Broke (22 page)

‘Yeah, in your dreams,’ scoffed another girl, heading towards the door. She yanked it open and stopped in her tracks when she saw Amy. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

Too spaced out to be bothered to answer, Amy stared back at her without speaking. Recognising a fellow junkie, the girl smiled slowly. ‘Got any gear on you?’

Before Amy could respond, Yates called her name and waved for her to come to the office. She pushed herself away from the wall and walked towards him, the old woman’s voice floating along behind her: ‘Did I ever tell you girls about the time I visited the Earl of Whatjamacallit in his castle? Bedroom as big as this whole place – and a todger to match . . .’

In the office, a fat Asian man was sitting behind the desk. He looked Amy up and down when she came in, then smiled and waved for her to sit on the sofa against the wall.

‘Well?’ Yates raised an eyebrow.

‘Very nice.’ The man stood up and came around the desk to shake his hand.

Yates turned to Amy. ‘Right, I’m off. I’ll pick you up at five. Do as Mani tells you – and no messing about or there’ll be trouble.’

Mani locked the door behind him and turned back to Amy with a leering smile on his flabby wet lips.

‘Right, then, blondie.’ He unzipped his fly. ‘Let’s see if you’re as good as he says you are.’

PART TWO

SIX MONTHS LATER

20

Two letters had arrived that morning, and Amy had read and reread them several times throughout the day. But she still couldn’t get her head around them.

Decree Absolute . . .

She stared at the words and wondered why solicitors could never speak in plain English. Why not just get straight to the point and say:
Ha! Loser! He don’t love you no more!
Because that was effectively what it meant.

She screwed the letter into a ball and hurled it at the wall. It bounced off and landed inches away from the other one: the one informing her that Mark had been granted temporary custody of the children and that, due to her unreasonable behaviour and continued abuse of illegal substances, access – if allowed – would be restricted to a secure location, under strict supervision.

Bastards! Dirty, lying, fucking bastards!

Clean yourself up and come to court
, they’d said.
The judge will see that you’re making an effort and be more inclined to view your situation kindly
.

And Amy had tried, she really had. She’d dressed nicely, and had tried to stay calm and speak politely even when they were saying horrible things about her. But if her own mother hadn’t been able to bear to look at her, she’d stood no chance with the officials.

‘
You should be ashamed of yourself
,’ her mother had said when they left court. ‘
I didn’t bring you up to be a tramp, but that’s exactly what you’ve become. And I’m glad Mark and Jenny have got the children
,’ she had added as a cruel parting shot. ‘
At least they know how to look after them properly
.’

Her hands shaking violently as the memory replayed itself in her mind, Amy snatched up the blackened strip of tinfoil and tipped the last of her heroin onto it. Then, stuffing the rolled-up note she’d taken from Cassie’s old Monopoly game into her mouth, she held her lighter flame beneath the foil and greedily sucked up the smoke.

It took effect quickly and she slumped back in her seat, sighing as the anger and pain began to drift away. It had been ages since she’d seen the kids, and she hated Mark for making it so difficult. But she’d deal with him later.

When she was better.

And she
would
get better.

Eventually.

When people stopped making her life hell.

She was still gouched out when Yates walked in a short time later, and he booted her in the leg.

‘Oi! Get the fuck up. You’re gonna be late.’

‘Ugh?’ Amy peeled her eyes open and gazed blearily up at him.

‘Look at the state of you,’ he spat. ‘How many times have I told you to lay off the gear till you’ve finished work? Think the punters want to look at
that
when they’re trying to get their ends away?’

Amy was wasted, but not so wasted that she didn’t know better than to argue.

‘Get up the stairs!’ he growled, dragging her off the couch and hurling her towards the door. ‘And make sure you get a proper wash, ’cos you fuckin’ stink,’ he added, booting her in the arse as she stumbled into the hall. ‘Rate you’re going, you’ll still be turning tricks from your fuckin’ grave before you’ve paid me back, you piss-taking slag!’

Properly awake now, Amy scuttled up to the bathroom and dashed water over her face before running into the bedroom and changing into a short skirt and low top – both of which were stained, but they’d be coming off soon enough, so she didn’t care. Lastly, she spritzed her underarms and mouth with perfume before running back down to where Yates was waiting in the hall.

