Scorned

by Kerry Kaya

  * * *

  “Well, what did you think of him?” Stacey asked as Tommy drove them home later that evening.

  Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose before screwing up his face. “I don’t like him. There’s something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on.”

  “Trust you,” Stacey groaned. “Let’s face it, no man our Karen brings home will ever be good enough in your eyes.”

  “Probably not,” Tommy agreed as he flicked the indictor. “I didn’t like the way he kept watching me.”

  Stacey began to laugh. “It’s what people do, Tommy. When you talk, they turn to look at you.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s called having a conversation.”

  “Nah.” He screwed up his face for a second time. “This was different.” Easing the car onto the drive, he noted that there were no lights on inside the house–a clear indicator that no one was home. Usually, the place was lit up like Battersea power station, much to his annoyance. “Where are the boys?”

  Stacey looked across to the empty house. “Liam is with his girlfriend, and Jake is staying over at his mate’s house.”

  Switching off the ignition, Tommy turned his head sideways. “We need to have a chat about that boy. Enough is enough with his attitude, and as for that hair of his, he needs it cut. He’s a Carter for fuck’s sake, not some new-age hippy.”

  “Tommy.” Stacey placed her hand over her husband’s and nodded toward the house. “Enough about the kids. We’ve got the place to ourselves for once, so let’s not waste it by arguing.”

  Not needing to be told twice, Tommy flung open the car door. He jumped out of the motor, made his way around to the passenger’s door and opened it with a flourish. “You’re right,” he grinned down at his wife. “I’m not wasting the opportunity of having you all to myself.”

  * * *

  In a dark and dingy club amongst the back streets of Soho, Jake Carter put the finishing touches to his back-combed dark hair. He then tilted his head from side to side and inspected his appearance in a large gilt mirror.

  “Anyone got any pan stick?” he called out, his deep voice taking on a feminine tone.

  Simon Meadows, better known as Sadie, threw across a tube of foundation. “About time you started bringing your own, isn’t it? If you want a regular spot here, then you should come prepared.”

  Jake ignored the snide comment, and twisting open the cap, he spread a thick layer of foundation across his cheeks. “How do I look?” he finally asked with an exuberant air.

  Sadie looked up and studied the boy through the mirror. “You’ll do, I suppose.” He swallowed down the jealousy he felt. Despite feeling like an old has-been, his heart went out to the lad. “Just be careful,” he said softly. “He’s a vicious bastard, and I should know. I’ve been on the receiving end of that temper of his enough times.”

  Jake shrugged his shoulders and made to stand up. Dressed in a short black skirt and a multi-coloured sequined cropped top, he tottered on a pair of impossibly high heeled shoes. “What would you know?” he snapped.

  With a sigh, Sadie watched the boy leave the dressing room to make his way out onto the stage. “I know a lot more than you think,” he called after him.

  Chapter 2

  Jimmy Carter pulled into the scrapyard, in Barking, Essex, that his elder brother owned. Despite the earliness of the hour, he wasn’t surprised to see Tommy’s black Range Rover already parked up. His brother had always been an early riser and was what many people would call a workaholic. He pushed open the door to the office and walked through, his heavy boots loud across the linoleum floor.

  “All right, bruv?” he asked, as he flopped down on the nearest available chair and set a newspaper across his lap.

  “Yeah.” Tommy leant back in his chair. “I’ve got Leon Parkes coming in to see me this morning.”

  “Leon?” Jimmy raised his eyebrows. “Haven’t seen him in years. What’s he up to now?”

  “No idea.” Tommy was thoughtful for a few moments. “I’ve got a feeling he’s looking for work.”

  “Will you take him on?” Jimmy opened up the newspaper and began reading through the headlines.

  Not one to easily trust outsiders, Tommy shook his head. “Where would I even put him?” he asked, spreading out his arms.

  “I dunno, bruv, and until he gets here, you don’t even know what it is he’s after, so I wouldn’t worry about it until then. How did the meal go last night?” Jimmy asked, changing the subject.

