by Nigel May
Nikki’s reaction was the most extreme though. On hearing Pasinetta’s words she immediately covered her face with her hands and buried her head in her lap, as if trying to hide from something. After a few seconds she lifted her head back up, uncovered her face and burst into tears. Deep, echoing, woeful sobs filled the air. These weren’t just the tears of woman who was mourning a grandmother she had never met, they were the tears of a woman who had tried to spin so many plates at once in her life, to deal with so many secrets and who had managed for so long, through both strength and deceit, to just about keep on top of them all. But in seeing that one freeze-frame on the plasma screen and hearing her great-grandmother’s words, Nikki Rivers’s inner wall of fortitude had crumbled into a million vulnerable pieces. To know that the man on the screen had been responsible for killing her own flesh and blood was more than she could bear – she could harbour her secrets no more.
It was Sutton who wrapped her arms around Nikki and pulled her close, her face a cocktail of distress on hearing Pasinetta’s words and confusion over her eldest daughter’s extreme reaction.
‘Oh my God, baby, what is it? Don’t you cry! We’ll give the recording to the authorities and they can track this man down. Maybe he was staying at the hotel, we’ll have records. He won’t get away with it. Hush those tears, baby.’
Nikki gazed up into her mother’s eyes and then turned towards her sister and great-grandmother: four women, three generations, one family. She knew what she had to do.
Attempting to quell her tears, she took some deep breaths to try and regain her composure. She needed to speak. She needed to share. She needed to confess.
‘I know that man,’ said Nikki. Her words spread a blanket of confusion and amazement across the faces of the others.
‘Say what?’ replied Sutton at bullet-speed.
‘I know him. I know where to find him, I know how to make him pay!’ There was almost a smile as she spoke. Relief at what was to come. ‘I need to tell you all something.’ As she looked at the faces of her family, Nikki knew that she could. She had nothing to be afraid of. Not with them by her side.
As the three women listened, Nikki explained to them about that fateful night in Harlem, the real reason behind her needing the money from the family business, the continual blackmailing and the fact that she knew the same man who had apparently killed Tilisha was also the one who had killed Julian Bailey. As their reactions swung from horror to pity and then back to horror, Nikki knew that telling them was the right thing to do. She could feel the heaviest of weights lifting from her shoulders as she spoke, her conscience finally clearing.
All that remained when she had finished her confession was the question of what the four women were going to do about it now that they all knew.
59
‘So, do you want to tell me what Julian’s connection is in all of this? There’s obviously more to it than you’re letting on, Nikki. I could see that when you mentioned his name just now. I’m your mother, girl, I can read you better than anybody. There ain’t enough wool in Michaels Craft Stores to pull it over my eyes!’
Nikki had known that this question would come since she had confessed to Pasinetta, Heather and Sutton that she believed Julian had been murdered by the same man who killed Tilisha. Almost immediately there had been a deep sense of questioning in her mother’s face that meant that an interrogation was soon to follow. And that interrogation had happened as the four women waited to be seen at the New York police station they had driven to in order to report Nikki’s blackmailer to the authorities.
Sutton had chosen her moment. It occurred as soon as Pasinetta said that she needed to head to the ladies’ room before being seen by an officer. Heather had offered to accompany her, leaving Sutton and her eldest daughter alone by the station coffee machine. It was the perfect moment for an inquisitive Sutton to pounce.
‘So, was he the one who helped you take the money from behind your father’s back?’ As she asked the question Sutton could already hear the pendulum in her own head swinging back and forth, not sure what answer she really wanted to hear. Was Julian’s involvement in the tale of Nikki’s woes a little more treacherous than she really wanted to believe her late lover was capable of?
At first, Nikki had been tempted to lie, but as she stared into her mother’s face she knew that she must tell Sutton as much as possible. There seemed to be a need there, one that she couldn’t explain, but she could see that an answer was required.
Nervously she chewed her bottom lip slightly before answering. ‘Yes.’
