Donna Joy Usher - Chanel 02 - Goons 'n' Roses (16 page)

I thought about it. Martine was right. She
had
been a Lorraine when we’d lived in Hickery. She’d worn brown knit cardigans and baggy sweat pants. But now she was hip and modern and much more a Tess.

The chocolate was gone far too quickly and then it was time to call a cab to take us back to the club.

I picked up the tiny Lycra bum bag and pushed the knife into its stretchy fabric. ‘These are cool.’ I pointed at the bags.

‘They’re runners’ bags. You put your phone and keys in them. I thought we could hide them under our shirts.’

I switched my phone to silent – let it not be said that I don’t learn from my mistakes – and squished it into the bag behind the knife. Then I adjusted the elastic strap and clipped it around my waist. I pulled my shirt over it and examined myself in the foyer mirror. You wouldn’t have known the bag was there.

We got the cab to stop a few hundred metres before The Big Blue. We walked the block around the bar, checking for any suspicious vehicles. When we were sure it was clear we huddled in the archway of the building across the road. We would be almost invisible in the shadows, but would be able to see any vehicles that drove around to the back lane.

Five minutes later the employees started leaving, wandering off in small groups of three or four. Once the place was silent and dark, a black Cadillac drove past the front of the bar and turned up the rear alley. I could feel my nerves increasing with its proximity.

Mum was in that car. And I’d be damned if I were going to leave there without her.

Once the car had disappeared from sight, Martine and I rose from our hiding spot. I stretched my legs, partly because I needed to and partly as a delaying tactic. Even though I was determined to save Mum it didn’t mean I wasn’t scared shitless.

‘Show time,’ I said to Martine.

‘Normally I’m excited at the start of a show.’

I looked up at her in the darkness. ‘You don’t need to do this.’

‘What, and let you get all the credit? I don’t think so.’

I smiled. ‘You know what I mean.’

She was quiet for a moment before saying. ‘You guys are my family. And I don’t let bad things happen to my family.’

I could feel the walls of my throat thickening and tears swam in front of my vision. ‘Ditto,’ I said, hugging her.

‘Right,’ Martine said, letting go of me and dashing a hand at her eyes, ‘enough with the emotional crap. We’ve got some Italian arse to kick. What’s the plan?’

‘Really? After all this time, have I ever had a good plan?’

‘I’m waiting for you to say we’re going to go in, grab Mum and get the hell out of there.’

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘That
is
the plan.’

We walked around to the alley and crept slowly up to the back door. The car was still there and I was hoping they had left the door unlocked. They had. This was good, because there was no contingency in my plan for if it were locked.

I opened it far enough to slither through the small gap, hugging the wall once I was inside. It was dark in the back area, but a light shone like a bright line under the far door giving us enough ambient light to see where we were going. That was the door that opened out onto the side of the stage.

My muscles wound tighter and tighter as we inched towards it. I could feel a scream forming inside me. It worked its way up to just below my voice box where it waited to be used. I tried to slow my heartbeat. It, however, didn’t think slowing down was such a good idea. It raced so fast that I felt exhausted before we even got there.

We paused at the door while I summoned up the courage to open it. I’m not sure exactly what Martine was doing but I suspect by the muttering that she was praying.

What would be waiting for us?

Several possible scenarios flashed before my eyes but I shoved them to the back of my mind. None of them had happy endings.

I took a deep breath and twisted the handle, pulling the door towards us. I stuck my head out the opening and looked around. There was nobody there.

We crept from the open door to the stage curtain and hid within its voluminous folds. I couldn’t hear anything except my blood pounding in my ears. I stuck my head around the curtain and sucked in a breath.

Mum was in the middle of the stage, slumped in a chair. Her hands were bound behind her back and her hair flowed over her face.

I watched her nervously, checking behind us for any goons that might be skulking there. We appeared to be all alone.

It was far too easy.

It felt like a trap.

It looked like a trap.

It probably was a trap.

But I didn’t know what else to do but grab her and run. Hopefully they weren’t expecting us. We could be outside and gone before they even realised it.

I broke from my hiding spot at the edge of the stage and sprinted to her. ‘Mum,’ I hissed, lifting her head up.

Her eyes were closed and her head fell forwards again as soon as I released it. She was unconscious.

