by KERRY BARNES
Once they were inside, Staffie headed for the far end, followed by Willie and Mike. The younger lads sauntered over to the part of the bar closest to the DJ. Arty got the drinks in and nudged Liam. ‘’Ere, look at Ricky, eyeing up the barmaid.’
Liam rolled his eyes. ‘Like a dog on heat, he is.’
Ricky took a swig of his drink and winked at Arty. ‘And ya point is?’
They laughed and egged him on. ‘The point is, Ricky, me ol’ son, it’s no good just staring. Get in there and chat the bird up.’
Ricky took another swig. ‘I dunno. I ain’t never chatted up a bird before.’
Most lads their age would have ribbed the life out of him, yet Arty and Liam knew the history and were only too pleased to take him under their wing. They’d grown up knowing Mike and the pain he’d gone through in believing Ricky was dead, and, of course, when they all discovered otherwise, and the revelations came out about how Ricky had been so severely treated, they naturally had a soft spot for him.
‘I’d chat her up meself, but I reckon she’s outta my league,’ said Liam, with a cheeky grin on his face. Although he wasn’t the best-looking young man, the fact that he knew it gave him confidence that was unmatchable. ‘Any chubby ones, one ear missing, or a flat nose about? I ain’t fussy.’
Arty nearly spat out his drink. ‘Aw, leave off, Liam. You ain’t that fucking bad, mate. You look kinda hard. Women like a tough geezer.’
Ricky was still thinking about how he would approach the barmaid.
Then, when she turned his way, her stubborn expression made him smile. She looked as though she really didn’t want to be there. Her black hair and thick black eyebrows would have looked stupid on any other young woman, but not on her. She had green eyes, accentuated by her extra-long mascaraed lashes. The nose piercing wasn’t so attractive, but her serious face was.
He raised his brows and then smiled from ear-to-ear, showing a small dimple. For a moment, the barmaid paused and then looked behind her, bemused that such a strikingly handsome young man was looking her way.
She faced him again and wondered whether he was really giving her the eye or if he was just pissed. Then he winked, and at that moment, she was drawn to him.
He flicked his head for her to come over, and as soon as she did, he was a little unsure of what to do next. Come on, Ricky, get a grip, he thought.
‘What can I get ya, mate?’ she said, with a confident tone.
‘A smile would be nice,’ he replied.
The barmaid suddenly felt her face blush. That was a first: she never blushed. In fact, she never looked at the male species as anything other than a pain in the arse.
‘Give me something to smile about and I might just do that.’
Ricky chuckled at her feisty attitude. ‘You have really pretty eyes, and I bet they light up when you smile.’
Arty and Liam were open-mouthed as they watched Ricky charm the knickers off the young woman.
‘Look and learn, Liam, look and fucking learn,’ said Arty.
‘Who’d have thought little Ricky would be chatting up the first bit o’ skirt? She’s like putty in his fucking hands,’ replied Liam, bemused.
Ricky was enjoying the challenge. ‘So, what’s your name?’
‘Kendall. And yours?’ she asked, as she collected some empties from the bar top.
‘It’s Ricky, but you can call me whatever you see fit.’
It was Kendall’s turn to laugh. ‘Okay. What about chancer?’
‘That’ll do for me, babe.’
Arty was fascinated by Ricky’s confidence and couldn’t take his eyes off him. However, as much as Liam and Arty were looking on, so were two much older men, who also had their eye on Kendall. She was new and ready for the picking. Claydon Cable and his brother Clive had already bought her a drink the day before, so as far as they were concerned, she was their meat, not some young, flash-looking fucker, as Clive referred to him.
Claydon had already drunk six pints and snorted a line of Flakka, courtesy of the toilet attendant. His aggression was balancing on a sharp stick, and one cross word would have him seeing red and ripping someone’s head off. Clive, who hadn’t touched the gear, was winding his brother up because he too had six pints inside him. Totally oblivious of the fact that Ricky was not alone, they bowled over to the bar, pushing past first Arty and then Liam, as they stood right up next to Ricky. Claydon leaned on the bar and was five inches away from Ricky’s face. He looked Ricky up and down with his downturned eyes and oversized cheeks and then turned to Kendall. ‘Is this prick giving you grief, doll?’
