by Jacqui Rose
Stretching over, Bunny dragged on the lit Marlboro cigarette by the bed. She sighed lightly. She was tired. The familiar nightmares had kept her awake again and as a result she wasn’t really in the mood to entertain. Besides, it was too hot and sticky, so the thought of a punter writhing and groaning as he pumped away on top of her didn’t exactly fill her with enthusiasm. Still, at least she’d finish earlier than she thought she would, which meant she could go and pick up the last few bits for her holiday.
She caught her breath. It was silly, but the thought of the holiday gave her butterflies in her stomach.
She’d never been further north than Edgware nor further south than Lewisham, but here she was, about to pack her bags for a few days away in Marbella. And as much as she was excited about it, the idea of it terrified her as well, and although it’d only be for a few days, the idea of leaving behind loved ones scared her.
‘Let him in, Claudia, and once you’ve shown him up, you can get off early if you like.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Totally, babe. This one’s no trouble. If the last times are anything to go by, he’ll be in and out within two minutes.’ The two women giggled before Claudia left the room.
Leaning up on her elbows, Bunny braced herself as she always did before seeing a client. Of course she knew she could give it all up if she wanted, but she just wasn’t willing to. No matter what anybody promised her. This was just something she had to do. She supposed it was no different to the people she saw every morning trooping off to work, wishing they were somewhere else.
When the suggestion of being a kept woman had been presented to her in the past, the idea of it had seemed very appealing at first. Not having to do anything. Not having to worry about anything. But then, as they always did, the old nagging doubts had entered her head and once again it’d boiled down to one thing. Trust. Or rather the lack of it.
She’d seen enough men promise the world to their latest bit of stuff, only for them to get bored of their dolly birds a few months down the line when a tastier sort came along. And there was no way she was going to get turfed out and end up back on the streets on the whim of a man. So, whether she liked it or not, Bunny continued to turn tricks, ensuring she was in a position to put money away for her future, which helped to quell her almost pathological fear of not having a pot to piss in.
In the past she’d tried to do other things but her lack of education and qualifications hadn’t allowed her to; more importantly, her lack of confidence in who and what she was always led her back to this.
‘Hello Bunny.’
Her regular punter stood by the door, as sinewy and pallid as ever. Even though it was the height of summer he wore a tweed three-piece suit and Bunny could see the tight starched collar and expensive silk tie was making him sweat. Word had it he was a judge but she didn’t know if that was true or if it was just the Soho grapevine working overtime.
Though in truth, it didn’t really matter to Bunny what her punters did. She wasn’t interested in the way Claudia was, who got very excited by any sort of gossip. All that mattered to Bunny was that they paid her. Five hundred big ones a time. She wasn’t cheap. But she shouldn’t be either. She was good at her work and she’d never known any of her clients go away disappointed.
‘Hello darling. It’s good to see you, Peter.’ Bunny smiled as she drawled her greeting, watching the man strip off his clothes hurriedly. He knelt proudly on the bed with his semi-erect penis standing limply. Bunny inwardly shuddered but didn’t show her disdain.
‘My, my. What have you got there for me? I can see I’m in for a treat today, babe.’ Bunny licked her lips, feigning excitement as the man’s eyes lit up in delight. He smiled back, rubbing his sagging balls as he spoke.
‘Bunny darling, I’ve missed you and so has Mr Torpedo here.’
Bunny stifled a laugh. She didn’t want to be cruel, but the idea of him referring to his almost flaccid penis as some kind of lethal weapon amused her.
Holding a fixed smile, Bunny watched her punter crawl up the bed towards her on all fours with a leering, salivating grin on his face. Feeling his bony fingers making their way up her smooth legs, she closed her eyes, expertly shutting out the man in her head; concentrating instead on working out which suitcase to take on holiday. It was a skill she’d learnt a long time ago.
A moment later, and before she knew what was happening, Bunny heard the man let out a piercing scream. Jumping in fright, she opened her eyes to see the terrified punter being dragged off the bed by his hair and hit the ground, as a fist began to pummel his face. The splattering of blood on Bunny’s legs was her cue to scramble up off the bed. Frantically, she shouted, remembering she’d sent Claudia home. ‘Stop! Stop! Leave him alone.’
