fuck’s suck, I could do it.

  Could I do it? Was I really what she actually needed in her life?

  I started to consider leaving when I heard the first security door close. For a split second I thought about climbing out of a window, but then the front door swung open and there she was.

  You remember that kids game Buckaroo? Well, that’s how my heart was feeling right then, like the horse had bucked, throwing bits of it in every direction. It was hitting my ribs, my belly, and my throat.

  It took her a few seconds to notice me, then she screamed, dropped her bag and moved one hand to her chest.

  “Fuck.” She said breathlessly, sexily. Her face changed in an instant.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “Didn’t my mum call you?” I asked.

  She frowned and shook her head. “No, why?”

  “Hmm, sorry about that. I thought you knew I was gonna be staying here.” I tried to sound like I was sorry.

  Obviously I wasn’t, not in the least.

  “Wh-What? Staying here? Why?” She stuttered out, all colour now drained from her face.

  I should’ve felt bad, but I didn’t.

  “Well, you wouldn’t believe what’s happened at my place. Some “fucker,” I use finger air quote thingy’s when I say it, “has broken into my place and left rotting food everywhere. And a thick, green mould growing all over my bedroom. Could take weeks to put right.” I held my hands out, shaking my head and trying to look as if I was in despair, which I kinda was.

  “So yeah, anyway. What with the wedding being just next week, I needed to be in town, so my mum said that since you have a spare room, I should stay here. At least until after the wedding.”

  She was shaking her head before I even finished talking.

  “No. I can’t have you ... I won’t have you here. Get out. Get the fuck out right this fucking minute. How dare you even come here?” She picked up her bag and stepped closer as she spoke.

  I stepped closer as I listened, but ignored what she was saying.

  “Ash, look, I’m so fucking... Argghhhh. What the—” I couldn’t see ... I couldn’t fucking breathe. Fuck, I was on fire. My skin was fucking dissolving, along with my eyeballs.

  “Get out of my fucking flat.”

  “Oghaghfuuuck.” Is the sorta sound I made as my legs gave way and I crumbled to the floor. A kick in the balls would do that to ya.

  I rolled onto my back and held onto my balls, which were now hiding somewhere near my ears. I coughed and spluttered as my eyes burned and streamed with tears. I reached up to rub them.

  My eyes ... not my balls.

  “Don’t rub them, you’ll make it worse.” Ash said from above as she dug, what I assumed was her shoe, into my ribs.

  “Wha the... What the fu...?”

  “Pepper spray. Your mum supplies all of us girls with it. She likes to know we’re safe when we walk out to our cars, or into our flats. Never know what weirdo’s could be lurking.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She fucking pepper sprayed me, then kicked me in the balls when I couldn’t see it coming.

  “Stop complaining. I aimed it over your shoulder. You didn’t even get a full blast, else you wouldn’t be able to breathe right now.”

  I laid there, rocking from side to side on my back, still cupping where my balls used to be; eyes bleeding and foaming at the mouth as my skin burned away, and ya know what she said? Go on, guess.

  “Can you see your way to the front door yet? I wanna take a shower. I’m going out in a bit.”

  I threw up. I didn’t do it on purpose, it just came up out of nowhere.

  “Great, now you’re throwing up on my floor,” she complained.

  She complained about me throwing up?

  “Don’t you even dare fucking complain. I spent a whole night dealing with your spew.” I coughed and spluttered out.

  “You only did that so that you could see my tits.”

  “Believe me, babe, I don’t need to clear up spew to get a bird to flash me her tits.”

  “Well, from what I can tell, Ankles Legitrowski’s ain’t worth flashing.”

  “Who the fuck’s Ankles Legi—” I didn’t get to finish.

  “The long legged, flat chested Russian you’ve been fucking.” She dug me in the ribs with her shoe again as she spoke.

  I tried to open my eyes to glare at her, but it was too painful. “Fuck, this burns.”

  “Yeah, that’s kinda the point.” She sarcastically replied. I heard her move around and the fridge door opening and closing. Surely she wasn’t gonna leave me here while she made a cup of tea?

  “Arghhh.” I shout as something cold and wet hits my face. “What the fuck have you done to me now?”

