by Vance Huxley
He usually managed to act indifferent to women, or at least avoid showing any real interest. Now he had definitely flirted, and had just given her ass a squeeze to return hers. It wasn’t love or even infatuation. Mercedes just tweaked every button Harold had, and probably had the same effect on every male in the place. Even knowing the game, that Harold had been set up, some of the looks from the elite definitely had some envy in them. Caddi kept looking at Harold’s hand on her ass, torn between speculation and anticipation. Harold had never heard of anyone getting hands-on before,now he wondered if different or new meant good or fatal?
Before they sat Mercedes sighed and retrieved her hand, beforesliding Harold’s hand off her dress. She patted it gently before sitting down next to Harold for the meal. “You’d better have this back, ‘Arold. If you get creative I might spill my soup, and then you’d have to wipe my dress clean.”
For a moment, Harold had thought Mercedes intended sitting on it, but she’d suspended the game for now. “If you’d left your hand I might have spilled something in my lap, which might have been even more fun.” He looked right into her dead eyes. “If we’d both been careless?”
That little flicker appeared briefly before Mercedes sniggered. “Ooh, naughty Harold. There’ll be plenty of opportunities for spilling and mopping later—in bed.” Harold did his best to return the smile. It wasn’t easy becausehe’d suddenly remembered that four men died in that bed. At least one gang boss, Paddy, bled out, according to the Hot Rods.That happened just before the Hot Rods attacked the Murphies, which seemed more than just convenient for Caddi. Harold shelved tonight, turning to the meal with a genuine smile becauseE-Type had told him about the chef. If Caddi still had the same one, the food would be absolutely superb.
*
The permanent and currently favourite women of the lieutenantsjoined their men at the table.Caddi didn’t have a companion.Chevy’s, Bug’s and Cooper’s women were young, pretty and seemedvery nervous.Bug’s woman glared at Mercedes, usually when she made another attempt to get Harold to cop an eyeful down her dress and Bug tried to see. The older woman with Charger looked his age, mid-thirties, and dismissed the show with a tolerant smile. E-Type’s woman looked down when she saw Harold at the table, blushing very slightly. Caddi had once forced her to ask Harold to spank her. Spanky, as the others called her, soon joined in with the laughing and joking and seemed relaxed with E-Type.
In some ways this could have been a dinner party, thrown by a successful businessman for his top performers. There would probably have been a Mercedes equivalent there, but not the occasional casual references to violence or the language. The names of the elite were another thing that jarred—Caddi, Bug, Chevy, Charger, E-Type, and Cooper. Harold wondered if they ever thought of themselves as anything else these days. Harold still twitched at Soldier Boy, when people used that instead of his name.
Since Caddi usually acted civilised with Harold, the conversation stayed pleasant and relatively intelligent. That was as much of a treat as the meal, because real conversation rarely happened outside of Harold’s friends in Orchard Close. In here, in private, Caddi seemed to be acting as a benevolent despot, some sort of Lord of the Manor instead of a cold-hearted homicidal gang boss. Better yet, he’d cut back on the obscene language and the rest took their cue from the boss.
Harold did his best to keep up with the conversation while they ate, as did Mercedes.She occasionallygave him an opportunity to look down her cleavage, smiling when Harold declined while Bug or others tried to look. Luckily the food distracted Harold all by itself. The meal had four courses of the kind of food usually talked about with the reverence given to legends of impossible pleasures. Harold had always thought the fancy sauces were some sort of posh affectation, but these enhanced the fish, veggies, and the meat, a real pork joint again. Caddi always seemed to find luxuries nobody else had.
The situation became more surreal when Caddi suggested, at the end of the meal, that the ladies retire while the men had their brandy and cigars. Harold wondered what books the gang boss had been reading. Mercedes leaned over invitingly. “I’m not a lady, ‘Arold. Or maybe I am, but since I have a proper gang name I’m entitled to stay. By rights I should have my own companion for these meals. Would you like to volunteer?”
“But volunteer for what, Mercedes? After all, I have responsibilities elsewhere.” Despite his dislike of her dead eyes, Harold found them the safest place to look until Mercedes moved back.
Her voice held a definite challenge. “I can’t tempt you? I must try harder.”
