by Ashley John
He didn’t care how much she was thrashing. He didn’t care about the cruel and twisted things she was saying. For the sake of his daughter, he was going to get her out of here.
“Put me down!” she growled, “You’re scum, Ezra. You’re scum.”
With one swift thrash of her heel, he doubled over as the sharp pain in his balls knocked him sick to his stomach. He dropped her onto the hard ground and the vodka bottle smashed, spilling her precious distraction.
“You bitch,” he wheezed, clenching his groin.
“Jade, you okay?” he heard an old familiar voice.
Straightening himself up, his hand clamped the fresh cut on his neck. It burned but it was nothing compared to the pain inside. Jade had a habit of ripping that wound open just with her presence.
He watched as the unmistakeable sight of Brian O’Donney swaggered across the car park with his scummy friends behind him. He was the same age as Ezra, twenty-five, but he hadn’t got the memo that nylon tracksuits and caps didn’t quite look so great anymore.
“You messin’ wiv my girl?” he smacked his tongue against his teeth as three of his friends lingered behind him.
“Yeah, he is,” Jade stood up, suddenly sober enough to hold herself.
Brian rammed his tongue down her throat and Ezra dreaded to think how long it had been since either of them had brushed their teeth.
“Piss off, Brian,” Ezra glanced to his car, “isn’t there an underage girl that needs impregnating?
Brian pushed Jade into the car so his gang could step forwards. His teeth were blackened, his skin was pockmarked and the bags under his eyes were practically hitting his toes. Am I looking at my alternative reality?
“Ezra Fucking Steele?” he got into Ezra’s face, his rancid breath almost making him retch, “You’re not wanted ‘round ‘ere.”
“I don’t know if you heard, Brian, but mouthwash is a thing now.”
The joke clearly went over his head. Of course, that didn’t stop him reacting in the only Neanderthal way he knew. Before Ezra could react, their foreheads were colliding with a splitting crack. Ezra stumbled back, clutching his head. He peered through his fingers at Brian, who was doing the same. Didn’t your dad teach you nobody wins in a head-butt?
“G’won, Brian,” Jade egged him on, “fucking flatten him.”
Part of him wanted Brian to, if that’s what Jade needed to move on. She’ll never move on. He regained himself, quickly cracking his knuckles before Brian launched himself again.
Being the idiot that he was, Brian tried to go in for another head-butt. Ezra’s fist was waiting for him and he struck him right under the jaw. He felt the skin split under his fingers. Billy crumbled to the ground, clutching his face and Ezra knew he was probably too high to even know what was going on.
With their leader out, Brian’s three equally scummy friends launched for Ezra. He took a couple of punches and threw a couple but he knew he didn’t stand a chance three against one. The sound of glass smashing and the undeniable sound of his Huracan’s alarm screeched painfully.
He fell to the ground and pathetically clutched his face, unsure of what to do. Every time he thought he’d be able to get up to his feet another foot would plant in his stomach and another fist would strike his skull.
He knew how to take a punch, he’d been raised on these streets. It wasn’t the first time he’d been taken on by more than one person but it was the first time he’d practically given up hope.
The barrage weakened and he peered through his fingers. There was a flash of hair and somebody being thrown. He was sure that only one person was hitting him. Taking his chance, he swiped at the knee in front of his face, causing the thug to collapse in on himself.
Clambering to his feet, he was sure that he was dreaming when he saw Joshua Silverton laying into two guys at once and winning. Dazed and confused, Ezra took on the third guy.
Brian scrambled to his feet but the distant sound of police sirens made him call his men to retreat. Between them they would have enough warrants and fines that is wasn’t worth beating up a toff from Holland Park.
“This isn’t over, Ezra,” Jade spat at his feet before picking up another rock from the church garden and launching it at his precious car.
It missed the window and bounced off the bonnet, leaving a crater in its wake. The car’s alarm split his ears. Rubbing his face, he let his mind catch up to what had happened. He clicked his car keys to silence the noise.
