Disobey (7 page)

Chloe-Jane looked affronted. ‘I don’t want yer money!’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘Then what?’

Chloe-Jane folded her arms, reminding Alfie of his ex. ‘I want a job.’

Alfie roared with laughter. ‘A job, in my club?’

‘Yeah, what’s wrong with that?’

‘Now I know you’re taking the piss. For a start, my club is a classy joint and the way you dress it’d make it look like it was a knocking shop for misfits and secondly, giving you a job would mean I’d have to trust you and I don’t, not one tiny bit.’

Having developed a thick skin over the years to survive, Chloe-Jane was not put off. ‘Oh please Uncle Alfie, I won’t let you down, I promise. I’ll work
really
hard, just give me a chance.’

‘I gave you a chance and what have I got to show for it? I’ll tell you. Me missus up and left, and now I’m in the dog house and you’re like the cat that’s got the cream.’

‘Look, all I want to do is pay my way.’

‘And there’s me thinking you’re a freeloader.’

‘I ain’t, and I know Franny said I didn’t have to pay, but people get fed up don’t they?’

‘That’s the first sensible thing that’s come out of your mouth. Ain’t nothing for nothing in this world, you need to learn that, Chloe-Jane.’

Chloe’s tone was laced with a bitterness far surpassing her age. ‘You think I don’t know that? From the time I was thirteen I was having to pay my way at home, and if I didn’t, me mum would chuck me out or call social services to come and get me.’

A flash of shame briefly crossed Alfie’s face, thinking about Chloe-Jane’s life. He’d half suspected his sister had neglected her but he’d done nothing about it. But then, it wasn’t his fault was it? He’d had his own problems and there was no point in beating himself up about it now.

‘So that’s why I want a job, ’cos I reckon if I pay Franny, she can’t say anything and won’t get rid of me.’

Alfie leant forward. ‘And that’s why I ain’t giving you a job. Because the sooner Franny comes to her senses the better, and we can all get back to normal. So like I said, do one, ’cos you’re not going to make me feel bad about it because it ain’t my fault you’ve got nowhere to go.’

Never one to be able to keep her mouth shut, no matter how hard she tried, Chloe-Jane retaliated, sticking her two fingers up as she turned away. ‘And it ain’t my fault you’re a prick.’

Alfie watched the ball on the roulette table go round and round. The place was packed and all thoughts of Franny and the annoying Chloe-Jane began to fade. He had been supposed to meet Mr Lee, to sort things out, but he’d cancelled so until Alfie heard from him, why not keep pushing ahead with his venture? The damage had been done anyway, so what harm would a few more quid in his pocket make?

The room was packed with illegal gamblers and there was an air of excitement about the place as wealthy businessmen from all over laid thousands of pounds on the table, losing it in a turn of a card or a spin of the wheel.

‘Hey! Alfie!’ The voice sounded from behind him and before Alfie had a chance to turn round properly, he felt a punch land at the back of his neck, complete with knuckledusters. He leapt back as his men ran forward, swinging with his fists at the suited men. The other punters in the club ran over to the exit but it was blocked by a large group of Chinese men who’d somehow got in through the double-locked doors.

Immediately the men started attacking the terrified punters. Nunchucks and coshes, chains and knives were bandied round. Alfie caught sight of a rich American banker being stamped on by three of the perpetrators. Blood poured from the man’s face as he screamed at them to stop.

Alfie ran over to the far side, but was grabbed by a Chinese man with an ability to fight far superior to Alfie’s. The man roundhouse-kicked Alfie’s face, splitting open his lip and loosening one of his back teeth in the mix.

The next blow to Alfie, apart from to his pride was to his nose. A grinding of cartilage sounded as Alfie saw all around him his men being overwhelmed by the triads.

The side lunge to Alfie’s knees brought him down to the ground and he yelled out in pain as his head hit the sharp side of the corner of the bar. He felt the warmth of his blood trickling down his neck. It was all beginning to get blurred now and the room began to spin around. The people’s outlines began to fade in and out. Double vision halted any attempt for Alfie Jennings to fight back. Another pain hit him, this time in the stomach. The blow winded him and he struggled to breathe as he reached out to the wall to try and drag himself up. The boot to the back of his head saw Alfie sprawling on the floor. The next moment, he blacked out.