  “Milk, s’posed to help with the burn.” It actually did, but I wasn’t gonna tell her that.

  I laid there quietly for a while, too scared to move in case I got poked in the ribs by a pointy shoe, or roll over into my own up chuck or a puddle of milk.

  “I’m sorry for running out on you the way I did, Ash.” I started to explain.

  “Save it for someone that cares, Rock Star. I don’t wanna hear your bullshit excuses.”

  “But I just wanna—”

  “What part of ‘I don’t wanna hear it’ do you not understand?” I knew she’s pacing the floor. I could hear her footsteps. I just wished I could open my fucking eyes. At least I didn’t feel like my throat was closing up anymore.

  “I don’t care what you’ve got to say, Marley. As soon as you can see, I want you to get the fuck outta here, and then I want you to stay the fuck away from me.”

  I remained silent. It was pointless trying to argue with her in my condition. I’d lost this battle, but the war was far from over.

  I’d left Ashley’s the night before without getting a chance to say anything that I wanted to. I ended up driving to Len and Jimmie’s to stay the night, not wanting to face the mess or be alone at my place.

  Luckily, Jim was already in bed and Len was about to head up when I got there, so I didn’t get asked too many questions.

  I spent the following week calling Ash, buzzing at her front door, and generally making a nuisance of myself, but she wasn’t having a bar of it, and I got nowhere.

  Jim told me that she’d be at the wedding so at least I’d get to see her then.

  When the day finally arrived, Len looked the part in his velvet collared suit and boot lace tie. Jimmie looked stunning in her fifties style wedding dress, as did all the bridesmaids. The church service went off without a problem, apart from the fact that Ash turned up with a bloke. I was at the front of the church, showing people where to sit when she walked in.

  She looked stunning in a blue dress and silver heels—no purple in sight. Her gaze met mine and I watched as she squared her shoulders, tilted her chin and reached for the hand of the fuckhead standing next to her.

  “Fuck,” I said under my breath. I instantly felt my mother’s eyes burning into me. She was twenty fucking feet away. The woman had bionic hearing when it came to swear words.

  “Sorry,” I mouthed to her. She narrowed her eyes and shook her head like I was four-years-old.

  The service
was lovely and romantic and blah, blah blah bullshit. Jim gagged at even the whiff of shit or puke, so there went the in sickness bit, and there was no way she’d ever obey Len, so that was out the window too. I seriously didn’t see the point of all that bollocks, except I did, and she was sitting four rows from the back with a Desperate Dan lookalike. He was four foot wide and nine foot tall. I just knew that he’d eaten a whole cow in a pie for breakfast that morning. In fact, I swear he had part of the tail caught in the designer stubble on his chin and a hoof stuck between his front teeth.

  I looked at her a total of seventeen times in the church and desperately tried to get near her as the photos were being taken.

  “Will you get the fuck over here and stop wandering off.” Bailey growled through gritted teeth. He was taking the best man bullshit far too seriously if you asked me.

  “You’re behaving like a fucking bored toddler the way you keep wandering off.” I dug my hands in my pockets and kicked at the gravel, probably looking a lot like a bored toddler.

  When the photos were finally done, Ash was nowhere in sight. When we got to the function hall, she was sitting nowhere near me.

  I spent the next few hours eating, drinking, and smiling my way through the speeches. Kissing aunties and cousins and being chatted up by no fewer than nine women, most of whom I was related to.

  Finally, when the tables began to be cleared, I stood and made my way past where she was sitting and out to the bar.

  It didn’t take long for her to follow. She had her arm looped through Georgia’s and she totally ignored me as they both headed towards the ladies toilets.

  A minute later, Maca appears next to me with the Neanderthal in tow. He cleared his throat and looked a little uncomfortable. “All right, mate? This is Ashley’s fella, Dan.” I spat my bourbon. I kid you not, the fuckhead’s name was Dan.

  I nod my head in his direction.

  “All right. Ashley’s boyfriend, eh? She moves fast, that girl.”

  I shouldn’t have, I really shouldn’t have.

  “We’ve only just broken up. I can’t believe she’s moved on so quickly. We only decided a few days ago that we were gonna try and work through our problems.”