Bang Gang (20 page)

“Do you want to stay home with Nanna?” I asked. “I’ve got extra hours this morning, but I can be home by lunchtime if you’re not well. I’m sure Lorraine would call in cover if I asked her.”

She sighed. “No, Mum, it’s cool. I’ve got an English test, anyway.” I stared at her until she met my eyes. “I’m good, Mum, I don’t even feel sick now.”

The time was ticking. Even Ruby was ready to go, which meant we were certainly cutting it fine.

“I’ll go to school,” she said. “Really, I’m good. Me and Daisy are doing maths revision at lunch.”

“Ok,” I said. “But if you feel ill at all you make sure you head up to medical and I’ll come and pick you up. Deal?”

“Deal,” she said.

We piled out to the car and I felt uneasy, but Mia busied herself on her phone and gave no indication that anything was really off with her. I dropped her at the bus stop and watched her join the crowd, making sure I hovered in the pull-in long enough to keep an eye out.

She seemed fine, still tapping away on her phone without any sign of stress or illness. Maybe it was a five-minute blip. Maybe she was old enough to be getting her period. Maybe she slept funny.

Who could possibly know?

It appeared big-eared Ruby Trent could know.

“It’s Tyler Dean,” she announced when we were on our way. “He had tonsillitis. He’s back today.
Probably
.”

My stomach dropped. The kid with the glasses, the kid I’d been keeping an eye out at the bus stop for and hadn’t seen hide nor hair of. The kid I’d asked Mia about time after time and got nothing back from her but bravado and
he’s just a stupid idiot who calls me stupid names
and shrugs.

“You heard this from Skype, did you?”

Ruby nodded, her
smile smug. She
leaned forward from the backseat until her belt strained. “Don’t worry, Mum. I’ve been keeping an eye on things.”

“Oh, you have, have you?” I said. “And this is the first you thought to share the details of your covert operation?”

She shrugged. “Mia’s already mad at me for telling Dad he’s a gigolo. She said if I say anything else I’m banned from her bedroom, and she has a better TV than me.”

Priorities.

“Mia can be mad at you all she wants,” I said. “We don’t have secrets in our house, understand? If something’s going on we talk about it.”

Unless it’s me booty-calling your father. We definitely won’t be talking about that little secret.

My tummy was a fluttery mess again, ridiculous.

I considered turning the car around and driving Mia right up to the school gates, but the bus would likely have been already. I marked it down for an urgent after-school chat and left it at that.

There were no awkward little chats to be had with Miss Davies today, which was something at least. The real awkwardness still loomed ahead in the form of the
ladies who lunch
brigade, minus me since I was working instead.

I’d seen the invite in the group chat.
Meeting as usual.

Oh the joy.

The thought of seeing Mandy Taylor’s conceited grin made me cringe, but at least I was in line for the same privileges, and I’d got my first decent fucking in years on the back of her big running mouth, which had to be a good thing, even if it was a crazy one-off.

It was definitely a one-off. An awkward farewell outside mine had been the last I’d seen of Darren. No calls, no texts, no Casanova howling outside my bedroom window. But why would there be?

Of course there wouldn’t be.

We’d said sex, no biggie. I guess he’d meant it.

I’d meant it, too.

I’d totally meant it.

He’d probably banged half the village since then – maybe even Mandy Taylor herself, who fucking knows?

I guessed I’d find out with the rest of the Velvet Bean soon enough.

“Aye aye, here she comes.” Buck slapped the car bonnet over my head.

My stomach did a sappy flip at the thought he might mean Jodie, but of course he didn’t.

Jimmy O let out a piss-poor catcall and it told me all I needed to know.

There it was. The rumble of the fucking Porsche grew louder. Bollocks.

No fucking way. Not today.

I’d told Eleanor Hartwell no Mondays. I’d told Eleanor Hartwell to call ahead first.

The problem with Eleanor Hartwell is that she’s too fucking used to flashing the old man’s gold card and getting her own way.

“I want a go on her today,” Jimmy leered. “I’m gagging for a ride on blondie. Hugh can do the next pick-up on his fucking own, I’m staying here and getting a look in.”

I jabbed a finger in his direction. “You’ll be doing whatever I fucking tell you to do. Don’t like it, you can take your wages owed and get the fuck out of here.”

He raised his hands. “Take a bastard chill-pill,
boss
. Just setting my pissing stall out.”

