‘Calm down? Calm fucking down? Do not treat me like a fucking cunt, Kelly . . . You’re out on the piss, aren’t you . . . ?’
‘Look, if you must know I’m at the fight night that Dad organised. He thought it would keep my mind off things . . .’ Kelly justified.
‘Oh I bet he fucking did. Well, as long as you lot are all okay. Don’t fucking worry yourselves about me, eh?’
‘Oi. My dad was only trying to help us out. He gave you an in, Terry, a chance. You want to remember that.’ Kelly had had enough of pacifying her husband. Her dad had given him a chance to step up to the plate and prove himself. ‘You were the one that fucked up. Not him, you. As per fucking usual!’
‘Fucked up? I was hit by a fucking transit van, Kelly . . .’ Terry spat. ‘Ah, do you know what? Go and fuck yourself.’ Gripping the handset tightly Terry smashed the hospital phone down repeatedly onto the receiver, abruptly ending the call. His wife’s whiney voice was giving him a belter of a headache. That selfish bitch was quids in no matter what the outcome. No wonder she sounded so bloody calm, it wasn’t her that was going to have a fill of porridge every day for the next five years.
Popping her mobile phone back in her handbag, Kelly sighed before reapplying her lipstick. Talk about narky. It wasn’t her fault that Terry had gotten himself nicked. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been pre-warned that the job had its risks. Import and export was a risky business, and her dad had told him from the start: if he got caught, he mustn’t implicate anyone else. Her dad didn’t want the tax man on his case.
That had been the deal. Plain and simple.
Why Terry was spouting off about drugs she had no idea. There was no way her dad would be involved in that. But then, Terry always was dramatic.
Staring in the mirror at her reflection, Kelly looked as stressed as she felt. Even the bathroom’s dingy lighting couldn’t disguise her blotchy skin. Taking her face powder out of her bag, Kelly coated another layer of foundation on. Sitting next to her younger, beautiful sister Evie all evening didn’t help her confidence either. Unlike Kelly, Evie had been blessed with the same natural beauty as their mother, God rest her soul. Though unlike their ever glamorous mum, Evie was totally understated. Like she didn’t even realise how stunning she was. If Kelly had those looks she’d be flaunting herself to everything with eyes.
She didn’t. She wasn’t ugly by any standard, but her looks were just average. Like everything else in her life, they required effort. And a lot of it.
Pouting her lips and flicking her hair, Kelly knew that Terry would be fine. Her dad had promised her that he’d sort it, and he would. She was sure of it.
Stepping out of the grotty nightclub toilets, Kelly Stranks put all thoughts of her disgruntled husband to the back of her mind.
Sod Terry.
Tonight she was out with her family.
A few more glasses of wine would soon sort her out.
Chapter Fifteen
‘He’s up next.’ Nathan grinned across the table to where his father and Raymond sat. They both looked a lot calmer than he was. Christopher hadn’t even got in the ring yet, and already Nathan could feel his heart beating nineteen to a dozen.
His adrenaline was soaring. He loved watching his brother fight.
Christopher could be hard work a lot of the time. His loud and obnoxious temperament, combined with his aggressive foul temper, made him bloody hard work as a rule, but in the ring, his volatile disposition was Christopher’s making. He was a machine, and with all eyes watching him Christopher loved nothing more than to put on a spectacular show, and Nathan along with every other boxing fan in the room had been eagerly anticipating this fight all evening.
‘Jesus, this place is heaving. I had to fight my way back here through the crowds,’ Kelly said as she pulled out her chair next to Evie and re-joined her family at the table.
Kelly had secretly loved walking through the packed out venue, aware that she was the centre of attention. Everyone in the room knew who her family were, and she had seen how people had stared over at her, gossiping. So they should be. She was Harry’s long lost daughter after all. Well, tonight she was back in the fold and she had forgotten how good that felt. God only knew how many of these events she must have missed out on over the years. Well, never again.
