The Charmer

by Mandasue Heller

  Luvvly jubbly.

  When they hit their teens, everyone thought Joel was an arse bandit because he dressed smart and talked like he was cleverer than the rest of them – which he probably was, in all honesty. But he liked pussy way too much to be a poof – Mack could vouch for that. And he’d had enough of his leftovers over the years to know. He’d only had to turn up at a club with him back then, and he was guaranteed a fuck. Nowadays, he was lucky if his mam’s auld drinking cronies gave him a gobble.

  Flashing his lights when he saw the taxi pulling up out on the road, he rolled his eyes when Joel got out and shook his pants out to straighten the crease before strolling up to the car, like he had all day and next week, too.

  ‘No way was I expecting to see you,’ Joel greeted him, yanking the passenger door open and hopping in. ‘How are you?’

  ‘All right,’ Mack grumbled, touching fists with him. ‘Been better if you hadn’t kept me waiting so fuckin’ long, though.’

  ‘It’s only been half an hour,’ Joel reminded him, pulling his cigarettes out. ‘So, what’s the crack?’ he asked, lighting up. ‘Let me guess . . . You’re getting married, and you want me to be best man?’

  ‘I need money,’ Mack said without preamble. ‘Urgent.’

  ‘How much?’ Joel asked, frowning as the forced good humour evaporated. He’d guessed it was money, but it had to be a substantial amount for Mack to come all this way.

  ‘A grand.’

  ‘A grand ?’ Joel was shocked. It was usually a ton – two at the most. ‘Christ, Mack. How come you need that much?’

  Exhaling wearily, Mack shook his head. ‘It’s me ma. She’s got herself in a right state. The collectors have been, and everything. You’ve got to help her out, man.’ Turning his head, he looked Joel in the eye. ‘She was good to you when you needed her.’

  It was blackmail, and Joel resented it. True, Sue Macdonald had taken him in when his own mother had run away to Canada with her new boyfriend when Joel was just fifteen. But any loyalty he’d felt towards her had been seriously dented when, a year later, she stole all the money he’d been saving to go and look for his mum, blowing the lot on whisky and scratch cards.

  He hadn’t told Mack because he hadn’t wanted to fall out with him over it, but he’d never made the mistake of trusting Sue again, and had moved out as soon as he got a chance.

  So, no, he didn’t owe her – and certainly not a grand.

  ‘I haven’t got that kind of money lying about,’ he said, cracking the window to get a bit of air. It stank like a dentist’s surgery in the car – the cold chemical smell that only a coke-head or a nurse can truly call their own. Mack must have necked a whole lot for it to be seeping out in his sweat and on his breath. And if he could afford that, he shouldn’t be here begging for yet more fucking money.

  ‘You know I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t life and death,’ Mack persisted, not believing him. Joel always had money. ‘Come on, man, we’re supposed to be family.’

  ‘I’ve worked my arse off this year, and made next to nothing,’ Joel told him, wondering why it hadn’t occurred to Mack to try getting a job to help his mother out. ‘You know I lost everything when I got ripped off. I owe money out left, right and centre, and I’m behind with my rent, so I’m going to lose my flat before too long as well.’ Sighing heavily, he flicked his cigarette ash out of the window. ‘You should have rung before you came. You’d have saved yourself a trip.’

  ‘Oh, well . . .’ Mack slumped moodily back in his seat and picked at the skin on his lip until it bled. ‘If you won’t help, I suppose I’ll just have to pull a job while I’m here.’

  ‘Like what?’ Joel asked warily, not liking the sound of this.

  ‘Dunno.’ Mack shrugged, licking the blood. ‘Passed a nice quiet petrol station on the way here – tart on her own behind the counter. Might pay her a little visit on my way home.’

  ‘Oh, Christ,’ Joel muttered when Mack subconsciously moved his hand towards his groin. ‘Don’t do it, mate. I know you. You’ll fuck it up and land yourself right in it.’

  ‘Not got much choice, have I?’ Mac replied, shrugging. ‘Me ma took out a loan with Caldwell, then thought it was a great big fucking joke when she missed a payment – till he sent the collectors round and put the fear of God into her. Wouldn’t mind, but she only borrowed a fucking ton; now she owes him more than she’ll get off the social if she lives to be two hundred. He’ll have her down the docks giving two-quid blow jobs when she’s ninety to pay it off, if she ain’t careful.’