Startled by this rough-looking ape, Kendall looked from Claydon to Ricky and then back at the chunky belly-wobbling man and shook her head. ‘Nah, mate.’
Finding the situation amusing, Ricky laughed in Claydon’s face. ‘You’ve been right mugged off, mate, so, now, run along.’
There was no aggression or angst written on Ricky’s face – just a cheeky grin and a sparkle in his eyes.
Arty and Liam were ready quickly to intervene. They knew who the Cables were: they had a reputation for throwing their heavy weight around. For men in their thirties, they really should have stuck to women their own age, instead of thinking they stood a chance with a youngster like Kendall.
Arty took a deep breath and pulled his shoulders back, which made him look so much more significant. Liam pulled his disturbing-looking expression; like his father, he, too, could accomplish the demon look and scare the shit out of most men.
However, Claydon and Clive still hadn’t noticed that Ricky was with Arty Stafford and Liam Ritz.
Ricky was still grinning, almost getting a kick out of watching Claydon’s expression fill up with frustration.
Claydon’s face was so contorted with rage: his eyes glazed over, and his jaw tightened. ‘Who the fuck d’ya think you are? Telling me to fucking run along? My arse. The only one ’ere who’s gonna get mugged off is you, ya prick. Now, outside. Me and you are gonna have a straightener!’
Ricky’s eyebrows were nearly raised to the roof as he deliberately sighed. ‘Are you kidding me? I’ve only just got ’ere. I ain’t even finished me pint or got this gorgeous young lady’s phone number. I’ll tell ya what, though, and it’s my best offer. Come back at the end of the night, and if ya still want a straightener, then you can have one. I can’t say fairer than that, now can I?’
Claydon couldn’t believe the words coming out of the kid’s mouth. In fact, he was so utterly gobsmacked, he looked to his brother for some support. But Clive was just as surprised.
‘You silly little prick! Do you know who we are?’ came a slightly slurred growl from Clive.
Ricky curled his top lip and shook his head. ‘Nah, I can’t say I do. But, anyway, like I said, come back at the end, and we’ll have a straightener.’
With that, he turned to face Arty and Liam. Claydon’s and Clive’s eyes followed, and as violent as they themselves were, they were also aware that the likes of Stafford and Ritz were dangerous fuckers, who would pull a tool out and know precisely how to use it.
Claydon nudged his brother and both were about to leave, but Arty stood in their way. ‘Not so fast. I think you owe our mate an apology. I don’t like it when anyone in my company gets called a “prick”.’
Claydon was now fuelled by the drugs in his system; he wasn’t going to be mugged off. ‘Fuck off, Stafford, or me and you will take this outside.’
Liam let out a deep laugh. ‘Cor, you’ve got ya brave hat on, Claydon.’
With that, the Cables pushed past Arty and Liam and left.
Arty then shot Ricky a frown. ‘You wanna be careful, mate. They can have a serious ruck.’
Ricky grinned again. ‘Yep, Art, me too. But I just didn’t wanna have one right now.’
Kendall watched the handsome young man, admiring his confidence. Yet it was his adorable grey eyes that drew her in. And there was so much else about him that was really impressive. He had gorgeous dimples and broad should
ers. She wondered if he was just a time-waster and hoped he wasn’t. If she could have, she would have played hard to get, but then she clocked a small group of girls all made-up and looking Ricky’s way, so she thought it was a good idea to get in first.
‘So, you wanted my number, then?’ She tried to keep her tone even, without sounding too eager to please.
‘Well, babe, that was the idea. That was until I was rudely interrupted.’
The party was now in full swing. Arty had the pick of two girls fighting for his attention, and Liam was left with the quieter one, with the wide hips and big breasts, which he certainly wasn’t going to complain about. Ricky was stealing a bit of conversation with Kendall, in between her serving the customers.
So caught up in the flirting and banter, the young lads were too distracted even to look their fathers’ way.
***
Mike and the firm watched the comings and goings. Mike had his eyes firmly on the men’s toilets, trying to suss out who the drug dealer was. Yet no one seemed to be passing anything. However, a few men were going into the gents’ and coming out wiping their noses.
