‘You can do what you want,’ Frankie conceded. ‘After you’ve helped me get your mam into the car.’ He cast a disapproving look at his wife, shook his head in disgust and walked away.
‘Let’s get this over with,’ Ruth said, jerking her head at Johnny before following her dad.
After the last guest had gone, and he’d helped Frankie to manhandle Rita into the back of the Rolls and waved them off, Johnny followed Ruth up to the room Frankie had booked for them. He’d never stayed in a hotel before, and he was knocked for six when he walked in and saw how luxurious it was. There was a massive four-poster bed with satin drapes at each corner, and matching curtains hanging from the floor-to-ceiling picture window which overlooked the hotel’s immaculately landscaped gardens. There was also an en-suite bathroom with a bidet and a walk-in shower, a TV, a telephone, and a minibar. And somebody had placed a huge vase of red roses on the breakfast table in the window alcove, alongside a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.
It was incredible, and if Johnny had been there with any other girl he would already have been getting stuck in to the champagne and bouncing around on the bed. But he didn’t hold out much hope of having a fun-packed night with Ruth if the moody look on her face was anything to go by.
‘Can you help me with this?’ She stood in front of him and looked back expectantly over her shoulder.
‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
‘Unhook me,’ she said, with a sarcastic edge to her tone, as if he should have known without needing to be told.
There seemed to be a million tiny little hooks and eyes, and Johnny fumbled with them for ages before he finally managed to get a rhythm going.
When the back of the dress was undone at last, Ruth waddled off into the bathroom to complete the job in private. Johnny opened the champagne and poured out a couple of glasses. Adding a miniature bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the minibar to his, he drank it in one and refilled it before getting undressed and climbing into the bed.
When Ruth came back a short time later, she laid her dress carefully over the back of one of the chairs before slipping into bed beside Johnny and pulling the quilt up around her throat. She’d changed into a red satin nightie and, in the brief moment that he’d had a chance to see it, Johnny couldn’t help but notice how good it looked on her. Although he wasn’t sure why she’d bothered if she was just going to cover herself up like that.
‘It’s lovely here, isn’t it?’ Ruth said after a moment, snaking her hand out and reaching for the glass he’d placed on her bedside table.
‘Oh, so you’re talking to me now, are you?’ Johnny muttered, taking another hefty swig of his own drink.
Ruth gazed at him and gave a guilty little smile.
‘Sorry I’ve been such a bitch, but I wasn’t enjoying myself down there. I’ve been dying to be alone with you since we left the church, but then you took off and left me with my mum, and everyone else was ignoring me. It was like they all forgot it was my day, or something. They just wanted to get at the food and booze.’
‘That’s what people do at parties,’ Johnny replied coolly, adding under his breath, ‘Wish I’d been a bleedin’ guest.’
Ruth caught it and blinked back the tears that immediately sprang into her eyes.
‘I ruined it for you, didn’t I?’
The words Too right! sprang to the tip of Johnny’s tongue, but when he looked at her and saw how forlorn she looked, he couldn’t bring himself to say it. It had been a stressful enough day for him, so God only knew how hard it must have been for her – especially since she’d had to spend most of it with her mother.
‘You didn’t ruin it,’ he lied. ‘We’re both wiped, and we’ve probably both said things we didn’t mean today.’
‘You haven’t,’ she simpered. ‘You’ve been lovely. It’s me. I’ve been horrible. Do you hate me?’
‘Don’t be stupid.’ He sighed.
Ruth swallowed the rest of her drink and held out her empty glass. Looking up at him through her lashes, she said, ‘Pour me another one and let me make it up to you. And hurry up and drink yours. This is supposed to be the best night of our lives.’
God help me if this is the best I’ve got to look forward to, thought Johnny. But he did as she’d asked.
In desperate need of Dutch courage, Ruth downed her second drink without pausing for breath before snuggling up to him. Johnny put his arm around her and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, a hazy vision of a naked woman crept into his mind, followed by an image of himself standing in a pitch-dark room with his back against the wall and his cock in the woman’s mouth.