Sutton tried not to let the disappointment show on her face. So Julian Bailey had been another man who couldn’t be trusted, happy to steal from his best friend. Something didn’t make sense to her though.
‘And why would he do that? Julian adored your father. He was incredibly loyal to him – or at least I thought he was.’
Nikki hung her head, unable to look her mother in the eye, ashamed of the truth. Despite the hustle and bustle and the sounds of the busy police station around them, there was a wall of silence between Nikki and her mother.
Sutton could sense that Nikki was in inner turmoil, but she needed to know what was behind her daughter’s deceitful tryst with Julian. Reaching out to take Nikki’s hand in hers, re-establishing the connection and intimacy between them, she asked the question again. This time, Nikki replied.
‘Because I was sleeping with him – I thought I had to in order to get the money.’
Sutton could feel a knotted boulder of contempt land in her stomach as she took in the information that Nikki had just offered. The man that she had come to hold in esteem above all others, Julian Bailey, had been sleeping with both her and her daughter at the same time. The fact that he chose to sleep with his boss’s wife was one thing, but to be banging the boss’s daughter at the same time was quite another. Age, connection, loyalty, deceit… A million reasons why it shouldn’t have been happening crashed into Sutton’s mind, battering her rose-tinted view of what Julian had given her in those now-sordid moments.
‘You never have to sleep with a man to obtain anything. A woman is always capable of getting exactly what she wants without offering up what she has in her pants.’ Sutton’s words were snapped at her eldest daughter but still smothered in disbelief at the irony. How could she criticise? Hadn’t she done exactly the same? Julian had given her satisfaction and a sense of worth. And those were two things she’d been craving for the longest of times.
‘I had no choice,’ whispered Nikki, finally looking her mother in the eye. She knew she was lying but she couldn’t stop herself, unable to confess that the whole unsavoury agreement had been her idea in the first place.
Sutton could spy Pasinetta and Heather walking back towards them from the restroom. She made a choice of her own as she saw her youngest daughter and her grandmother approaching: she would never let Nikki know that she herself had been romantically involved with the man who had obviously caused her so much grief. She was mother first, lover second.
She squeezed Nikki’s hand as hard as she could to silently convey her allegiance. No man would come between them, not even one that up until a few moments earlier she had truly cared for.
Pasinetta and Heather were virtually within earshot when Sutton told Nikki: ‘I understand, you had no choice. As women, sometimes we don’t.’ She knew that she herself was lying too – there was always a choice. And hers had been to wrongfully believe that a player like Julian had truly cared for her.
‘Now, who would like a coffee before we try and put the bastard who killed my mother behind bars?’ asked Sutton, her tone caked in forced strength.
She swivelled round to face the coffee machine, turning her back on her family so that they wouldn’t see the glazing of her eyes as a slick of tears threatened to overflow.
60
Tattoo artist Russell John had been more than pleasantly surprised when he’d received a phone call from Fidge Carter asking him if he could fly
to Barbados from his Culver City home straight away. With only a few days left before Hatton Eden’s Belter in the Swelter title defence fight the celebrity inker was called on board by Fidge to make sure that Hatton was in the best state possible for the fight of his life.
‘I’ve got Hatton in the peak physical shape he can possibly be,’ stated Fidge over the phone. ‘He is pumped and ready for action. I reckon he’s invincible right now, but we’ll have to see.’
‘He looked in great form when he came in here,’ observed Russell, talking to Fidge from his famed Culver City tattoo shop. ‘I think nearly every client I’ve hadf in here since Hatton has commented on the photo I have pinned to the wall, saying how ripped he is. His tattoos are looking fierce too.’
‘And that last one is down to you, Russell, which is why I need you to fly to Barbados. Hatton’s physical state is one hundred per cent on the money but he has to be in a mental state of perfection too and according to him there’s something missing right now.’
‘Which is?’