‘It’s a good thing your old man’s a boxer then, ain’t it, Kel? It’s in the blood. Give ’em a right hook when you need ’em to move out the way, eh?’ Dressed in his finest Armani suit, and sporting his favourite diamond encrusted Rolex watch, Harry winked at his daughter. Just like Christopher, as the promoter of the fight, all eyes were on him tonight too, and as always Harry Woods had set the bar high with his event. As a former pro himself, Harry knew what worked, and because of this his boxing events were legendary. Unlicensed, but run with the utmost professionalism, the tickets were sold purely by word of mouth, and Harry could fill a venue with just a few hours’ notice. Be it a pub basement, social club hall, or like tonight, a grotty nightclub dance floor, people didn’t give a shit where it was. It was common knowledge that everything Harry touched turned to gold, and if Harry Woods held up an envelope, these people would want to be invited to its opening. By the looks of the heaving room tonight, Harry knew that there was no doubt he’d exceeded himself once again.
Packed with celebrities, and faces from all over London, the dingy Hackney nightclub had been transformed into a venue brimming with high status and vast wealth.
Harry couldn’t have felt happier, because tonight in front of thousands of observers, it was Christopher’s night to shine, and God knows the boy needed this.
If Christopher proved himself tonight, it might put him back on the right track. The boy was so full of aggression, and Harry secretly hoped that if he won tonight, he’d focus more of his energy on what went on inside of the ring, rather than all the shit he was intent on doing outside of it.
‘Everything all right?’ Harry asked, as he watched Kelly stare into space, daydreaming as she swished her champagne around her glass. The girl had been miles away all day.
‘Yeah, Terry just rang. One of the nurses at the hospital let him use the ward phone. He didn’t sound too happy, Dad. I told him what you said about sending your brief . . .’
‘Yeah and what did he say?’
‘He said that the police told him he could be looking at five years . . . He said that he thinks the packages they picked up . . . were dodgy.’ Kelly took a sip of her drink, unable to stop her hand from trembling as she waited to see her dad’s reaction. If Terry went down, she didn’t know what she was going to do. As much of a useless shit as the man could be, he was still her husband, and Kelly couldn’t face the thought that she might end up bringing the kids up on her own for the next five years if there was even so much as a grain of truth in what he had told her.
‘Dodgy packages? The police are obviously winding him up. Did you tell him what I said about not talking to anyone?’ Harry was sure that Terry wouldn’t open his mouth, it would be more than his life was worth, but you just never knew how someone would react when faced with the possibility of getting a capture. If Terry did start singing like a fucking canary just to save his own arse, Harry would make sure it was the last song that bloke ever sang.
‘He won’t say a word, Dad. He knows the score.’
‘Don’t look so glum then, girl, Paul will do the best he can. In the meantime, no matter what happens, you and the kids will be more than looked after. I will personally make sure of that. Terry won’t go short either.’
Kelly smiled. It was what she had been hoping to hear. At least with her dad looking out for her and the kids, things wouldn’t be so bad, and her dad seemed positive that it wouldn’t come to that anyway. Terry would be fine. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘You’re welcome, my girl, now cheer up yeah.’ Harry smiled, pleased that his daughter had perked up a bit.
&
nbsp; ‘Excuse me, Mr. Woods,’ two young women interrupted. ‘Could we have your autograph please?’
The ladies all loved Harry, and flattered as always, Harry was only too happy to oblige. Flashing the pretty women one of his most charming smiles, he asked each one their name, before scribbling down a message on the front of tonight’s boxing programme.
‘Tell you what, let’s do a swap. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours . . .’ one of the women said cheekily as she slipped Harry a piece of paper with her name and phone number, boldly winking at him before they walked off.
‘Jesus Christ, Dad, that bird was younger than me.’ Nathan laughed, enjoying the view as he watched the two girls sauntering off.
Harry grinned. ‘What can I say, son? The price of fame, huh?’
‘Dad!’ Giggling, Evie rolled her eyes, though she was secretly proud of him. Her dad lapped up the attention. Always had.