In the doorway of the church he saw Violet along with the vicar and a couple of Saturday worshipers. They all clutched their mouths as they looked on in horror. He didn’t care about them. He only cared about the one man who’d jumped into save him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he turned to Joshua.
“You’re welcome,” he clutched his hips as he struggled for breath, “I haven’t fought like that since I was a kid.”
He held up his finger to tell Ezra to give him a second but Ezra couldn’t. He didn’t know why Joshua was there but in that moment, he found himself suddenly believing in something bigger than himself. Maybe it was the setting or the blows to the head but Joshua had saved him.
He stumbled forward, pulling Joshua into the tightest hug he’d ever given somebody. The pain in his body screamed out but he didn’t care.
“Thanks,” Ezra whispered into his ear.
“I couldn’t just stand by and watch them kill you,” Joshua rested his chin on Ezra’s shoulder, “I’m not that heartless.”
“I never doubted you.”
“Jesus Christ,” Violet ran over and pulled them apart, “sorry, Father.”
She waved back to the vicar but he gave her the permission to blaspheme away, given the circumstances.
“That was like something from Mortal Kombat, you badass,” Violet hugged him before turning on Ezra and hugging him, “who were those skanks?”
“I don’t know,” Ezra lied.
Joshua caught his gaze angrily, clearly not believing him. He was about to start thinking up more excuses but the vicar dragged Ezra off towards the church to get cleaned up.
Sitting in the tiny café on a street corner, Joshua felt unnerved by how calm and collected Ezra seemed to be. His body was covered in cuts and bruises and even though he’d managed to protect his face for the most part, he looked a mess.
“If you don’t order, you’re gonna ‘ave to sling yer hook,” the middle-aged waitress smacked chewing gum against her teeth, “so I won’t ask you again. Whaddya want?”
“Two coffees,” Joshua spoke for them as Ezra buried his face in the menu.
“That it?” she snapped, “I’m not runnin’ a bloody coffee shop.”
“And a full English,” Ezra dropped the greasy laminated menu.
She scribbled down their order and waddled off to the counter. They were the only people in there but her attitude told them it was two more people than she liked to see.
“How can you eat?”
“I’m hungry,” Ezra blinked slowly, “and I feel a little drunk. Before you ask, I haven’t touched a drop.”
“I told you, you should go to the hospital,” Joshua sighed.
The waitress smacked two piss-weak coffees onto the table and vanished again.
“The good vicar bathed me in holy water. I’m fine.”
“It was tap water,” he leaned across the table, “and you’re not fine.”
“I am,” he slurped his coffees, “ugh, it tastes like Ghandi’s flip-flop.”
Joshua wasn’t even going to risk his. He’d ordered food in some of the dirtiest corners of the world and had better quality of service. Good old Hackney.
“You showed more emotion when they towed your car away.”
“Because I love that car,” he leaned in, “just drop it, okay?”
He knew why Ezra wanted him to drop it. He didn’t want him questioning what had really happened. He’d insisted that it was a random, unprovoked attack but the girl knew his na
me.
‘This isn’t over, Ezra.’
He tried to place the face but he didn’t think he’d ever seen her before.
“Why were you in Hackney?” Ezra asked him the question before Joshua had the chance to ask him.
“Violet’s getting married at that church, marriage meeting. Not that we got around to that. Your turn.”
Ezra slurped the coffee again, wincing at the taste. He must really not want to talk if he’s drinking more of it.
“I was visiting a grave,” was all he said.
“Who’s grave?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yeah, it does.”
“I thought you wanted to keep your distance? In your words ‘you want to keep it professional’. Go home, I’ll see you on Monday.”