‘Lou, ’ave ya seen anyone handing out anything?’
Lou was nursing his second pint. ‘Not a fucking thing, but some of those lads look fired up, and they’ve only been sitting on one pint.’
Staffie was still scanning the bar. ‘Nothing, Mike. I can’t see anyone who’s holding any gear.’
‘That bloke and his mate over there by the door. Look! They’ve been in the gents’ three fucking times. And I’ll tell ya this for nuffin, whatever they’re on, it ain’t cocaine. But they’re on something that is causing a nasty fucking comedown. Look at that fella. He’s got the shakes and he’s sweating like a pig.’
Mike looked in Willie’s direction, and, sure enough, a young man, roughly twenty-five, was leaning against a wall. His hands were really shaking, and his grey T-shirt had serious sweat marks.
‘I’ve been watching him. He went into the loo with his mate ages ago. He was fine when he went in, but now look at the fucking mess he’s in.’
Lou looked over at him. ‘Might be on heroin.’
Willie shook his head. ‘Lou, I’ve taken every drug under the sun. That kid ain’t no heroin addict. He came in looking smart, but now look at him.’
The men surveyed the young customers around them. Some looked energized and some seemed entirely fucked.
Mike got up from his stool. ‘There ain’t a dealer in ’ere. The fucking suppliers are in the men’s toilets.’
Staffie frowned. ‘Nah, Mike. The only bloke in there is that skinny black fella who sprays ya with perfume for a fucking fiver.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. The unsuspecting toilet attendant is the fucker supplying the shit.’
‘Are you sure?’
Mike laughed. ‘Well, there’s one way to find out. I’ll hang the bastard upside down and see if any drugs land on me feet.’
Staffie tugged at Mike’s arm. ‘Wait up. Mike, what if the dealer is a straight-up geezer, someone we know? Are you sure we’re doing the right thing? I mean I ain’t totally comfortable working for, well, you know who.’
‘Staff, mate, this is my turf, and I’ve every right to know who’s dealing, if the info comes from the Filth or Joe Bloggs. Now, who’s gonna hang that fella up by his boots?’
Staffie nodded, now satisfied. ‘Why don’t we just ask him for some, then?’
Mike laughed. ‘All right. Play it your way first, but if that fails, then it’s my way.’
Willie shook his head. ‘I prefer Mike’s idea.’
‘You would!’ spat Staffie.
Lou, a man of few words, piped up, ‘Willie, you look the typical junkie. Why don’t you go in and ask?’
A crooked smile formed across Willie’s face. ‘Good thinking, Batman.’
Mike rolled his eyes. ‘Well, go on then, but no bashing him up if he refuses. You come back out and let me have a word.’
Willie didn’t answer; instead, he strolled over to the gents’. Once inside, he noticed the skinny attendant in his brown overalls mopping the floor.
The attendant looked up at Willie, who was glaring his way. A shiver ran up his spine. The man looked wild, his eyes wide and menacing with that cruel-looking scar down his face. Then the attendant held his breath as the guy pulled out a score and shoved it under his nose. He froze. This ugly monster wasn’t one of his punters, and for a moment he thought he was from the police, but then, the man seemed too much of a fruit loop to be Ol’ Bill.
He almost jumped when the monster spoke.
‘What’s up? My money ain’t good enough?’
The attendant thought it best to play dumb. ‘What aftershave would you like? I got—’
‘You know what I want and it ain’t fucking fairy lotion.’
The attendant shrugged. ‘Sorry, I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Oh dear, never mind, play it your way.’ With that, Willie left, leaving the attendant trembling.
Just as he was about to pull the toilet cistern lid off to hide the drugs, the door flew open. A young lad, dying for a piss, was grabbed by the collar and flung out by another huge man with a face like thunder.
Gasping like a girl, the attendant was glued to the spot. There in front of him was the ugly man but two others, just as large and menacing, were with him.
Another young lad tried to push his way in, but Mike forced him out. ‘The toilets are full. Now, fuck off.’ The kid didn’t argue; he spun on his heel.
