Disobey (13 page)

Del pulled out a gun from his jacket pocket. He pulled back the trigger. ‘It’ll be over in a minute.’

Forgotten for a moment by the others, Casey, who was sobering up and aware of what was happening stood up, albeit slightly shakily. ‘Have you lost your mind, Del? You can’t go round just shooting people because you feel like it.’

Vaughn cut Casey a stare. His voice was solidified with anger. ‘Stay out of it Casey! I’ll deal with you later.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You heard. Don’t embarrass yourself or me. There’s a conversation to be had about what the fuck you were doing here, but for now, get out of here.’

Casey Edwards, like a lot of the women in Soho, was strong and fiery and objected to being ordered about, especially when it was from Vaughn.

‘Who do you think you’re talking to? I’m not one of your men.’

‘No, because they wouldn’t act like a slut.’

Casey slapped Vaughn across his face, hard.

‘Whatever your problem is, that is the last time you speak to me like that.’

Del spoke to Vaughn sympathetically. ‘I’ll give you a minute.’ He moved away, but spoke to Alfie as he did so. ‘But you. You stay where you are.’

Vaughn grabbed hold of Casey’s arm, shaking her with enough strength for her head to jerk forward. His voice was a whisper. ‘You never change, do you? Couldn’t keep it up, could you; the good girl image too hard for you, Cass? Look at the state of you.’

Casey pulled her arm away. ‘Whatever you do or don’t think about me, Vaughn, it’s no longer any of your concern. Remember?
You
were the one who finished it. Oh and whilst you’re here, why don’t you take this.’ With a large tug, Casey pulled off her yellow diamond ring and threw it at Vaughn, who stood feeling as if a large freight train was about to hit him. He refused to let his emotions get the better of him, and decided to concentrate on what was about to happen to Alfie.

His tone was hard and icy.

‘Get out, Cass.’

‘Don’t you dare lay a hand on him, you hear me?’

‘I said … get out!’

Slowly, Casey began to back away. She looked at Vaughn, then Del and lastly at Frankie before she began to run.

18

Chloe-Jane sat on Franny’s bed, going through photographs. ‘Who’s that then?’

‘That’s Patrick; my father when he was little.’

‘He’s a bit of alright ain’t he?’

Franny smiled. ‘Oh yeah, I think the ladies loved him, but he wasn’t really interested. As much as it’s a cliché, he really only loved my mum.’

‘You don’t get fellas like that anymore; once they get your knickers off, you don’t see them again.’

Kindly, Franny asked, ‘Have you ever thought of not getting your knickers off, Chloe?’

Chloe-Jane looked amazed at Franny’s suggestion. ‘No! What good would that be? They ain’t going to like you if you don’t put out, are they?’

‘But they don’t really like you if they just sleep with you and then don’t want to have anything to do with you afterwards.’

Chloe-Jane burst into laughter. ‘You’re so funny Fran, you sound dead old-fashioned.’

Franny knew when she was on a losing battle and carried on looking at the photos of her life, taking herself on a trip down memory lane. As she continued to look, Chloe-Jane’s phone rang.

‘Hello?’ Chloe listened to the caller on the other end of the line. After only a minute, she put down the phone.

Neutrally Franny spoke. ‘Who was that?’

‘Who was what?’

Franny, who hadn’t been really interested in who was calling Chloe, suddenly began to get curious. She stared in bemusement. ‘Chloe. The phone call, who was it?’

‘No one … Unless you call my mum someone. She wanted money. That’s the only reason she calls me.’

Franny’s face was full of sympathy. ‘I’m sorry, Chloe.’

Chloe-Jane smiled at Franny. It was strange having someone to care for her, and it was hard to get her head round it. ‘Oh, don’t worry about it. You get used to it.’

‘You shouldn’t have to … you’re not going to give her any, are you?’

Chloe-Jane smiled as she pulled on her pink denim jacket. ‘No. Probably why she put the phone down on me … Oh well … Listen, I’m off out now. I’ll see you later.’

Franny saw the sadness in Chloe’s eyes as she walked out of the room. A moment later she heard the front door open and close leaving her in the silence of her flat.

It was only recently Franny had learnt to be able to be at peace on her own and not have to keep busy until she fell exhausted into bed. The memories of her life had haunted her but now they comforted her, and lately she’d relished the solitude instead of run from it. Not that she minded Chloe-Jane staying; the idea of a kid of seventeen having nowhere to go apart from her uncle’s girlfriend made her feel sad.

