Die Tryin' (24 page)

Tony laughed out loud.
‘Oopsy daisy!’

Lydia’s
yiayia
began freaking out, grabbing at nearby napkins. Lydia raced over to help her, apologising profusely. She gave Tony daggers as she mopped up spilt wine.

Nice,
thought Tony, nodding in appreciation of his work.
Good payback.

He stood upright again and faced Christo. ‘Come on, let’s go,’ he said, rubbing his hands.

They left Lydia and her
yiayia
behind as they made their way to the toilets, passing what seemed like never ending family members on the way. ‘I thought shoulder pads went out in the 80s!’ Christo said over his shoulder.

Tony laughed. ‘Not in this family they didn’t.’

They reached the toilets—away from the loud music and dancing—where they both sneaked into the same stall.

‘We’ll use mine,’ said Tony as he pulled out his wallet.

‘Feeling generous, Tone?’ asked Christo.

‘Nah, I just want you to see how good this stuff is.’

Tony pulled his wrap and a credit card from his wallet, poured some of his gear onto the toilet tank, and began cutting lines.

‘Nice wedding innit?’ Christo asked, making conversation while waiting for Tony to prepare their coke.

‘Nothing fucking nice about it,
re
, believe me,’ Tony curtly replied. ‘I mean, what’s all that they got written on their cake about?
Mario and Maria, separated only by a letter.’
Tony huffed.
‘Skata!’

Christo laughed. ‘Could be worse,
re.’

‘Could it? How?’

Christo shrugged. ‘Dunno. He could be a real arsehole.’

Tony’s head snapped round and he stared hard at Christo. ‘What do you mean
could be
?’ he asked, and then turned back to the coke.

Christo chuckled, and then silence ensued. ‘My little brother just got back from Thailand,’ Christo told him, seeking to change track.

‘Yeah?’ Tony said over his shoulder. ‘Did he like it?’

‘Said it’s wicked out there,
re.’

‘Really?’

‘Said all he did was take drugs and fuck Thai girls!’

Tony looked up from what he was doing and stared at the tiled wall. ‘Yeah?
Thailand
?
That’s India ain’t it?’

‘Kind of.’

‘Heard there’s a lot of them ladyboys out there,’ Tony said, a suspicious look emerging on his face.

‘Well, if you like that type of thing, Tone…’

‘Fuck you, man! I ain’t no
pushti!’

Christo laughed. ‘Nah, he said there’s loads of birds out there,
re
.
Real
girls. Best he’s seen. Says they’re all horny and up for a fuck, especially with foreigners.’

‘Yeah?’ Tony asked, and in his mind:
this place is sounding better by the second!

‘Yeah.’ Christo then rubbed his thumb and index finger together. ‘They love the
lires
,
re
… And he said there’s pills and coke everywhere. All cheap and easy to get. Cheap booze as well…’

‘Serious?’

‘Serious, man.’

‘Thailand
?’ Tony echoed, staring starry eyed at the tiled wall, rolling a score in between his fingers.

‘Thailand,’ Christo reaffirmed, nodding his head.

Hmm, sounds like my kind of place,
Tony contemplated.

‘You done there?’ Christo asked, pointing at the fresh lines of coke waiting for them.

‘Huh?’ Tony uttered as if he had just been woken from a dream. ‘Oh yeah, yeah. Here.’ He handed Christo the rolled up note. He took it, bent over the toilet tank, and hoovered up his line in one long snort. He stood upright and stared at the ceiling, sniffing in a manner akin to a wine expert checking the nose on a vintage Claret.

After a few seconds he began nodding. ‘That’s good shit,
re.’

‘I know.’

‘Who’d you get it off?’ Christo asked, handing Tony the rolled note.

‘My friend, Nick,’ Tony answered, taking it from him.

‘Nick? Nick Mavro?’

‘No, no, no. Nick Theodorou. The one who drives that flash XR2.’

‘Oh, him.’

‘Yeah, him. But, now you mention it, don’t talk to me about the Mavro, man.
Fucking hell
…’ Tony shook his head in disappointment as he spoke.

‘Why, what’s he done?’

‘You haven’t met his bird yet?’

‘Didn’t know he had a bird. She here with him?’

‘Yeah, she’s here. Fucking
mavro
by name,
mavro
by nature,’ Tony said, staring at his cousin gravely.

‘You mean she’s black?’ Christo asked, his voice brimming with incredulity.

