‘Jesus H. Christ,’ Neil muttered, glancing at his brother. ‘Are you telling me this is the best on offer?’
‘By the looks of it, it’s all that’s on offer,’ Andrew replied, grimacing at the overpriced lager, wishing it was still in the can it had clearly just been tipped from. It tasted like out-of-date supermarket own-brand lager, probably why the horse-faced creature behind what constituted a bar had disappeared into another room to pour the drink.
He glanced around the dimly lit room – dimly lit for a very good reason – to hide the overall state. It would have to be pitch black for him to be blind to exactly how bloody ghastly the place and its collection of women actually was. On top of that, at least a couple of them didn’t look anywhere near old enough to have left school, let alone anything else.
‘This was your idea,’ Neil hissed. ‘In pursuit of information or not, there is no way I’m putting my dick in any of those.’ He nodded towards the skimpily dressed women lounging across a sagging sofa in what he presumed were supposed to be alluring poses.
Andrew sighed. It had seemed a good idea to slide out of the wake to check out the Aurora whilst everyone else was otherwise occupied. Neither had he been prepared to stand there any longer getting an ear-bashing about Gary and everything else either. Things were moving far too slowly on all points and he wasn’t having it. This was his chance to show why he should have more clout where the running of the firm was concerned.
He’d sorted out one possible liability in the name of Phil, and if he unearthed who was behind the shit originating from the Aurora, then maybe his father would realise he should be at level pegging with Seb, rather than still relegated to second fiddle.
Yes, they’d been told there was no point checking the Aurora out, but that was Maynard’s opinion. Neil was supposed to be checking it out over a week ago and that had been put off. It was time they saw for themselves.
Andrew’s mouth pursed in frustration. He’d make his own decisions, thank you!
Despite not wanting to look, Andrew felt his eyes traitorously move back towards the woman on the far end of the grubby sofa and inwardly shuddered. Rolls of fat hung over her leopard print lycra crop top, her breasts sagged down to her knees and her skirt left little to the imagination.
As much as he didn’t want to be here, it was important to do some digging. Someone attached to this place must know something about their family and he wanted to know who that person was. ‘Come on.’ Andrew jerked his head in the direction of the sofa.
Neil followed Andrew’s gaze. ‘No. Fucking. Way!’
Andrew dragged Neil forward by his jacket sleeve. ‘Fact-finding only,’ he muttered. ‘Evening, ladies,’ he said brightly as he approached the sofa. ‘Mind if we join you?’
Neil squashed himself between two women, inwardly gagging as they stroked his thigh in unison. This had better be worth it.
‘What can we do for you fine gentlemen?’ one of the women purred.
Andrew tried not to laugh at the expression on his brother’s face. He hadn’t expected Neil to be quite so squeamish. He wasn’t usually choosy, although this lot were vastly at the highest end of the gross scale. ‘What are you offering?’ he drawled, trying not to stare at the hairy lump on the end of the woman’s nose.
‘It depends how much time you’ve got.’ The woman’s hand traced up the inside of Andrew’s thigh, worryingly close to his nether regions. ‘And money… Shall we go upstairs?’
Moving away from the woman’s wandering hands, Andrew got up. ‘I’ll just pop to the gents and then I’ll be with you,’ he winked, looking around. ‘Where is it?’
‘The bog’s just down there,’ the woman smiled, grabbing her handbag in readiness.
Nodding his thanks, Andrew kept his smile fixed until he was out of view. Jesus Christ. He’d go upstairs with the moose, but there was no way he’d be getting his kit off. Or hers.
He’d use the time, with help of the wad of notes in his inside pocket, to tempt the skank into becoming loose-lipped over who ran this gaff. But there would be nothing else… Jeez!
Seeing a door that looked like it could be a toilet, Andrew walked along the long corridor, but hearing movement and voices from up the back stairs, he stiffened.
He recognised that voice.
Quickly slipping into what he presumed was the toilet, he waited. The voice had now stopped and boots tramped heavily down the stairs. Using the tip of his shoe to wedge a small crack in the door, Andrew flattened himself against the wall in the tiny dark room, sure without looking behind him that, due to the stench, he’d been correct in assuming this was the toilet.
He waited, one eye getting a good view along the corridor. Not daring to breathe as the figure moved past towards the main room, Andrew frowned, his eyes narrowing.
Fuck. He was right about that voice. Maynard. Why the bloody hell was he here again?
Racing up the bare wooden steps to the first floor of the Aurora, Andrew’s eyes darted around the landing, hoping that Maynard had not spotted Neil downstairs or that he was on his way back up here.