I tried to control my anger. Those bastards had hurt her. They’d hurt my mother.

‘Is she okay?’ Martine whispered behind me.

I looked back at her and shook my head.

She scuttled forwards till she was standing next to me. ‘I’ll carry her.’ She reached down and scooped Mum up, cradling her gently against her chest.

We moved back to the curtains and I checked all around us. Nothing. I couldn’t believe we were going to get away with this. I mean really. I had expected some sort of confrontation.

I had the start of a grin on my face as we broke from the cover of the curtains and headed back towards the door. They were going to be scratching their heads trying to work out where Mum had gone.

And
that
was when Mickey and Riley stepped through the far door. They were both wearing neck braces. They were also holding guns.

Oh shit.

Mickey clapped his hands together a few times. ‘Impressive,’ he said.

‘Hi boys. Fancy meeting you here.’ I’d gone for false bravado, but my voice cracked halfway and I only managed falsetto.

Riley gestured towards the chair with his gun. ‘Put her down.’

Martine deposited Mum gently back in the chair and turned to face Riley. ‘How’s your neck?’ she asked.

‘None of ya business.’

I glanced sideways at Martine wondering if she were thinking what
I
was. They wouldn’t be very nimble with those neck braces on. If we were lucky, we could jump off the stage and get to the front door before they shot us. Then we were going to have to call the cops. Surely they couldn’t
all
be crooked.

I turned my head to look at Mum.

She was gone.

‘Run,’ Martine screeched. Her arms fluttered about her as she whirled on her pump sneakers. She stopped with her arms in the air, a look of shock on her face.

Mum was standing farther back on the stage, the barrel of her gun pointed at Martine.

‘You’d be the easiest to hit,’ she said, her American accent still strong.

What the hell was going on? Was this a ploy on her part to make them think she was on their side so we could all get away? But if it were – where had the gun come from?

I couldn’t get my head around it, because I was unable to comprehend the truth. When I did, it hit me in the chest like a high-speed train.

She had betrayed us.

‘What the fuck?’ I said.

She tisked. ‘Language, language.’

‘Why? You say it.’ I was suddenly very angry. All of the shit Martine and I had been through over the last couple of days for her to pull a stunt like this.

‘I do?’ She let out a trill laugh. ‘I
am
a naughty girl.’

Barney Stilton came through the door from the back offices. ‘That was fast,’ he said, walking up the stairs. ‘Now the game begins.’

He stopped at the top and licked his hand, running it over his head to pin down a piece of hair brave enough to escape the layer of grease.

‘What game?’ Martine asked.

We heard a scuffle break out behind us. By the time we looked back at Mickey and Riley they were gone. There were a few grunts and groans, and I heard an oooff as the curtains swayed with the movement of bodies on the other side.

Then the curtains went still and Trent walked around the edge, an uzi in one hand.

‘Put down your weapons,’ he said.

And then another voice, as familiar as my own, said, ‘Hello Hillary,’ and Mum – my
real
Mum – stepped around the curtain. The stage lights blazed off her brilliant red hair.

‘Hello Tess,’ the blonde woman said.

I stared between the two of them, my mouth flapping open and closed like a puppet’s. Apart from the hair and the accent they were identical.

‘What the fuck?’ I said again.

‘Hello darling,’ Mum said. ‘I see you’ve met your Aunt.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Well, I’m a little busy at the moment.’ She had her gun trained on Hillary.

‘I took her home,’ I said, waving a hand at Hillary. ‘I slept beside her.’

‘It was really very sweet,’ Hillary drawled.

‘Shut up,’ I said. ‘I’m talking to my mother.’ I turned back to Mum. ‘You couldn’t let us know that you were safe? We’ve been worried sick, and you have no
idea
what shit we’ve been through trying to find you.’

She looked confused for a moment before saying, ‘But darling. I sent you a tweet to let you know.’

‘A tweet?’ I was surprised my voice hadn’t shattered the chandelier. ‘A fucking tweet?’

‘We thought it was the only safe way to communicate with you.’

I shook my head. ‘Our phones were stolen and we’ve been a bit busy to go to an internet café to peruse Twitter.’

‘But… you answered. You told me to be here tonight.’

There was a long pause and then Martine and I both said, ‘Oh fuck.’