Joshua wanted to swipe the coffees and sauces off the plastic gingham tablecloth so he could drag Ezra across the table to slap some sense into him. The blow to the head clearly didn’t sort him out. Restraining himself, he took a deep breath and tried to remember how he was supposed to be feeling towards Ezra. You hate him, remember? The problem was that it was pretty hard to hate him when he was watching him get beat up. Every tiny feeling he’d felt for Ezra bubbled to the surface so fast, he’d jumped into the fight without letting his logic take over.
“Why won’t you tell me who you are?”
“I’m Ezra. You already know.”
“No, but seriously. Who are you? I know nothing about you.”
Ezra shrugged heavily, drinking more of the coffee. It seemed more like a reaction than anything.
“There’s nothing to know,” he stared at the red and white pattern on the faded tablecloth, his eyes blurring.
When he had his breakfast in front of him, he covered it in ketchup and started to dig in without a second thought. He was either really hungry or looking desperately for something to do so that he didn’t have to look at Joshua.
“You can’t beat an East End fry up,” he mumbled through his sausage and beans.
“Why are you avoiding the subject?”
“Because you don’t want to know, remember?”
Why is he being so frustrating? I just saved his arse.
“Yeah, well, maybe I do want to know who I’m dealing with.”
They stayed in silence as he finished his fry-up. Joshua wanted to shake the answers out of him but he knew that would get him nowhere.
“I’m taking you home,” Joshua said as they stood up, “I’ll call a cab.”
“I don’t need babysitting,” he said, “just get back to your cousin. I’m fine.”
Despite the anger and frustration he was feeling towards Ezra, he couldn’t let him go home alone. He could never forgive himself if something happened to him in the taxi. He’d heard of people having seizures and dying after blows to the head.
“You were there when I banged my head in the bathroom,” he said, “and you helped me get Violet back to her place. I’m just returning the favour.”
“I -,”
“I’m not arguing with you, Ezra,” Joshua held his palms out, “call a cab. I’ll settle the bill. You’re paying.”
He reached out and plucked Ezra’s wallet off the table. Walking over to the counter, he flipped it open and pulled out a £20. He would have usually let them keep the change but he wasn’t in the mood to put money in the woman’s pocket. As he waited for her to root through the till, counting up her coppers, he flicked through the plastic in Ezra’s wallet.
Gym memberships, credit cards, ID cards, nothing out of the ordinary. He didn’t know if he was looking for evidence for Tobias or just out of curiosity. The line had once again been blurred. His eyes left the cards and they wandered over to a picture of a little girl hidden behind a plastic sheet.
She can’t have been anymore than one years old, two at the most. She had dark, black hair and familiar dark hazel eyes. Her grin was cheeky and wide as she beamed up to the camera. The photo paper looked pristine, brand new even, but the quality looked like it had been taken on a smartphone with a grainy, 2MP camera.
“’Ere,” the woman squawked, “take yer bloody change.”
She emptied the change into his hands. It was made up of mainly small coins and wouldn’t fit in Ezra’s bulging wallet. Snapping the wallet shut, he pocketed the change and headed back to Ezra.
“Ezra, who -,”
He stopped himself. He didn’t know why but he suddenly didn’t want to know the answer.
“Who?” Ezra furrowed his brow.
“Who did you ring for the cab?” he scrambled for the first thing.
“I called an Uber,” he shrugged, “Is it important?”
“Just curious?” he faked a smile but he knew it came off awkward.
As they stood on the street corner waiting for the car to turn up, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen that girl somewhere before.
No, not the girl, the eyes.
And the smile…
And the hair…
He let those thoughts circle his mind as their driver tried to force conversation.
“What happened to you? Rough night out on the tiles?”
When Ezra gave the early-twenties hipster a death stare instead of an answer, he quickly shut up. Joshua was sure Ezra had picked the front seat so he didn’t have to face more questions on the half an hour drive back to his place.
As they pulled up outside Ezra’s house in Holland Park it suddenly struck Joshua that he was coming home for the first time in seven years. Why did I offer to come here?
