‘Pull over,’ Eddie ordered. ‘And keep it cool so you don’t draw attention to us.’
‘Wonder what’s going on,’ Carl murmured, sitting forward in his seat to get a better look as Joe parked behind a row of cars. ‘That’s not Beanie’s gaff, is it?’
‘Don’t know,’ Eddie muttered unbuckling his seat belt.
‘You’re not getting out, are you?’ Carl asked. ‘Looks like a bust to me.’
‘That’s why I need to check it out,’ Eddie told him, sliding a plastic bag out from under his jacket and tossing it into Carl’s hand. ‘Yours is in the blue bag inside. Drop the rest at Clive’s.’
‘Righto,’ Carl said, shoving the bag up under his own jacket.
Turning to Joe now, Eddie said, ‘Everyone seems to think you’re okay. I hope you don’t prove them wrong by opening your mouth about what you’ve just seen.’
‘Didn’t see a thing,’ Joe replied sincerely. ‘Just giving a mate a lift, that’s all.’
Eddie held his gaze for several seconds, then nodded and climbed out.
Reversing back out the way they’d come as Eddie strolled down the road, Joe said, ‘Where to?’
‘Cheetham Hill,’ Carl told him as he climbed over into Eddie’s vacated seat. Glancing back and seeing the big man standing easy among the crowd, he turned his attention to keeping an eye out for coppers. There was a strong scent of weed coming from the bag and it would only get worse in the heat. But that was a minor concern compared to how much crack was probably in the bag along with it. Chuffed as he was that Eddie had entrusted it to him, he definitely didn’t want to get caught with all of that shit on him.
Relieved when he’d offloaded it to Clive a short time later, he came back to the car with his own bag causing an unsightly bulge in the front of his jeans. Shaking his head when Joe asked if there was anywhere else they needed to go, he said, ‘Not unless you still fancy that motorway run. We’re not that far from the sixty-two.’
Joe glanced at his petrol gauge and saw that it was already touching red. ‘Best not. It’s lower than I thought.’
‘Should have taken that twenty off Eddie,’ Carl told him, taking his skins and tobacco out of his pocket. ‘It’s not like he can’t afford it.’
‘No, it was way too much for a couple of short trips,’ Joe said, setting off. ‘Talking about Eddie, though, what was all that about people saying I’m okay?’
Shrugging as he licked his papers and stuck them together, Carl said, ‘He just likes to know who’s who on the estate, so he’s been asking around about you.’
‘Has he asked you?’
‘Course. But don’t worry, I told him you’re sound.’ Carl stuck a hand down his pants, pulled out a small clump of weed and sniffed it before ripping it apart and lacing his spliff.
‘Jeezus, do you have to?’ Joe pulled a face. ‘Now I know where it’s kept before it gets to me I’ll be paranoid about hairy bits.’
‘Hey, the pubes are a bonus,’ Carl quipped. ‘Think yourself lucky I don’t charge extra.’
‘Gee, thanks,’ Joe muttered.
Arriving back at the estate, Carl shielded his eyes against the sun when he heard somebody shouting down to him from the fifth floor. He waved when he saw his friend Damien leaning out of his window and said, ‘All right, mate. What’s happening?’
‘Just getting ready for Mischa’s party,’ Damien told him. ‘Got that thing yet?’
‘Just.’ Carl patted his crotch. ‘How much you after?’
‘Half for now. I’ve got a load of mates coming over from Leeds. Youse are still coming, aren’t you?’
‘Too right,’ Carl said, answering for both him and Joe. ‘I’ll drop it round in a bit.’
Giving him the thumbs-up, Damien retracted his head and closed the window.
Phillip Kettler was walking along the path at that moment. Annoyed when he saw the man watching them out of the corner of his eye, Carl yelled, ‘What you gawping at, freak?’
Smirking when Kettler rushed inside without answering, he said, ‘Bet he wears a Nazi uniform when he’s at home. That’s probably why he always looks like he’s got something stuck up his arse, ’cos he’s stopping himself from breaking into that stupid walk. Heil Hitler!’
