After seeing Marsha, Milly danced away the night and fell out onto the pavement at two with all the others who were leaving the club. One of the two bouncers on the club door, Sammy, stopped her with a hand on her arm.
‘Miss Stone?’ he asked, barely believing it. She looked shot away. He’d never seen her in the club before, mostly she was just at home, in the big Essex house, but now here she was and it was clear she was high as a kite.
‘That’s me,’ she giggled, and started to stagger away. ‘Hello, Sammy!’
‘Hold on, hold on,’ said Sammy.
There’d been big changes going on. But the king was dead and now Sammy supposed it was long live the new king – and that was Harlan. Harlan was a smooth despicable son of a bitch. Charlie would come straight out and bollock you if he had to, then it would be over, done, and you would be mates again. But Harlan was different. He was a fucking scorpion. He’d always strike with stealth. Sammy knew that if the Stone girl was in here getting wasted, and he let her stagger out into the night unattended, his arse, sooner or later, would get roasted.
‘Where you off to?’ he asked, watching her eyes pinballing around in her head. Wasted to shit, she was. No doubt about it.
‘Home,’ she shrugged. Then she smiled. ‘Wanna come?’
Sammy gave his mate and fellow doorman Gazzer a glance that said: All yours, mate.
Gazzer nodded.
‘Come on,’ Sammy said to Milly, and took her arm again because she looked like she was about to wander off and he couldn’t risk that. To Gazzer he said: ‘I’m going to see Miss Stone home, OK?’
Gazzer nodded again. Sammy stepped out, holding on tight to Milly, and hailed a taxi.
Milly was staying at one of Dad’s houses on the old manor. Harlan’s house now, but still – he wasn’t likely to come here. She thought of that swish penthouse with the lovely view of the river, so much nicer than this, but she wouldn’t stay there any more, not since Harlan made it clear that territory was marked out as his, and certainly not since she’d learned that that was where poor Beezer had done a nosedive from its balcony and ended up ten storeys down on the concrete below.
She tried to open the door to the house with her key, but she couldn’t find her key, and Sammy was there right behind her, a hulking presence, but she didn’t feel embarrassed about this the way she usually would. Tonight it struck her as funny. Finally Sammy had to take her bag out of her hands and find the key himself. He got it in the lock and swung the door open, flicking on the lights.
‘It’s humble, but it’s home,’ trilled Milly, dancing up the hall to the kitchen. ‘Coffee, tea or me?’ she laughed.
So this was what it was like to be high. Milly had never felt anything like it. She felt . . . beautiful. She felt powerful. And so confident that she felt she could fly.
‘No thanks,’ said Sammy, looking around. It wasn’t the Ritz, but it was OK. ‘Anybody else here?’ he asked.
‘Why? You going to ravish me, are you?’ she asked, coyly.
In fact, Sammy was concerned she might sick up and choke to death. She was right out of it. And who’d get the blame then? The muggins who’d escorted her out of the club. Him. He had enough to worry about, without any more aggro on top. He shook his head.
‘Someone ought to keep an eye on you. What did you take?’
‘What makes you think I’ve taken anything?’
Sammy thought of the shy, mumbling girl that Milly usually was. She was like a shadow, and had always been overwhelmed by her flashy desperate-eyed mother and her loud as fuck father. She never exactly lit up the room.
‘Because this ain’t you,’ he said.
‘I’m bored with me,’ she pouted. It was the truth.
‘You’re off your face. You don’t want to go doing things like this, trust me. It’s not safe.’
‘I’m going to bed,’ said Milly, shoving past him. ‘You can stay if you like. Or go. I don’t give a shit either way.’
He listened to her thundering up the stairs like a marauding baby elephant. Heard the slam of her bedroom door. Music started pounding through the floor. Frankie Goes to Hollywood, ‘Two Tribes’. Then he heard heavy footfalls again. She was dancing.
Sighing, Sammy took off his jacket and made himself comfortable on the couch. He’d go up later, see she was OK. Before ten minutes was up, he was asleep.