Racing towards the punter and his assailant, Bunny tried to intervene, but she wasn’t any match for the other man. Desperate to stop the onslaught, Bunny looked round the room. In the corner, she saw her new and very expensive gold lamp. With a sigh of resignation, she ran across to grab it.
Running back and with only a small hint of a pause at the thought of her beautiful lamp, Bunny swung it with all her might, bringing it crashing down on the man’s head.
Immediately he dropped to his knees, falling forward with a cry of pain. ‘What the fuck!’ The man turned round, his handsome face contorted with rage and his brown eyes full of surprise as Bunny stood panting above him, holding the remaining piece of the lamp. ‘Hello Bun, how’s tricks?’
‘Don’t give me hello Bun, and don’t try to be funny! Look what you’ve made me do to me bleedin’ lamp.’
Del Williams sat on the floor and rubbed his head. He grinned sheepishly and shrugged his shoulders as he stared up intensely with his dark brown eyes. His voice was gravelled and deep. ‘I’ll get you another one.’
Pouting, Bunny crossed her arms. ‘I don’t want another one, I wanted this one.’
‘Don’t be angry, babe; have a heart. What’s a man supposed to do?’
‘Stay out of me business, that’s what. Why do you always have to do this?’
‘Do what?’
‘This. How many times have you come in here steaming like a bleedin’ bull at a rodeo? I won’t have any punters left at this rate. You’re lucky Claudia isn’t here, she would’ve had your guts.’
Del smiled as he pictured Claudia. Over the past few years he’d had more barneys with her than he’d care to remember after the countless, and sometimes elaborate, attempts to barge his way in to see Bunny unannounced.
‘Well, I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d give it up like I asked. Like I keep asking.’
Bunny rolled her blue eyes and spoke gently. ‘I told you how it’s got to be Del. I know you …’ Before Bunny was able to finish her sentence, a loud pained groan was heard from across the room. Del and Bunny looked over, grinning and catching each other’s eyes as they realised they’d forgotten about the bewildered punter who still lay curled up on the floor.
Hurrying over and grabbing her grey silk robe to cover herself, Bunny bent down, helping the man sit up. She spoke with genuine warmth and concern. ‘Are you okay? I am so sorry Peter, and so is my friend. Actually darlin’, he’s that sorry, he wants to apologise.’ Bunny turned to Del, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Don’t you?’
Del looked down, wanting to avoid Bunny’s eyes and definitely wanting to avoid having to apologise to some toffee-nosed geezer, who no doubt had a blissfully unaware missus and children waiting at home for him. But then, who was he to talk?
Continuing to avoid Bunny’s eyes, Del thought about his wife, Edith. Spoilt, overweight and luxuriating in Marbella with a sour look on her face. He’d met her through a friend when she was barely twenty and she’d clung onto him like a leech, refusing to disappear when he tried to give her the elbow, until eventually he’d given up and she’d just become part of the furniture, placing her feet firmly under the table.
When he looked back on it, he couldn’t even say
she’d really been any different. Maybe not overweight, but the spoilt, sour expressions and the demanding ungrateful personality had always been there. Even when he’d lifted up her veil on their wedding day, instead of a smiling bride it was a pursed-lipped, angry woman who was never satisfied with anything he did. His friends had often asked him why he’d married Edith and his reply was always the same. Fuck knows.
He’d lost count of how many years he’d been married, like he’d lost count of how many years it’d been since he’d been able to look into Edith’s eyes and feel anything but disgust and loathing for her. He’d tried not to. He really had. But however hard he tried, it didn’t make one bit of difference.
He’d built his drugs and money laundering empire, working his ass off to provide for Edith and make a name for himself but it’d kept him away from her, and when he had gone back home laden with presents and enthusiasm, all he’d got in return was a long face and complaints. So gradually his visits had become less and less, until they were virtually non-existent, though the presents had continued and the money. Edith had made sure of that – Fedexed to whichever luxury holiday destination she was at.