Laughing as Carl goose-stepped up to the door, Joe followed him inside. The light at the top of the lift said that it was up on the third floor but it didn’t move when Carl pressed the button.
‘See if I get up there and he’s stuck something in it to stop it coming down, he’s dead!’ Carl hissed.
Cheryl’s door opened just then and she backed out into the hall with the pram. ‘What you moaning about now?’ she asked amusedly.
‘Aw, nothing. Just that idiot upstairs arsing about with the lift,’ Carl told her. ‘How’s you?’
‘Same as usual.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Bored, skint, fed up, fat.’
‘You’re not fat,’ Carl scoffed. ‘You’ve got a great figure – hasn’t she, Joe?’
Nodding, Joe winked at her and squatted down to pull faces at Frankie, who immediately started giggling.
‘Going to Damien’s party tonight?’ Carl asked now.
‘Doubt it.’ Cheryl sighed. ‘My mum’s going out, and I can’t find another babysitter.’
‘Get Shay to watch him.’
‘No way! He’s not taking my baby anywhere near that slag.’
‘Fair enough. Shame, though, ’cos it would do you good to get out for a change.’
‘Ah, well, that’s life,’ Cheryl said resignedly. ‘Anyway, I’d best go. We’re going to Vee’s for dinner and the bus’ll be here in a minute.’ Turning to Joe now, she said, ‘Are you free for a brew sometime this week?’
‘Any time,’ he told her as he took a coin out of his pocket and put it into Frankie’s pudgy hand.
Wondering why all men couldn’t be as nice as him, Cheryl said, ‘I’ll try and pop round tomorrow after I’ve dropped him at nursery.’ Pushing the pram down the hall now, she paused at the door. ‘Oh, by the way, Carl, tell Mel my new catalogue came yesterday. I’ll be home around six if she wants to pop down for a look.’
Carl pulled a face and said, ‘I’ll tell her, but only if you promise not to let her order anything. I know what you lot are like when you start drooling over shoes and handbags.’
‘You’re such a tightarse,’ Cheryl flipped back, grinning as she manoeuvred the pram out.
‘Great girl, her,’ Carl said when she’d gone. ‘Shay don’t deserve her.’
Joe couldn’t have agreed more but he kept his opinions to himself as they headed for the stairwell. He hadn’t seen much of Cheryl since the party because they had formed a kind of unspoken agreement that she would visit him up at his place instead of him coming down to hers. She hadn’t actually said anything but Carl had told him that Shay had had a go at her when he’d found out about the party, accusing her of having it behind his back so that she could screw every Tom, Dick and Harry. It wasn’t true, but Joe wasn’t about to interfere by trying to set the man straight. Anyway, Cheryl was still letting Shay go round there, so she could obviously see something in him that the rest of them couldn’t.
The lift was on its way back down to the ground floor by the time they reached their landing. Carl banged on Kettler’s door and yelled, ‘Yeah, very funny, knobhead! But you’d best watch your back, ’cos you’re gonna get what you’re looking for one of these days.’
‘Don’t bother,’ Joe said quietly, guessing that Kettler would be watching them through his spyhole. ‘He’ll be trying to get a rise out of us – don’t give him the satisfaction.’
‘I know, but he pisses me off,’ Carl grumbled. ‘Anyhow, what you doing? Fancy a brew?’
‘Nah, my headache’s coming back,’ Joe told him as he took his keys out of his pocket. ‘Think I’d best try and sleep it off.’
‘You’re a right old woman, you,’ Carl laughed. ‘I haven’t even been to bed yet, and I’ll be off to work in a bit.’
‘Rather you than me,’ Joe said, yawning at the mere thought of it.
‘Lazy bastard,’ Carl jeered, backing towards his own door. ‘See you at the party – if you can stay up that late. I should be back around two.’
‘I think I’m going to give it a miss,’ Joe told him. ‘You have a good one, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Tutting, Carl shook his head. ‘Such a lightweight.’
Joe grinned, stuck two fingers up and closed his door.
Mel was in the bedroom when Carl let himself into his own flat, playing on the games console that he’d taken off one of his customers in lieu of payment. Carl went in to get his scales out of the drawer and said, ‘Don’t tell me you’ve been there since I went out?’