7

‘Will you just sit down, Vaughn!’ Casey Edwards sat at the kitchen table in Lola’s flat watching her soon-to-be husband pacing up and down. He’d been pacing for the last hour and a half, ever since he’d got the phone call from one of his men, and it was now playing on her nerves. ‘Vaughn, please! Can’t you go and pace somewhere else?’

‘I’m thinking.’

‘Well can’t you think in the car, I thought you wanted to get back home?’

Vaughn swung round to look at Casey. She was so beautiful and he was a lucky man, but she needed to understand things had changed. Everything had changed. And he wasn’t going anywhere, not until this was all over.

He’d just got a call from one of his men, letting him know there’d been some trouble at Alfie’s club, and also that Sarp, the Turkish restaurant owner from Greek Street, had gone missing. As for Alfie’s club, he didn’t know what was going on there but apparently something about a casino had been mentioned.

Vaughn shook his head as he thought about it. There was no way Alfie could really be so stupid, so fucking muppet-like as to open a casino right under the noses of the triads. No, he might be a lot of things and do a lot of things, but that? To bring the devil to the door, knowing it wouldn’t be just him who would be in the firing line. No, surely not.

Alfie had sat there and seen the state Lola was in when the triads had thrown a warning fire bomb in the café. He’d been as angry as the others to think the triads were coming on their territory. There was no way it was an act. Vaughn’s men must have got it wrong about the casino. Or they better have got it wrong. Because if they hadn’t, this stunt of Alfie’s would certainly be his last.

‘You go, Cass. I’m going to stay in Soho.’

Casey looked amazed. One of the things she loved about Vaughn was that he’d put all his old life behind him. He hadn’t seemed to miss his old life like so many of the other retired gangsters; he’d been satisfied to take it easy.

Casey had played hostess many times at the lavish dinner parties she and Vaughn had at his sprawling Kent mansion, listening to the retired faces who could no longer cut it or who no longer had the edge to stay; all dissatisfied and unable to take to civilian life. But Vaughn had been different; he’d found peace outside the world of violence and multi-million-pound deals. But since the attack on Lola’s café last week he’d become obsessed with catching up with the people who’d done it. Almost overnight, the Vaughn Casey had known changed into a hard ruthless man, set on revenge.

‘Vaughn, this isn’t a one-man crusade. What about the others, they can help sort it out as well. There’s Del, Johnny, Alf …’ The moment Casey began to say Alfie’s name she immediately regretted it, as she saw the look in Vaughn’s eye. His voice was cold and agitated.

‘Alfie? Are you fucking serious? That man’s caused enough grief, wouldn’t you say, Cass?’

Casey decided to remain silent. Vaughn and Alfie’s history went way back. At one time, at the height of Vaughn and Alfie’s friendship breakdown, Alfie had told Vaughn he’d slept with her. And although Alfie Jennings had eventually admitted nothing had happened between him and Casey, it was still a sore spot for Vaughn when she talked about Alfie with any form of affection or positivity.

‘Well, Cass?’ Vaughn stood in front of Casey. She could see he was pushing for a fight, which would be his excuse to stay in London without having to discuss it with her. Well she wasn’t going to be goaded. If he wanted to stay in Soho then she wasn’t going to let him put it on her. She remained silent, staring at Vaughn.

Eventually Lola, having finished consuming a runny egg sandwich, broke the silence.

‘Listen Casey, Vaughnie is just doing what he knows best. He’s old school. Them triads need to be stopped and put in their place. This is Soho.
Our
Soho. Me and Vaughn’s. All of us have been round here as long as me memory will take me back. It’s where we belong. It’s all some of us know; all some of us want. You’re not from round here, love, so it’s different for you, harder for you to understand. But this is our home and we’ll do anything to protect it. So let Vaughnie do what needs to be done.’

Casey shook her head. ‘Lola, you know I love you like my own mum, and you’re right I’m not from round here, but neither is Vaughn, not anymore. He’s moved on. I’m not asking him to turn his back on you or Soho, I’d never do that, but he needs to leave it to the others, take a step back.’

Lola shook her head, her warm smile cutting through her craggy wrinkled skin. ‘Cass, it’s in him. Soho is in his blood. No matter what, that will always be the case and no matter how much he loves you, Soho will always come first.’

