Die Tryin' (29 page)

Carla looked at him with wet gleaming eyes and shook her head. ‘No. I don’t. He sounds like a nutter…
So, tell me again why you’re friends with him.’

‘I don’t know,’ Nick said, shaking his head and smiling ruefully. ‘Look. We are kind of alike in that he didn’t have a dad around neither. I’ve known him since I was a kid as well, his mum and mine were friends at the church… It’s mainly a protection thing with Tony. If any shit goes down on the street, he is the best bloke to have around because he can handle himself. Tony might be a psycho, but one thing about him is, if you keep him sweet, then he won’t harm you. I’d rather he was my friend than my enemy,
you know what I mean?’

‘And you call stealing his jewels keeping him sweet do you?’

‘Well…’

‘And now he’s after us because of it!’

Nick sighed. ‘Yeah, but—’

‘That’s just fucking great, Nick! And what do you think he’s gonna do when he finds us?’

‘He won’t.’

‘He’s gonna kill us both!’

Nick grabbed the upper portion of her left arm and shook her. ‘I fucking said he won’t find us!’ He stared at her with wide bulging eyes as he spoke. ‘If he doesn’t know where we are, how does he know where to even start looking for us?’

Carla stared back at him with frightened eyes, and he cooled a little, aware that his engine was overheating. ‘Look,’ he began in a calmer voice, staring at her sincerely. ‘For the first time in my life I’ve found myself a quality bird…’

‘Thanks…’
Carla replied, her voice tinged with attitude.

‘A quality woman in my life, and more cash than I’ve ever seen right in this bag.
Understand?
This is our ticket to freedom. I mean, come on, what do you think we’re gonna end up doing in our post uni lives? Stuck in some grey office somewhere twiddling our thumbs, believe me.

But, once we cash this lot in, we’ll leave this place for good, and start a new life somewhere Tony will
never
find us. You always say how you want to leave home and so do I. Now we can.
Look at what we’ve got here…’
He showed her the jewels again as he spoke.

She looked down at them and sighed. Then she began smiling as if the jewels told her to like whenever someone opened the briefcase in
Pulp Fiction
.

‘They are beautiful…’
she then said softly. ‘And they must be worth a lot…
And the grey office doesn’t sound like much fun…’
She then looked up at Nick. ‘Maybe it’s worth the risk…’ She nodded her head and smiled pleasantly, and that smile both repulsed and made him feel happy at the same time. He wanted rid of that particular oxymoron, and so reached out and gently kissed her.

She closed her eyes, and when he pulled away, she opened them again. ‘But, where are we going to go?’ she asked in a mildly exasperated voice.

‘Dunno. Anywhere. Anywhere away from these fucking Greeks, this fucking city, this fucking life.’ He stared at her with a serious look on his face. ‘Fancy Jamaica?’

‘Jamaica!’ Carla exclaimed.

‘Yeah. Why not? We can afford it now.’

‘We can’t go to Jamaica, Nick,’ she said and sat back in her seat. ‘It’s too far. And we’ve both got family here.’

‘Well we’re gonna have to steer clear of north London from now on. It’s Tony’s manor. If we just happen to bump into him…’

‘And what if he goes round to your house and gives your mum and sisters a ‘friendly’ grilling concerning your whereabouts? Have you thought of that?’

Nick’s eyes widened.
No, he hadn’t thought of that.
‘I’ll-I’ll tell ’em to call the police if he comes near them,’ he said, flipping his hand nonchalantly on the air.

Yeah, that’s what I’ll do…

He reached out and took Carla’s hand. He smiled at her. ‘Don’t worry,’ he told her. ‘Everything’s gonna be okay. We just have to leave London for a little while, sell the stuff. Then we’ll find a home, have kids…’

‘Perish the thought!’ Carla said.

‘What? Look at the kind of father I’ll be—providing for them.’ He tapped the holdall as he spoke. ‘They’ll have everything they’ll ever want.’

Carla gave him a wide-eyed look and shook her head. ‘You’re crazy,’ she said.

Nick nodded in return. ‘I know,’ he told her. ‘I know. Now drive. We’ve got work to do.’

*****

Charlie was sitting on the park bench at Woodside Park tube station, at war with both himself and the voices in his head.

Maria’s sad, beaten face surfaced in his mind, and his heart felt heavy like it had suddenly been encased with lead.