We knew who had my phone.

This
was the real trap.

Hillary let out a low chuckle and then Boris came through the door from the back. He had Big H with him, a gun shoved into his side. The other two goons were right behind. They were all wearing neck braces.

They pointed their weapons at Mum and Trent, and Boris said, ‘Drop ‘em.’

‘What’s with all the neck braces?’ Trent asked, placing his gun on the ground and his hands in the air.

‘I told you,’ I said, ‘we’ve been busy.’

Big H came over to stand with us. ‘What are you doing here?’ I asked.

He pulled a face and said, ‘I tried to tell you about Hillary but you wouldn’t listen. So I came here tonight to try to warn you.’

‘I thought you were going to tell me I was related to Barney,’ I said.

‘That
would
be distressing.’

Barney prodded Big H in the back with the barrel of his gun. ‘Shut up wise guy.’ He turned to look at me and laughed. ‘And you… too stupid to realise we could see you on the hallway security camera, creeping around out the back.’

‘So you knew I was in the room when you made the phone call?’

‘What phone call?’

‘It was a fake?’ I wondered if they also knew I had copied the list of girl’s names. It didn’t sound like the camera’s view extended into the office.

Big H turned to Mum. ‘Lookin’ good Tess.’

‘I thought you’d gotten out of this lark.’

‘What can I say,’ he spread his hands. ‘I missed the excitement.’

‘This is Trent. Trent this is Big H.’ She gestured between the two men.

‘The Mob boss,’ Trent said, nodding his head.

‘Ex-Mob boss.’

‘What do you think this is?’ Hillary asked. ‘A fucking re-union?’

‘That’s exactly what it is,’ Mum said. ‘I mean, I haven’t seen you since…’

There was a strained silence.

‘Go on,’ Hillary said angrily, ‘spit it out. You know you want to.’

‘Is that what this is all about?’ Mum asked.

‘They dug up the ornate garden a few months back.’

Mum’s mouth formed a soundless ‘O’. She looked at Hillary for a few more moments and then said, ‘You don’t remember much about that night do you?’ She laughed, air snorting out her nose as she shook her head. ‘If you did, you would know there was no
way
I would testify.’

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Hillary said.

‘All of this – the competition – was a set-up to get me here? Well, I’m here. Let’s talk.’

‘Unfortunately your daughter stuck her pretty little nose in and now it’s about more than that.’

Mum and Trent turned to look at me and I said, ‘I have no idea what she’s talking about.’ If they didn’t know I had the list I wasn’t going to let them know how much I knew.

Hillary shook her head and turned to the Russians. ‘What are we going to do with them?’

‘Ve’ll take them to ours. No-one vill hear them there.’

I could feel panic starting to churn in my stomach at the thought of going back into that dungeon. I knew that if we went in there, we wouldn’t be coming back out.

‘Barney,’ Hillary snapped, ‘sort out Mickey and Riley. We’ll need to take two cars.’

And just like that I realised who The Rose was. It wasn’t Barney at all. It was sweet Aunt Hillary.

***

I thought it was game over for our team, as they rounded us up. And then Boo Boo pulled open the door onto the stage. He was wearing blue-spotted pants and holding the uzi. It was the first time I’d seen him in clothes. Crafty was right behind him, wearing his wig and carrying the little gun.

‘Put ya hands up,’ Crafty barked. I got the feeling, by the fierce grin on his face, that he’d always wanted to say that.

The Russians started to put their hands in the air, but Riley barked out a laugh. ‘It’s a fake,’ he said. He put his hand out to Boo Boo. ‘Hand it over monkey.’

‘Uhoh. Ya shouldna said that,’ Crafty said. ‘He
hates
being called a monkey.’

Boo Boo aimed the muzzle of the barrel towards the empty seating and pulled the trigger. Bullets sprayed out, thudding into the soft leather upholstery of the chairs, and everyone ducked.

‘Run,’ I screamed, taking advantage of the temporary confusion, and I took off towards the back door.

I could hear Crafty’s shoes farting as he raced ahead of me. Boo Boo finished firing, slung the gun over his shoulder and followed me. I heard a gun bark and ducked, wincing as I waited for the impact of the bullet with my flesh. I checked under my arm for Boo Boo but he was still ambling behind, a cheeky grin on his face.