The young girl pulled her mother’s sheer polyester robe around her naked body. It might be itchy and a bit big, but she looked, and more to the point, felt the part.
Her mother had been spot on when she’d said if she and her sister played nice with this bloke, he’d snap them up like a shot. And he had. Both her and Stella were now well in here and would make tons of money. She smiled widely at the prospect.
Watching the man roll out of bed to pull his trousers on, Tina frowned. ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’
Tom playfully slapped the girl’s buttocks. As much as he’d love to continue sampling her young flesh, he couldn’t hang around any longer. ‘Get yourself downstairs now, Sugar Tits,’ he grinned. ‘It’s time you got going with real punters rather than just me.’
Tina pouted, her overly made-up face making her look even younger than her actual years. ‘But I’ve been enjoying myself here with just you,’ she whined.
Actually, she hadn’t. The man was a wizened old goat and stank of stale beer and fags, but he always had plenty of powder and, being the gaffer of this place, she’d hoped that by impressing him good and proper, he might decide to keep her for himself.
Tom’s chest puffed out with the compliment. Some things never change, he thought. He’d always been a winner with the girls.
Cutting himself a quick line on the bedside table, he pushed Tina away as she sidled closer. The silly tart was clearly angling for another free snort, but she’d caned plenty of his stash over the last couple of days and enough was enough. It had been a decent way to pass the time, rather than worrying about what was going on in the outside world, but it was time to put the next part of his plan into action.
‘I’ve got things to do and people to see.’ Wiping the powder residue from under his nose, Tom turned to Tina, his face losing the expression of contentment. ‘Don’t take the piss, sweetheart. You’ve got punters downstairs looking forward to their slot with you, so don’t let me down, eh? Otherwise, I might regret taking you and your sister on.’
Fear flooded Tina. ‘Oh, no, you won’t regret it, I promise you that!’
Tom smiled once again, glad he’d got the message across. He picked up his holdall from the floor. ‘I’ll be off, then.’
Tina rushed to the bedroom door after Tom. ‘When will you be back?’
Tom glanced over his shoulder. ‘Dunno, but any problems, speak to Lee. Apart from that, your mother will answer any questions you and your sister may have.’
Continuing down the rickety stairs, he nodded to Lee. ‘You know what to do. Anyone comes asking for me, say nowt, but let me know ASAP by leaving a message here.’ He handed Lee a scrap of paper containing a scrawled telephone number. ‘I’ll be back when I’m back.’
Quickly letting himself out of the back door of the Aurora, Tom glanced around the car park before stepping into the gloomy light from the lamp post opposite. All clear.
Crossing the car park, he slung his holdall in the boot of his car and then fired the engine, breathing a sigh of relief as he pulled away from the building.
It was only a slight sigh of relief because he didn’t really want to leave, but it was the sensible thing to do. He just needed a few more days to ascertain whether he was correct in his assumptions. To do that without risk, he needed to be away from the place.
Tom continued down the Hagley Road in the opposite direction of the city centre. The opposite direction from the Stokers and the Reynolds.
It certainly did seem his prayers had been answered. It couldn’t have worked out any better than if he’d meticulously orchestrated it himself. Yet he’d planned nothing and still everything had come together in the best way possible.
An utter and unexpected bonus.
Two whole days had passed since he’d seen Maynard. Two whole days since the man had been pulled off the streets by Stoker himself.
And two whole days without a word from either of them.
A wide grin slithered across Tom’s face as he pulled a cigarette from his top pocket. Sparking it up, he was surprised the lighter in this crummy car worked, but it did. Everything was on the up.
Things worked in mysterious ways and unless he was very much mistaken, it looked like Maynard had finally levelled his debt from ballsing up the original plan back in the day.
The Stokers must have offed him, and not a word had been mentioned, or more likely, there had been no time to for his name to be uttered before Maynard’s brains were splattered over a floor somewhere.
Tom shrugged dismissively. Not his problem. And being as no one was sniffing around, it looked unlikely to become his problem either.
He’d have rubbed his hands together with glee had he not needed to keep at least one of them on the steering wheel. He didn’t want to screw up by totalling this car, did he?
Chuckling at his own good fortune, Tom continued. Yes, he could have hung around, but it was best all round to make himself scarce. Of course, in addition to that, he needed to get the next part of this expert plan into motion. The part that hadn’t even been embryonic until yesterday when the wonderful realisation dawned upon him.
As the time lengthened without Maynard or anyone else turning up, Tom had realised that as far as everyone else was concerned, it had been him – Maynard – behind everything. How cracking was that? And it could only mean one thing.
No one suspected him. Those fuckers didn’t even know who he was.
Maynard had taken the rap for Reynold’s death, the rumours and the sad demise of the Stoker boy too. Shame.
Tom’s face felt like it might split in two, courtesy of his beaming smile. It meant something else too – Reynold’s widow would think it was over as well. She’d think there would be no more blackmail; no more accidents; no more anything…
How wrong she was…
And if she thought that, she’d also not have bothered divulging her secret to anyone, meaning the ability to get money out of her would soon be even easier.
But he had also another idea. Oh, yes, he’d seen his daughter the other night. Yeah, his daughter. He’d bumped into her the night of the wake. Literally.
He knew it was her without a doubt, because he’d seen the photo in the paper when her pseudo-father celebrated her birthday. Plus, she was now the owner of the Orchid… How convenient…
But fuck me, Tom thought, she was a fine looker. He’d make a mint if he got her to work for him. She’d obviously inherited her mother’s good looks, so at least Linda had been good for one thing, despite being shit in the sack.
Tom pressed his foot further down on the accelerator. He’d never thought he’d be doing this. Never thought he’d ever choose to seek out that miserable bitch, Linda Matthews, again, but things changed. Not only did he need somewhere to lie low for a while and was fairly sure Linda would still be around her old haunts, but as well as that, her old cunt of a father would be long dead by now, so there would be no hassle.
Besides, word on the vine that he’d kept his ear close to during his long absence was that Linda hadn’t been quite the ticket since he’d left. She’d always had a thing for him, so he was sure she’d welcome his return, especially when he offered her the chance to get to know her long-lost daughter.
And if Linda played her cards right and did what he wanted, then he’d make it so that happened.
He just had to find Linda and put his magic to work.
‘Oh, Tom, my old son,’ he muttered as he continued down the A38 towards Selly Oak. ‘You really are fucking good.’
And he’d only just begun. Life was good.