The thick, intimidating voice had the attendant needing the toilet himself.
‘Your shift, mate, is over. Me and you are gonna take a walk outside, and you ain’t gonna cause a scene, make a fuss, or even twitch, yeah? You’re gonna walk in front of me through the exit door and then we’re gonna talk.’
‘Er . . . are you the police?’
Willie let out his high-pitched demonic giggle that made the attendant jump.
‘No, we ain’t the Filth, but, more to the point, we can be your worst nightmare if you so much as backchat. Got it?’
The attendant’s eyes were now on stalks, and he felt his stomach churn. The knife tucked down his back pocket wouldn’t be a match for these great monsters.
Willie held the door open as the attendant walked through. Anyone watching would have thought the skinny man dressed in his brown overalls was off to the electric chair as a dead man walking. Mike followed and was joined by Lou and Staffie.
Once they were outside, the attendant turned, his face now a sickly grey colour. ‘What’s going on?’ he mumbled. His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.
‘Who’s your lookout?’ demanded Staffie.
Shaking his head, the attendant replied, ‘No one. I mean, look, I just sell a few grams of cocaine to make my wages up, that’s all.’
Unexpectedly, Staffie gripped him around the throat. ‘I said, who’s the fucking lookout?’
While Lou and Willie shot off to cover the other two exits to look for anyone who might try to escape, Mike and Staffie stayed with the attendant.
‘I don’t take too kindly to liars, so if we find your lookout, trust me, you’ll wish you’d told the fucking truth.’
The attendant was now expecting a good hiding; he’d spotted Leon, and yet Leon hadn’t seen him being marched out of the pub. He wasn’t sure who he was more afraid of – Leon, or the guy in front of him.
Deciding to remain quiet, the attendant looked at the pavement, hoping they’d just take the remainder of the drugs and leave him alone.
A couple of young women almost fell out of the door laughing and chatting, which gave the attendant hope that the men weren’t going to give him a good hiding in front of other people. However, he didn’t know Mike or Staffie at all.
Staffie grabbed him by the collar and marched him down the small dark walkway to the rear of the pub, out of view of the punters.
‘Aw, come on. Please, you can have the gear and the money.’
Mike’s deep voice had the attendant silenced.
‘I don’t want your stinking drugs or your fucking money. I wanna know who gave you the drugs to flog in the first place. I want names, times, and places, and if you think you can mug me off, I’ll rip your head off your scrawny shoulders. Got me?’
All the attendant could do was nod; he could see there was no way he was getting out of this place in one piece.
‘So, first, tell me ya name, and then I wanna know who your lookout is for starters.’
The long pause was a mistake. Staffie gave him a punch to the side of the ribs. The blow winded the man badly, and he coughed and spluttered, trying desperately to get his breath.
‘Cor, a bit dramatic for a little dig, wasn’t it? How about I give you a real fucking thump, this time to your head? Maybe, then, you’ll think quicker.’
‘Okay, okay, please. I’m Saeed. The other man’s name is Leon Khouri. He’s inside, wearing a white top, dark hair, black trousers. Maybe Italian or an Arab.’
Staffie hurried away to the main exit door where Willie was watching. ‘He’s inside. Black trousers, white shirt. Foreign looking, dark hair.’
Willie shook his head. ‘How many lads fit that description?’
Staffie shrugged his shoulders. ‘Let’s go and get Lou and fucking find out.’
Shortly, all three men were inside the pub, searching for the Leon Khouri fella. Willie soon spotted someone who appeared to be on edge, hovering by the toilets.
A few strides later, Willie was in front of the man. ‘Leon?’
The guy instantly looked in Willie’s direction, giving himself away. His eyes darted around the pub, looking for an escape route. However, two other men approached him, so he’d no way out.
He assumed they were the police and sighed, thinking he was nicked; yet, once the tall ugly man roughly snatched his collar, he panicked. These weren’t the police; in fact, they were something far worse. Before he’d even had a chance to struggle, he was marched out through the side exit and dragged into the walkway where Saeed Antar, his best salesman, was standing and looking as though he would either pass out with terror or shit himself on the spot.