‘Shut up – I’m trying to kill the monster,’ Mel replied snappily. ‘It’s already eaten me about a thousand times.’
‘At least someone’s getting lucky,’ Carl muttered, heading through to the kitchen.
The sink was full of dirty dishes, the ledges covered in empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. Swiping some of the mess aside, Carl laid the scales on the flat surface and retrieved the weed from his jeans. Mel had been really lazy since he’d set up that console; she hadn’t cleaned up, or so much as sniffed at his dick in days. But if she didn’t get it sorted he was going to lob the damn thing out of the window. A man had needs and if his woman wasn’t fulfilling them she’d have no one but herself to blame when she found herself being replaced by someone who would.
Someone like Cheryl.
Now there was a face you’d be glad to see when you got home of a night. And how great it would be to snuggle up with a curvy lass instead of having to dodge jutting elbows and knees. He’d never understand why Shay had played away from home when he had a woman like her. Jayleen might be pretty, slim, and fashionable – and all the shit that seemed to matter to men who were as up their own arses as Shay was. But Carl had tried to talk to her at a party once and she’d had about as much personality as a watermelon.
But there was no point thinking about Cheryl while she was still hankering after the idiot so he pushed her out of his mind and got on with weighing out his deals. Stashing them in his inside pocket when he’d done, along with the bags of crack that Eddie had allotted him, he went back to the bedroom.
Mel was still trying to kill her virtual monsters. Watching from the doorway, Carl’s mood softened as his dick began to harden. She wasn’t that bad, he supposed, and she looked quite raunchy sitting there in her bra and knickers with her unbrushed hair trailing down her back.
‘Fancy a quick break?’ He fingered his fly hopefully.
‘Carl!’ she barked, her eyes never leaving the screen. ‘This is difficult enough without you distracting me, you dickhead.’
Hard and soft parts swapping back to their original positions in a flash, Carl said, ‘Forget it. Oh, and Cheryl said to tell you she’s sacked the catalogue off, by the way.’
That got Mel’s attention. Miraculously remembering where the pause button was, she twisted her head around and stared at him.
‘You’d better be joking – I was relying on that for some new boots. And I need a coat as well.’
‘Tough.’ Carl shrugged into his jacket and zipped it up. ‘Just have to save up like everyone else, won’t you?’
Hurling a dirty look at his back when he walked out, Mel went back to her game.
After delivering Damien’s half-ounce Carl made his way down to his spot under the canal bridge to see to his regular customers. He had a busy day ahead, starting with flogging as much shit as he could down here before meeting up with Kenny and the other guys to go collecting Eddie’s money from the pubs and clubs. Then he’d finally be free to go to Damien’s party – and, man, was he looking forward to that, because Damien’s sister and her mates were bound to get wasted and start dirty dancing. And once they got going it was touchy-feely lesbo-hooker action all the way. Carl couldn’t wait!
8
Carl’s day had gone a lot slower than he’d anticipated. His customers had come along in dribs and drabs so he’d been forced to stay down by the canal for far longer than he’d wanted to. And, so far, the night hadn’t been much better because the pub managers had seemed determined to hold up the handovers for as long as possible. But, finally, they were on their last pick-up and he couldn’t wait to get it over and done with so he could get to Damien’s.
He, Kenny, Matt and Daz had just arrived at Frost, a seedy little club situated in an old warehouse in a particularly rough area on the outskirts of Gorton. There were no houses nearby and the no-through road was way off the beaten track so there was no danger of casual passers-by or locals catching onto what they were doing and calling the police.
But the same remoteness that made Frost a sitting duck for Eddie’s protection racket also made the crew vulnerable should a rival gang decide to muscle in and take it as their own. So they were alert as they got out of the motor now, watching out for silhouettes in the parked cars that were dotted around.
Carl went inside with Kenny and Matt when they reached the door, leaving Daz outside to keep an eye on the bouncers and watch out for police.
It was half-one by now, and this club closed at two on Sundays so the DJ had already started playing his wind-down music. Leaning against one of the pillars as Kenny and Matt made their way to the manager’s office, Carl watched the desperate antics of the customers making their last-ditch attempts to find a bedmate for the night.