The quilt started to rise. Ruth noticed and bit her lip.
‘Is that for me?’ she purred, gazing up at him.
‘Ugh?’ Johnny opened his eyes and looked at her. Smiling slyly when he realised how hard he was, he said, ‘What do you think?’
It might not have been the best of days, but she was here, and so was the hard-on. So, closing his eyes again to recapture the horny visions, he pulled her towards him and pushed his tongue between her teeth.
Ruth kissed him back for a moment, then pulled away and whispered, ‘Turn the light off. And be quiet. I don’t want next door to hear us, or they’ll know what we’re doing.’
‘We’ve just got married,’ Johnny reminded her amusedly. ‘I’m sure they’ll be expecting a bit of noise.’
‘I don’t care,’ she insisted. ‘We might pass them in the corridor in the morning, and I won’t know where to put my face.’
‘Fine.’ Sighing, Johnny threw the quilt aside and got up.
‘Shhh,’ Ruth hissed when he flicked the wall switch.
Johnny’s hard-on went out with the light. Cock drooping, he came back to the bed.
‘Where were we?’ Ruth rolled towards him.
Johnny’s heart was no longer in it. He tried, but now, when he closed his eyes, disturbing images crept in alongside the sexy ones: visions of men fighting, girls screaming, and Dave dragging him into the back of a taxi and telling the driver to put his foot down.
Ruth pushed herself up onto her elbow. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’ Johnny felt sick. Something bad had happened last night, and it must have been pretty serious to make Mikey and Andy miss his wedding because, after Dave, they were two of his best mates. And what had Frankie meant about stepping in? He obviously knew about the woman, so he must have been there – wherever there was.
‘Is it me?’ Ruth asked plaintively. ‘Have I done something wrong?’
‘Course not,’ Johnny lied. ‘I’m just tired, that’s all. And I think I’ve probably had too much to drink. Sorry, babe.’
He’d never called her that before, and Ruth’s stomach flipped with happiness. Laying her head on his chest, she played with the fine hairs.
‘This is lovely, isn’t it? Just you and me, all alone at last.’
‘Mmm.’ Johnny peered around the dark room, wondering if Frankie had eyes even in here. He wouldn’t put it past him.
‘Do you know what I’m looking forward to?’ Ruth went on sleepily. ‘Shopping for stuff for our house.’
‘We haven’t got a house.’
‘Not yet, but we soon will have now you’re going to work for my dad,’ said Ruth. ‘I think it’s great that he wants to take you on, because he wouldn’t have bothered if he didn’t like you. And I know you don’t think my mum likes you, but she’s really looking forward to you coming to live with us. She acts tough, but she wouldn’t have let us get married if she didn’t like you. My dad thinks he’s the boss, but you’ve probably guessed by now that she is really. I just wish she didn’t drink so much,’ she added wistfully. ‘I know she gets lonely, but I’m sure my dad would stay home more if she stopped getting so drunk.’
Johnny clamped his eyes shut and willed her to shut up. Sex was off the agenda, so now she was obviously intent on talking him to death.
‘She’s not been too bad this week,’ Ruth went on obliviously. ‘
This was supposed to be a surprise, but I might as well tell you – they’ve given us the room at the back. It’s twice the size of mine, and they usually only use it when relatives come over. But it’s ours now, and we can do it up any way we like. Mum’s been helping me to paint it this week, and it’s a kind of lemony yellow. Sounds yucky, but I think you’ll like it.’
She paused when Johnny didn’t respond, and lifted her head to look at him. His eyes were tightly closed, and his breathing had become deep and heavy. He looked so beautiful she thought her heart might burst. But she didn’t want to wake him, so she placed a little kiss on his lips and then lay back down.
Relieved when she started softly snoring some time later, Johnny eased his arm out from under her and got up quietly. He eased the minibar open and took out a handful of miniatures. Then, tiptoeing over to the table by the window, he filled his glass and lit a fag.
