Thieves and whores.
All he was good for was thieves and whores. Kenny surfaced from sleep. The old wanker had a point. You had to work to your strengths. Most of his contacts were thieves or whores. He should get in touch with them and see what he could dig up.
He dialled Dimitri.
‘Hello?’
‘Dimitri, it’s Kenny.’
‘Hey, Kenny. Whassup?’
‘What, has everyone been taken over by an American?’
‘Sorry, bud. Been catching up on The Wire.’
‘Just don’t be calling me no motherfucker,’ said Kenny with a grin. Then serious. Time for chit-chat with the staff was kept to a minimum. ‘How are you getting on with that job I gave you?’
‘Oh right.’ Dimitri paused. ‘Just, like, well on account of it being the weekend...’
‘Sorry,’ said Kenny. He should have known that Dimitri was a 9 to 5’er. ‘It slipped my mind. Normal people rest on the Sabbath, eh?’ He thought for a minute. ‘What day is it?’
‘It’s Saturday, Kenny... you sound like you’ve taken a knock to the head. Maybe you need to be taking it easy.’
‘Nah.’ Kenny rubbed at his eyes. ‘I’m fine. Totally fine.’
‘You’re the boss,’ said Dimitri. ‘And first thing Monday you’ll have my undivided.’
‘Yeah,’ said Kenny. He hung up and mumbled, ‘Over and out, muthafugga.’
He dumped his mobile on the coffee table and trudged through to the bedroom. Kicking off his shoes, he fell onto the surface of the bed. The linen of the pillow was cool against his skin. He burrowed down, savouring the softness and comfort. Just a few hours. A wee drop of sleep and he’d be dandy.
He considered taking off his clothes and slipping under the quilt. He thought about it some more, doing nothing. Couldn’t be arsed.
His phone rang. He ignored it. The tune continued. He moaned; why the hell did he leave it in the living room? He sat up. Whoever was calling him wouldn’t give up. He sank back into the pillow. His answering service would kick in; if his caller was keen they could leave a message.
That it might be Alexis niggled at him. He got up and walked back into the living room. Just when he reached for the phone it stopped ringing.
‘Bastard,’ he shouted. He looked at his missed calls. Didn’t recognise the number. He went back to bed carrying the phone with him. Just as his head pushed into the pillow it began to ring again. It was from the same number as moments ago.
‘S’Kenny,’ he said.
‘What the fuck are you doing snooping around my house?’ his Uncle Colin demanded.
‘Eh?’ Hoping for Alexis, Kenny was taken aback by the aggression in the voice of his caller.
‘Don’t come the innocent with me, Kenny. Mrs Ford was practically on her knees with desperation to tell me that you were raking through my garden shed.’
‘Oh, that.’ No mention of the lift hatch being slightly askew. He couldn’t have noticed that yet. Kenny decided to say nothing about it. Let that be a wee surprise for him later.
‘So what were you looking for?’
‘Your lawnmower,’ said Kenny. ‘I have a problem with my grass.’
‘Given that you live three floors up it would have to be a fucking miracle that you were having with your grass.’
‘Why don’t you fuck off, Uncle Colin? I’m not in the mood.’
‘What were you after, Kenny?’
‘Evidence that you have something to do with my mother’s death.’
‘Oh get over yourself, you halfwit. It was a suicide. It was a long time ago and we’ve all moved on.’
‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you?’ asked Kenny.
‘What do you mean by that?’
‘Just the other day. Talking with my Aunt Vi...’
‘You leave your Aunt Vi out of this.’
‘Talking with my Aunt Vi, just the other day when she voiced her opinion that her sister, my mother, didn’t commit suicide. That she was in fact murdered and her...’
‘Kenny, I’m warning you. Stay away from Vi.’
‘Where is he, Colin? Where’s my dad?’
‘Oh, how the fuck should I know? I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him for eighteen years.’
‘But you were his bestest friend once.’
‘I haven’t seen him, Kenny.’