  ‘Shit,’ Joel murmured.

  ‘Yeah, shit.’ Mack exhaled loudly. ‘They’re coming back in a week, and if I haven’t got a grand to give ’em, she won’t have two tits next time you see her. But, hey . . .’ Flapping his hands in the air, he slapped them down on his thighs. ‘It ain’t your problem, so don’t sweat it.’

  Joel peered at him, trying to read his eyes. If this was a scam, Mack was getting better at it, because he looked dead serious.

  ‘Why the hell did you let her take out a loan with Caldwell?’ he asked. ‘He’s ruthless.’

  ‘That a posh word for a cunt?’ Mack snorted, sparking another fag. ‘Truth is, I wasn’t there. We’d had a row and I’d fucked off to Jeff’s. She got a thirst on and went down Caldwell’s. And you know what he’s like – he don’t care who he signs up, so long as he’s got someone by the bollocks at the end of it. And that’d be me now, I suppose, ’cos there’s no way my ma’s ever gonna find that kind of money. Might be best if I just don’t go back,’ he added gloomily. ‘Let him have the addled auld bitch.’

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ Joel said quietly.

  Turning his head slowly, Mack looked at him with a bleakness Joel had never seen in his eyes before.

  ‘Yeah, I do. It’d solve everything, that. I wouldn’t be able to go home again, but so what? You’ve done all right.’

  ‘It’s not that easy starting from scratch,’ Joel said, hoping to dissuade him. ‘Leaving all your mates and family behind. I’ve had to give everything up – real name included. You think that was easy? You’ve got no idea what I went through to get new papers. I live in constant fear of being found out by the authorities. You can’t sign on, or get a passport, or—’

  ‘I don’t give a toss about all that, if that’s what it takes to start again,’ Mack said, warming to the theme. ‘I’ve totally had it with that place. There’s nothing but arseholes and shit gear up there no more. I’m gonna fuck it all off and move down here. It’d be just like old times – me and you, kicking arse and getting laid. And we’ll work together,’ he grinned, nudging Joel in the ribs now. ‘I’ll soon have you back on track, pal. I’ve always fancied myself as a weed merchant.’

  ‘Sorry, mate, but it’s just not possible,’ Joel said, choosing his words carefully to avoid offending him. ‘I’m on the verge of losing my place, like I said. And the dealing’s dried up big time, ’cos everyone’s growing their own these days. I’m actually thinking of getting a proper job in a hotel – so I can live in,’ he added, letting Mack know in no uncertain terms that there would be no place for him. ‘Anyway, your mam needs you. You can’t just abandon her, can you?’

  Shrugging, Joel gave a regretful smile, as if to say he would have done it if he could. But the truth was, there was no way in hell he was having Mack move in with him. Mack was an addict, and it didn’t take a genius to see how bad his habit was these days; his nose looked set to cave in, and he’d been fidgeting the whole time they’d been sitting here, like his nerves were shorting out.

  ‘Don’t fret it,’ Mack said. His voice took on a dark edge now as he added, ‘You’ve enough of a job on taking care of yourself without worrying about me and me ma. Especially now Psycho’s out.’

  Joel’s head shot around, the colour draining from his face.

  ‘He’s out ? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yup.’ Mack nodded, a small glint of malice in his eyes as he reminded Joel exactly why he co
uldn’t afford to refuse to help his old friend. ‘I went down the Galley with Jeff last week, and Psycho’s kid brother was in there – pissed as a cunt, celebrating him getting an early for good behaviour.’

  ‘You didn’t actually see Psycho, then?’ Joel asked, hoping that it was just a rumour.

  ‘Nah, just Little Jimmy-nae-mates,’ Mack sneered. ‘Eamon don’t say nowt to no one, but you know what a loose-lipped twat Jimmy is. Two drinks, and he’s telling the world how their Psycho’s still the main man, and how no one had best fuck with him now he’s out, ’cos he’s mad as fuck and planning on pulling in his debts – with interest.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning, he’s planning a hit and wants cash in his pockets so he can piss off to Spain,’ Mack said, giving Joel a pointed look. When Joel gazed blankly back at him, he said, ‘In case you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re the hit – for fucking him over on that deal.’