And then, one Christmas, lonely and tired, he’d decided to go home. Wanting to spend some quality time with her out in his luxury villa in Marbella. But the person who’d greeted him wasn’t his wife. She was a stranger. A greedy, selfish and ungrateful one – and in that moment he’d known he hated her.
He’d often laid in bed wondering why he hadn’t left Edith. He wanted to. God, did he just. But when it came down to it, he couldn’t.
Not leaving her was for one reason and one reason only. She could and would make his life very difficult indeed. She knew everything about him and everything about his businesses and when it boiled down to it, no matter how much money or how many houses he gave her he just couldn’t do the one thing that would’ve freed him from her. He just couldn’t trust his wife.
‘Well?’ Bunny’s voice broke into his thoughts. He stared at her incredulously. She was seriously expecting him, one of the biggest faces in the country and certainly one of the biggest faces in the Costa, to apologise to some skank? But then, he guessed, that was love for you. It melted the toughest of hard men, and from the first time he’d laid eyes on Bunny as she stood on the corner of Greek Street touting for business, he’d been hooked, lined and bleedin’ sinkered.
Winking at Bunny, Del Williams opened his mouth, not quite believing what he was doing as he began to apologise to the guy who’d been about to shag the only woman he’d ever loved in his life. The woman who completed him.
2
Teddy Davies put his head back and felt the burn of the coke up his nose and the bitter taste at the back of his mouth. It was good shit. Quiver, as he called it. Though it was almost the last of it, which meant he’d have to go back to the crap that was floating around Soho. Watered-down charlie with enough amphetamines in it to keep an elephant up all night.
He sighed as he tapped out the final line of the white powder on the top of the toilet cistern. Not a day had gone by in the past couple of years when he hadn’t taken any quiver, but then he didn’t actually need it. He only liked it.
Rolling up a twenty-pound note, Teddy Davies leant forward and hoovered up the cocaine expertly off the porcelain toilet top. He snorted hard, taking down the remnants of the quiver into his throat. As he closed his eyes, embracing the high, the cubicle door banged, making him jump. Angry at the broken sensation, Teddy snarled. ‘What the fuck’s wrong?’
‘Sorry boss, we’ve got to go.’
‘All right. All-fucking-right. I’m coming.’ Teddy shouted an irritated reply as he grabbed the empty wrap, disposing of it down the grimy stained toilet. He opened the cubicle door and studied the bald-headed man who was standing nervously waiting for him.
Teddy nodded his head in recognition, straightening his clothes and wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Taking out a comb from the inside of his jacket he looked in the cracked men’s room mirror, brushing his wavy brown hair back. Detective Constable Teddy Davies was ready for duty.
Crossing over Regent Street, Teddy ignored the scream of the taxi horn. He strolled across, smiling sardonically as he cut his eye at the cabbie who was angrily waving his arms and mouthing unheard swear words behind the muddied windscreen. If it’d been dark, he would’ve been happy to wave his badge to pull the taxi driver over before giving him a slap. Still, he could always take down his carriage number and cause some aggro for him.
Whistling and loosening his tie as he mentally remembered the cabbie’s number, Teddy turned off the heaving West End street, cutting through the back, quieter streets of Soho. Even though the quiver was wearing off he could still feel a buzz. But perhaps one more line wouldn’t harm.
Walking along the shady side of Beak Street and turning right into Great Windmill Street, Teddy noticed a few girls standing on the corner. They couldn’t have been older than sixteen, seventeen. Short skirts, tits pushed up to their chins and enough make-up to cover a football pitch. He didn’t recognise any of them but he didn’t have to guess very hard to know who they belonged to. He frowned, instantly knowing it was another new influx of Russian girls, which was the last thing he needed. There was already too many rumblings for him to deal with as it was.
The Russian pimps were difficult to deal with; they overcharged and ripped off their punters. Not to mention turning them over and leaving them half battered in alleyways, which lead to complaints at the station, bringing unwanted attention to the goings-on in Soho. The girls themselves were nearly as bad as their pimps. Hardened bitches, refusing to give pussy away for free.