Casey was about to object but as she watched Vaughn walk out of the room without saying a word, something told her Lola might just be right.

The AA meeting in Greek Street was empty, save for an old man and a twenty-something skinny woman whose eyes gave away her hard life. But it wasn’t the people Casey had come to see, it was the sense of support she felt when she walked into the hidden meetings which could be found in every town. These sobriety meetings had saved her life. Stopped her from destroying herself when nothing else could reach her.

But as she’d got better, she’d relaxed, hadn’t bothered attending so many meetings, and that had been fine, but one morning last month she’d woken up and from nowhere the cravings had returned. That overwhelming sense of needing a drink. No matter what. No matter how much it hurt her or anyone else, the need to feel the burn of the alcohol hit the back of her throat had become overwhelming.

The cravings which in the past would’ve led to her putting herself in compromising situations with men and drugs were the demons which had brought her to Soho in the first place. Casey had come searching to put the past right, and whilst doing so had put herself right. Her life had gone from unmanageable to downright good. Life had come together. Her life finally had a purpose, and of course then there was Vaughn. She loved him and that love wouldn’t have been possible if she was still a drunk. A lush. He was again part of the reason she needed to stay sober because if she didn’t, it wouldn’t be a question of
if she
might
lose Vaughn, it would just be a question of
when.

But how could Casey tell him that their life and her sobriety were in danger of collapsing because of a craving? An urge so strong that in the past, when she’d been married to her first husband, she’d found herself sleeping with strangers just to get a drink.

Even at the time Vaughn had never really understood, although he’d tried. Although he’d seen Casey battle to stay sober, he couldn’t really get his head round the fact that booze came before most things, including him at times.

So here she was, sitting in a darkened basement, desperate to keep clean. But it was hard, so hard; if it wasn’t for the relationship with Vaughn she wasn’t sure if she’d have the strength to go another day without having a drink.

8

Casey and Franny sat in Lola’s newly refurbished café in Bateman Street.

‘Well, what do you think, ladies?’ Lola sat down by the two women, admiring her new set up. She’d been proud of it before, but this, she thought,
this
was the dog’s bollocks.

Casey, who’d worked in Lola’s café before she’d met Vaughn, smiled at the flamboyance of the tiny workman’s café. Gold and black chandeliers hung from the ceiling. Bright red tables and chairs had replaced the old wooden ones, the work counters were now a loud zebra print and the walls were painted lime green, with large silver-framed photos of Soho in the Sixties.

‘Well, it’s different.’

Lola grinned proudly. ‘It ain’t quite finished yet, but then I blame Vaughn. Can’t get hold of him. He promised he’d get one of those moose heads for me. I think it’d look lovely over there near the door. What do you think?’

Casey raised her eyebrows, her full red lips twitching with a smile. ‘Tell me you’re kidding.’

Lola looked shocked. ‘Kidding? Why would I do that?’

‘It’s just that … well, don’t you think it might be a bit OTT?’

Lola stood up, clearing the empty tea cups. She shook her head in dismay. ‘You’ve never had any taste, Casey. It’s all the rage; latest thing.’

‘A moose head?’

‘Oh yeah, I saw it in a magazine; they had photos of Hampton Court.’

Casey’s eyes widened. ‘They had a moose head in Hampton Court?’

‘Well it weren’t a moose head exactly; it was a deer’s head. But I’ve never liked them things; their eyes are too close together. Gives me the heebie-jeebies. Anyway, moose, deer; they’re all a bit classy ain’t they? And if Henry the eighth can have one on his palace wall then so can Lola’s café.’ And with that, Lola shuffled off, delighted at the admiration on Franny’s and Casey’s face.

Casey watched Lola for a moment before turning to Franny, her smile not reaching her eyes. ‘How’s your new lodger?’

‘Chloe-Jane?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Messy! I’m sure I was never that bad when I was her age, but then I’m not really surprised; by all accounts she’s hardly had an easy life, she’s had to fend for herself most of it. But she’s sweet. I like her.’

‘How long’s she staying?’

Franny grinned. ‘I dunno, she’s talking about giving me money for her upkeep, I think she’s worried I’m going to kick her out any day soon, poor kid.’

The women fell silent, then, making sure Lola was out of earshot, Franny whispered, ‘What’s going on, Cass?’