Shafted (30 page)

‘I think what he’s trying to say,’ Gordon chipped in, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, ‘is that it won’t matter
who
your guests are, because the public will feel such an affinity with you that they’ll tune in, whoever you’ve got on.’

‘Paul O’Grady,’ Larry muttered, folding his arms now.

‘In a way,’ Gordon conceded. ‘But straight, so the women will still feel they’ve got a chance with you.’

‘And it’s well known that viewers always check who’s appearing before they decide which show to watch when they’ve got a choice,’ Tom interjected. He’d stayed quiet for the first few minutes in order to get the feel of Larry, and had decided that he’d do. ‘With our budget, we can afford the best of the best, so there’ll be no contest. Unmissable guests
and
you. Match made in heaven.’

Chewing this over for a minute, a little mollified by the thought of having star guests rather than scummy Joe Public, Larry said, ‘Can you guarantee it’ll be different enough to attract attention? Because it’s still sounding like a bit of a bastardisation of everyone else’s shows to me.’

‘They’re
all
a bastardisation,’ Craig pointed out. ‘That’s why there’s so many of them, because the public love this shit. Our special ingredient is
you
,’ he went on, his gaze burning with conviction. ‘And that’s the one thing that none of the other channels can give to the women who make up the mass majority of the viewers for this kind of thing.’

‘You’re the bad boy they all want to tame,’ Gordon chipped in. ‘The dangerous, drop-dead handsome guy with a past, who they think they stand a chance with in the future. The man who’s going to make every woman in the country cream her knickers at teatime, and make every young girl dream about growing up and marrying him.
The
man – full stop!’

Flattered that they all seemed to have such faith in his powers of remote seduction, Larry smiled wryly, and said, ‘So, more like David Beckham, then?’

‘And he gets it!’ Craig declared, exhaling exaggeratedly.

‘So, do I get my own lovely little Vicky to dress me?’ Larry teased.

‘Do you bloody hell as like,’ Craig exclaimed with mock horror. ‘You’ll be out there by yourself. No Angelinas, Victorias, or Jennifers squeezing the juice out of your bollocks. Just pure, accessible, love-god you.’

Larry glanced at the beaming Georgie, who was nodding her head at the other end of the table. He was still pissed off with her for keeping secrets, but her instincts were second to none, and if she thought this was a good bet it was bound to work.

‘Okay,’ he said, looking back to Craig. ‘Let’s do it.’

‘Good boy,’ Craig said, standing up to shake his hand. ‘Glad to have you on board.’

‘Glad to
be
on board.’ Larry grinned. And he meant it – because now that he’d agreed to do it, he would make sure that
The Larry Logan Show
wiped all the other chat shows off the map.

13

Lying on his bunk with his prison-gym-thickened arms behind his head, Dex sneered as he watched the screws tear his cell apart. He knew exactly what they were looking for, but they were stupid if they thought he would keep it in here. It was laughable, really. They went to such pains to launch these surprise raids, but his tame screw guaranteed that Dex – and anyone else who had the fifty quid a week to keep him on side – knew exactly when to stash his gear in someone else’s cell. Well worth the expense, in Dex’s opinion, if it saved him the hassle of constantly having to replace the goods they’d have otherwise confiscated – the mobile phone, for example.

It had cost him three hundred to have the phone and charger smuggled in, and there was no way he wanted to lose them, because that was his only contact with the outside world while he was between visits. It was bad enough being stuck in this shit-hole, knowing that life was still going on as normal for every other cunt out there, but it would kill him if he couldn’t hear his mother’s voice. He needed to hear how Molly was getting on, and be kept up to date about their Patrick. And it was his only way of keeping tabs on Gaynor, too.

She was really pissing him off at the moment, because she was getting a bit lax with her phone calls, and there was no excuse for that – not when she knew how hard it was for him stuck in here. Dex knew she was doing her best to hold everything together for him, and it wasn’t easy for her having to lie to his family so that she could deal with his business without their interference. But they weren’t smart enough to be trusted with it, so he didn’t want them knowing anything. Gaynor hated it, but she was struggling on for his sake, and he had to thank her for that – and when he got out, he would make sure he thanked her
properly
. But, in the meantime, the least she could do was keep in regular touch, because there was too much time to let your imagination run away with you in here, and he’d already spent too many sleepless nights with his guts churning, wondering exactly what she was doing.