A feeling of loneliness settled over him as he gazed out at the tarry silhouettes of the trees down below, and he felt tears stinging at the back of his eyes. He had so much shit going through his mind right now, and he couldn’t get a firm grip on any of it. Everything seemed so cold and final, and he longed to be back at home, chilling with Dave, smoking some spliffs and listening to some good music to clear these horrible doom-laden thoughts out of his head.
But this was his life from here on in and, like it or not, he was just going to have to deal with it.
5
Life in the Hyneses’ house was even worse than Johnny had imagined. Frankie was hardly ever home, so Johnny was stuck with Ruth and Rita 24/7. Determined to project the image of wedded bliss, Ruth was all over him like a rash from the minute they stepped out of their disgusting yellow bedroom of a morning until they went back of a night. But Rita was the one who was really making his life a misery, since she’d decided to transfer all of the venom she’d previously heaped on her daughter onto him instead. She looked at him like he was a piece of shit that was still steaming, and delighted in criticising every little thing he said or did. And, infuriatingly, she wouldn’t stop calling him Jimmy.
The days were horrible, what with Ruth smothering him and Rita using him as a target for her verbal bullets. But the nights were a major headache. After the aborted attempt at having sex in the hotel on their wedding night, Johnny just couldn’t get it up – at least not when he was supposed to. He was still getting hard-ons left, right and centre, brought on by anything from a glimpse of a fit bird on TV to the whiff of perfume when he walked past a girl in the supermarket whenever Ruth dragged him out grocery shopping. Even just the sound of a girly giggle could bring it rearing to life. But come bedtime, forget it – his cock would shrivel up and hide. And the longer it went on, the more upset Ruth was getting about it.
‘You don’t love me any more, do you?’ she asked as they lay in bed on the night before he was due to start working for her dad. ‘You regret marrying me, don’t you?’
Yes on both counts, thought Johnny. But he knew better than to say it out loud, so he trotted out the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ line that he’d used on so many one-night stands who’d wanted to take things further in the past. And, knowing how freaky she was about anyone hearing them at it, he added, ‘It doesn’t feel right with your mum and dad in the next room.’
But she was obviously more desperate than he’d thought, because she said, ‘They won’t hear us if we’re careful.’
So Johnny was forced to play his trump card, telling her, ‘I’m worried about hurting the baby.’
‘You can’t hurt it,’ Ruth assured him, touched that he was being so protective. ‘It’s perfectly safe.’
‘I don’t want to risk it,’ he insisted. ‘Talk to the doctor. If he says it’s all right, I’ll think about it.’
Ruth couldn’t argue with that, not when he was showing genuine concern for their unborn child. So, off the hook – for now, at least – Johnny was able to go to sleep.
Honeymoon officially over, Johnny was up and out of bed before the alarm went off the next morning, and he was dressed and waiting by the door by the time Frankie came downstairs.
It was only half-seven, and he hadn’t been up that early on a weekday since he’d been at school. But this was the first chance he’d had to escape from Ruth, her mum, and this prison of a house since the wedding, and he couldn’t wait to get out of there.
Frankie’s car lot was situated at the end of a little industrial estate on a cul-de-sac off Great Ancoats Street. It was surrounded by six-foot-high metal railings and had two gates, both of which were closed when Frankie pulled up outside, secured by a thick steel chain and a massive padlock.
Frankie beeped the horn, and Big Pat came to let them in.
‘We’ve got a bit of a problem with that thing you sent the lads to do last night, boss,’ he said, casting a cautious look at Johnny.
‘What kind of problem?’ Frankie demanded, not giving a shit if Johnny heard or not. He was part of the family now, and if he forgot the loyalty rule and opened his gob about anything he saw or heard here he’d only have himself to blame for the consequences.
‘You’d best come and take a look.’ Pat relocked the gates and walked back the way he’d come.
Johnny gazed out of the window as Frankie drove through the front part of the lot. There were loads of cars parked haphazardly around, and they looked in even worse shape than the shit-heaps back at the house. Some had windows missing, most were minus at least one wheel, and they were all battered, with dents and scratches on their bodywork. If these were the ones that Frankie expected him to clean, he’d be here from now till the next blue moon.
