The Good Life (6 page)

‘Do you live here? I mean, is this your wife’s home too?’

He laughed. ‘You’re joking, darling! If my wife knew I was here with you I’d be looking for someone with a bollock donor card! No, this is my little pied à terre, for when I’m in town and can’t get back.’

She smiled, the wine making her even more mellow along with the brandy. ‘So this is where you bring your girlfriends, then.’

He leered at her saucily. ‘Got it in one, darling. I don’t think my old woman would be too thrilled if I brought them round the house!’

He was beautiful, and she didn’t care if he was using her. There was something about this man that made her feel like never before. She felt looser somehow, but she guessed rightly that was the wine and the brandy as well as Cain’s company. If all she got was one night then that is how it had to be but, for the first time in her life, she was aware of herself, and the power she had over someone. Men had looked at her all her short life, and she had been wary. Knowing her mother’s life would never be for her, she had fought to be respectable.

But tonight she didn’t care about any of that. Tonight she wanted this man with a vengeance. He made her feel fantastic, and she could happily look at him for hours, admiring him. He was, quite simply, beautiful.

Standing up, she said softly, ‘OK then.’

And, lifting her dress over her head, she stood before him in her cheap underwear from Romford Market and her plastic leather-look high heels. He had never wanted a woman more. She was stunning, a real one-off, and he felt as if all his birthdays and Christmases had come at once. Picking her up, he carried her happily to the big bed that was waiting for them so patiently.

Five minutes later he realised she was a virgin, and his whole world collapsed.

‘Why didn’t you fucking tell me you were a virgin?’

Jenny was so caught up in the moment she wasn’t sure how to react. ‘I assumed you knew.’ Then the rot set in her head and she said angrily, ‘Oh, I get it. You assumed I was like my mum, and your mum, if what you said is true. Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I’ve never been with anybody.’ She felt so humiliated; she had given herself to him and he had shouted at her!

Cain was in a quandary. Jenny had moved the goal posts and, as he looked down at her lovely face, he made a decision. Taking a deep breath, he said quietly, ‘It’s an honour, darling.’

As he kissed her, he wondered just what he was getting himself into. But, fuck it, he was a man and what man could resist this? And her a virgin to boot. It would take a much stronger person than him to walk away.

Cain was in a very good mood and, as he swung his four-year-old son into the air, he was well aware of just why he was feeling like this. He kept getting flashbacks to the night before. That Jenny, what a raver she had turned out to be! He couldn’t believe his luck.

Oh, he loved Caroline, and he adored his lad, but there wasn’t that excitement there with his wife. Caroline was a lot of things, but she wasn’t pliable or dependent on him. That had been her attraction in the first place; she was very good-looking and she was hard as a rock, which is what you needed if you lived this lifestyle. If the house was raided she would take little Michael out of the way, and keep her trap shut, no matter what was said to her. She knew the score and she accepted it.

His Jenny, though, was a different person altogether. She was vulnerable and she was gentle and he knew she trusted in him completely. It was heady stuff to a man like him.

He wondered briefly if he was falling in love with her. Over the last few weeks he had seen Jenny as often as he could, meeting her all over the Smoke. He had also given her money to buy new clothes although she had refused it. She could be a really indignant little mare when the fancy took her. He had even organised a job for her at one of his mate’s offices so she could earn a few quid.

Johnny knew about her, but no one else. Johnny Mac could see the attraction, but he had also cautioned Cain; he knew the trouble women on the side could cause.

Especially with a wife like his Caroline. She was a wonderful mother, a brilliant housekeeper, and a blinding cook. Caroline was a beauty as well, but then that was a given − he wouldn’t want her otherwise. She was good in that she accepted he had indiscretions − she was a realist − but a permanent fixture she would never tolerate. She was too powerful a personality for that, had too much pride and who could blame her? She had a mouth on her, and she could use it; half the fun of their marriage was the making up after a good set-to. Caroline gave as good as she got, and she didn’t take any shit from him or anyone else.

