“Keep telling yourself that, treasure.”
“Now now, children,” Charlie said to Eric and Betsy. “We don’t need to hear any fucking more about your sordid history. Spare us, please. It was hard enough to deal with when it was happening. This constant tug of war you both now engage in is fucking tiring.”
“And that’s what it is. History.” Betsy went to the bar and poured herself a large glass of wine. Eric’s eyes tracked her the entire way, that same possessive look on his face that he always got around her. Fucking psychos, the two of them. Like Fred and Nancy or some other toxic bollocks. Couldn’t be together, couldn’t be apart.
Betsy ignored Eric and dropped a kiss on Vinnie’s head as she passed, then dropped one on “Pearl’s”. “Vinnie, Pearl, you both okay?” she asked, like it wasn’t fucked up we all just pretended my sister was still here with us.
Vinnie smiled as wide as a fucking clown. “We’re good, Bets. Pearl says hello.”
“I miss you, Pearlie-girl.” The truth of Betsy’s statement shone through her face, before she schooled her expression and sat directly opposite Eric, glaring at him as she sipped her wine. Betsy and Pearl had been inseparable as kids. As close to each other and Vera as the fellas were to me. I thought the reason she played along with Vinnie’s hallucinations so well was because she couldn’t bear to accept that Pearl was truly gone either.
Ronnie grabbed her drink and lit her cigar. She sat down on a chair beside the fire. Vera sat on her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around her girlfriend. “And what’s it tonight?” Vera asked. Both she and Ronnie always dressed in suits—waistcoats and pocket watches included. They were fucking good fighters, good shots too, but our old men would never let women into our firm. They were old school and believed women needed to stay at home. It came from the fact that the only woman left out of all our mothers was my grandma. The rest had been killed, killed themselves or fucked off years ago, unable to cope with this life.
It took a certain kind of person to thrive in this fucked-up underworld. Dad didn’t believe women were made for the gangster life. One look at these three and anyone could see that was bullshit. But there was no convincing him otherwise. If I was in charge, I’d have them fighting by my side in a second.
“Russians.” I downed my gin. “Negotiating the routes for the new shipment of meth we just secured.”
“East dock would be best to use for the Reds,” Ronnie said, her hand slipping through Vera’s long blond hair. She said it helped her think. Ronnie’s dark hair was cut short and fell in waves like something from the 1940’s. Her dark eyes were lost in thought. She was Jamaican in heritage, but born in London, and a cockney girl through and through. Her and Vera had been together for a few years now. Ronnie had a fucking genius mind for this business shit. But the fact she had a twat made her a no-go to our fathers.
“Artie?” Dad said, coming through the door, Saville Row suit and hat in place. “You lot ready?”
I got to my feet, as did Eric, Charlie, Freddie and Vinnie. The girls raised their glasses at us in goodbye, and we fell into step behind our old men. We got into the van. I sat next to my dad, as always.
“We’ll go in. You guys watch the front for the Old Bill,” my dad said as we pulled out of the church grounds.
“I should be in the meeting with you,” I said. Charlie nodded from the opposite seat.
“These arseholes are old school. Wouldn’t take well to you being there just yet. It’ll be a quick meeting, then we’ll go for food.” My dad smirked at my scowling face. “You already gunning for my crown, Artie?”
I shook my head. “No, but these wankers are fucking dodgy. Have been for a while. You should have more back-up in the room than just you lot. I’ve been hearing about splits in their families, factions breaking apart and wanting other things than the usual shit of drugs and guns.” All the old men were looking at me, amused. It just pissed me the fuck off. “We should be sure we’re prepared for whatever they might pull. Kill them if we need to.”
“Alf, his bloodlust is on another level from even yours,” my Uncle Trevor said. He was Dad’s brother, Charlie and Betsy’s dad.
“Don’t I know it,” Dad joked, but his smile at me was proud as fuck. I turned and kept my gaze locked on our route to the old warehouse at the east docks. They might think me young, but I studied our “associates”. I knew more about the changing underworld than even Dad gave me credit for.
We came to a stop. The Reds were already inside the old warehouse. We all piled out. “Stay out front, fellas. Keep watch,” my dad said.
I grabbed his arm. “We should have had soldiers here. We haven’t got enough men if something happens. We’re too unprotected. We should never be unprotected.”
Dad put his hand on my shoulder. “Artie, I’ve known Alexei and Sergei for years. This is a gentlemen’s meeting. That’s all. No need for fucking soldiers.” He put his hand on my face. “Son, you need to stop being so fucking dire about everything. We might live a fucked-up life, but there’s a code to it all. Morals in our own messed-up ways.”
“Things change,” I warned.
“Artie. Enough.”
With that they walked into the warehouse. Me and my boys moved in front of the warehouse doors to stand watch. It was raining; the sky was drizzly and fucking grey, a smoky mist hovering over the ground. The few lampposts scattered around the dock gave off hardly any light in the fog.
I pulled out a cig and sparked it up. I took a long drag, trying to listen to whatever was happening inside. “We’re going to get fucking drenched out here,” Eric complained, cupping his hands and blowing hot breath into them. “I’m freezing my massive bollocks off.”
“The only gangster in London who can be defeated by the cold,” Charlie said, smirking at Eric. Eric held up his middle finger.
The sound of raised voices inside suddenly made me tense. I locked eyes with Freddie beside me. His face told me he didn’t like the sound of this either. Each of my brothers closed in around me, listening out. Just as my hand moved to the doorknob to get us inside, sounds of gunfire split through the night like fucking blitzkrieg bombs.
I threw the door open and rushed inside, to see our old men taking fire from semi-automatics, blood and flesh ripping from their torsos as the cunts before them pumped lead into their bodies.
Red mist descended over my eyes. I pulled out my gun and started firing. I ran forward, not giving two shits about the Russians firing right at us. Bullet after bullet left my barrel and sliced through Red flesh, ripping into hearts and livers and lungs, dropping the fuckers to the ground. I kept firing. I walked forward, not caring about the bullet that grazed my right bicep. I got as close to these pricks as I could, pressing my barrel to their heads and splattering their brains up the old warehouse walls.
I heard my brothers’ guns firing too. Saw Vinnie slicing through the Reds’ throats and hearts with his knives, saw Freddie and Eric firing their revolvers at a fast pace. My cousin slit the throat of the final standing man, blood dripping down Charlie’s face and neck, crimson coating his hands.
I could hear my breath pumping in my ears. Feel my fucking heart pounding in my chest. I scanned the room, seeing every one of the Russians drowning in their own blood. Like it was in fucking slow motion, I saw my brothers run to their old men, dropping to their knees.