‘You could say that.’
‘That doesn’t answer the question.’
‘Which question?’
‘The one about why you work at the massage parlour?’
‘I need the money.’
‘Because of this guy?’ she nodded, ‘what happened?’
‘I told you, he was no good. We were seeing each other. I thought it was love. I loved him so much that I gave him money. We broke up. He didn’t give any of it back.’
‘Was it much?’
‘Enough.’
‘What’s his name, this guy?’
‘Why do you want to know his name?’
I shrugged like it was no big deal to me, ‘Don’t know,’ I said, ‘I might know him, that’s all. I could have a word, about this money of yours, maybe get it back for you.’
She snorted, ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because he is not the kind of man you have words with. He’s a big scary guy and he throws his weight around. It’s not just women he scares, believe me.’
‘Well, he wouldn’t scare me.’
‘You’re sure about that are you?’ She sounded doubtful, then she looked at me as if seeing me properly for the first time.
‘Well Mr Blake, if you are not scared of my ex, even though I’ve told you what he’s like, then that makes me wonder about the kind of man you are.’
‘The kind who doesn’t like to hear about a lady being ripped off by a thug.’
‘So I’m a lady, am I?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not a whore?’ she was challenging me again.
‘I suppose, technically, you’re both,’ I told her and there was a pause while she digested that one, then she laughed again.
‘You’re a charmer,’ she said.
‘I tell it as I see it,’ I told her, ‘and so do you.’
‘Okay, so maybe you’re not scared, but I’m still not going to give you his name.’
‘Why? Regular gangster is he?’
‘He thinks he is.’
‘A lot do in this city.’ I wanted to explain that five minutes alone with Kinane and this guy would be begging for the opportunity to pay her money back with interest, but I didn’t think she’d be impressed by that.
‘I am not going to give you his name because either you would end up getting hurt or he would,’ and she peered at me intently, ‘and I’m starting to suspect it might be him.’
‘What do you care? He stole from you.’
‘It was my fault. I was the fool for lending him the money. And anyway, I don’t want him hurt, not in that way.’
No, I thought, you just want him to find out you are working in a brothel, like that’s really going to ruin his life.
‘You must have lent him a fair amount if you had to work at the parlour to pay off your debts.’
She sighed, ‘I lost my job because of the lifestyle we were leading; the hours and the partying,’ she meant the drugs, ‘I almost lost my apartment, but I knew about the massage parlour, so I thought I would give it a try. I mean, I had nothing more to lose did I?’
‘Getting money from darling daddy was out of the question, I suppose?’
‘You suppose right,’ she said with such steely determination that I let it go, but I couldn’t understand how bad things would have to be between a girl and her father for her to prefer having sex with strangers than go to him for money.
‘How did you know about the place?’
‘The ex told me. I said he was a bad man. We drove past it one day and he said, “you see that place, it’s a knocking shop” and I remember we laughed about the kind of women who worked in a place like that. I didn’t give it another moment’s thought until I had no money and they were going to repossess my apartment.’ She was talking like she was in total control but she had started to unconsciously play with a long loose strand of her hair.
‘I went down there, and I was too terrified to walk through the doors at first, but somehow I managed to pluck up the courage to go inside. Elaine was there, she seemed okay. I mean she’s a tough one, but if you’ve been to a girls’ boarding school you’ve experienced far worse than Elaine.’
She stopped playing with her hair for a moment, picked up her wine glass by the stem, took a long drink and continued, ‘I almost didn’t go through with it, on the first night, I mean. I couldn’t even decide what to wear, isn’t that crazy? I spent ages staring at the contents of my wardrobe, trying to find something appropriate,’ and she laughed without humour at the word. ‘I mean the men aren’t down there because of the clothes you wear. It’s not as if you even keep them on for long. I knew that but…’ she trailed away and blinked at the absurdity of caring what she wore in a brothel.
‘But I went through with it. I’d reached a stage in my life where I figured I was never going to let a man near me again anyway unless I made him pay for it. The first night I did five massages. Only one of them wanted more than a “happy ending”. That first time was…’ she took a moment to choose the right word, ‘…difficult, but I made enough money so I went back the next night. After three days Elaine said I could stay.’
‘Because you were earning,’ I meant for the house, and she nodded.
‘Paid off your debts yet?’
‘Not quite.’
‘Will you leave when you do?’
‘Why would I? I have to earn money somehow.’
‘Yes, but you don’t have to earn it like that. I’m not being a moralist here, but there must be easier jobs.’
‘Than working for you, you mean?’ Strangely, I hadn’t actually viewed what Simone did as working for me. I may have been the main guy in our firm now that Bobby was gone but we had a lot of things going on and the massage parlour was just one of them. I’d even toyed with the idea of closing it down, but it was a decent earner so I’d kept it going. I didn’t really get involved other than to count and launder the money. I supposed I was living off immoral earnings, though the money from the massage parlour was a tiny percentage of my income. In the eyes of the law I was a pimp, but really we were providing a service here. Everyone in that place was either a man who couldn’t get sex elsewhere or a woman who needed to earn more than minimum wage. I provided a safe, clean environment to get them together, where no one got robbed or beaten. That was all.