He pushed her out of the door and walked her swiftly to the car. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Marnie come out onto her step and quickly dropped the scowl as he shoved Amy onto the passenger seat.

‘At it again?’ Marnie asked.

Yates gave a
what-can-you-do?
kind of shrug.

‘You’re a bloody saint,’ said Marnie, shaking her head in disgust.

She herself had long since given up on Amy. Every word that came out of her mouth was a lie, and the one time Marnie had made the mistake of feeling sorry for her and letting her in for a brew Amy had nicked a tenner off the mantelpiece on her way out.

‘I can only try,’ Yates said humbly as he headed around to his side of the car. ‘See you later.’

‘Are you coming round?’

‘If I can.’ Yates winked, waved, and hopped into the car.

Amy glowered out at Marnie as they set off. The bitch thought that Amy didn’t know she was shagging Yates, but little did she know that Yates had told Amy all about it. It was all part of the game to him, and he got a kick out of knowing that the neighbours had fallen for his
innocent-boyfriend-trying-to-keep-his-wayward-woman-on-the-straight-and-narrow
act. If Marnie did but know it, Amy was actually grateful that she’d taken some of Yates’s attention away from her. He hadn’t stopped sleeping with Amy altogether, but any day that he wasn’t forcing himself on her was a good day.

Amy couldn’t, however, so easily forgive Marnie for the rest of it. Once, way back in the agonising weeks after Mark had first snatched the kids and Amy was at rock-bottom, she’d broken down and spilled her guts to Marnie. But instead of supporting her, the back-stabbing bitch had relayed every word to Yates, earning Amy the beating of her life. And now Marnie looked at her as if she was a piece of shit – as did everyone else who was supposed to care about her. And they wondered why she needed the smack to keep her going.

When Yates dropped her off outside
Hawaii
a short time later, Amy rushed inside. As much as she still hated the actual work, she did enjoy coming here. Not only because it was the only time she ever got out of the house now that Yates had more or less moved in, but also because it felt good to talk to the other girls without being sneered at and looked down on.

‘Evening.’ Kelvin, the doorman, smiled as he let her in. ‘And how are you tonight?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ Amy smiled back. ‘You?’

‘Can’t complain.’ He shrugged. ‘See you later.’

‘Yeah, see you.’ Amy waved and tripped up the stairs.

Kelvin was a nice man, and
very
good-looking. The other girls were always flirting with him and going on about what they’d like to do to him given the chance, but Amy didn’t dare get too friendly in case Yates found out. She’d made the mistake of saying hello to a male neighbour a while back, and Yates had battered her before threatening to petrol bomb the man’s house. It had taken ages to convince him that she wasn’t flirting with the man, and she’d never made the same mistake again.

As usual, Betty Bullshit was holding court in the staffroom, ever-present cigarette holder clamped between her yellow teeth. She had been on the game for ever and swore she was only fifty, but they all knew she was closer to seventy. Rumour had it that she’d been the mistress of Mani’s father and that was why Mani kept her on despite it being several years since any of the punters had so much as sniffed in her direction. Whether or not that was true, her ludicrous stories brightened what would otherwise be a dismal job.

‘Ah, here she is.’ Betty broke off from her current story when she spotted Amy. ‘Shove the kettle on, there’s a good girl. And drop a nip of this in mine.’ She pulled a small bottle of whisky out from between her gargantuan breasts and tossed it to Amy. ‘So, where were we?’ She picked up her thread. ‘Oh, yes . . . Well, I was whipping Frank with my suspender belt, when Elvis wakes up . . .’

‘Know who she’s talking about, don’t you?’ Ella whispered, joining Amy at the sink as she filled the kettle. ‘Only reckons Frank Sinatra flew her to LA for a threesome with Elvis.’

‘Really?’ Amy raised an eyebrow.

‘As if!’ Ella snorted. ‘Must be fuckin’ nice being her, though, eh? Living in a land of total make-believe.’

‘She’s harmless,’ Amy murmured, glancing quickly back over her shoulder to make sure no one was eavesdropping. ‘Did you get it?’

Ella nodded and slipped a tiny wrap into her hand. ‘Don’t forget to pay us before you go, though, ’cos I need to pay my guy first thing.’