‘Before he stole Vicky off you.’
‘Yeah, whatever. And then he abandons his only son. Is that really the kind of father you want to find, Kenny?’
‘How angry were you when Vicky went for Pete? Angry enough to set him up...’
‘Kenny,’ – Colin’s voice was quiet; and his tone suggested he was using every last piece of patience he could access – ‘let it go.’
There was something about his tone. A quaver of worry. Was it there from his fear of what might happen to Vi? Or did he really have something to hide?
Kenny decided to change tactics. Keep the old man guessing. Sighed. ‘From your knowledge of him, Uncle Colin, where would he go?’
‘How the hell should I know?’
‘You were mates once. He must have talked about dreams, ambitions, places he’d love to go visit.’
Colin was silent for a long moment. ‘He did talk about Canada once.’
30
Mason Budge was sitting in an office. It was a fairly generic space – long wooden desk, leather swivel chair and filing cabinets. Along the wall-length window stretched a sofa. A tall plant offered some colour into the drab. A framed poster hung on the wall behind him. Teamwork Makes the Dream Work, it proudly stated. It made him laugh; corporate shit, but it added to the overall image he was looking to present.
He looked out of the window to the river beyond. The mighty Clyde. Source of a nation’s wealth and the inspiration for many a song. Today the Clyde was a solid line of grey, calm as a pond reflecting a monotone sky. In Mason’s opinion, Glasgow could do grey like nowhere else.
Still, the people were nice. Nice and talkative given the right inspiration. Just as well he had a knack to inspire.
He surveyed the items on his desk. A phone. A computer. A blotting pad. Who the heck needs a blotting pad these days? He picked the phone up, dialled an extension.
‘Yes, Mr Brown?’ a voice answered. He’d gone for a Reservoir Dogs-theme with that particular name.
‘Send her in,’ he ordered.
A knock at the door and a woman walked in. She was slim, dressed in a navy trouser suit, long blonde hair and a determined set to her full lips. She crossed the room until she was standing in front of him and then she slapped him.
‘Owww.’ He held his face and grinned. That was so hot. ‘What was that for?’
‘If you ever so much as touch me again, I swear I will kill you. The idea was that I acted like you had raped me. I managed to act it so well because you completely and utterly repel me. You got into that bed and...’ – she shuddered – ‘...squeezed my breast. I should have kicked you in the balls, you weirdo.’
Mason simply smiled. Then he pointed to the sofa. ‘Why don’t you take a weight off?’
‘No, thanks. I won’t be staying long.’
‘You sure I can’t tempt you with a coffee?’
‘You can’t tempt me with anything.’
‘Why so adversarial, honey? We have an agreement.’ He pointed to the poster. ‘We’re a team now.’
‘Only until I have my money and then I never ever want to see you again.’ She stood before him with her arms crossed, one foot tapping on the thick pile of the carpet. Mason felt himself get the horn. This woman. It was her coldness that attracted him. He knew what she was. He recognised it in himself and had never seen it in a woman until her. Her complete lack of thought for anyone else. The way she could adopt a persona to suit whatever her situation was.
She could be the coquette, the vulnerable, the damaged, the tease and then shuck it off like it was yesterday’s underwear.
‘Have you fallen for him?’ Mason asked. He loved to piss people off. In his view confrontation got him the most out of others.
‘Don’t be so naive, Mr Brown, or Budge, or whatever the hell your name is today. He’s a job. A mark. Nothing more, nothing less.’
‘Call me Mason. I like to think we’re friends.’ He scratched his groin and grinned at the disgust on her face. ‘As for your mark. I’m pleased with your response. I wouldn’t like to think you were going native on us.’
‘Couldn’t we have done this over the phone like we normally do?’
‘Then how could we judge if you were telling the truth?’
‘We?’
‘I will be reporting back to the boss.’
‘Tell him he has nothing to concern himself with.’
‘How would you describe your job’s state of mind?’
‘Driven. Determined.’ She paused. ‘Disorientated.’