‘Ladies and gentleman, good evening once again.’ The ring announcer’s voice boomed in the microphone as the lights went down and the flurry of noise around the ring quietened. ‘Please take your seats for tonight’s main event, eight rounds of boxing in the heavyweight division.’
Nathan leant over to Evie, aware that this would be the first fight his younger sister had ever witnessed. Wanting to reassure her, he was apprehensive of how she would react.
‘You going to be okay watching this, Evie? It could get messy.’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Evie smiled at Nathan’s thoughtfulness. She clearly looked as nervous as she felt about watching her brother fight tonight. After begging her father to let her attend, she knew that no matter how brutal the match was, she’d have to brave it out. She wasn’t a little kid anymore, and the sooner she made her father and brothers see that the better.
Overhearing Nathan, Raymond leant over and offered Evie some support. ‘Stop mollycoddling the girl, Nathan, she’ll be fine. Jesus Christ, you’d think Evie was six, not sixteen, the way you all carry on. It’s just another fight, and it’s what you lot do. She’s a Woods too, you know, so give the girl a bit of credit, yeah?’ Seeing Evie smile back at him gratefully, Raymond winked.
‘In the blue corner, and weighing in at two hundred and eleven pounds is Christopher “The Aggressor” Woods,’ the ring announcer continued as a roar of chanting and cheering erupted in the crowded room.
As Christopher paced the ring, the crowd roared. They loved him.
Christopher Woods was fifteen stone of pure, lean muscle. His body was ripped, and raising his arms in the air, he basked in the praise that he received as he jumped from one foot to the other.
He had a reputation to upkeep. Nicknamed ‘The Aggressor’, Christopher was known for predominantly going in for the attack, instigating the first punches. Christopher honed in on his rage, attacking his adversary with as much speed as force. Tonight, Christopher was in the mood to pummel the fuck out of his opponent. Psyching himself up as he punched the air dramatically, he showed the crowd he was more than up for it.
‘And in the red corner, weighing in at two hundred and eight pounds . . . Tyler “Tornado” Walker.’
The tall, black boxer slipped under the ropes of the ring in one swift movement. As he held Christopher’s glare bravely, the two men sized each other up.
‘Wow, if looks could kill.’ Evie felt her stomach knot in apprehension as the two fighters glared at each other with menace, causing the referee to step in between the two men before the fight had even started. The atmosphere in the room was electric, and judging by the obvious animosity in the two boxers’ faces, Evie had a feeling that the fight was going to be ruthless.
‘That Tyler Walker has been gunning for Christopher for ages. Reckons if anyone is going to put “The Aggressor” down, it will be him. The bets are sky fucking high on this one. Walker’s never lost a fight yet. But my money is on Christopher.’ Nathan took a swig of his Jack and Coke.
Walker was undefeated, and if Christopher won tonight, he’d be firmly on the map.
Nathan knew how much his brother needed this. He’d fucked his professional career up good and proper when he’d been arrested for fighting outside that Chinese restaurant in Canning Town. The board had revoked his licence, but somehow Christopher still wanted to make a name for himself. With their dad’s backing at this type of event he still could. There was more than one way to climb a mountain, and just like their dad always said: Where there’s a Woods, there’s a way.
Their dad wasn’t known as one of the best boxing promoters in the business for nothing.
Unlicensed or not, Christopher was born to fight, and if there was any chance of keeping their brother out of trouble then their dad was adamant that he would do all he could to keep his son firmly in the game.
Evie was seemingly clueless as to just how ruthless their brother could be, but he knew better than anyone that when she did witness Christopher unleash hell in the ring tonight, it would at least be somewhat contained. Something their brother was incapable of being outside of it.
This was the fight that everyone had been talking about. If Christopher did win, their dad stood to make a shit load of money from it too. Walker’s supporters were here in droves, and the crowd were split fifty–fifty, so the stakes were high.
Hearing the bell sound, Harry watched proudly as his son threw out punches in such quick succession at his opponent. The boy fought fearlessly, like he was on fire. Just the way Harry had taught him: Keep your guard up, and get in there hard and fast. Take no prisoners.