‘Arr, is Charlie boy in love?’
the Old Witch goaded him, and cackled.
‘I wouldn’t bother if I were you, boy. She wouldn’t look twice at a cursed wretch like you.’

Charlie looked away, wringing his hands hard. The old bitch was right—Maria wouldn’t want to go near a freak like him. No one would.

But that didn’t excuse Mario. Didn’t excuse him using her for a punch bag. He was lucky—no,
blessed
, to have her, and the prick had to be made to realise that.

‘So, what are you going to do about it, Charlie?’
the Old Witch asked, reading his thoughts to perfection.

‘I’ll show him,’ Charlie answered.

A train pulled in at the station and Charlie locked eyes with a young lady sitting inside a carriage; she stared uneasily back at him. The train doors clunked open and the ensuing silence now made her shift around even more nervously. Charlie turned away, still wringing his hands. He was used to being looked at that way, like the freak that he was. And that was why a girl like Maria would never go for a bloke like him. He saw the way she looked at him, and he saw that same look in the eyes of the lady on the train.

Thankfully for them both, the doors clunked closed, severing the temporary psychic link that had been binding them. The train pulled away, disintegrating it completely, leaving Charlie alone on the platform with only the voices in his head for company.

‘Show him will you?’
the Old Witch said.
‘Pah! You couldn’t punch your way through wet newspaper!’

‘Even with a fucking machete in his hand,’
Zorba piped up from nowhere, and they both laughed. Laughed at him.
‘He doesn’t have the balls anyway!’
Zorba added.
‘Re, Charlie, you want that pussy? You got to stop acting like one first.’

‘Don’t talk about her like that,’ Charlie replied.

‘So, what are you going to do about it, Charlie?’
the Old Witch asked again.
‘Hmm?
Are you just going to sit there and do nothing? While the other man shows her what it’s like to be with a
real
man.’

‘While he fucks her and beats her?’
Zorba added with malice.

‘And laughs at you while he’s doing it?’
The Old Witch asked.

‘Calls you a fucking pussy behind your back, re. Tells everyone how weak you are.’

‘Treats you and her like he owns you both?’

‘Or are you really just a pussy, re?’

‘I think he is,’
the Old Witch declared.

‘Told you he’s got no balls,’
Zorba said.
‘Look at him, sitting there, doing nothing…’

‘Too scared to do anything,’
the Old Witch added.

‘A fucking disgrace! Malaka!’

‘Come on, Charlie, show us what you can do.’

‘Dance for us, sing for us!’
Zorba ordered.

‘Perform for our entertainment, Charlie…’

Charlie just sat there and stewed. And did nothing.

‘Well, it’s a big ‘no’ from me, re, that’s for sure…’
Zorba voted.

‘And from me,’
the Old Witch agreed
.
‘Such a disappointment, Charlie…’

Charlie then snapped, unable to take any more. He growled with anger. His fists curled up into balls. His nails dug sharply into his palms, leaving marks.

He jumped to his feet. ‘Shut up! Shut up! I’ll show you!’ he shouted, and if there had been anyone else there to see and hear him, they would instantly class him a mental case, and give him a very, very wide berth.

‘That a boy, Charlie,’
the Old Witch said.
‘Let it all out.’

‘Go do your thing, Romeo,’
Zorba said.

‘Perform well, and you’re in the next round…’
the Old Witch promised him with a rusty cackle.

And Charlie, now a smouldering volcano of rage, marched straight for the exit.

*****

Nick XR2 had a missed call from his cousin John.

The first thought that entered his mind once he noticed it on his phone was: Nick Mavro.

And that thought had disrupted the only thing he had been able to think about for the last twelve hours—Maria’s beaten face and the piece of shit that done it to her. All night and all day he couldn’t get her out of his mind. He wanted to do something, but felt powerless as he knew he couldn’t get involved. Besides, Tony had told him that he would take care of it, and that was good enough for Nick because that meant Mario would get his dues. Tony didn’t fuck around.

But, that didn’t diffuse the feelings of anger and the non-stop thinking of her all morning.

That was until he saw he had a missed call from John. And now the thought it triggered off cut into his mind and took it over like a new CD placed in the player—
Nick Mavro.

He called John back at the Storage Centre straight away.

‘Nick,’
John answered.

‘Johnny. You called me?’