‘Some of the men are okay,’ she said, by way of justification, ‘most of them are polite. Nearly all of them are nervous and that makes them easier to handle. I thought they’d all be cocky, wanting to enjoy it for as long as they could, but they want to get it done and be away as soon as it’s over. There are only some who are difficult, but then there’s always Max.’
Max was the man we paid to sort out anything the girls and Elaine couldn’t handle. He would hang back in the shadows unless there was trouble, but we made sure he was a visible presence. Seeing him there was usually enough to ensure everyone paid up and treated the girls with respect. Max probably had the easiest bouncing job in Newcastle, but occasionally a customer would misbehave and we couldn’t run the place without a man like him on the site, because we couldn’t afford the parlour to get a bad name and attract the wrong kind of attention from the authorities. If there was any bother he’d step in and stop it pronto.
‘A lot of the guys are scared to death,’ she said suddenly, as if she had only just realised it, ‘they don’t want to be there. They need it of course, they can’t help themselves. All men are like that, like dogs. They want to get it out of their system and be out of there as quick as they can afterwards.’
‘You have a low opinion of men, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘How do you handle it then?’
‘With most of them, I just take off my clothes, give them a massage, give them a hand job and that’s all they need. They don’t even touch me and they don’t take long.’
Another sip of wine, then she realised her glass was nearly empty. I refilled it and she carried
on. It was funny, I couldn’t get her to talk at all at first, now she didn’t seem to want to stop. ‘Some of them want full sex and I have to let them. I mean that’s what they pay for, but I just lie there and turn my head away. They don’t like it, but they don’t get any more from me than that, ever. They want a Girl Friend Experience,’ and she snorted at the notion, ‘they want me to kiss them, put my tongue in their mouths, they offer to pay more.’
‘But you won’t do that?’
‘Never,’ she told me, ‘no one gets that.’
She sipped her wine some more, looked at me as if waiting for a comment and when I didn’t say anything she said, ‘One guy kept going on at me, saying I was liking it. “Loving it,” in fact, “You’re loving this, darling”,’ and she snorted at his stupidity, ‘he actually thought I was getting off on him because I was wet. I laughed at him and told him “you’re dreaming pal. That’s just the KY.” I shouldn’t have done that. He didn’t like it, me laughing at him. Men don’t like being laughed at. They take themselves too seriously, especially in bed. I thought he was going to hit me. Reckon he probably would have as well, if he hadn’t been worried about Max and what he might do.’
‘I guess you meet some strange guys.’
‘There’s this one guy has an appointment with me once a week, all he wants to do is look at my feet. Not interested in any other part of me, just my bare feet. Doesn’t need to see me naked, just looks at them for a while, plays with himself, gets off and leaves.’
The starters arrived at that point. If the waiter overhead that last snippet he did a good impression of someone who hadn’t. There was foie gras for me; something leafy and expensive with a slice of parmesan on top, which looked like it came straight out of a salad bag from Morrisons, for her.
‘What if I found you something better’ I asked, ‘for the same money?’
‘Like what?’
I shrugged, ‘I don’t know yet, but I’m pretty certain I could utilise your talents in a better way,’ she looked at me suspiciously, like I was proposing to sell her to an Arab sheik or a Russian billionaire, ‘with your clothes on,’ I added.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t want you to,’ she was in defiant mode again.
‘Why don’t you want me to help you?’ I asked calmly.
She frowned at me again. ‘You think I’m something I’m not.’
‘You can read my mind now, can you?’ I retorted. ‘So, what do I think you are then?’
‘Something broken you can mend. Something damaged you can fix with your money.’
‘But it’s not that simple?’ Maybe she had me pegged, but I was still sure I could help her.
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
She sighed, ‘because I’m fucked in the head.’
It was hard not to laugh at that. She sounded like a drama-queen teenager, but I knew that arguing with her in this mood was pointless. Instead I just smiled at her and said, ‘Eat your rabbit food.’
25
.......................
The following afternoon, I walked into the Strawberry Pub, where Kinane was waiting for me with the news. He was sitting in the corner on his own. I sat down next to him. He’d already bought the beers.
‘Toddy’s had a jolt,’ said Kinane sadly.
My heart sank, ‘How long?’
‘Twenty-one years, minimum recommendation fourteen,’ and he shook his head, ‘he’ll be in his fifties before he gets out, even if he only serves the minimum.’
‘Christ,’ I said. Toddy had been incredibly unlucky and now his whole life was ruined. There was nothing I could do about him spending his best years inside, but at least he hadn’t spilled. If he had I’d have been in there instead of him. ‘Make sure he’s looked after, as much as we can.’
‘There’s his lass,’ Kinane reminded me, ‘he’s been shacked up with her.’
Toddy knew we’d pay out to look after her, but I wondered how long she’d stay around, realistically, once she realised the sheer hopelessness of it all. I mean, if she wanted kids.
‘And his old mum?’