‘Black as your fucking eyebrows,
re.’

‘God damn!’
Christo exclaimed, a disgusted look emerging on his face.

‘Fucking embarrassing. In front of my family as well,
re
…’

Christo shook his head. ‘Terrible. Where did he meet her?’

‘She’s a Uni nerd like him. Fucking students hate the lot of ’em! But, it ain’t just that though,
re
. He’s changed a lot since he met her.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘She’s twisted his mind. Always wants to be with her and not us.’

‘Well, that’s how it goes, Tone. People get together and you can’t keep em apart.’

‘That’s not the fucking point! The prick’s forgotten who his fucking friends are,
re
! You don’t know half the
skata
we’ve all been through together. No fucking bitch can ever take that away!’

‘Give it time, Tone,’ Christo reassured him. ‘He’ll realise what’s right, and he’ll come back.’

Tony reflected, rolled up score in hand. ‘Maybe,’ he said, but wasn’t so sure. He bent down and sniffed up his line, then another one before handing the tubed note back to Christo. ‘I couldn’t really give a fuck any more anyway,’ Tony told him. ‘What’s done is done.’

Christo had the last line and gave Tony his money back.

‘All good?’ Tony asked, unrolling the note.

‘Perfect,’ Christo replied, a big druggy grin planted on his mug.

‘All right. You go out first and I’ll follow. Someone sees us both come out the same toilet they’ll think we’ve been blowing each other or something.’

Christo chuckled. ‘I’ll see you out there.’

‘Yeah,’ Tony replied without much enthusiasm.

Christo left the stall and went back out to the reception area. Tony hung back for a few seconds, thinking about Nick Black again. He
had
changed. Seemed to be more interested in that black
putana
more than anything else. More than him, more than Nick XR2, more than Charlie. They had history together. The kind of history that no other set of friends had. A history that should keep them tight like brothers. And brothers didn’t let anyone split them up, especially not women, especially not black women.

‘Fucking prick will get his!’ he said and spat into the toilet. He flushed it, and then left the stall.

Standing in front of a urinal was Uncle Chris.
‘Yasou, re
, Antoni
mou,’
he said once he saw Tony.

‘All right, Uncle?’ Tony replied. ‘Enjoying the wedding?’

‘Pola orea, re,’
he said, doing up his flies.

They both headed for the sinks. Uncle Chris washed his hands while Tony was splashing water on his messy hair so he could slick it back.

‘See you later,
re,’
Uncle Chris said once he finished.

‘Have one on me, Uncle,’ Tony said after him, and then began rubbing his hot face, angry thoughts of Nick Black causing his system to heat up. He stood where he was for a few seconds, his hands covering his face, not wanting to go back outside to that fucking wedding, but not wanting to be stuck in the toilets either.

I should just do myself in,
he thought to himself and then began laughing behind his hands.
That
was a stupid idea,
what the hell was he thinking?

He pulled his hands away from his face and found himself staring at his reflection in the mirror. A sardonic grin was spread across his face.

The little boy’s reflection alongside him in the mirror made him flinch. His head spun round and down to his right. He was now faced with his little cousin, Costa, just standing there, staring at him with big bug eyes like he had just seen a ghost.

‘Costa—?’
Tony began, but Costa cut him off straight away.

‘Marco says he’s gonna kill you,’ he said, his wide deep brown eyes brimming with fear. ‘He told me to tell you he’s gonna kill you!’

The little boy’s words numbed Tony to the spot, his feet feeling like they were stuck to the tiled floor as if the whole place were now covered in super glue.

Tony briefly glanced around him to see they were alone. He faced Costa once more. ‘Who—?’ he went to ask.

‘Marco’s gonna kill you,’ Costa interrupted again. ‘He’s gonna kill you!’

And now Costa was smiling as he spoke, and it was the evil grin of a demon kid, like the one from that film,
The Omen
. Damien.

Tony’s mind began working hard.
What’s going on here, for fuck’s sake? How does this little prick know about—

Then Costa turned and ran for the door.

Tony slung an arm out. ‘Hey!’ he shouted, just missing Costa’s shirt collar.

Costa made it to the door and ran back out towards the reception area. Tony regained the use of his numbed legs and gave chase. He couldn’t let the little prick get away. He had to find out what he knew.
Where did he see Marco? Was he like Charlie?

Could he see…
them?

