Kayla debated.
‘Pretty please?’ Hannah blinked beguiling eyes. ‘We’re all slutted up now, aren’t we? And I’d really like to see Steve.’
‘I dunno.’ Kayla chewed on her bottom lip. ‘He looked pretty annoyed, didn’t he?’
‘Yeah,’ Hannah conceded. ‘But that’s what parents do.’
‘But what if he comes back?’
‘Kayla, he won’t be back. He’s an irate father, not a flippin’ private detective. ‘Now come on, or we’ll have wasted all this make-up.’ Hannah hooked her arm through Kayla’s and set forth towards Strobes. ‘And I know you’d want Charlie to see you looking gorgeous.’
‘Yeah, I suppose.’ Kayla doubted she looked gorgeous. And, peculiarly, despite all the anticipation, she wasn’t really sure what she wanted anymore. Except to lose herself on the dance floor, maybe.
‘Head high, breasts forwards,’ Hannah hissed as they sauntered nonchalantly toward Strobes. ‘And smile.’
Kayla rearranged her face, thrust her best assets forwards, and arm-in-arm they strolled inside, straight past the still-bewildered bouncers.
Chapter Seven
‘Been there, mate.’ John, who had a room in the same hotel as Daniel, nodded knowledgeably. ‘Wives and kids, nothing but trouble. You’re well out of it. Come on, just have the one,’ he slurred, waving a bottle of whisky. ‘Life goes on, you know.’
Daniel shook his head at the irony of that statement. Yes, right, he thought. Until God, fate, whatever, deigned otherwise. In one split second, Emma’s life had been stolen away, and he’d been allowed to go on. And he didn’t want to. Daniel knew that now more than ever. Not like this, not without Jo and Kayla.
‘I’ll pass, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I’m knackered.’ The guy meant well, but drinking whisky wouldn’t help, unless he drank the whole bottle maybe. And then what? Pass out in his bed, knowing Jo might ring? No, he wasn’t about to do that. He needed to stay focussed until he knew Kayla was home safe. ‘Maybe tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Cheers, anyway.’
‘You’re on,’ John called after him as he headed up the stairs. ‘We’ll have a few beers in the pub and shoot some pool, if you like?’
‘Sounds good,’ Daniel lied. A boozy male bonding evening? Thanks, but no thanks. He’d be some kind of hypocrite anyway, wouldn’t he, drowning his sorrows in booze when Jo was obviously trying hard not to. He fumbled for his key and let himself into his room.
One room, six by four, it was only just big enough to house the few belongings he’d brought with him. He threw himself down on the circa-sixties nylon bedspread, propped his head on his hands, and stared at the coffee-stained walls, which seemed to loom ominously closer tonight. Daniel tried not to notice, until they shuffled in another inch.
Shit! Panic knotting his stomach, he was up and across the room to yank the resisting window wide. He hated it. This … powerlessness. It reminded him too much of a kid half his size, who’d lain awake in a room much the same, his only escape the window, which refused to budge as stubbornly as this one. Even if he’d plucked up the courage to prise it open and scramble down the drainpipe, damp and cold in his pyjamas, he’d have to come back and face the music come morning, when his father’s hangover-induced wrath might be worse.
Much worse.
The lesser of the two evils was to stay. Get it over and done with. To wait in the dark and listen for the slamming front door, the curses and the creak on the stairs. And count, backwards.
Daniel peeled off his shirt, wiped the sweat from his torso, and tried to control his erratic breathing.
****
Jo had given up smoking about the same time she’d given up on her mother. Left Catholic condemnation if she so much as looked at a boy, and headed for the bright lights of London, which might well have been Mars, so alien was it compared to the slow city pace of Dublin.
People actually avoided eye contact on the tube. Jo recalled how amazed she’d been. And how slightly insane she must have seemed, smiling inanely away at complete strangers. God forbid they should crack their faces and smile back. She hadn’t liked it much, she remembered, but couldn’t admit it. Back to Dublin with her tail between her legs wasn’t an option when she’d kicked up such fuss about working in London in the first place. So she’d applied for another job in England instead.
Selling advertising space for a Worcester based rag was hardly roving reporter, but a more sedate pace of life suited Jo better. More importantly, it kept her from under the beady eye of her mother and two burly brothers who, with her best interests at heart, would have watched her like hawks had she actually done anything worth watching. There’d only been two men before Daniel, and they hadn’t half measured up, she recalled with a smile.