‘Obviously,’ I agreed. This was the one thing you had to do when your men went inside. It would cost us a lot of money to put a mum and girlfriend on our payroll with no return from them, but I had no option. It wasn’t just the right thing to do. Not doing it would send out the wrong message to everyone who worked for us. ‘David Blake doesn’t give a fuck about us if we’re caught, so why should we give a fuck about David Blake?’ At least we could get word to Toddy not to worry about his ma having a roof over her head, her bills paid and a few bags of groceries left on her back step every week.
I nodded at the third pint on the table.
‘Where’s Palmer?’ I asked.
Palmer was outside having a fag, leaning against the side wall of the pub. He’d been smoking more lately. I joined him.
‘You thinking about Toddy?’
‘Can’t get my head around it,’ he admitted, ‘so much time. I mean, you only get one life,’ and he shook his head, ‘ stuck in the same place, no drink, no woman, shit food, surrounded by psychos and rapists. I’d go out of my fucking mind.’
‘It’s the risk we take,’ I said and immediately regretted how harsh that sounded. ‘We’ll do everything we can for him,’ cursing myself for talking like a doctor who’d just announced he was going to do his best for a terminally-ill patient.
Let me tell you how unlucky Toddy was. A bust rear light cost him fourteen years jail-time. He was driving down to the Sunnydale estate with three kilos of H hidden in the boot of his car. It was early evening and the daylight was starting to fade, so he turned his lights on. He was carrying the stash but he had nothing to worry about because there are never any coppers round there. It’s a complete no-go area. The Police can’t patrol it after dark without being attacked. They get pelted with missiles from the balconies if they even try to leave their cars, so they’ve given up on the place, unofficially of course. Officially they are tasked with ensuring the same level of law and order exists in the notorious Sunnydale estate as it does in Northumberland Street, but you don’t see any one dealing H outside Marks & Spencer’s. Virtually everyone in those estates is addicted to something; alcohol, pills, solvents, cocaine, heroin or methamphetamine, you name it. Hardly anyone has a job, unless you count nicking, which I don’t. There are one or two decent people living there, but the vast majority are low-life vermin who just want to get high all of the time so they can forget about their shit lives. That’s where we come in. It’s a simple case of supply and demand and, as I keep telling our lot, if we weren’t supplying them someone else would. At least with us there’s order, and we keep the stupid gang feuds under control.
So Toddy drove down there without a care in the bloody world. He didn’t even notice the marked Police car parked up by the side of one of the high-rises but, for no other reason than bum luck, it chose that moment to pull out and drive down the same road as Toddy. He noticed it then, of course, it was right behind him. The next thing he saw was the flashing lights and there was a short burst of the siren as he was pulled over. He must have thought about doing a runner at that point, but where could he go with them right up his arse, radioing for back-up? Nowhere; so he figures they won’t find anything, or we can smooth it out if they do, so he takes a gamble and rides it out. Toddy pulled over. I wonder if that is what he regrets most now; that, or the fact he came to work for me in the first place.
It was two coppers, both very young and polite at first, everything was all ‘Good evening sir, did you realise you have a broken rear light, sir?’ and he’s all ‘I’m sorry officer, no I didn’t. I’ll get it seen to at the first available opportunity.’ Maybe it was his manners that made them suspicious. Police officers aren’t used to apologies on the Sunnydale estate. Whatever it was, they asked him to please get out of the car. At this point Toddy was still gambling that he didn’t look like a wro
ng ‘un, so he climbed out and stood there with his hands on the roof of his car, while one of them searched it and the other asked for ID. There were a few rudimentary questions about where he had come from and where he was going, but nothing a pro like Toddy couldn’t handle. Of course he would have been nervous when the one doing the searching started poking around in the boot, but there’s a compartment in the side for the stash, which is specifically designed so that you shouldn’t be able to open it if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But somehow, the copper doing the searching manages to pop open the hidden compartment – and what does he find when he manages this? Three kilos of street-level-purity heroin.
Before Toddy could react, they slammed him hard against his car and cuffed his hands behind his back, bundled him into the back seat of the police car and radioed into the cop shop. They were so excited, acting like they’d just won the lottery and Toddy was reeling, looking at serious jail-time.
When news of his arrest broke, the shit hit the fan big time. Even their own senior officers didn’t know whether to promote these two, give them a medal, or fire them for some ill-defined breach of the Police code. And us, well we went into overdrive. We’re phoning lawyers, Amrein’s people and bent Police, wanting an explanation for all of this from someone. After all, we pay a lot of money to ensure this kind of thing can never happen. We were wondering if we had a grass who had tipped off these two young coppers about Toddy’s stash.
It turned out to be just plain old, rotten bad luck. The two coppers who picked up Toddy were a couple of wet-behind-the-ears dimwits who’d come straight out of training and been sent out together because they were getting on a Sergeant’s nerves. Normally they wouldn’t be allowed anywhere near a squad car without the supervision of a jaded veteran but, because he wanted a quiet life that afternoon, he told them to take one out and patrol. It was a mid-week match day and he instructed them to make sure no away fans were organising fights in secret locations on the wasteland down by the river. They fell for this bullshit and went off looking for ‘Faces’ from the away fans’ firm.
The Damage (David Blake 2) Page 17