Petey was grinning at the Porsche like a dope, dick already tenting his fucking pants. The lad needed to cut his teeth a little and calm it down. His pump and go technique was alright for so long, but the novelty of being young and fit wouldn’t last forever. Especially not for women like this one.

Eleanor was wearing pink today, one of those celebrity style tracksuits and shades. To be honest, I thought she looked like a prize-fucking tit, but what would I know?

“Boys,” she said, that big dirty smile on her face. She lowered her shades as she looked in my direction. “Trent.”

I didn’t have time for this shit.

“We’re busy,” I told her. “Monday mornings are busy, Eleanor, like I fucking said last week. Was I talking to myself, or what?”

She shrugged, flicked her hair. “And, like
I
said, I don’t mind paying for a priority service.” She pulled out another fat envelope. “Ted was out all weekend, didn’t even call. Turned up last night drunk on vintage champers and pissed in the laundry hamper. I think I deserve a good time on the back of all his shit, paying for it is the
least
he can do.” She sidled up to me, ran a manicured fingernail up my arm. “Please, Trent. I promise I’ll be good.”

I sighed. “What do you want?”

“You,” she said, like fucking always. “You and the big guy, unless you can give me the
afternoon?”

D
éjà
fucking
vu
. I shook my head. “No can do, Eleanor. Got too much shit on already.” I stepped away from her and grabbed my keys from the side. “I’m off out,” I said. “Got some parts to collect.” I gestured to the guys, all of
them standing around like a bunch of horny cunts. “Take your pick of the others, but you’ll have to be done and gone by the time I’m back. Got customers here at lunch.”

Her face dropped, pouty lips pursing like a puckered asshole. “But Trent… I was hoping…”

“Noon at the latest,” I said to the lads. “And we’ll be staying late tonight on the back of it.” I turned back to Eleanor. “Gotta go,” I said. “I’ll be seeing you.”

I pulled down the shutters on the way out.

The Dog and Drum doesn’t open til late on a Monday, so no chance for a sneaky pint while the lads were rutting Eleanor. I went home first, checked out cruddy daytime TV before I decided to ditch the overalls and head back out.

I had an hour or so to play it safe, I could have fired up my crappy old laptop and tackled some of my invoicing backlog from home, but I fancied a coffee, a decent one, not that instant shit I have at home.

That’s how come I ended up face-to-face with Jodie over the Velvet Bean counter, and that’s how come I ended up sharing the same fucking airspace as Mandy pissing Taylor and her gaggle of cock-starved cronies.

Tonya shot me a pained look as
I walked in through the door, but I was already committed. I stared Mandy out on my way past, made it as clear that her gossipy shit wasn’t welcome. She paid no pissing attention.

Whispers and giggles and a wave from Debbie Gibson. She’d been trying to book in for a week now, tried every bloody trick in the book, including a slow puncture that wasn’t a bloody puncture at all.

Jodie felt awkward, I could see it in the blush on her neck. She was polite, too polite. Flashing me a quick smile before taking my order.

“Just a coffee,” I said.

“Americano?”

“Whatever.”

She met my eyes for just a second. “Not working?”

“Popped out.”

“I see,” she said. But she didn’t, she didn’t see at all.

Mandy’s laugh roared through the place, some comment about going
all night long
. I shot the bitch a glare.

When I turned back to Jodie she was cringing, I could see it written all over her.

“Shall I tell her where to go?” I asked. “I don’t mind telling her.”

She shook her head. “Leave it,” she said. “It’s a cafe, she can laugh about whatever she likes as long as she’s paying.”

“She’s not paying
me
,” I said.

“That’s not what
she
thinks,” she replied. “Nor the others, since apparently they’re in the
queue
.”

I sighed, lowered my voice. “There is no fucking queue, Jo. They’re full of shit.”

“Whatever, Darren,” she said. “It’s really none of my business if they’re in your
bang gang
club or not.”

Her tone felt like a slap. “Fair enough.”

She placed a take-out mug on the counter, one of those crappy polystyrene things. “Three pound twenty, please.”

I guess I was having coffee to go.

I handed over the cash and she gave me a smile. Just another fucking customer, like she hadn’t come on my face the night before last.

I guess it meant nothing to her, just a prelude to the main fucking event.

She busied herself with the coffee machine and I didn’t budge. She looked nervous as she registered I was still waiting.

“What?” she said. “Did you want something else?”

“Sugar would be a start,” I said.

She blushed. “Sorry. Shit. I didn’t think you took sugar.”

“Only for the past fifteen years.”