Franny had been lucky with her upbringing. Full of love. Full of laughter. Having her father Patrick and her Uncle Cabhan dote on her. Lavishing her with gifts and supporting her in everything she did, as well as teaching her how to look after herself.

About to look through more photographs, the doorbell rang. Then it rang again.

‘Okay I’m coming … Hold on,’ Franny shouted out as the person began to bang on the door.

Assuming it was Chloe-Jane, Franny opened the door with a smile which froze when she saw Casey looking hysterical. Hysterical and drunk.

‘You’ve got to come!’ Casey’s voice was urgent.

‘Where? Why, what’s happened? Are you alright, Cass? What the hell’s happened?’

‘It’s Alf.’

Franny’s face drained of colour. Her mouth began to dry up as fear rushed through her. ‘Is he alright? For fuck’s sake, Casey, tell me what’s going on.’

‘Vaughn, and the others; they’re in the club with him. They’re saying it was because of him the triads have started all the attacks. And Del …’ Casey began to trail off but Franny grabbed hold of her, frantic to find out the details.

‘And Del what? Come on Cass!’ Franny’s voice was loud as she gleaned the information from her friend.

‘Del— he’s got a gun.’

Thoughts and memories rushed through Franny’s head. Images of what had happened to her father were triggered as she stood staring at Casey in silence.

‘Franny! Come on, we have to do something.’

Snapping out of it, Franny nodded her head, but to Casey’s surprise she didn’t immediately run to the club. ‘Wait there, Cass.’

‘But …’

Franny didn’t bother waiting to hear what Casey had to say. She ran back up the stairs, two at a time. Charging into her father’s old bedroom.

Quickly moving the large leather cream chair to where the wardrobe was, Franny climbed up on it, giving her leave to reach the top of the doors. She reached up, feeling about on the top of the maple wardrobe. Right at the back, she found what she was looking for.

Pulling the small bag down, she jumped back off the chair, unzipping the small holdall. And there it was. Inside, right at the bottom was her father’s Colt .380 Mustang.

Finding most of the streets were still blocked off, Franny and Casey ran along the outside of Soho. They were both out of breath as their hearts beat fast. Ignoring the crowds, Franny pushed through, knowing time wasn’t on her side – or more to the point wasn’t on Alfie’s.

Cutting through the small alleyway into Wardour Street, the women finally found themselves at the top of Old Compton Street, where Whispers nightclub was.

‘Do you think we’re too late?’ Casey panted to Franny.

‘I dunno … I hope not … Christ, I don’t want to think like that. I can’t bear it. Come on, let’s go in the back way.’

‘What are you going to do?’

Franny looked at Casey square on then proceeded to pull out the gun from her jacket pocket. She cocked the striker on the gun, ready for action. ‘I’ll worry about that when I get there. But whatever happens, do as I say and make sure you stay behind me.’

19

Chloe-Jane sat in the front seat of the old brown Ford Fiesta. The punter she’d picked up wanted a blow job. So she’d got in the car, agreed on a price; a fiver, and then sat in silence as they sped along Theobalds Road, turning left at Grays Inn Road before hitting the gridlock of King’s Cross.

She chewed on her piece of gum and thought about how many blow jobs it’d take her to get the eighty pound to give Franny. Chloe-Jane had never been great at maths, and by the time the punter pulled up at the car park behind Goods Way in King’s Cross, she’d convinced and depressed herself thinking five into eighty was thirty-three which meant excluding this one, she’d have to give another thirty-two blow jobs to get the money.

Chloe-Jane sighed as she gave the man a sideways look. She shivered. He had thinning brown greasy hair with a ridiculous sweep-over and his thick rimmed glasses were ugly and harsh in their appearance, making his already small eyes look even smaller. His fingers were short and pudgy, as was he, and Chloe-Jane knew she’d have to brace herself to get through the next ten minutes.

They parked up and immediately the man locked the door, causing Chloe to get nervous. She hadn’t brought anything such as a penknife or razor to be able to fight him off, so she could only hope he wasn’t a complete nutter.

The man leered at her, licking his lips as he gawked at her large breasts. With hurried movements, he unzipped his trousers, going into his pants to pull out his erect penis as if he was dipping his hand into a tombola at a summer fete.

‘Go on then.’ He nodded encouragingly to Chloe-Jane who shook her head fervently.

‘I ain’t sucking it without a condom.’