And his words had clearly been heard.
Harry watched, impressed, as his son executed each blow like a true pro, effortlessly raining down fist after fist.
Walker threw a few punches back, but they were weak, and already the man was wobbly on his feet, his earlier bravado gone now that he was faced with Christopher’s immense fury in the ring.
Christopher was out for blood.
Only two minutes into the fight and in spectacular style, Christopher administered an almighty uppercut.
Walker’s head snapped back.
Christopher sneered.
He had the glint of the devil in his eye, and he felt superior. Walker was nothing. He was no-one.
Hitting out with a lightning left hook, Christopher inflicted some true Woods-style boxing on the man. Watching in fascination as his opponent’s legs buckled beneath him, Christopher nodded his head triumphantly as the man crashed to the floor. He was unable to get back onto his feet; Christopher had successfully finished the man off. The referee counted Walker out. He was defeated.
‘In the record time of two minutes and eight seconds, the winner by knockout victory is Christopher “The Aggressor” Woods.’ The referee held Christopher’s arm high. Victorious as the crowd got to their feet and cheered mercilessly, Christopher Woods smiled broadly at his adoring fans.
Put him down? Looking at the state of the fucker splayed out on the floor, Walker wouldn’t be capable of putting a toilet seat down now.
The gobby fucker had been well and truly put in his place, down on the floor where he belonged.
Christopher Woods was a champion in the making and no fucker was ever going to put him down.
Chapter Sixteen
‘If you can just keep really still now, Terry. We’re almost done, I’m just going to check the area at the back of your neck once more.’ Terry jolted awake as the radiographer’s voice echoed through his headphones, cutting off the calming classical music that must have sent him to sleep.
His eyes flickered as he focused, familiarising himself once again with where he was: stuck in a poxy MRI machine at Broomfield Hospital in the middle of Chelmsford, Essex.
Feeling claustrophobic as he remained completely still, grateful for the slight breeze that swept through the machine, Terry was feeling fed up with being poked and prodded by half the NHS, and he just wanted the
whole thing over and done with now.
Hearing the final beeps from the scan, he was relieved when the nurse pulled the couch out from the tunnel.
‘Bloody hell, how much more of this is there? I must have been under for hours . . .’ Disorientated, he grunted ungratefully as the nurse did her best to make him comfortable as she helped him back into his wheelchair.
‘Actually, it was only an hour.’ The nurse tried to be sympathetic but from the moment she had come on shift, Terry had done nothing but gripe and moan at her. Difficult didn’t even come close. ‘And I appreciate that this is trying for you, Mr. Stranks, but we have to do everything in our power to work out what’s wrong. You’ve had a nasty accident.’
Officer Mansell stood up. Having been sitting in the corner of the room, keeping a watchful eye on his prisoner, he was getting fed up too. Hopefully they’d find out the extent of Terry Stranks’ injuries sooner rather than later, because sitting on his arse for the best part of the day and listening to this prisoner whinging and moaning was doing his head in.
‘Cor, bleeding hell, at this rate I’m gunna need another bloody X-ray with the way you’re manhandling me,’ Terry shouted in agony as the nurse carefully tried to reapply Terry’s neck brace.
‘I’ll send the results straight over to Mr. Stranks’ doctor,’ the radiographer informed the nurse sympathetically, as she dealt with her disgruntled patient. Then glancing up at the clock on the wall, he added, ‘Though I’m guessing that it will probably be first thing in the morning now.’
Terry felt exhausted. All day he’d been in this poxy place. They weren’t exactly treating his injuries as a priority. This would have been over and done with hours ago if it wasn’t for the victim of a car accident taking priority over him. There had been talk of his MRI scan being put off until tomorrow, but the radiographer had agreed to fit him in as his last patient of the day.
‘Oww! God it fucking hurts. I want some more pain relief, I’m in fucking agony here.’
Bad Blood Page 11