Dex knew that Gaynor loved him with all her heart and would never fall for anyone else. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder if she could maintain that same degree of devotion and loyalty for fifteen years. And it didn’t help that his mam never stopped going on about her, either; always complaining that she was acting like a free woman now that he was off the scene, coming and going as she pleased, and tarting herself up like she was looking for a replacement in his bed – just like Jane had done the last time he’d been banged up. And every time she said it, it made being locked up feel a million times worse, so that the frustration that was relentlessly gnawing at his brain turned to white-hot rage.

But he just had to keep reminding himself that Gaynor wasn’t like Jane, and trust that she was working as hard as she said she was to ensure that they had a fantastic future when he finally got out of here.

His cell search was almost done now. Still sneering when one of the screws jerked his thumb and told him to get off the bunk, Dex stretched languidly before sitting up. Then, taking his own sweet time, he swung his legs around and dropped down to the floor so that he was standing nose to nose with the screw.

‘Looking for anything in particular, Mr Jenkins?’

‘You really think you’re funny, don’t you?’ Officer Jenkins said quietly, his gaze unwavering.

‘I think I can smell a pussy, that’s what I think,’ Dex replied, sniffing softly. ‘Give the missus a tonguing before you came to work, did you?’

‘If I was you,’ Jenkins warned, ‘I’d keep my mouth shut before someone shuts it for you.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Dex grinned, challenging him to go for it, knowing that Jenkins would wait until there were more than the three screws he had with him now to back him up.

‘You’ll keep,’ Jenkins hissed.

‘Can’t wait,’ Dex hissed back, his grin pure evil now.

Shoving him out of the way, Jenkins yanked Dex’s mattress off the bunk. Waving one of his fellow officers over to help him, he slipped a pair of latex gloves on and felt his way over every inch of it, scrutinising the seams for slits or holes through which contraband could be shoved into the padding. Dumping it on the floor when he’d finished, he trampled over it and headed for the door, pushing the other officers out ahead of him.

‘You forgot to sniff me sheet for spunk,’ Dex called after him. ‘Give you summat to fantasise about when you’re slipping the missus one tonight.’

Turning back with a smirk on his face, Jenkins unzipped his fly and aimed his dick at the mattress. Pissing on it, making sure he got a good spread, he zipped himself up again, and said, ‘Sleep well, dickhead.’

‘Oh, I will,’ Dex replied quietly, making sure that the other screws couldn’t hear him. ‘Hope
you
can, though, when you go home and find your missus bleeding from the arse.’ Pausing to let that sink in, he whispered, ‘I know where you live.’

Flinging the door wide now, to make sure he had witnesses if anything happened, Jenkins said, ‘You threatening me, Lewis?’

‘Don’t know what you mean, Boss,’ Dex replied calmly, looking as innocent as it was possible for a villain to look.

Narrowing his eyes, Jenkins said, ‘I’ll be seeing you later.’

Winking at him, Dex held his gaze until he turned and walked away. Then he wandered out onto the landing and rested his elbows on the railing, watching until the screws had gone all the way down the stairs. Strolling into the neighbouring cell, he jerked his chin at Tommy West who was lying on the bottom bunk, and said,‘Shift. I’m having your mattress.’

‘Aw, come on, lad,’ Tommy groaned, his tired old eyes pale and watery as he looked up at Dex. ‘I heard what just happened in your gaff, and I ain’t sleeping on his piss. I’ve got me joints to think about.’

‘Rather sleep in your own blood, would you?’ Dex said coldly.

Feeling no guilt when the sixty-three-year-old man dragged himself wearily off the bunk and flapped his hand for him to take what he wanted, Dex raised his eyebrows.

‘I know you ain’t expecting
me
to carry it, you lazy auld shite. I think you’re mistaking me for one of your fucking care workers, or summat.’ Shaking his head now, he walked back out.

Sighing, Tommy leaned down and grasped the edge of the mattress. He was in no fit state to be moving furniture, but he’d be in no fit state to do
any
thing if he didn’t – Dex would make sure of that. Lewis had only been transferred here a month ago, but he’d already sprayed his scent all over the landing, and nobody dared refuse when he asked for a ‘favour’.