“But I’m a rough tough soldier, we’re trained to resist.” Harold kept up the gentle banter,actually enjoying himself. He’d realised that he could flirtwith Mercedes without it meaning anything at all. Even Caddi couldn’t use this as a way to hurt anyone, becauseMercedes would never come near Orchard Close, or would do so as one of the Hot Rods’ elite with a bodyguard and attitude. While they tweaked each other a little, the other women left, and the quiet girl and her clone cleared the table. The pair actually brought real cigars and brandy to go with the coffee. One went to close the curtains but Caddi shook his head, which caused some of those present to smile for some reason.
Harold had encountered enough problems when breaking his tobacco addiction to avoid resurrecting it, even if the smell of cigars tempted him. Various people grew pot, but tobacco cost much, much more. Mercedes recaptured Harold’s hand, making sure everyone saw her pull it over and place it on her thigh. “I need to keep track of this, ‘Arold, or who knows where it might turn up?” With the women gone, the pretence dropped and there were a few suggestions. “Just remember, my skirt isn’t very long. You wouldn’t want to accidentally touch my leg.”
The loudest of the comments was “not bloody much he wouldn’t.” Opinion seemed divided between Harold wanting to touch anyway,or preferring his hand undamaged.
Nobody asked Harold but he replied anyway, to Mercedes. “I promise I will always keep careful track of where my hand touches, especially on you, Mercedes. That’s if I actually get to touch you.” Harold accompanied that with a very small squeeze. Her thigh muscles said hello. He sat forward a little. “Do I have to ask you to ask me?” Mercedes raised her eyebrows just a little, then smiled. She slid her hand into the back pocket of his jeans and squeezed a bit. Harold didn’t have the muscle control to reply.
There wasn’t much point Mercedes reminding Harold about the length of her skirt. When she moved a little, his fingers were suddenly only a few inches from the sleek length of stockinged leg coming from under the hem. After her little shuffle an inch of flesh showed through the slit in the dress, above the stocking andjust below Harold’s thumb even if nobody else knew. Harold wondered if Mercedes had decided to wind him up and get him killed, maybe as her cheese and biscuit surrogate after the meal. That wouldn’t take much with how near his fingers were to her hem and that slit, which helped Harold get a mental grip; Mercedes had got to him—again.
Mercedes might be off the script given how curious Caddi seemed to be, a truly scary thought. As the muscles in her thigh took up where their sisters on her ass had left off, Caddi finally brought the conversation round to trade between him and Orchard Close. Harold had begun to wonder why Caddi had got him over here, because the warlord hadn’t known Tessa was an old friend. For a moment he wondered if the nasty bastard had known, but he had to abandon that line of thought to keep up with both Mercedes and Caddi.Harold had his own multi-tasking to deal with, keeping track of Mercedes having fun with his hand, her occasional attempts to show him her cleavage, and the serious business from Caddi.
At first the dealing seemed straightforward. Caddi had a box of hand-held radios, all faulty or damaged, and wanted them fixed. Unfortunately,the surrounding gangs had a strict rota for access to important repairs such as radios and guns, and it wasn’t Caddi’s turn. After Caddi offered new batteries in their plastic wrap and a couple of rechargeables, Harold met him halfway.He admitted Trev had some sp
are time right now,but stressed that Caddi’s gear would wait if other work came in.
Caddi must have been lining the next bit up because he immediately pounced. “I know your gun repairer has some spare time, because he’s got nothing better to do than fondle our women.”The gang boss took a long significant look at where the Orchard Close gun repairer’s hand rested on Mercedes’ thigh. “Lucky, really, because I’ve found a few guns.” The gang boss grinned because that meant he’d killed or captured Murphy fighters, so he’d probably taken more territory.
“Just what could be better than fondling? Mind you, I’m not fondling anyone,yet,just stroking clothes.” Harold smiled,wondering if the squeeze on his ass classed as a warning or encouragement. He squeezed her thigh as a thank you anyway.
“We’d better go through there so you can look at the guns. If you ask Mercedes to sit in your lap, maybe you’ll get to fondle?” Caddi looked at Mercedes and alarm bells rang in Harold’s head.
“He hasn’t asked yet.” Mercedes turned to Harold. “Well?”