‘I won’t,’ Amy promised, slipping the wrap into her bra. If she’d been brave enough she’d have smoked some in the loo, but there was no way she was risking it while Mani was prowling around. The man had a nose like a sniffer dog on heat and, while anything else might go in here, drugs were an absolute no-no and anyone caught using on the premises would be out on their arse in a flash – and Yates would kill Amy if that happened.

‘Well, we laughed so much,’ Betty was saying when Amy handed her tea over a few minutes later. ‘I said, Elvis, you’d better bloody stop or I’m not gonna be able to walk by the time you’ve finished.’

‘Who’s Elvis?’ Trudy, the youngest girl, asked, still soaking it all up like a sponge despite having been told a thousand times that it was all rubbish.

‘Presley,’ Betty told her. ‘The undisputed king of rock and roll.’

‘You’ve shagged a
king
?’

‘Oh, for God’s sake.’ Ella shook her head and rolled her eyes at Amy.

Amy smiled and settled down to drink her tea.

Mani walked in a few minutes later and demanded to know why they were all still sitting here gassing.

‘Punters are queuing up round the block out there,’ he said, clapping his hands together. ‘Come on . . . get moving.’

Amy finished her brew and wandered down the corridor to her room. A few minutes later, a tap came at the door. Sighing, she said, ‘Come in, Jimmy.’

‘How d’you know it was me?’ the man asked as he sidled in.

‘You’re the only one who ever knocks,’ Amy told him. ‘What’s it to be?’

‘Usual, please.’ Jimmy closed the door and fumbled with his belt.

Amy turned her back to take her top off. When she turned round, Jimmy was already naked and lying on the bed, worm in hand, racing heartbeat causing his paper-thin chest to vibrate visibly. He was by far the gentlest and most polite of the punters, but his puny body and rotten teeth disgusted her.

‘Can you do a special?’ he asked huskily when she straddled him.

Amy swallowed the bile that had risen into her throat and shuffled up the bed on her knees until she was squatting over his face.

‘Do it,’ he gasped.

‘I’m trying,’ she muttered.

‘
Please
,’ he urged. ‘I’ll give you an extra twenty.’

Amy squeezed her eyes shut. This was so humiliating, but the extra money meant that she’d be able to pay Ella for the gear instead of sneaking out at the end of her shift as she’d intended.

‘Oh, thank you,’ Jimmy moaned as the hot liquid began to trickle over his ecstatic face. ‘Thank you so much.’

Kelvin was outside having a cigarette when Yates pulled up at five a.m. He waved, dropped the fag, and went back inside to tell Amy her ride was here.

‘You look done in,’ he said, watching from the staffroom door as she slipped her shoes on and reached for her jacket.

‘I’m wiped,’ she agreed, covering a yawn with her hand.

‘Your man don’t look too happy,’ Kelvin warned her quietly. ‘Gave me a right stare just now. You gonna be all right?’

Amy shrugged and stood up. There was no way of knowing until Yates showed his hand. Sometimes he was fine, but more often than not a wrong look or word could send him into a violent rage. The beatings she could handle, but it was torture when he punished her for whatever he thought she’d done by withholding her fix. Still, she had the wrap Ella had given her, so she’d be all right tonight.

‘Take it easy,’ Kelvin said now as he walked ahead of her down the stairs.

Amy nodded and rushed out with her head down. As soon as she climbed into the car she knew that Kelvin had been right about Yates being in a mood. He was drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, and his eyes had the too-bright gleam that told her he’d been doing coke. Aware that it pissed him off when she moved too much, she sat rigid in her seat.

Yates drove home in silence, then followed Amy inside and slammed the door shut.

‘How many did you do tonight?’

‘Eleven or twelve.’ Already trembling, Amy rubbed at her arms and gazed up at him nervously.

‘You taking the piss?’

‘No. That’s all the men who came. Honest.’

‘You lazy fucking
bitch
!’ Yates snarled, spittle flying out through his clenched teeth and splattering her face. He seized her by the throat and slammed her up against the wall. ‘Think this is a game? Think I ain’t got better things to do than chase after my fuckin’ money week in, week out?’

‘It’s not my fault,’ Amy squealed, struggling to breathe as he squeezed ever harder. ‘Please, Lenny, I did my best. But Mani rotates them so all the girls get the same.’