A low prefab-type building sat around the corner, its windows protected by thick wire meshing, its roof edged with deadly-looking rolls of barbed wire. Two vicious-looking dogs were chained up at the side, and when they saw the car they started barking and straining to get free.
The prefab door opened as Frankie drew up, and two lads stepped out onto the top step.
‘What happened?’ Frankie demanded, hopping out of the car.
The lads exchanged nervous glances and came down the steps.
‘It wasn’t our fault, boss,’ one of them said. ‘We got chased, so I had to squeeze through some bollards and go over a field.’
‘You fucking what?’ Frankie roared. ‘What’ve I told you about going off-road?’
‘I had no choice,’ the lad insisted. ‘It was either that, or get nicked. And I didn’t think you’d want them getting hold of me and risk having them come sniffing round here.’
‘You’d best not have messed it up too bad,’ Frankie warned as he marched over to the garage. ‘Shut the fuck up,’ he yelled at the dogs as he rolled up the metal shutter. They both lay down immediately and gazed sulkily up at him.
Johnny climbed out of the car. Shivering when the dogs locked their stares onto him and started growling deep in their throats, he gave them a wide berth and followed Frankie into a big, dark workshop. The combined stench of grease, oil, petrol and sweat hit him smack in the face, and he wrinkled his nose as he gazed around. There were tools strewn all over the floor and worktops, and an oldish BMW was up on a ramp at the far side. But it was the car that was parked up in the middle of the garage floor that caught his attention. It was a black Sierra Cosworth, with low-profile tyres, and a great big fin on the back. If it hadn’t been for the deep scrapes gouged into both wings, the headlight hanging out of its socket at the front, the massive dent in the bumper, and both of the back light panels being smashed to pieces, it would have been his dream car.
‘How the fuck did you manage to do all this on one set of bollards?’ Frankie demanded, anger glinting in his eyes as he strolled around the car and looked it over in disbelief.
‘The coppers rammed us,’ the lad told him. ‘It weren’t my fault.’
‘Stop fucking saying that!’ Frankie roared, punching him in the side of the head. ‘Have you got any idea how much you’ve just cost me, you stupid twat? The b
uyer’s waiting, but I can’t send it over in this state.’
‘Me and Del can fix it up,’ the lad bleated. ‘We looked it over while we were waiting for you, and we reckon it won’t take that much to get it back up to spec.’
‘You mean apart from knocking out the dents, fixing brand new light units, and giving it a complete fucking respray?’ Frankie bellowed, grabbing him by the front of his jumper now and shaking him like a rag doll. ‘That’d cost more than I’m fucking getting for it, you knob. And you two work like a pair of fucking snails so, by the time you’ve finished the buyer would have gone somewhere else.’
‘It weren’t my fault,’ the lad protested. ‘It was the coppers. They proper wanted to stop us.’
‘How did they spot you in the first place? What did you do, set off the fucking alarm or something?’
‘No, the pickup went sweet, but the sneaky cunts were parked out of sight in a lay-by when we turned off the motorway on the way back, and they pulled out behind us.’
‘So you thought you’d be a dick and put your foot down, did you?’
‘No, I carried on like there was nothing wrong for ages. But then he shoved his blues on, so what was I supposed to do? It was either run or get nabbed. And at least we got it back here in . . .’
The lad trailed off and swallowed loudly when Frankie bared his teeth and glared at him as if he was contemplating ripping his face off.
‘Get rid of it,’ Frankie growled, tossing him aside. ‘It’s fucking useless to me now you’ve been clocked in it.’ When the lad immediately darted around to the driver’s door, Frankie screwed up his face. ‘What you doing now?’
‘Getting rid – like you said.’
Losing patience, Frankie kicked him in his back and sent him sprawling across the greasy floor.
‘Not in broad fucking daylight, you cretin! Wait till it gets dark, then dump it and torch it. And keep the fuck out of my way for the rest of the day, or I won’t be responsible. D’ya get me?’
Johnny winced when Frankie aimed one last kick into the boy’s ribs. But Big Pat and the other lad looked on impassively, as if violence was par for the course if you screwed up around here.
Lost Angel Page 8