‘How neat. Answered with alliteration.’ He cocked his head to the side. ‘How’s your mother?’ He made quotation marks with his fingers when he said the word ‘mother’.
‘Back in residence at the nursing home.’
‘Wherever did you find her? She performed her part beautifully. The fake blood was amazing. You sure you’re fully aware of what’s at stake here?’
‘Yes. You release me from my contract and I can get out of this stinkhole once and for all.’
‘You’re ready for the next part of the job, Alexis?’
‘He’s mine, Mason. Ready for the plucking.’
31
Kenny couldn’t sleep.
Whenever he closed his eyes, events of the last few days lit up in his brain like a movie. Aunt Vi in the hospital. Alexis’ mother lying in a pool of blood. The blow to the back of his head. The photos in the attic of the house he spent his childhood in.
The letters from his father.
Uncle Colin’s evasions. His suggestion that his father might have gone to Canada. An attempt at misdirection if he had ever heard one.
He thought about the letters. Recalled the words on the page. Exhaled through his teeth. He had another family. He had been discarded and replaced as easily as someone might change their clothes.
Two months ago, if anyone had bothered to ask him about his parents, he would have answered with a blank stare and a what-can-you-do? shrug, yet here he was mooning like someone about to write a misery memoir. Fuck me, give yourself a shake, O’Neill.
He rose from the bed and walked into the living room. His skin prickled with the cold. He wrapped the soft throw from the sofa around his shoulders and sat down.
Flicking through the TV channels he found nothing of interest. By habit he scrolled along to the sex chat shows. Women pretending to copulate with fresh air did nothing for him, but the glimpse of a few naked breasts always cheered him up.
The regulatory fake blonde was lying back, wearing nothing but a thong. Her large breasts were lying plump to either side of her ribs. She thrust her groin at the screen, her eyes a mix of fake desire and boredom.
Kenny lay back on the sofa and considered masturbating. It might help him get back to sleep. Pathetic. Couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonely.
‘Alexis, where the hell are you?’ His voice was low and lacked any energy and sounded like the voice of a wraith in the early morning darkness. He pressed Select on his remote and read the time. 5:17. Too early to get up and too late to get any worthwhile sleep. If he lay down and slept, his brain would just wake him at his usual slot.
He walked through to the kitchen and made himself a coffee. Then he returned to his place on the sofa and the view of the joyless breasts.
• • •
Next morning, he was the first person at the gym. Matty the Hut had just unlocked the door and switched on the lights when Kenny strode over from his car.
‘It’s like that, is it?’ Matt asked him.
Kenny simply grunted and walked past on the way to the changing room. He felt the need for a burn this morning and after a five-minute warm-up on the recline bike he attacked the weights. Arms, chest and shoulders duly aching, he sought the release of a shower.
‘Need that?’ asked Matt when Kenny stuck his head in the gym office after he had dried off and dressed.
Despite himself Kenny managed a smile.
‘Something eating your gusset?’ Matt asked as he twisted away from his computer screen. Kenny entered the office and sat on the only other chair in the room. ‘Room’ was a bit of an exaggeration. Walk-in cupboard would have been more accurate. A desk that any self-respecting child would have turned their nose down at sat under the window. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were the two red plastic chairs that looked like they’d been rescued from a skip and a chest-high filing cabinet in local authority grey.
‘You were talking to me about my dad the last time I was here.’
‘Yeah,’ Matt grinned. ‘Before the two wee tossers in the cage tried to kill each other.’
‘How well did you know him?’
Matt scratched the skin at the side of his right eye. He looked tired and Kenny got a glimpse that he might not be the only one with troubles.
‘Your dad was Mr Charisma, Kenny. You get that off him...’
‘Fuck me,’ said Kenny. ‘A compliment from Matty the Hut.’
‘Shut it,’ Matt grinned and then sobered. ‘What do you remember of him?’