‘A final tattoo before the fight. Hatton treats his body like a canvas – I don’t blame him, I’m the same. But he keeps telling me that there’s a final piece missing and you’re the man to fulfil his wishes.’
‘Shoot! I’m happy to help in any way I can.’
‘He wants the Eye of Horus and the pyramid design like the one you have on your neck. He loves the idea of the all-seeing eye being able to see danger from all angles as it approaches.’
‘Cool!’ laughed Russell. ‘I knew it wouldn’t be too long before he succumbed. He was totally into it when he was here. I’m surprised you’re letting him have one so close to the fight though. It may not be fully healed, especially on his neck.’
‘Hatton is not having it on his neck, I have told him that. He wants a small pyramid and eye at the base of his spine so that he can see behind him, especially for battle in the ring.’
‘If it’s small it’ll be no problem for the fight then. I’d be happy to do it. More of my artwork on show to the world, what’s not to like?’
‘And how does free accommodation for you and a partner here at Velvet Barbados, tickets for the fight and double time for inking the tattoo sound to you? We’d like you to be our guest.’
‘Fucking A1!’ boomed Russell. ‘My girlfriend, Diana, is going to freak out. She’s an actress and adores Hatton. We’ve always joked that he’s the one celebrity shag I’d allow her to have! So how soon do you want us?’
‘How quickly can you fly here?’ replied Fidge.
‘Tomorrow okay? I just need to make sure the shop is covered while I’m away. Fuck me, Diana will be buzzing about this! I can’t wait to tell her.’
‘See you tomorrow then. Let me know what time you arrive and we’ll send a car to pick you guys up. Look forward to seeing you.’
Fidge hung up. The thought of Diana, Russell’s actress girlfriend, and her adoration of Hatton ran through his head. ‘Celebrity shag? I’m afraid Hatton would rather bunk up with your boyfriend, love,’ he told himself. ‘Not that I’d let him.’
Another thought struck Fidge. The world wasn’t ready to find out about Hatton Eden’s sexuality yet. There would come a time, he was sure of that, but not right before the biggest fight of his life. The smug, bullish face of Sheridan Rivers flashed into his head. Anger gripped his being, darkening his soul. If that man thought for one second that he could threaten Fidge and Hatton into a corner then he had another think coming. Fidge Carter had handled some of the biggest boxing names in the business and he was sure that he could handle a clown like Sheridan, no matter how dangerous that could potentially be.
Twenty-four hours later Russell John was putting the finishing touches to the pyramid tattoo at the base of Hatton’s back. It had not taken long to complete, the minimal size of it and Russell’s famed craftsmanship getting the job done in record time. Hatton lay topless as the final stroke of colour was added; both Fidge and Diana looked on as the master tattooist completed his task. Fidge recognised Diana from some US TV show he’d seen during their stay in Los Angeles. She may not have been at Hollywood Walk of Fame status just yet but he definitely knew her face and she was as blonde, buxom and bedazzling of smile as Hollywood got, the total opposite to Russell’s muscled, rough and ready rock star appearance: the Malibu Barbie to his grungy Ken.
Diana could scarcely take her eyes off Hatton as he was inked, almost stunned into silence. Apart from the occasional sigh of delight she remained quiet and open-mouthed throughout.
It was Russell who spoke most. ‘The eye represents the journey to enlightenment. The size and proportions of it are really important because if they’re not done correctly then the meaning of the symbol is lost,’ he explained.
‘Which is why we called for you,’ said Hatton, turning his head as much as he could to face the tattooist. ‘You are the best. I could not have this drawn by some amateur in a beach hut down by the sea – that would be wrong. The tattoo needs to represent who I am, what I want in life.’
‘It’s a great one to add to your collection,’ agreed Russell. ‘Especially alongside the pyramid – that’s another image steeped in symbolism.’
Hatton had obviously been doing his research. ‘The top of the pyramid is the first attribute of God. It’s his will and his choosing. I believe it takes me to a higher level of consciousness and will put my brain and psyche in the right state of mind for the fight against Vince. I will do what I have to do, I will be victorious.’