Standing in the doorway of his cell until his neighbour had swapped the mattresses and put his new one up on his bunk for him, Dex told him to clear off. Then he went to the next-but-one cell to retrieve his phone. Kicking the lad who’d been looking after it out onto the landing to keep watch, he closed the door and sat down on the bunk, helping himself to some tobacco from the lad’s pouch while he waited for his mother to answer his call.

‘About bloody time,’ Nora grumbled when she heard his voice. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to call for ages. How come you took so long?’

‘Screws keep doing spot raids, trying to catch me out,’ Dex told her, lighting his roll-up.

‘They don’t know about your phone, do they?’

‘Course they do. But they won’t catch me with it, so I don’t give a toss.’

‘Yeah, well, just make sure you don’t go and lose your rag,’ Nora warned him. ‘You don’t want to end up in solitary again.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I can look after myself.’

‘Yes, I know, but I can’t help worrying. You’re too much of a snapper for your own good, you.’

‘Ma, you’re wasting time,’ Dex cut in irritably. ‘I’ve only got a few minutes, and I want to know what’s going on.’

‘Huh!’ Nora grunted, the sound of the washing machine going into a loud spin behind her. ‘What
ain’t
going on, more like. Your Molly’s been in trouble at school again, and Jane’s threatening to have her put in care if she carries on ’cos she reckons it’ll be her who gets done for it.’

‘Tell the slag I’ll rip her fucking head off if she even thinks about it,’ Dex spat, wondering why he craved these calls so much when they always wound him up so bad. ‘Fetch Molly on your next visit, and tell her I don’t care what excuse she comes up with, ’cos I want to see her. And if she don’t behave, tell her I’m sending her back to you, where we can keep a proper eye on her.’

Nora sighed loudly, the thought of having her wayward granddaughter back under her roof making her feel worn out before it had even happened. Dealing with her own lads was one thing, but teenage girls who had no manners was another, and she didn’t see why she should be expected to put up with that little mare’s moods and tantrums at her age. It was bad enough having their Christine’s little one, Lyla, to look after. And
she
was a retard, so she was more than enough for an old woman who wasn’t getting any help from anyone to cope with. If their Christine ever dared show her face round here again, Nora would tear the hair right out of her bloody head for dumping the kid on her like that. And that was nothing to what her brothers would do to her, the crack-addled whore.

‘Where’s Gaynor?’ Dex demanded now, interrupting his mother’s thoughts.

‘You tell me,’ Nora grunted disapprovingly. ‘She didn’t show her face again last night, even though she
knew
I was waiting on that money. I’m giving her till three, then I’m going round there myself. And she’ll get what bloody for if I do, I can tell you – making me troll all that way with me leg playing up! You should never have left her in charge of that money, son. I don’t know
what
you was thinking, I really don’t. I was only saying to—’

‘I’m not going over all that again,’ Dex interrupted before she could get into her stride. ‘I don’t want my money at your place ’cos there’s too many bent bastards round there.’

‘So you’d rather leave it with that slag, knowing she’s helping herself while your mam’s scrimping and bloody scraping?’

‘Belt up, Ma,’ Dex said tetchily. ‘If you don’t see her in the next couple of hours, tell our Jimmy to go round and get it off her.’

‘I’m not sending him nowhere,’ Nora blustered indignantly. ‘He’ll probably end up giving her a slap and get himself into trouble. And I can’t have that – not now he’s the only one I’ve got left to look after me while you and our Jason are locked up, and our Pat’s living it up in prozzie-land. I’m on me tod here, and now them Hannons are sniffing about.’

‘What do you mean, sniffing about?’ Dex demanded.

‘I keep seeing them walking past, clocking the house,’ Nora told him. ‘I’m sure they’re getting ready to break in.’

Breathing heavily as a wave of rage swept over him, Dex gritted his teeth. Lee, Noel, and Stuart Hannon were a mob of shit-arsed junkies who lived on the roughest part of his mam’s estate. They’d never have the bollocks to come within pissing distance of the house if Dex and the rest of the Lewis lads were still around, but everyone knew that Dex was doing fifteen, and that their Jason was doing two for burglary, while Pat had skipped to the Dam. Word was obviously out that there was only Jimmy left, and the Hannons might just be stupid enough to think they could take him.