  “Was okay. Can’t say I was overly impressed though.”

  Jimmy looked up from the newspaper. “That bad, was it?”

  “Nah, not really. He just wasn’t my cup of tea. Too full of himself.” Tommy was quiet for a few moments. He lounged back in his chair and cleared his throat. “Have you seen much of my Jake since you’ve been back home?”

  “No, why?”

  “No reason.” Standing up from behind his desk, Tommy walked across to the office window and placed his hands down on the windowsill. “I was thinking that when you go back to Spain, I might send him over for a holiday.” He turned to face his brother. “What do you reckon?”

  “If you like.” Jimmy narrowed his eyes. “Has he been playing up something?”

  Tommy shook his head. There was something wrong, he just couldn’t put his finger on what that might be.

  “He’s eighteen now, right?”

  Tommy nodded his head.

  “So, why haven’t you got him out grafting? You’ve got Liam out collecting debts, so why not Jake?”

  “I don’t know,” Tommy paused. It was the truth. He truly didn’t know the reason why he hadn’t sent Jake out to work. He’d put his eldest son out collecting debts as soon as he’d left school. “When he comes back from Spain, I’ll put him out.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he thought it through. “Or maybe he would be better off working here, in the office.”

  Jimmy shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you do what you think is best, but you know that me and Aiden,” Jimmy said, referring to his partner of over eighteen years, “would love to have him come and stay over with us for a bit. I’ll get him working in the bar, even if it’s just collecting up the glasses.”

  Tommy smiled his thanks. “Cheers, bruv.”

  * * *

  Stacey Carter began collecting up the dirty laundry. Despite the money her husband earned, she refused to have a cleaner. “I’d rather do it myself … that way I know it’s being done properly,” she’d told her husband when he suggested they employ someone to come in a couple of times a week to help out.

  With the laundry basket tucked underneath her arm, Stacey took a deep breath before pushing open the door to Jake’s bedroom. “Blimey, Jake,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose at the stench coming from inside her son’s room. She placed the basket down onto the unmade bed, walked across to the bay windows and threw them open to let in some air. “Jesus Christ,” she groaned. “It doesn’t half pen and ink in here,” she said, using the slang term for stink. She looked around her at the mess. It never ceased to amaze her just how untidy both of her sons were. Stooping down to sort through a pile of dirty clothes, Stacey paused. She lifted up one of Jake’s white T-shirts and inspected a set of beige marks around the neck area. Foundation was the culprit, and she wiped her fingertips across the dark smudges, before letting out a chuckle. So that was the reason for Jake’s recent mood swings. He’d found an interest in the opposite sex. Well, surely that would give Tommy something to smile about, and hopefully this new-found revelation would also put her husband’s mind at ease.

  * * *

  Ronald Browning lit a cigar. He puffed on it consistently, without taking his eyes away from the young man who, at that precise moment, lay sprawled out across his bed, fast asleep, one hand tucked underneath his face, his long, dark hair splayed over the pillow. With full lips, long eyelashes and the bluest eyes he had ever seen, the man truly was beautiful. A whore, nonetheless, and only there for Ronald’s pleasure
, but still beautiful.

  “Wake up,” Ronald said, pushing the toe of his shoe against the man’s naked thigh. Short and balding with a portly belly, Ronald spoke with clipped tones. “I said, get up. I need to leave for work soon.” He kicked his foot out twice, in quick succession. Each kick landing upon the same spot.

  Groggily, Jake Carter opened his eyes. His head was thumping, no doubt from the pills and booze that Ronald had poured down his throat the previous evening. “What time is it?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.

  “Quarter to eight, and time for you to leave. If anyone were to find you here …” He left the remaining sentence unsaid, and begrudgingly threw five crisp ten-pound notes down onto the bed beside the younger man. “Get dressed, now,” he ordered, kicking his foot out impatiently.