The man’s eyes darkened. ‘Don’t mess me about. I don’t take kindly to piss takers.’

Chloe-Jane held her ground. ‘That’s not what we agreed; I don’t do bareback, not with me pussy or with me mouth.’

‘I said, do it, you fucking bitch!’ The man was red-faced as he shouted at Chloe, holding onto his penis with one hand whilst he prodded her with the other.

Chloe-Jane’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I said,
I don’t do it without a condom
.’

Chloe didn’t see the slap across her face coming; she only felt it. A quick hard sting, burning up her right cheek. She yelped and held her bitten-nailed hand on her face.

‘Let me out!… Let me out,
please
!’

‘Not until you do what we came here to do.’ The man grabbed hold of Chloe’s hair, pulling it hard and trying to force her head down to his swollen penis. She fought hard – she was good at that, she’d been fighting all her life – but the harder she did, the harder the man’s punches were.

She could feel the man’s hands around her neck now as her breath became shorter and raspier, and she sensed she might pass out any moment.

With one big final effort, Chloe-Jane twisted her body around, managing to bring her teeth down into the man’s arm.

‘You fucking bitch!’ The man let go and immediately Chloe pulled away. Turning her whole body round, Chloe brought up her knees and kicked at the car door with all her might. The door of the Fiesta crashed open and Chloe-Jane jumped out of the car without looking back, running towards the main road.

That had been an hour ago. Chloe-Jane sat, shaken, in a rundown pub just off Tottenham Court Road. In front of her was a neat glass of vodka. Things definitely hadn’t gone as planned and to make matters worse she now had a black eye to show for it.

She’d been frightened. Really frightened. She had truly thought the man was going to hurt her, but as awful as it was, the alternative was almost worse. The alternative was not being able to pay Franny her eighty pounds. And that wasn’t even an option.

Knocking back the vodka, Chloe, about to get up and order another one just so she could calm her nerves, was abruptly joined by a young girl at her table who was probably no older than herself.

‘Mind if I sit here? I don’t want that dirty bastard over there to think I’m touting, I’ve had enough for today. Makes me skin crawl. He won’t leave me alone. Hands bleedin’ everywhere. Last week I gave him a blow job so now he’s acting like me and him are an item. Bleedin’ nut, he’s a punter not frigging Prince Charming … Oh my name’s Jodie by the way.’ The girl smiled at Chloe who smiled back warmly, then plonked herself down on the worn-out pub sofa.

‘I’m Chloe-Jane.’

The girl paused. She was short and fat, dressed in a tight blue jumpsuit which was clearly too small for her giving her a very obvious camel toe. Her short bobbed hair was dyed peroxide blonde with an added pink streak down the side. Her face, although plain, held the warmest of blue eyes.

‘Good to meet you, Chloe-Jane. Where are you from? I haven’t seen you about. Are you new? Have you come from care? Where you stopping?’ Jodie’s questions were non-stop as she went from one to another without so much as a pause.

‘I’m stopping with my uncle’s girlfriend.’

Jodie pulled a face. ‘Oh God, how’s that? Is it a shitty nightmare? I once stayed with my dad’s girlfriend, we ended up fighting at four in the morning. Police had to come in the end. Haven’t seen either of them since.’

‘No, she’s nice. I’m lucky, it’s more my uncle who’s a bit of a wanker, but he’s alright. He’s family, innit.’

‘Well that’s good. So how come you’re here? When did you come to Soho? Do you have any brothers or sisters? Do you fancy another drink? What did you do to your eye?’

‘Some fella did it, but I’ve had worse.’

Jodie leaned in closer to Chloe, her curiosity lighting up her eyes. ‘Was it your pimp?’

‘My pimp?’

‘Yeah … I’m guessing you’re on the game.’

Chloe-Jane sat up, feeling insulted by Jodie’s assumption, no matter how true it was or was not.

‘What makes you think I’m touting?’

Jodie looked genuinely amused. ‘Oh come off it, you couldn’t advertise it any more if you had a neon sign on your head. I spotted it the minute I saw you.’ The girl paused, thinking for a moment before adding, ‘You ashamed of it or something? Don’t your boyfriend know you’re down here doing it?’

Chloe snapped, ‘It ain’t nothing to do with fellas. And I certainly ain’t got a boyfriend or a bleedin’ pimp.’

Jodie looked at Chloe, clarification etched all over. ‘Oh, you’re gay.’