Well, he wanted them both. What man wouldn’t? They were like chalk and cheese, but each one held an attraction for him. But there was no denying Jenny Riley had got under his skin, and he couldn’t envisage his life without her. The die was cast.

Once Jamie Jones decided on something he saw it through to the bitter end and, right now, he was a man on a mission.

This was his first foray into the world of clubs, and with it came the necessary introduction into the drugs trade. It was a lucrative business and it needed to be controlled properly on the premises. That meant bouncers who were alert to unauthorised dealers getting in on the game, and making sure the dealers you did use were only providing the drugs you provided for them. It was a fraught business, but very lucrative. He knew he would need a good team, and he was hand picking the men himself. With Cain Moran’s OK, of course.

He liked Moran, and his funny sidekick Johnny Mac. Best friends since they were kids, they were more like brothers, even though Johnny Mac was black. His huge Afro made him look amiable but it was a mistake to underestimate him. He was wiry, but he was a strong little fucker and there was a hard streak that ran through him; anyone who didn’t see that was a fool. For all his smiling and clowning around, his eyes were everywhere and he missed nothing.

There were rumours that he swung both ways − boys and girls. But that was just speculation, and not anyone’s business except his. What he did in the comfort and safety of his own home was his affair. Still Jamie knew that in their circles that could be perceived as a weakness. Too feminine a trait for the men around him. Most of the people in their world were there because they were overtly masculine − it was what made them so feared. Personally he couldn’t give a flying fuck what people did in their private lives; Christ knew, everyone had their secrets, him included.

Now that ponce Richie was off the scene they could settle down and start making some money. The first step was to persuade Micky Platt to take over the drug operations for him, leaving Jamie free to sort out everything else. The hardest job was going to be convincing people to part with their premises, or take them in as partners. Cain Moran was confident that everyone would see the sense in doing what he called the right thing, but Jamie wasn’t so sure. Asking people to give them an in, or take their businesses outright, wasn’t going to be easy, and it would need tact, diplomacy and, in extreme cases, a sawn-off shotgun.

But it could be done and, once it was over, Cain Moran would be the number one and that was ultimately what this was all about. Control the pavements, the clubs and the drugs, and you controlled your world. It was as simple as that.

Taking over from competitors wasn’t unusual; it happened all the time from taxi ranks to burger stalls. It was about having the monopoly − if they had the main clubs under their guidance it would be like printing their own money. This new generation wasn’t like their forebears. They wanted a night out, they wanted to spend money and they wanted the best DJs and the best bands. And, of course, the best recreational drugs.

On the plus side it meant no heroin or opiates would be in the mix. They were street drugs and not for the youngsters who were looking for a good time. They wanted amphetamines and grass, either green or on the block, Afghan Black, Lebanese gold. And, of course, LSD for the real ravers.

No, this was going to be a real cull. In one fell swoop they would be controlling everything in London and the surrounding areas. Southend alone was worth millions, that went without saying. It was a clubbers’ paradise for the kids of Essex and they were nearest to the docks so always had the first refusal of the drugs brought in. They were used to the best and knew a rip-off when they saw it. Speed, especially, had been cut more times than a samurai soldier by the time it hit the London clubs.

Tonight they were having their first meet with Micky Platt, known as Micky Two Fags because he smoked like a chimney and only ever had two fags in his packet − whether by design no one was really sure. But it was a name that had stuck since his school days. Micky Platt didn’t like Cain Moran; in fact, Micky Platt didn’t like anyone. He was a hard, pig-headed individual, so this wasn’t going to be an easy sell. But it was what it was. Only time would tell.

Micky Platt had never been so insulted in his life. How dare that cunt Cain Moran offer him an out from his own club? From his own premises? Outrageous was the only word for it.

‘You must be on something, Cain, if you think I will just roll over and give you my fucking livelihood without a fucking fight.’

Cain had been expecting this reaction so he let the man vent his spleen.

‘You come waltzing in here like you already own the place, telling me what I can and can’t fucking do? Can you hear yourself?’