  Jumping up from the bed, Jake rubbed at his thigh. The older man’s highly polished shoe had left a red mark. No doubt he would be left with yet another bruise. Hastily, Jake pulled on his jeans. His mouth felt dry and he could feel a layer of fur across his tongue.

  Unsteadily, he grabbed his T-shirt from the floor where he had dropped it the previous evening, and walked through to the adjacent bathroom. Once there, he splashed cold water over his face and wiped away the remaining traces of foundation with the corner of his shirt. He then tipped his open mouth underneath the tap. With his thirst quenched, he wandered back to the bedroom, pulled the cotton shirt over his head, and stretched his arms up above his head, slipping the garment on. “How do you know Sadie?” he asked.

  Anger flickered across Ronald’s face, and his cheeks turned red. “What has that old bastard been saying about me?” he demanded.

  Taken aback by Ronald’s reaction, Jake shook his head furiously. “Nothing, he just said that he knew you, that’s all.”

  Ronald took a step forward and jabbed his stout finger toward the younger man. “Keep away from him. He’s nothing but trouble, am I making myself clear?” He gripped his stubby fingers around the top of Jake’s arm. His fingernails dug into the boy’s flesh.

  “Okay.” Alarmed, Jake’s blue eyes widened. He rubbed at his arm and looked down to see the indentations caused by Ronald’s fingernails had already started to bruise. His skin was turning a dark bluish-purple colour. It was a stark reminder of what the man and men like him were capable of.

  * * *

  Karen turned over in bed, and her hand slid across the vacant space beside her. The cotton sheets were cool to the touch. Her eyes flickered open and she stretched out across the bed. “Hey,” she said and smiled over to her boyfriend. “Good morning.”

  Sat in a high-backed chair beside the bay window, overlooking the back garden, he sat forward in his seat. “Morning, sweetheart.” He stood up and kissed the side of her cheek. “Would you like some coffee? I just made some.”

  Karen shook her head. “Come back to bed,” she purred.

  He hesitated, mulling the thought over. “I can’t,” he reluctantly answered. “I need to shower and dress. My mum is coming over today. I did mention it to you, remember?”

  “Of course, I almost forgot.” She clambered out of the bed and threw a silk robe across her shoulders, covering her nakedness. Her feet were light as she padded across the room. “Will I be seeing you tonight?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said and hesitated for a second time. “I need to spend some time with my mum.” Taking note of his girlfriend’s disappointment, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll make time for you tomorrow night, I promise.”

  * * *

  Bethany Johnson looked up at the flashing neon sign, indicating that she could remove her seat belt. She shifted her weight, making herself more comfortable, and ordered an orange juice from the air stewardess. In her hands, she clutched her most prized possession. For most mothers, that would be their children’s birth certificates or even photographs of their offspring.

  In Bethany Johnson’s case, it was a tattered scrapbook containing every armed robbery that she believed the Carter brothers had committed. It amused her to think how she, living more than a thousand miles away, in Spain, had been able to connect the dots and see a pattern between the robberies, whereas the metropolitan police, on the other hand, seemingly couldn’t.

  She flicked through the scrapbook and read through the news report cuttings that she had painstakingly cut out of the English newspapers and glued onto the empty scrapbook pages.

  Placing the scrapbook inside her handbag, Bethany rechecked for a second time that the book was safely tucked away. Only when she was satisfied that her most prized possession was safe, did she lean her head back against the headrest and close her eyes.

  Tommy Carter. She repeated the name, over and over, in her mind. Tommy Carter. It had been almost twenty years since she’d last seen him, and still, she could recall the exact shade of blue his eyes were. Tommy Carter. She could still recall the way his eyes would crinkle each time he flashed a smile.

  “Tommy Carter.” She said the name out loud, relishing the sound of his name upon her lips. Today had been a long time coming, but she was finally coming home, and Tommy Carter was going to rue the day he’d ever set his eyes upon her. Bethany squeezed her eyes shut even tighter.