Netting Dan was a big plus as far as her mother was concerned. He had earned Jo a gold star; her mum had adored him from the outset.
‘He’s a twinkle in his eye.’ She had nodded approvingly, having immediately sized up the length and breadth of him. ‘And a lovely smile.’
‘And a nice arse.’ Jo had grinned wickedly, and her mother’s mood had shifted swiftly from good-humoured to po-faced.
‘Hmm, well now you come to mention it,’ she had said after a while, watching Daniel walk by.
Thereafter, her mother broke out the home-baked bread whenever Dan and she went back to Ireland. She’d loved Kayla and Emma, too, fiercely. Losing her grandchild had aged her overnight. Jo remembered how fragile her mum had suddenly seemed, though she’d tried hard not to show it.
She’d made it to the funeral though, somehow, where she’d hugged Jo tight, tears hot on her cheek, and her eyes off somewhere over her shoulder. Jo had twisted in her arms to follow her gaze, to where Daniel had walked dry-eyed and alone from the cemetery. And Jo had known then, that her mother was crying not just for what was lost, but for what was to come, too.
Jo wiped at a tear, sucked on her cigarette, coughed heartily, and stubbed it out. She’d hoped smoking might fill the gap left by the wine, which she might well have reached for tonight. Smoking wasn’t much help though. She’d forgotten how foul the things tasted.
She’d forgotten what it was like to be alone, too. On her own, in a house that suddenly seemed too big. The only person in the world she wanted to talk to, other than Daniel—who seemed unable to—was her mum. But how could she ring at this ungodly hour? Then she’d have to break the news about Daniel and her.
No, she couldn’t. It would destroy her mother.
There was no one else. No one she wanted to confide in anyway. She had never known her own dad. She’d asked Daniel what having a father was like one day, years ago, and in doing so, flicked a switch that turned the look in his eye from warm to sub-zero in an instant.
‘I don’t have a father,’ he had said flatly.
Which was rubbish. Jo knew he had one. She supposed Daniel had his reasons, but whatever they were, Jo couldn’t condone, in her heart-of-hearts, Daniel cutting him dead. She’d never said it, of course, to Daniel. Because Daniel would never discuss it, other than to say his childhood wasn’t great, then make it obvious he’d prefer to leave it at that.
With nothing else to do, Jo lay down on the bed and studied the ceiling, primrose coloured, to match the walls, though that wasn’t the plan. Daniel had blobbed paint up there by accident, she remembered. Then he’d gone the whole hog and painted everything in sight, including her when she’d poked her face around the door.
She got him back though. Jo smiled quietly. She’d given him a nice primrose-coloured bum. That was another time Kayla had rolled her eyes and told them to grow up. It was said in good humour though then, before their home became a smile-free zone.
Where was Kayla now? At a friend’s, she had said. Someone in the year above at school maybe? Possibly. Jo didn’t know, but she had to believe that’s where she was. Staying with a friend, in a house where normality prevailed.
Was she sitting cross-legged on the bed, Jo wondered, as was her
wont, smoking, more than likely, and bemoaning her parents to her friend? Lying on her back, much as Jo was, studying the ceiling and contemplating what kind of reception she’d get when she got home? Jo hoped so. Prayed that Kayla was safe in bed somewhere.
****
Where had he seen her before? Well, wherever, Charlie was going to see to it that the bird with the gravity-defying boobs ended up in his bed tonight. That blonde bint who fancied Steve would do nicely, too. Charlie gave Steve a nudge and dropped him the hint.
Steve though, the soppy git, turned him down flat. ‘Uh-uh, she’s not old enough.’ Steve shook his thick skull, acting like he was her big brother or something. ‘Her mother’d have the filth onto us, if she found out. Nah, I’ve already decided. Ain’t touching it, mate.’
‘Yer what?’ Charlie was getting worried about Steve. He needed a big hard bugger backing him up, not a bloody big softy.
‘Oh, man, wise up.’ Charlie sighed, exasperated. ‘If you don’t shag her, someone else will. The goods are on offer, mate. Take a look.’ He nodded toward the dance floor where Steve’s bint and the other girl were dancing with each other, which was seriously turning him on.