“Later, because Caddi will tell you I don’t do that sort of thing in public.” Too true he didn’t and Caddi wired every visitor’s bedroom for sound and vision.Harold didn’t expect an invite to stroke anything under her clothesanyway, ever.
“Come on you two. I want to see just how she gets your hand from there to her ass without cutting it off.” Cooper looked at Harold, then his hand, and chortled. “If you cut it off, Mercedes, you can keep it and get a fondle whenever you like.”
Mercedes thought for a moment, then smiled and stood with Harold’s hand still on her leg. He managed to avoid getting over her hem or onto that slit—just. “Maybe I like the uncertainty, wondering where it will wander next? Watch and learn, boys.” She took Harold’s hand on a trip up the front of her thigh and round, right across her ass to the opposite side, without losing contact.
Caddi laughed and pointed. “This is a lot more fun than I’d thought. So is Soldier Boy’s face, look at him.” Harold knew he had to look somewhere between startled, relieved and cautious. He changed it into gang boss smug. At least Caddi seemed to be happy or intrigued rather than annoyed.
“Oh, he’s not even started having fun yet.” Amid the laughter Mercedes escorted Harold back to his armchair in the lounge. She sat back on the arm of Harold’s chair but further up,far enough up to keep her hand in Harold’s back pocket and wave her cleavage under his nose. “Hmm, just where should your hand go now?” Bug and Chevy made suggestions but Mercedes hesitated. Harold kept quiet because he’d already had a hand on her ass and leg, and had no idea of the rules.Mercedes pulled his arm round further so his hand rested on her opposite hip and round onto her thigh. “There, where I can keep an eye on it.” That also meant Harold’s arm hugged her, gently. Caddi looked intrigued, and he wasn’t pretending now.
Mack interrupted, bringing in a large cardboard box. “Here’s the radios, Caddi.”
Harold leant over to lookat them. Trev would be busy with that mess.”You never said they were that bad. They’ll take work, time and spares.”
“I know, expensive. Get him to use one broken radio to fix others and make as many as possible work. He can get that apprentice of his to help.” Caddi smirked but Harold didn’t react to the Hot Rods finding out about Trev’s apprentice, Elise. The nervous teenager didn’t need to know Caddi now had her on his kidnap list. “I’llgive you more batteries, still in the shrink wrap, and maybethree or four more rechargeables if the job’s done fast enough.”
“I hear you.” Harold did, those were both increasingly rare items, and valuable. Caddi wanted these radios in a hurry. “I suppose you’ll want the guns in a hurry as well? Enough to part with real ammo or propellant?” His attention wavered as the thigh under his hand played with his palm, more than before. Harold realised his hand had moved almost too far when he leaned forward sohe sat back, sliding his hand to safety. Mercedes pouted so he slid it back down her thigh a bit and she smiled.Her dead eyes flickered and her thigh muscles said hi. Harold hoped she eased off, because a night of this level of teasing and he’d make a mistake.
Caddi had carried on with his answer, oblivious. “Maybe. I’ve got some original rounds for a two-two rifle and a thirty-eight pistol?” Thirty-eight wasn’t much good but Harold had two-two rifles, as Caddi well knew. The weapons for repair came out and the real bargaining started. Not precise prices, just a general idea for each based on the condition and damage. The captured guns were a long way from their original condition, showing thatthe Murphies knew less than the Hot Rods about maintaining them. The elegant engraving under the grime on the over and under shotgun showed it had been an expensive weapon,someone’s pride and joy. The Murphies had abused and neglected it until the weapon stopped working.
In the end, Harold took the .38 rounds in part payment. They were originals, not reloads, and Harold thought Rob could adapt one of the shotguns to fire them. Once he’d agreed, however, he wondered if Mercedes had affected his judgement. Her gentle but unrelenting onslaught varied between muscle massage, and putting her cleavage where he could look downinside her dress. Halfway through the negotiations, Mercedes put both her legs right over Harold’s, the slit in her dress giving him a perfect view of one stocking top. She kept moving enough to play peekaboo with the inch of bare flesh above it, a little game nobody but Harold could see.