  Oh yes, Tommy Carter would rue the day he had spurned her. She would make sure of that.

  * * *

  “I’m sorry, mate. As much as I’d like to, I can’t help.”

  Leon Parke’s heart sank. As much as he’d hated having to come to Tommy Carter, in the end, he’d had no other choice. With a house on the verge of being repossessed, a wife, three kids, and another on the way, he found himself in an impossible situation.

  “What am I supposed to do, Tommy? I need cash, and quickly.” He’d been so sure that the man sat opposite him would see what a great opportunity he was offering.

  “I’m too well known on that estate,” Tommy explained. “I can’t risk mine or my brothers’ names being put forward.”

  Leon rubbed his hand across his gaunt pock-marked face and sighed. Just four days earlier, he’d been in the bookies on Thames View Estate, Barking. It was while using the gents’ toilets, which just so happened to be adjacent to the bookies’ office, that he’d overheard a conversation between the manager and his staff take place. On the day of the grand national, one of the UK’s biggest horse racing events, the cash from all bets taken that day would need to sit in the safe overnight.

  “Okay,” Leon said, rising from his seat. “I’ll have to do it alone; no matter what, I need that money.”

  Tommy watched as the man walked toward the office door, his shoulders hunched over in defeat. “Wait,” Tommy called after him. He sat with his fingers steepled on the desk in front of him and indicated for Leon to return to his seat.

  “I have to do this, Tommy. I’m down on my arse, mate. I ain’t got a pot to piss in. No matter what, I need the cash.”

  “Is it a loan you’re after? You only have to ask, and if I can help, I will.”

  “No.” Leon shook his head. “I’ve still got some pride left in me, and I want to earn the money myself.”

  “Well, have you ever planned out a robbery before?”

  Leon shook his head for a second time, causing Tommy’s own heart to plummet. “Okay,” he said after an age. “I’ll plan it out for you, but …,” he said jabbing his finger in Leon’s direction, “… that is all I am doing. This is your job, your responsibility to make sure you follow it through, and that everything goes to plan. Are we clear on that?”

  Leon nodded his head profusely. “Thanks, Tommy, you’re a real pal.”

  “Well, don’t thank me just yet.” Tommy glanced at the date on his wristwatch. “We’ve got less than three weeks to get this planned out. Come and see me early next week and I’ll run through it with you.”

  “Cheers, mate. I knew you wouldn’t let me down,” Leon beamed.

  * * *

  Stacey was in the kitchen making coffee, when she heard
the front door slam shut. “Who’s that?” she called out. When she received no reply, she wandered through to the hallway. “Jake,” she smiled. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

  Stifling a yawn, Jake clutched hold of his rucksack tightly. “I didn’t hear you,” he spat.

  “Well, come and have a coffee with me, or I can make you your favourite, hot chocolate? I’ll even put some squirty cream on top, with chocolate sprinkles.” She began to make her way back toward the kitchen before glancing over her shoulder. “Jake,” she said, “are you even listening to me?” She walked back across the hallway to her youngest son and gently pulled his face toward her. She took note of his dilated pupils and narrowed her eyes. “What’s going on, Jake?”

  “Nothing.” Shrugging himself away from his mother, Jake ran up the staircase toward his bedroom. “Just leave me the fuck alone,” he shouted out, before slamming the bedroom door firmly closed behind him.

  Bewildered, Stacey stared after her son for a few moments before returning to the kitchen. Maybe Tommy was right, and something was wrong with their boy after all. She bit down on her bottom lip, unsure of exactly what she should do about Jake’s behaviour, and more importantly, whether or not she should bring her own concerns up with her husband.

  * * *

  Bethany Johnson walked through the arrivals at Gatwick Airport and immediately made her way outside. Wearing a huge pair of expensive sunglasses, and pulling a white designer suitcase behind her, she looked every inch of what she was—a woman with a vast amount of wealth at her fingertips.