‘Nah, not interested. Sorry, mate.’ Steve, it seemed, was an immovable mountain, luckily for Steve. Had he not been built like Bigfoot, Charlie might have been tempted to put his view across a bit more forcefully.
Shit. Charlie cursed quietly. The bloke’s a dealer and he gets a dose of scruples? Well, Steve could get pious on his own. Charlie had just remembered where he’d seen the one with the boobs before. At the Slug and Lettuce, looking like a lemonade-drinking virgin, and his interest was piqued. He’d hardly given her a second glance then, she being a bit spotty up close and not so overtly out there, but, man, she’d scrubbed up well tonight.
Course, she hadn’t given him a second glance since she’d arrived. She’d got that Hannah to keep an eye out over her shoulder. Dead obvious, she was, too, ogling him every five seconds, relaying his every move. And he’d been watching theirs. Well, the well-endowed one’s gyrating hips, anyway.
Oh, yes, Charlie was most definitely going to have himself some of that. No hurry though. She’d come to him when she was ready.
****
Hannah leaned close to Kayla’s ear. ‘He’s looking over,’ she said.
‘So?’ Kayla shrugged, doing her best to look as if she didn’t care, whilst surreptitiously adjusting her cami top to show off her tattooed rose in its best light.
He’d finally noticed her, then. About time, too. He’d looked straight through when they’d walked in, her blushing down to her shoes, embarrassingly, while Hannah practically salivated on sight of flippin’ Steve.
What was it with Steve anyway? Kayla hadn’t rated him much before, and now, with that Kanji tattoo on the back of his bonce, he looked like a complete idiot.
Still, whatever turns you on.
She glanced over her shoulder, to see Charlie looking right at her.
Charlie nodded and offered up his best charming smile.
Which he’d had on good authority was dead sexy. There you go, darlin’, he thought, congratulating himself on his cool. That should be green light enough for her.
She was in for a bit of a treat tonight. And he’d definitely earned himself one. Shifted a fair amount of stuff, they had, which had pulled in a fair wad. Not enough yet, mind, not if he was going to clear his debts, which he had to if he fancied keeping his tackle. Nevertheless, Charlie was pleased with the way the evening was panning out.
A reward was in order while he waited for his little fish to swim to him. Not the dog-shit weed these kids smoked though. Top quality stuff suited Charlie better, he being more discriminating. Northern Lights, he pondered, which was guaranteed good stuff, could even hallucinate on it if it was top notch. Or maybe Purple Haze?
Nah, Zero-Zero, he decided. Weed laced with crack. That’d set him up nicely until he got her home—with her in her tease-and-please outfit. And teasing him she was, if he wasn’t mistaken. Okay, she might be a bit on the young side, but she was up for it all right.
Charlie eyed Steve sideways. He’d got his face stuck in a Becks, well on his way to getting tanked up. He might just stroll past her, Charlie decided. Check it out.
‘Goin’ for a smoke. Top that up for me, mate.’ He shoved his glass in Steve’s direction and sauntered toward the dance floor.
****
‘What’s he doing?’ Kayla mouthed at Hannah.
Hannah smirked. ‘Thought you weren’t bothered?’
‘I’m not.’ Kayla looked disinterested. ‘So what’s he doing?’
‘Whoops, coming over.’ Hannah shook her hair over her face, and then peeked through it. ‘Pants! He’s gone past. Gone outside.’
‘Well, that was a waste of time.’ Kayla sighed, heading off to throw herself in one of the leather-upholstered sofas lining the walls. ‘He hardly looked at me.’ She folded her arms moodily. ‘And did you see him eyeing up that acidhead on his way out? Probably lining her up for later.’
‘He didn’t give her the eye.’ Hannah flopped down next to Kayla. ‘He was giving you the eye. He’s interested, Kayl. Trust me.’
‘Yeah, right.’ Kayla looked doubtful.
‘He is … Uh, oh. Act cool. He’s coming back.’
Kayla scooped her hair from her face and studied her nails, the epitome of cool.
‘Come on,’ Hannah said, grabbing Kayla’s arm and dragging her to her feet. ‘We’ll go say hi to Steve. That’ll get you a bit closer to the top of your wish-list.’
Hannah was a bit miffed with Steve. He hadn’t even been over to speak to her. He was all over her like a rash the last time she met him, outside Maccies. Until some silly cow from the year above at school went and told him how old she was.