Outside, Daz had wandered around the corner into the shadows at the side of the club. He was supposed to watch the door but he figured it could take care of itself for a few minutes while he had a couple of lines of speed. Eddie didn’t like them getting high on the job but Daz was safe as long as Kenny didn’t find out and grass him up.
Just as he’d finished he heard the sound of footsteps. Thinking it might be Kenny checking up on him, he wiped his nose and rushed back out to the road. But it wasn’t Kenny, it was a drunken girl.
‘All right, love.’ He nodded as she staggered towards him. ‘Off home?’
‘Yeah,’ she slurred, grinning up at him. ‘Wanna come with me, handsome?’
‘Wish I could,’ Daz drawled, looking her over. Her dress was short and tight, and her hair was all mussed up from dancing.
The girl took a step towards him and giggled when her heel caught on the concrete. She fell against him. ‘Oooh, you’re a big boy, aren’t you?’ she purred when he caught her. ‘Bet you work out.’
‘A bit,’ Daz admitted, catching the scent of her perfume mixed with the alcohol on her breath and feeling a stirring down below.
‘I like a man who works out,’ she said huskily, giving him the green light with her eyes as she stroked his arms. ‘They reckon it makes you last longer ’cos of all those push-ups. Is that true?’
‘Why don’t you come and find out?’ Daz suggested. He grabbed her hand and led her back into the shadows as the temptation became too strong to resist.
The doormen watched as Daz and his conquest disappeared. Then, exchanging a quick glance, they checked that the road was clear and went inside, locking the door behind them.
Carl turned his head when he felt a tap on his shoulder. ‘Yeah?’
‘Your mate’s getting jumped outside,’ one of the doormen told him. ‘Just thought you’d want to know – ’cos there’s three of them.’
Tutting, Carl pushed himself away from the pillar and headed out into the foyer. Under any other circumstances you’d expect a doorman to wade in if there was a fight. But he could hardly blame this one for staying out of it, because it was a bit of a piss-take expecting the guy to help one of the men who were stealing money from the club. And that was effectively what they were doing, because they certainly weren’t doing any of the security dirty work to justify it. That was all left to the doormen, who had to deal with the troublemakers and mop up the vomit and blood – all for a fraction of what Eddie was taking.
The foyer light
had gone out. Trying the door and finding it locked, Carl presumed the doorman had done it to keep the fight from spilling over into the club. But as he turned to ask him to open it he heard a whooshing sound. Too late to duck – he felt like he’d been hit by a train when the baseball bat connected with his forehead.
At that same moment Kenny and Matt had just stepped out of the manager’s office. When he found the previously lit corridor in darkness, the hairs rose on the back of Kenny’s neck. And when the manager suddenly closed and locked his door behind them, he dropped instinctively to his haunches and eased his gun out of his inside pocket. He’d never used it and had hoped he’d never have to, but if something was going down there was no way he was being taken out without giving himself a fair chance.
Narrowing his eyes now, Kenny squinted into the void, watching for movement in the shadows as Matt edged his way along the wall in search of the light switch. When he heard the same distinctive whooshing sound that Carl had just heard out in the foyer Kenny yelled, ‘Get down!’ But it was too late, and he winced when he heard the dull thwok of wood connecting with bone, followed by the sound of Matt’s body hitting the deck like a sack of potatoes.
‘Don’t be a prick,’ Kenny said calmly, guessing that the doorman had whacked Matt with a bat. ‘I’ve got a gun, so drop it or I start shooting!’
‘Fuck you,’ the doorman hissed, swinging out wildly and jarring his elbow when he hit the wall. ‘Mistake you made was thinking that we were gonna sit back and let your boss carry on ripping us off,’ he went on. ‘We run this place, not him.’
‘Know him, do you?’ Kenny asked, edging away from the door, aware that this was most likely where the man was heading for.
‘Are you deaf, you little cunt?’ the doorman snarled, getting closer. ‘We don’t give a flying fuck about Eddie Quinn – and you can tell him that from me. This is over, do you hear me? As of now, he ain’t getting another penny.’
The Driver Page 8