It wasn’t like he’d had time to check because he needed to speak to the woman Maynard had been with before she went back downstairs or another punter was sent up for her services.
His heart crashed in his chest as he scanned the doors leading off the landing. Which room had they been in?
Spotting a door slightly ajar, Andrew rushed towards it. Pushing it open, his nose wrinkled with the heavy scent of unwashed bodies and sex. A thick-set woman in her mid-forties with tangled hair and an over-tight, purple, see-through negligee sat on the edge of the unmade bed, dragging wet wipes down her cellulite-ridden thighs.
‘I ain’t ready yet,’ the woman snapped. Glancing up and seeing Andrew’s attractive face, her manner softened. ‘I won’t be a minute though, love. Give us a tick and I’ll be with you. I’ll just make sure I’m looking nice for you.’
Ignoring the woman’s unsavoury promises, Andrew stormed into the room regardless.
‘Hey! I said I…’
‘Who’s just been in here?’ Andrew barked.
The woman scowled, the deep frown only accentuating her lack of looks. ‘I’m not telling you that! That’s breaching confidentiality, that is. We don’t ev…’
‘Oh, shut the fuck up!’ Quickly moving forward, Andrew grabbed a fistful of the woman’s hair. Twisting a large chunk, he ignored her howling. ‘Now isn’t the time to bother with confidentiality, woman. Just tell me who you’ve just had in here and I’ll leave you alone.’
He shoved his free hand in his pocket. Pulling out a fifty-pound note, he waved it in the woman’s face. ‘Answer what I asked and you can have this too.’
With her beady eyes on the crisp note, the woman flapped her hand. ‘Okay, okay. Get off my fucking hair and I’ll tell you.’
Relaxing his grip, Andrew took a step back and folded his arms, knowing the woman was still focused on the money in his hand. ‘Well?’
The woman flattened down her mussed, tangled hair and glared at Andrew. ‘Why do you care?’
‘Get. On. With. It.’ Andrew’s patience was on the brink of completely abandoning him.
The woman sighed. ‘Maynard. John Maynard.’ She picked up a makeup bag and pulled at the press-studs, fishing out a powder compact and brush. ‘Happy now?’
‘Not particularly. What was he doing here?’
The woman eyed Andrew incredulously. ‘What do you think?’
Andrew stepped forward, his face an angry mask. ‘Don’t play fly with me, you stupid bitch. Answer the fucking questions without trying to be witty, okay?’
Contrite, the woman nodded and placed her powder brush down. ‘I was told to keep Maynard entertained until the boss got back.’
The hackles rose on Andrew’s neck. ‘And who’s the boss?’
The woman’s eyes narrowed. ‘I don’t know. I’ve only been here a few days.’ She didn’t know this bloke, but she certainly wasn’t dropping Tommy in it – not when he was about to employ her two girls.
Andrew frowned. ‘Does Maynard come here a lot?’
The woman shrugged. ‘How should I know? I was just told to keep the bloke busy for a while.’
‘Do you know anything?’ Andrew snarled. ‘Who told you to keep Maynard busy?’ Maybe that person was the one who called the shots? Furthermore, it could be him behind all the grief.
‘Some bloke – a bloke called Lee,’ the woman sniffed. She didn’t mind giving Lee’s name up. She’d heard the ugly bastard talking about her, saying she was a fat old cow, so he could fuck off as far as she was concerned.
Andrew stiffened. ‘Lee? Where’s this Lee bloke, then?’
‘Dunno,’ the woman sniffed. ‘He’s not here either. And before you ask, I don’t know whether he’ll be back tonight or what, but whatever happens, I’ll be in the shit being as Maynard refused to hang around.’
Andrew pursed his lips. This silly tart knew sod all. Shit. He could go downstairs and grill some of the others, but hopefully Neil had already done that. Whatever happened, he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of this one.
Hearing a loud buzzer, the woman leapt from the bed. ‘Shit!’
Andrew’s head jerked in the direction of the noise. ‘What? What is it?’
‘It’s the alarm! It means the fucking cops are here!’ the woman panted. ‘I knew something like this would happen tonight. I could feel it in my bones.’ She eyed Andrew nastily. ‘Here, you aren’t a cop, are you?’
‘Am I fuck!’ Andrew cried. ‘Is there another way out of here?’
The woman nodded towards the window. ‘If you’re quick, you can lower yourself out of there and drop onto the fire escape. There’s another exit out of the car park too, behind the hedge.’
Throwing the fifty-pound note on the bed, Andrew eased himself out of the window, only hoping Neil had managed to get out too.