‘Yeah. I called you earlier, but kept getting voicemail…’

‘Yeah, I’ve been busy,’ Nick replied, taking a sip off the coffee he just bought at the BP station he was parked outside. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked, trying his best not to sound anxious.

‘Your mate came by earlier,’
John told him.

‘Nick Mavro?’

‘Yeah. Came by, went into your storage unit, and left with a bag.’
Nick took in a deep breath and shook his head in irritation.
‘Looked pretty wired too,’
John added.

‘How do you mean?’

‘You know. Nervous.’

You’re damn right he’s nervous,
Nick thought to himself with irony.
He’s just stolen my fucking bling!

‘You told me to call you if he came by…’
John said.

‘Yeah,’ Nick replied, trying to sound upbeat. ‘You done good, man. Do you remember what time this was?’ He was pinching the bridge of his nose as he spoke, his eyes closed tightly, a slight migraine forming in his head.

‘Yeah, it was half eleven.’

Nick checked his watch: 12:43.
So, he’s got about an hour head start…

‘Is everything all right with you lot, re?’
John then asked.

‘Yeah, no worries,’ Nick replied, laughing casually. ‘It’s just that he’s not supposed to put in, or take anything out of the unit without consulting the group first.’ He sighed. ‘But, he’s broken that rule. I’ll-I’ll catch up with him, though. Thanks again, yeah.’

‘No worries, re. I’ll talk to you soon.’

‘Yeah. Bye.’ Nick pushed ‘end call’ and slung his phone down on the dash.
Fucking Nick Black! Knew he’d fucking cross us!

Now, he’s no longer a brother, but an enemy…

Nick stared at his reflection in the rear view for what seemed like ages, watching how hot and alert his eyes were.
‘Marco’s gonna kill you,’
he then said to himself in a lifeless voice.
‘Marco’s gonna kill us all…’

He finally broke the stare, and began blinking as if waking up from a dream. He went to sip more coffee, but instead it burnt his lip. He slung the coffee out of the window with a growl of rage, and then immediately picked up his phone again to begin the hunt for Nick Mavro.

*****

‘Geezer outside wants to speak with you,’ Vernon told Tony, who had his head inside the engine of a VW Golf.

Tony glanced over his shoulder. ‘What geezer?’ he asked.

‘Dunno, didn’t give his name.’

‘What does he look like?’

‘A fucking crackhead,’ Vernon replied. ‘Ginger stubble and a hoodie. Says he knows you…’

Ahh,
thought Tony to himself, and in his mind, he rubbed his hands together.
That, Vernon my boy, is my hired help, and he’s reporting back for duty.

‘All right, I’ll sort it,’ Tony said before putting his wrench down and wiping his greasy hands on his overalls. He went to the garage entrance to greet his phantom crackhead.

He stepped outside and there he was, staring all cagey at Tony with his cold eyes. ‘What’s going on, man?’ he abruptly asked, his body language aggressive. ‘I thought you gave the job to me!’

‘Whoa, whoa, stop shouting you prick!’ Tony said, looking round him to make sure there was no one else about. He faced the phantom. ‘I paid you didn’t I? Now, tell me what happened. Was he there?’

‘Yeah, he was there. But, someone else got to him first.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Exactly that, man. He had the shit kicked outta him when I arrived on the scene. Someone fucked him up proper. He was on the floor of his café, blood pouring out his nose, chairs and tables thrown everywhere.’

‘What?’

‘Yeah,’ the phantom said, nodding. ‘Now, how do you explain that?’

Tony looked away, his mind working. He
couldn’t
explain it. He sent this prick out to do Mario in, no one else. ‘I paid you and only you to do him over, trust me,’ Tony informed him.

‘Yeah, well, he must have pissed someone else off as well…’ The phantom then cleared his throat. ‘So, you gonna give me the rest of the money you owe me?’ he asked, and gave Tony an uneasy smile.

A bolt of anger surged up into Tony’s chest. ‘No I fucking ain’t!’ he replied, and kicked out at the phantom, who jumped back, avoiding a steel toe cap wedged in his balls. ‘I ain’t paying you for a job you didn’t do, now get the fuck out of here before I take my wrench to your head!’

The phantom stood his ground. Tony gave him a look that said
I’m fucking serious,
which the phantom heard loud and clear. He immediately turned and scampered away. Very soon he was round the corner, and out of sight.