He burst through first the toilet door, and then through the reception area doors to be greeted by loud Greek music reverberating all around him, and all the women now on the dance floor in a circle doing the
Sousta
. Costa was nowhere in sight, and at first he thought he had lost the little prick. Then he saw the back of his head bobbing up and down in between some tables where old time Greek Cypriots were clapping their hands while eying up the ladies on the dance floor.

‘Hey! Come back here!’ he shouted, making Costa turn his head for a second and glare at him with frightened eyes. He then turned back and carried on running. Tony chased, almost tripping over a handbag left in between two tables. He regained his balance and jumped over an upturned chair. He was gaining hard on Costa, even though the little prick was weaving in between the tables like a pro.

‘Costa!’ Tony shouted. ‘Come back here or I’ll give you the beating of your life!’ He was barely audible over the music, but Costa got the gist of what he was saying. So he sped up. And so did Tony. He almost knocked over a waitress serving coffee as he bundled past her. But he was gaining regardless.

He upped the pace.

Costa reached the table he was aiming for, and threw his hands around the man sitting there knocking back whisky. Tony got there at the same time and grabbed Costa by the back of his shirt collar.

Costa screamed.

‘Come here and tell me where you heard that!’ Tony said sharply.

When the man drinking whisky heard Tony shout at Costa, his face turned dark.
‘Re
, Tony,’ he said in a tetchy voice. ‘What are you doing?’

‘I just want to talk to your grandson, Uncle Spiro,’ Tony informed him. ‘So, if he would just come with me…’ He yanked Costa’s arm as he spoke.

Costa screamed again.

Uncle Spiro pulled him away from Tony’s grip and closer into his own chest. ‘Hey! You’re scaring him,
re
!’ he said. ‘He’s just a child and you pull him around like a fucking doll? What’s the matter with you?’

Tony pulled his arms away and held his palms in the air, pleading innocence. ‘I just want to ask him something, Uncle,’ he said calmly and respectfully.

‘Tell him to leave me alone,
Pappou
!’ Costa blubbered into Uncle Spiro’s chest.

‘Shhh!
It’s okay,
mana mou
…’ Uncle Spiro said, soothing his grandson, kissing him lightly on the side of the head. ‘Go on,
re
Tony,’ he then said. ‘Clear off! You’re upsetting him.’

Tony stared hotly at the back of Costa’s head. He wanted to know where he got that name, and where and how he saw Marco (if he did). But on the other hand, Uncle Spiro wasn’t a man to mess with. Rumour had it that back in Cyprus he once took on and battered a five-handed crew of Old Bill, even biting the nose off one of ’em. And with all the coke Tony was doing lately, he wanted his nose just where it was.

Tony put his hands together as if praying, sighed hard, and then turned and walked back the way he came, thinking it was the best thing to do. The music was still blaring around him, and the ladies were still dancing in a spiral. He walked past it all, cursing under his breath. This was already always going to be a shitty day, now made worse by the fact that fucker’s name had been mentioned. And as he hadn’t heard it for so long, it came like a bolt out of the fucking blue.

Suddenly his memory was jogged.

He wanted more coke.

And more booze.

He grabbed a half done bottle of whisky from a nearby table, threw away the bottle cap, and drank deep.

‘You all right, Tone?’ The voice came from behind him and he spun round, the bottleneck still in his mouth.

He removed it and wiped the residue from his lips. ‘Yeah, Nick,’ he replied to Nick XR2, who was standing there, immaculate in his expensive shirt and tie. Not a hair was out of place on his head neither.

‘What was all that about with your uncle?’

(Marco’s gonna kill you!)

Tony shrugged nonchalantly. ‘Nothing. Just my little cousin being a bit lippy.’

Nick nodded in understanding.

‘Look at ’em!’ Tony then said in disgust, staring the other way, taking long drags on of whisky.

Nick turned round. He saw the happy bride and groom going around talking to the various members of the groom’s family, thanking them for coming and all that. ‘I don’t really like him either, Tone,’ Nick told him. ‘She could do much better, but it’s what she wants…’

‘Huh?’ A look of confusion emerged on Tony’s face, and he glanced over to where Nick was looking to see his sister and Mario, frolicking like kids. ‘I’m not talking about
them,
for fuck’s sake,’ he said. ‘Although don’t get me started… Nah, I’m talking about the
Mavro,’
he informed Nick, taking another swig of whisky and pointing over to where Nick Black was sitting with his new girlfriend, Carla.