They jumped out of the car and the driver quickly sped off down the street, leaving them both to stand in the road, looking up at the lavish four-story white terrace. It hadn’t changed and it still had the ability to petrify Joshua.
Was he scared of what he’d find inside, or what he wouldn’t find? He’s not there.
“I’ll call you another car,” Ezra was already pulling up the app on his phone, “I thought you’d want another driver after that douche was -,”
“I’m coming in,” Joshua nodded, gulping away his fear, “I’m not leaving you like this.”
“I’m fine,” he laughed, “my brother is probably in, so -,”
“You have a brother?” he didn’t know why this information was new and a shock to him.
He’d expected Ezra to live alone in bachelor bliss, “He’s living with me temporarily. He’s only seventeen.”
Resisting the urge to lead the way after reminding himself it wasn’t his home anymore, he let Ezra lead the way. When he stepped into the hallway, an audible sense of relief escaped his throat when he saw inside the house.
It’s been redecorated.
It looked different enough to allow Joshua to pretend he wasn’t in his father’s house even if he couldn’t shake that feeling. The feeling he’d been running away from since he was eleven years old. The feeling he’d never been able to put his finger on and never been able to shake at the same time. Running around the world had numbed it but standing in his old hallway, it was turning his stomach ten to the dozen.
“Come on,” Joshua headed towards the grand staircase, “you need cleaning up.”
Instinctively, he headed straight for the master bedroom. It had been his father’s and he’d barely been in there after his mother died. He’d always spend weekend mornings in bed with them until his mother died. He hadn’t dared go inside. Ezra followed him but he could feel the resistance.
When he reached the first landing, he was pleased to see that the redecoration had taken place throughout. His father’s oppressive and old-fashioned taste had been replaced by something a whole lot cleaner, simpler but not lacking in expense.
He opened the door to the master and knew instantly that it was Ezra’s bedroom. A huge king sized bed sat in the middle of the room. It was surrounded by expensive furniture. It was immaculately cleaned and made up but he guessed that was more to do with the cleaner than Ezra. Somehow, he didn’t strike him as the type of m
an who spent his Saturday mornings cleaning – But you didn’t think he’d be hanging around graveyards in Hackney either.
The bathroom was just as lavishly decorated. A freestanding bath with gold feet took centre stage against a backdrop of grey slate tiles. He twisted the taps and let the steam fill the bathroom.
“Where’s your first aid kit?”
“I don’t need -,”
“Ezra,” Joshua’s voice was stern, “just tell me.”
“There’s some stuff in the kitchen cupboard above the oven in an old biscuit tin.”
“Don’t get in the bath yet,” Joshua awkwardly stood in front of Ezra, who was already unbuttoning his blue, blood-stained shirt, “just wait for me to get back.”
“Whatever you say, nurse.”
Joshua never thought he’d be happier to see that cheeky grin and wink, even if it was masked by a layer of pain.
Taking the stairs two at a time, he burst into the kitchen, quickly stopping in his tracks when he saw a guy sitting at the counter, shirtless and on a laptop.
“Shit -,”
“Are you a burglar?” the guy jumped up, “this isn’t what it looks like.”
Joshua glanced to the screen and he was sure he could see tits. The guy slammed the laptop shut and slid off the stool.
“You’re Ezra’s brother?” he didn’t know what he’d been expecting but he hadn’t been expecting a teenager with messy black hair and jeans so tight they looked like they were about to cut off blood circulation.
“Who are you?” the guy pushed his thick hair from his face.
There was definitely a resemblance. They shared the same eyes. Those eyes. It’s the same eyes as –
“Are you that dude’s son?” he pointed at Joshua, “Silverton?”
“Yeah,” he walked straight towards the cupboard above the oven.
He cracked open the lid on the old biscuit tin to see most of what he needed.
“What are you doing in my kitchen?” the kid asked.
“This was my kitchen before it was yours,” he looked around at the new kitchen, “well, the old kitchen was. What’s your name, kid?”