*
At least Harold could gather up his tattered concentration when the negotiations ended. Caddi switched to waxing lyrical about Harold being lucky to have decent specialists. Harold had heard it all before, including the lists of faulty work and ruined kit. Right now, growing food came top of the complaints. This time E-Type seemed to be seriously trying to work out why. “You’ve got loads of gardening experts. How the hell did you manage that?”
Harold opened his mouth to answer,but hesitated a moment as Mercedes leant forward, blowing gently in his ear when he turned his head to avoid the view down her dress. All the men laughed while Mercedes looked triumphant. He made it the second try. “I reckon they were trying to leave the city and we were nearest when the Army turned them back.” Harold also thought most people with useful skills kept quiet, so their local gang didn’t recruit them without pay or options.
“You’ve got all the experts, not just the gardeners. Can your bloke fix Barbie Radio?” Caddi scowled at his lieutenant but Cooper shrugged. “They give us a lot of shit but the music was better than the BBC.”
“How come the Barbies can’t fix it? I know they stopped transmitting just after New Year, but surely they’ve got an engineer with that setup.” Harold hoped so or they’d be trying to kidnap Trev, the usual Barbie Girl method of recruiting men. “There’s no way Trev is going near them, not voluntarily.”
“Hell no, they’d keep him. One of the GOFS heard the radio guy went nuts and completely fucked the transmitter.” Cooper scowled, genuinely annoyed. “The Barbies killed the poor fucker and that probably wasn’t pretty.”
Harold thought death might have come as a relief, then moved his head to avoid checking if Mercedes had a bra, again. He glanced up at her with a little smile when she blew in his ear again, squeezingher leg in reply. As Harold looked at Caddi, everyone looked back, waiting. “What?” Harold tried to work out what he’d missed but he’d lost track for a moment or two. Mercedes gave a small triumphant laugh while the Hot Rod lieutenantslooked at her, then at Harold, with smiles or outright laughter. Harold grinned at them all and rolled his eyes. “You lot should try it.My brain keeps migrating into my pants.”
“I wish.”
“Lucky bastard.”
“Her pants you mean.”
“What pants?”
Caddi just laughed, happy that Mercedes seemed to be getting to Soldier Boy. “You haven’t heard about the Army pulling out? Surely your mates would pass the word, or did you fall out with the Army?” Everyone assumed that as ex-Army, the squaddies kept Harold posted on the current news. The news turned out to be a rumo
ur, allegedly a very strong one, and several gangs were speculating on who would replace the soldiers. The consensus seemed to be Mart guards, with Bug wondering if the government might hire local gangs. Caddi liked that idea. He reckoned he might be able to get a real soldier as part of the deal, one who could fix his weapons.
“Oh, you might get a soldier, but I doubt you’d get another Soldier Boy.” Mercedes licked her lips, slowly. “If you don’t need him anymore, can I keep him?”
The laughter broke the moment but Harold didn’t like the look of Caddi when the idea of getting the contract, and Army weapons, had come up. “Make a bid,” he told Mercedes and blew in her ear, which got him a cheer from the men and a long calculating look from Mercedes.
“I thought that’s what I’m already doing.” Harold almost inclined his head, acknowledging the point, then turned smoothly away as Mercedes leaned forward. Harold had a problem now.Did Mercedes want him to lose and take a look or not, because she wasn’t teasing. One glance down right now and he’d probably see her belly button. Very tempting, but he had a long night ahead with just Mercedes and a knife. If Mercedes truly intended giving Harold an eyeful he would soon know. That thought scrambled Harold’s concentration again.
Caddi always negotiated hard, but Mercedes added a whole new dimension. Harold hoped she’d been sent elsewhere the next time he visited the Mansion, maybe hunting Murphies if the war wasn’t finished. According to the other Hot Rods, Mercedes had already killed three senior Murphies and several other gang members.
With a couple of drinks inside him, Caddi touched on the border war, Harold assumed a calculated touch. Nothing put clearly, but the descriptions of fights and gains made a picture. Caddi had definitely got into a war and not a skirmish. He also had a plan, to progress slowly by clipping off an estate here and a crossroads there. Caddi wanted toavoid anything heavily defended, while snapping up any careless gangsters or vulnerable occupied housing. That wouldstrangle the income and trade of the Murphies, not a normal gang strategy. Harold’s estimation of the Hot Rods as a threat went up a few notches.