God, the embarrassment. She’s got her tongue halfway down Steve’s throat and the spiteful bitch strolls past and says, didn’t think you were into schoolgirls, Steve.
Hannah had blagged of course, for all she was worth. Swore she was sixteen, but the damage was done. Steve had dropped her like a hot brick, given her an almost brotherly smile, patted her bum, and told her to go play with her dolls. Totally humiliating.
Kayla trailed along with Hannah. ‘And then what do we do?’ she shouted over the music. ‘Stand there like a couple of spare whatsits at a wedding?’
‘Talk to him.’ Hannah leaned closer. ‘Flash him a smile. And your boobs, while you’re at it. That should do the trick.’
‘Yes. Thank you for that piece of really useful advice, Hannah.’ Kayla smiled dourly as they squeezed, hand-in-hand, through the crowd, until they were almost on top of Charlie and Steve.
‘Go on.’ Hannah gave Kayla a nudge forwards. ‘Say something.’
Kayla shrugged helplessly. ‘Like what?’
‘Any-bloody-thing.’ Hannah rolled her eyes and sashayed up behind Steve. ‘Hiya.’ She stood on tiptoe to drape herself over his shoulders as he supped his pint. ‘Cool tattoo.’
‘Yerwhat?’ Steve missed his mouth and messed up his shirt. ‘Shit,’ he cursed, clutching the wet shirt from his chest as he turned to face her.
‘Sorry.’ Hannah fluttered her eyelashes.
‘S’all right.’ Steve shrugged good-naturedly. ‘It’s only an old one. So how you doing?’
‘Yeah, good.’ Hannah smiled, whilst Kayla looked dumbly on. ‘Here, let me get you another.’ Hannah gestured toward his half-empty glass.
‘Nah.’ Steve shook his head. ‘Don’t go spending your money. I’ll get ‘em in. Bud, isn’t it?’
‘Please.’ Hannah nodded, pleased that he’d remembered, and then quickly nudged Kayla as Steve turned back to the bar.
‘Go on,’ she mouthed to Kayla, who was fidgeting behind Charlie.
Charlie took a swig of his Becks, and then turned to give Kayla a polite nod.
‘Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?’ he asked, his brow knitted, thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, definitely. Couldn’t for
get a beautiful face like yours, could I?’
Got her, he smirked, as she beamed at him like a set of bleeding headlights. Foregone conclusion really. Hooked she was, good and proper. Now, reel her in slow, Charlie boy, he cautioned himself. Real nice and slow.
He leaned casually back on the bar, cocked his head to one side, and fixed her with his bedroom eyes. Brown eyes, he’d got. Like liquid chocolate, one bird had described them. Could melt a girl’s resolve at fifty paces. Well, he knew that, didn’t he?
She took a deep breath. ‘Would you, um,’ she faltered and blushed, rather becomingly, ‘like a drink?’ she finally mumbled.
Charlie had to admit he was taken aback for a second. They usually asked if he wanted to dance, if they weren’t touching him up for a tab. This was different.
Still, he thought he’d better decline, initially. Didn’t want her thinking he wasn’t a gent. ‘I already have one,’ he pointed out, allowing her a seductive smile, whilst mentally giving her an eight for her efforts.
‘Oh, okay.’ Kayla shrugged. ‘Well, would you mind getting me one then?’ She dazzled him with another neat-toothed white smile and handed him a fiver.
Now that really perplexed Charlie. Most streetwise birds would’ve said, suit yourself, and hip-swung on out of there, goods on display. Not this one though. She stood her ground, still smiling, but not provocatively, eyelashes in overdrive. She was just standing there gazing at him like a fragile doe-eyed fawn. Bloody ‘ell, he was a poet and didn’t know it.
‘Put your money away,’ he said, feeling suddenly magnanimous. ‘I was just about to offer you one.’
He’d intended to pace himself, let her work at it for a bit, but he was now seriously interested. Steve was right though. She was more a baby than a babe. She might be tall and stacked enough to have carried it past the bouncer with her face caked in make-up, which would have to go, but Charlie knew better. Not that her age was a problem. If she was in a nightclub, she was over eighteen, as far as he was concerned, and fair game.
The Edge of Sanity Page 9