Kenny shrugged. ‘Lots. Nothing. Lots of nothing. Him and Mum used to argue all the time. She always ended up giving in to him...’ He tailed off as he remembered the night he found his mother dead.
As if he could read his mind, Matt asked, ‘It was you that found her, eh?’
Kenny nodded and felt his eyes sting.
Matt stared into his eyes for a long moment. ‘You never allowed yourself to grieve, did you?’
Kenny coughed. Swallowed. Managed a smile. ‘I grieved by breaking a few noses.’
Matt looked at him, his eyes swimming with empathy. It was almost more than Kenny could take. He stared out of the window, seeing nothing. Swallowed again. He couldn’t allow himself to let go. Felt that he might never stop.
‘So tell me about my dad.’
Matt opened his mouth to speak.
A knock sounded at the door. Both men swung their heads round. It was Liam Devlin.
‘Okay, boys?’
Kenny could see the warmth leaking from Matt’s eyes.
‘Morning, Mr Devlin,’ said Matt. ‘A wee bit early for you today?’
‘You know how it is. The world waits for no man and in the meantime his gut spreads.’ As he said this Liam held his shrinking belly with both hands. He was clearly looking for a compliment. Kenny wasn’t for giving him one.
‘Civic receptions and corporate freebies will do that to a man.’
‘Everything okay, Kenny?’
‘It was until we were rudely interrupted.’
‘I’m very sorry,’ said Liam as his eyes showed that he was anything but. Devlin was a man in a hurry. He looked at Matt. ‘You were going to set me up with a new exercise programme, Matt?’
‘Yes, I was, Liam.’ Matt stood up and from the top drawer of the cabinet pulled a piece of card. He checked the name at the top. ‘This is yours.’
Liam took it from him and scanned it quickly. ‘This exercise here. Dumb-bell flies. What’s that again?’
‘It’s where you...’ As he spoke Matt brought his arms up in a slow flying motion.
Suddenly Kenny felt he had to be elsewhere. He stood up.
‘I’ll catch you later,’ he said to Matt and stepped from the room. Matt followed him out.
‘Look, Kenny, just wait...’
‘I’m sorry,’ Liam said and this time he did seem so. ‘I shouldn’t have... I was just keen to...’
‘Don’t sweat it, guys,’ said Kenny, shouldering his training bag and walking towards the exit. ‘I’ve got stuff I need to do.’
‘Well, anytime you want a...’ Matt tailed off before he could say the word that most west of Scotland males were in terror of: talk.
Just as he reached the door, Kenny heard Liam Devlin’s voice calling him.
‘Keep meaning to say to you, Kenny, but do you remember Tommy Hunt?’
‘Should I?’
‘He was the businessman at that reception at Malmaison a year or so ago. The older guy who you tried to steal his date from. The beautiful blonde girl.’
Kenny stopped walking as if he’d walked into a wall. Liam might have inadvertently given him an idea. The beautiful blonde could only be one person. And Tommy Hunt could well be the Mr Big who was threatening Alexis. ‘What about him?’
‘He was asking after you the other day.’
Kenny turned. ‘How would he know to ask after me?’
‘He was on the phone to me as soon as that reception was over demanding to know who the wee wanker was that tried to steal his escort. He paid good money for her that night. Didn’t take kindly to you chatting her up.’
‘Aye, well,’ Kenny said, ‘serves him right for being so old.’ He chewed on his lip. ’Why now? Why was he asking about me now?’
‘We had another do at Malmaison. It reminded him of you. Said he admired your balls. Very few people stand up to Tommy Hunt, Kenny.’
‘Needs to put himself about a little more.’
‘He asked me what line of work you were in.’
‘And you said?’
‘This and that. Mostly that.’ Liam chuckled. ‘But I’m sure you and he could... come to some sort of profitable agreement.’
Kenny nodded. This was the Liam Devlin he had come to know and admire. The man who brought people together. People who could help him and each other earn lots of money.
‘And he asked to meet me?’
‘He even suggested a time and place.’
Beyond the Rage Page 17