  ‘I didn’t fuck him over,’ Joel muttered sickly, knowing full well that no one believed him – not even Mack, apparently. And definitely not Pat Muldoon, aka Psycho; so named because of the pleasure he got from slicing people up. He wasn’t averse to the odd spot of shooting, either. Or head-stamping. Or torture. Or rape. He was the only man Joel had ever known who genuinely had no conscience.

  How the hell he’d got himself an early release for good behaviour, Joel did not know. But if it was true, it was time to watch his back, because ten years was a long time for a lunatic like Psycho to fester in prison dreaming of revenge.

  Joel had been a naive eighteen-year-old when Psycho took a shine to him. He’d been so flattered that the hardest man on the estate wanted him around that he’d jumped at the chance of clubbing together with him to buy a kilo of coke cheap off a dealer who was having to disappear for offing a copper.

  Everyone had known that Psycho was using him for the money, but Joel had been clueless. He’d thought that his ship had well and truly come in – that they would make a killing on the coke, and he would be untouchable as Psycho’s partner.

  He’d been so wrapped up in the fantasy that he hadn’t batted an eyelid when Psycho went off to do the deal without him. If all had gone to plan, Psycho would have scored and kept the lot – and sliced Joel’s throat from ear to ear if he’d dared ask for his share. But someone had tipped the police off, and they’d crashed in on the deal like the SAS at a terrorists’ tea party – beating the shit out of the cop-killer and Psycho, and confiscating the gear and the money.

  Stitched up by the police – who had been trying to pin anything on him for a long time – Psycho got twenty-five years for his part in a murder he hadn’t, for once, had anything to do with.

  And Joel got the blame.

  He wasn’t the grass, but he was the perfect fall guy for whoever was, because everyone assumed that he had sussed that Psycho was ripping him off and had set him up out of spite.

  Suddenly, everyone wanted Joel dead, but Mack had really come through for him. He’d gone to his flat and packed a bag of clothes and personal papers for him, then smuggled him off the estate in the boot of his car to the station, seeing him safely on to the first train out. And Joel had been so grateful that he’d been sending him money regularly ever since.

  But Mack had changed a lot over the last few years, and Joel’s gratitude had been stretched to the hilt. It wasn’t just that Mack had a drug habit that he wouldn’t admit to, or that he only ever got in touch when he wanted money. It was something about the order in which he’d done things today that was ringing alarm bells.

  Mack had known for a full week that Psycho was out of nick. But instead of picking up the phone to warn Joel, he’d waited until he had time to drive all the way here, then tried to tap him for a grand – almost as if he knew that Joel wouldn’t be around for too much longer, and wanted to get as much out of him as he could before the gravy train hit the buffers.

  And it was particularly sinister that he hadn’t even mentioned Psycho until Joel had said he couldn’t give him the money. That should have been the first thing out of his mouth, not the afterthought, and Joel suspected that he might not have been going to tell him at all.

  ‘Did Little Jimmy mention me?’ he asked casually, hoping to gauge exactly what Mack knew in order to safeguard himself.

  ‘Course he did,’ Mack snorted, as if he was stupid for asking such an obvious question. ‘But don’t worry – I said you’d fucked off to Jersey.’

  ‘Jersey?’

  ‘Yeah, well, I’d been watching Bergerac, and it was the first thing that come to mind,’ Mack said, shrugging irritably. ‘Didn’t want me to say you was here, did you?’

  ‘Course not,’ Joel said, ignoring what he took to be a veiled threat. ‘That’s not such a bad idea, though.’

  ‘What’s not?’

  ‘Moving. Well, I can’t stay here if Psycho’s looking for me, can I? I need to disappear. Maybe not to Jersey, but somewhere far out.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘No idea.’ Joel shrugged, injecting as much sincerity into his voice as possible as he added, ‘But don’t worry, wherever I end up, you’ll be the first to know. About that money,’ he said then, hoping to buy himself a bit of time. ‘I’m not promising anything, but if you can give me a couple of days I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘For real?’ Mack peered at him, narrow-eyed.