Turning away and heading towards Old Compton Street, Teddy sighed. He’d have to deal with it later; find out what was going on. One thing he didn’t like was being ripped off and not getting what was due to him. It’d taken him a long time to get control of the one square mile of Soho, making sure the pimps, hookers and launderers were all in their place. It was his territory and no one, not even the ruthless Russian mafia, was going to come in and piss on it. After all, he was Teddy Davies and if anyone got in his way, he was going to make sure they never got in his way again.
Walking into the cool air of Whispers bar, Teddy waved to Alfie Jennings, the owner of the club and a well-respected face in Soho. Teddy had a lot of time for Alfie. He was old school and knew the score. Pay up and shut up, and in return he kept the law off his back, which for Teddy was easy. He was the law.
Sitting down at one of the tables, Teddy knocked back the complimentary drink Alfie had just sent over; double whisky on the rocks.
‘How’s tricks?’
Teddy glanced up to see the grinning face of Del Williams. Of all the people he had to deal with, Del was the one who made him feel the most uneasy. It wasn’t just because of his imposing physical presence. There was something else. Something about Del that told him he was only biding his time until he took over completely, that he was waiting to stab him in the back at any given opportunity, and for that reason, Teddy Davies had to watch Del like the proverbial hawk.
The problem Teddy had with Del was that he was one of the big ones. The biggest face and the biggest dealer around. He had influence and the kind of power Teddy could only dream of. He couldn’t just get rid of him and get him banged-up, or dispose of him like some of the others who’d crossed him. He certainly couldn’t risk having Del as an enemy, but then, Teddy also knew he couldn’t just let Del do what he wanted either.
He needed to keep him tabbed, but increasingly Teddy was finding this harder and harder to do, especially as Del was now branching out with the Russians along the Costa del Sol. He knew it wouldn’t be long until he joined forces with the Russians over here; that’s if he hadn’t already done so.
What he didn’t know was how long Del would want or need to continue paying him the money to keep any shit from falling at his door. The idea of this rankled Teddy, kept him awake at night. If it wasn’t for him, Del
and his cronies wouldn’t be anywhere near as big as they were now. And they certainly wouldn’t have stayed away from the inside of a prison cell. He’d made them who they were today, and all he asked in return was a cut of their money. And a cut of their drugs. But what thanks did he get? He got as much gratitude as crabs on a whore.
With a tight smile and a begrudging handshake, Teddy greeted Del. ‘Good thanks. Just come to collect my usual. We don’t want to get behind now, do we?’
Del’s features scrunched into a scowl. His face darkened, causing the twinkle in his eyes to disappear. ‘Ted. Mate. Don’t come here and talk shit. I don’t like people who disrespect me. I value my reputation. Tell me something, mate. When I have ever got behind in anything I’ve owed you?’
Teddy Davies stared back, but not as hard and not as confidently as the penetrating gaze coming from Del Williams. He swallowed, and was almost able to hear the whisky going down above the music playing in the bar.
From the corner of his eye, Teddy could see Alfie Jennings watching with interest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be going down. How was he meant to maintain control when the likes of Del Williams thought he had the monopoly on Soho?
Unable to maintain the stare, Teddy turned away, muttering something inaudible.
‘I can’t hear you, Ted, you need to speak louder mate.’
Teddy looked at Del. He could tell he was enjoying this. Squeezing the balls out of him and making him grovel. And by the looks of Alfie Jennings’ grin, he was enjoying seeing his obvious discomfort as well.
Clearing his throat and cursing the fact he could feel himself beginning to blush, Teddy spoke, his voice laden with humiliation.
‘Never, Del. You’ve never got behind with anything.’
‘Never. That’s exactly right my son, so never let me hear you say otherwise.’
It was all too much for Teddy, who went to stand up, wanting to get away from the mocking eyes as quickly as he could. He’d get his money later. But as he did, he felt the firm grip of Del’s hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down into the purple velvet chair.
