Leaning against the kitchen counter, Donnie took a sip from his coffee mug and stared at the doorway which led to the main hallway of the house. Going home the previous night had been the right thing to do. This house was where he belonged, no question. He couldn’t fathom why he’d stayed away as long as he had.
‘Morning,’ Layla said as she entered the kitchen. It was a friendly greeting; it was almost forced through gritted teeth.
‘What’s up with your face?’ Donnie asked. ‘Thought you’d have been glad to have me back.’
Always so full of himself, she thought. Layla didn’t say anything in response to the question. Instead, she reached around him for the coffee pot, but Donnie blocked her.
‘Oi, I was talking.’
‘And I wasn’t listening.’
‘Here we go again, I’m only just back and you’re already tearing me a new arsehole,’ he spat. He sat the mug down next to him, harder than he’d intended, and coffee splashed out, just missing his hand.
‘I’m not, Donnie. But if you don’t tell me what the fuck you’ve been up to, then I’ll tear you more than a new fucking arsehole. So go on,’ Layla shouted, ‘want to explain the messages on your phone?’
‘What the fuck are you on about, you mental case?’
‘You know fine well what I’m on about. That Tam has been taken care of? What have you done, Donnie?’
He gritted his teeth, telling himself that he wasn’t going to hurt her. But he could already feel his fists tingling. How dare she look through his fucking phone. What was on there was none of Layla’s business.
‘Go on then. I’m waiting.’
He turned, picked up the coffee mug and lobbed it across the kitchen. Hitting the wall, it shattered and hot coffee sprayed everywhere. Layla jumped and a little scream escaped her lips.
He spun around to face her and grabbed her by the upper arms. ‘You know what? I’ve had enough of listening to your shite. I came back here because I thought it was the best thing. But now I remember why I left in the fucking first place. You think I want to be married to a drunk who spends her nights lying in a pool of her own fucking vomit? Even on a good day I wouldn’t have you on my arm, you’re a fucking disgrace. I’ve had enough, Layla, I’m done. I want you out of here. Go and pack a fucking bag.’
Layla glared at him, but he could see past the fake expression of anger. She was terrified. Good, he thought. It might make her sit up and see sense that he wasn’t kidding.
‘Why the fuck don’t you leave?’ Layla spat back.
‘Because this is my house, Layla. In case you’ve forgotten, my money has paid for this place. Your shitty little businesses are just the front for all this, to keep the taxman at bay. And I own them too. Now,’ he lowered his voice, ‘are you going to leave by yourself, or do I have to fucking throw you out?’
He watched as things began to register with her. Finally, she was listening. As much as it did his image good to have a wife on his arm, he’d cope without her. Having Layla in his life was more hassle than it was worth. She was drunk more than she was sober, and was forever throwing Kerry’s death at him as though it was his fault. Having the occasional shag with a younger, fitter girl before setting her up for business was better than having a drunk waiting for him every night.
She turned her back on him and walked slowly out of the kitchen and upstairs. He moved across to the shattered coffee mug and began picking it up; all the while Layla was upstairs, slamming doors and screaming obscenities. Not that Donnie was listening. He was sick of listening to her whining and moaning at him constantly. Kerry this and Kerry that. It wasn’t Donnie’s fault that she’d died; at least if it was he’d accept the jibes and put up with it. Layla’s sister Kerry was a bitch, a lippy cow, nothing more and nothing less, but Donnie never ever wanted her dead. Out of the way, yes. But not dead.
He didn’t have time to concern himself with a scorned wife. He needed to get on with sorting out business. Louise was still missing and Goran was like a raging bull about it. The last thing he wanted was Goran’s gang on his back. He’d get Chud and Steff on the case with finding Louise.
Dropping shards into the bin, Donnie took out his phone and opened up a new message box. As he typed, he thought about lost revenue, and how even though he was pissed off that payments had been missed, getting it all in a lump sum would be a good thing. At least if Louise wasn’t found, he could pay Goran off this time.
He’d have fun fucking with this punter. After all, these people were the reason he was sitting in a mansion in the best part of the city.
Turning his attentions back to the present, the first thing he was going to do was sort out the little bastards that fucked with the yard. If they wanted to play with fire, then Donnie was going to blow this war right up.
He pulled a small package from his back pocket and poured the white powder onto the kitchen counter, before taking out one of his bankcards and separating the powder into two lines. Donnie bent down and ran his nostril along the lines, one at a time, sniffing loudly as he did. The coke would give him a clearer mind on how to fix everything.
He could do this and do it well. He didn’t need mass amounts of men behind him. He was Donnie Black, son of Donald Black. If he could get Goran back onside, the Barrhouse Firm would be snuffed out by the end of the week.