  ‘Yeah.’ Smiling tightly, Joel nodded.

  Joel’s smile slipped the instant he’d waved Mack on his way. Legging it to the shopping centre down the road, he hopped into a cab and rushed back to the flat.

  He had three days at the absolute most before Mack realised he wasn’t getting any money and blew him up to Psycho. After that, it would only be a matter of hours before Psycho was kicking the door down – and he intended to be long gone by then.

  Locking the door, Joel drew all the curtains and dragged his suitcases out of the wardrobe, packing everything with lightning speed. Preparation was the key to staying alive now.

  Going into the kitchen when he was done, he dumped the ounce out on the kitchen ledge and cut it with bicarb and powdered baby laxative until he’d turned it into three. It was a greedy cut, but needs must – and all that. And if anyone complained, he’d be long gone – so, tough!

  Splitting the coke into three piles, Joel prepared two into gram bags and left the remaining one intact on the off chance. That done, he set about calling his customers to let them know that he was going to be out of town for a while, and to come and get what they needed while they had a chance.

  13

  Watching from the platform as the train pulled out, Maria waved until she could no longer see Beth. The station felt cold and desolate when the engine roar had faded along with the tail lights into the dark distance. Now the silence was punctuated only by the breeze whispering up the tracks and the throaty gurgling of the pigeons settling in for the night on the iron roof girders.

  Folding her arms as a feeling of abandonment settled on her, Maria walked quickly out to the taxi stand. She was glad that there was no queue, because she didn’t think she could have stood among people just now without bursting into tears.

  Back at the house, the sense of aloneness intensified when she closed the front door. It was too quiet without Beth’s laughter and incessant chatter, and Maria felt awkward and self-conscious now – like a visitor waiting for the host to show up.

  Closing the curtains, she turned lights on all around the house in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. Making herself a coffee, she sat at the kitchen table with a cigarette in one hand and her phone in the other.

  Feeling thoroughly sorry for herself, she contemplated calling Beth and begging her to get off the train at the next station and come back, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Beth would only tell her to grow up and stop being so stupid.

  She called Sharon instead, only to be told that Sharon and Leanne had gone ice-skating with some girls they’d met from the next Bay.

  D
isappointed, Maria scrolled through the rest of the numbers in her phone book, alarmed to see how few belonged to people she actually considered a friend. There were lots of ‘official’ numbers: doctor, dentist, library, bank, etc. But few real friends.

  Coming across Vicky’s number, she bit her lip guiltily. It was ages since she’d seen her, and she hadn’t called when she’d got home like she’d said she would. But Vicky would understand, she was sure.

  Taking a chance, she dialled the number. After several rings, a man answered.

  ‘She’s not in,’ he told her curtly when she asked for Vicky. ‘Wanna leave a message?’

  Disappointed, Maria said, ‘Er, yeah, can you tell her that Maria Price rang? I’ll try her again sometime.’

  She frowned when the man said he’d pass it on and then abruptly hung up. She guessed it was Vicky’s boyfriend, but he hadn’t been very nice considering Vicky had said that she’d told him all about Maria and was sure he’d want to meet her. But then, maybe he was being funny with her because she’d let Vicky down.

  There was no one left on the list now but Joel.

  Just seeing his name on the screen sparked a little thrill of excitement in her, but she was reluctant to call him in case his bitchy girlfriend answered. Having seen her, she doubted the girl would believe that it was just a friendly catch-up call – which was all it was.

  Honest.

  But then, why shouldn’t she call him? Maria thought defiantly. He’d given her the number in full view of the girl, so he obviously wasn’t bothered about her knowing. And if he wasn’t bothered, why should she be?

  Taking the bull by the horns, she rang him.

  ‘Er, hi, it’s Maria,’ she babbled when he answered, hoping to God that he didn’t say ‘Maria who?’ Not that he should, seeing as it was him who’d insisted she take his number. ‘I just remembered that I said I’d call, and I was at a bit of a loose end, so I thought I’d give you a quick ring. I’m not disturbing you, am I?’