‘Looking at your body, I don’t think there’s any doubt about that. You’re solid,’ said Russell. ‘There you go, man, you’re finished. It looks good.’
Diana let out another little sigh of admiration as he spoke, her eyes snaking down Hatton’s back.
Hatton stood up from his horizontal position and looked at himself in the mirror on the wall of the hotel suite. He was only wearing a pair of boxing shorts and his body, now one tattoo heavier, was indeed in better shape that it had ever been. He cast an appreciative eye over the tattoos covering his chest and arms before turning round to look at those on his back, including the new pyramid and Eye of Horus at the bottom of his spine. The skin around it was red and raw, but that would soon fade. Hatton grinned, his smile reaching right across his face. In his mind his body was now decorated to perfection: ready for action. His hard, muscular flesh was a visual scrapbook representing the maelstrom of thoughts, desires and ambitions running through his head.
Hatton was ready to defend his title, his body and mind in harmony. Both working together like the finest of well-oiled machines. As he continued to look at himself in the mirror, images of his parents, his homeland and his voyage to where he was right now circled in his thoughts. He snapped his arms into position either side of him, raising them up and flexing them to show off his hardened biceps. Pure show, it was a peacock-proud display of his own glory. As he did so he looked at the three people reflected behind him in the mirror.
Fidge winked at him, a knowing symbol of togetherness, support, companionship and their secret love all wrapped up in one minuscule action. Russell admired the tattoos on show and the skilful way they had been plotted on Hatton’s flesh, an admiration of both his own handiwork and the expertise of others who had taken needles to the boxer’s flesh. Diana gasped again at Hatton’s actions and swooned visibly, her mouth still hanging open, as she stared at the majesty of his frame. Debauched thoughts of what she could do with him given half a chance soaked every fibre of her being, a ripple of desire spreading from between her legs. Not that Hatton had paid her any attention throughout the inking. Strange, she thought, men in Hollywood normally couldn’t take their eyes off her big, blonde, busty attributes. In fact, Hatton looking at her now was the first time they had really made eye contact since meeting. It must be a Bulgarian thing, she mused.
Hatton held his smile in place as he returned his gaze to his own reflection in the mirror. He was ready for the fight. Ready for the night when he would prove himsel
f to be number one yet again.
61
‘His name is Ollie Featherstone and he’s a two-bit con man who seems to have done a great job of evading the law for years,’ said the New York police officer seated behind his desk, opposite the four female members of the Rivers clan. ‘We have a file on him with more dodgy dealings inside than the entire back catalogue of Jackie Collins novels – may she rest in peace – but Ollie Featherstone is one of those people who is Teflon-coated and nothing seems to stick. Slipperier than an American eel, he has more lives than a stray cat.’
‘Up until now, officer,’ said Sutton, her patience wearing a little thin at already having been at the police station for over three hours. It had only been in the last forty-five minutes that the women had finally been allowed to see someone. Police stations made Sutton feel uneasy, maybe a harking back to her days growing up in the crime-riddled backstreets of Harlem, and she was still reeling from the revelation that both she and her eldest daughter had been sharing the same man. But the women had come to the station to ensure justice was done and none of them were leaving until it was so.
‘Why do I feel like I’m being interrogated on The View sitting across from you four?’ asked the officer. ‘You ladies scare me way more than any lowlife thug ever could!’
‘Because my tongue is sharper than any knife that this Featherstone character could ever wave at you, officer. Now, I trust you’re going to arrest him?’ said Sutton. ‘He killed my mother, has been blackmailing my daughter for months and we have reason to believe that he was behind the death of Julian Bailey at his home in Toronto too. If that’s not enough law-breaking shit to send him down then what is?’
Sutton reached out to squeeze Nikki’s hand. Even though her daughter’s confession had shocked her, she was still her mother. Her brood would always be her priority, no matter what.