Cain looked at Jamie Jones and Johnny Mac: both men were tight-lipped and following his lead as he knew they would. Micky Two Fags was going to be the hardest nut to crack, but once he had capitulated all the others would follow. It was why they had approached him first.

‘Listen to me, Micky. This is non-negotiable, mate. I’m not asking you to sell to me − I’m telling you. I will pay you the fair market price, for goodwill et cetera. Unfortunately for you, I need your premises, and that’s the bottom line. Harsh, but I am just being honest. You
will
sell to me eventually. Because I’m determined, Micky.’

Micky Two Fags was almost apoplectic. ‘Oh, no, I fucking won’t! I don’t care how many fucking thugs you bring with you. I saw the others getting out of the cars, your little show of force. Well, you don’t fucking scare me, you lairy cunt.’

Cain stood up and, sighing heavily, he said calmly, ‘Well, I should scare you, Micky, because I always get what I want. And I want this place.’

Johnny Mac and Jamie Jones stood up then too, and Micky Two Fags saw what he was up against. But he didn’t care. This was his club and it would stay that way.

‘Fuck you, Moran.’

Cain grinned nastily. ‘Not even if you asked me extra nicely. Be seeing you, Micky.’

After the men left, Micky found that he was shaking − how much was in anger and how much was in fear he didn’t know. What he
did
know was that losing his club was inevitable; it was just whether he would fold sooner rather than later. Picking up his Benson & Hedges, he opened the packet and it was empty. Screwing the box up in his hand he threw it across his office, cursing Cain Moran into the ground as he did so.

Cain snuck into his house at twenty-five past three in the morning. As he tip-toed through the giant hallway he got the fright of his life to see his wife sitting on the large staircase waiting for him.

‘You’re home, then?’

Cain knew that tone of voice and his heart sank. Caroline was up for a fight, and one of her fights could go on till the next day. If only he could delay the row until after he had had a few hours’ kip. If she was pissed, then fireworks were guaranteed even over something trivial, but he had been out of the house for thirty-six hours. Even though he had not exactly expected a brass band welcoming him home, he had anticipated her being tucked up in bed.

Holding his hands up as if she was pointing a gun at him, he said reasonably, ‘Calm down, Caroline.’

She started to laugh hysterically. ‘Calm down you say? Aren’t you Mr Reasonable And Kind?’

Then the expensive crystal wineglass she’d been nursing whizzed by his head and she was off the stairs and launching herself at him, all the time screaming expletives and attempting to claw his eyes out.

‘Who is she? Who is it can keep you out this fucking long?’ She was enormously strong, so great was her anger. ‘I will fucking kill you and then her. So come on, clever bollocks, tip it up. Who is she?’

Cain grabbed her hands and pulled her into his arms, enveloping her in a great bear hug, using all his considerable strength to try to keep her still, despite her kicking and struggling. Eventually, after about five minutes, she started to calm down.

He had not said a word to her, knowing his voice would be like a red rag to a bull at this precise moment in time. He could feel her heart beating fast, and he was genuinely sorry for causing her so much distress. She was sobbing against his chest now and he hugged her to him, kissing her hair and neck. She always smelled so nice, did Caroline. Her thick hair was loose and he enjoyed the feel of it on his face.

She didn’t deserve the grief he was giving her, but he couldn’t help himself. God forgive him, even now he wished he was holding his Jenny in his arms and, as disloyal as that was, he had to acknowledge the truth of it.

‘Where have you been, Cain?’

Judging it safe to release his hold on her, he looked down at her face and said as honestly as he could, ‘I’ve been working, Caroline. I’ve got a delicate deal going . . .’

Before he could finish his sentence she had kneed him in the groin with all her might. As he bent forward in agony she spat in his face.

‘I will get to the bottom of it, Cain, and if you have a bird
bird
, you will regret it to your dying day.’ With that she turned and went up the stairs to her bed.

Left in the darkness of the hallway, Cain knew that he had to cool it with Jenny − at least for the time being.

The following day, Johnny Mac thought the story was the funniest thing he had ever heard.