Serious People (16 page)

“Really?” Peters said.

“Really” Fame said, sounding more amazed than Peters.

“And I’ll let you in on a little secret. You don’t mind me telling him, do you Max?” Mickey looked at Fame, who just nodded slightly bewildered in reply. “If this goes well, Max is putting you all on a European tour and re-launching you fellas, proper.”

“Really?” Peters continued to stammer.

“I’m what?” Fame said, looking at Mickey; a dark look told him not to argue. “Sorry I mean, of course I am.”

“You must be offering to back us with some serious money?” Peters asked.

Fame looked a bit shell-shocked. “I really must be.”

Mickey could sense the opportunity to close the deal and pulled a business card out of his pocket for his practice studios that Fame was providing. “Be ready to be here at this location, in a few days. Fame will confirm the detail soon.”

Peters looked at the business card, all too long for Mickey’s liking. He could almost sense the teachers resolve wavering; Plan B might be necessary after all.

“I’ll give it some real thought guys, thanks for the opportunity.” Peters gave the three men a nod and started walking down towards the door, the books left unmarked.

“Listen this is a big decision. I get that,” Mickey said, now not hiding a threatening tone in his voice. “But you don’t know me; you don’t really understand what’s at stake here. I think you should know though, like most other business men, I have two negotiation styles. If one doesn’t work, I can always switch to the other…”

“Steve, please!” Fame cried, almost in maternal way.

“Does the band mean that much to you Max?” Peters looked up at Fame.

“You have no idea. We both could lose a lot if you don’t agree to perform,” Fame said.

Mickey was impressed, he’d turned the screw on Fame even more than he realised. After a few more minutes in the classroom, he had the guitarist confirming he’d be available. Sure, some of Mickey’s success may have been down to some kind of protective feeling that Fame must have had for one of his former clients; but mostly it was because he knew what Mickey would do to him if he failed.

Mickey was feeling pretty pleased with himself as Max Fame climbed into the back of Seamus’s Range Rover and shook his head at the two men sat in front of him.

“What’s your problem? That went well. I actually thought you did quite a good job in there,” Mickey said.

“You were really going to hurt him, weren’t you?” Fame said.

“Yes,” Mickey nodded. “And you, but I think you get that.”

“Have you got any idea how hard it will be to pull this off? That was the tip of the iceberg. We’ve got four other people to track down still!” Fame replied.

“I have full faith in your survival skills Max,” Mickey smiled.

“And Ronny Wild is a complete egotistical manic. He will not apologise to anyone,” Fame said, looking at Mickey for some sympathy but finding none.

“So anyway, where next?” Mickey said, taking pleasure in ignoring Fame’s outburst.

Fame put his head in his hands. “I suppose the bass player, Mike Edwards. He's known as Mohican. He’s playing at a club in Camden tonight with his new group, Born Stupid.”

“Born Stupid; I bet they’re a punk band,” Seamus said, thoughtfully.

“Yes, very astute Seamus, he’s always been a punk,” Fame answered, his head still in his hands.

“Astute,” Seamus smiled with pride and nudged Mickey. “You’re lucky I’m here to help you Mick.”

Mickey went to adjust his hair in the Range Rover’s wing mirror but saw his hat there instead of the regular quiff. “For fucks sake!”

John’s eyes met Billy’s as he walked into the family bar; they looked as black as the night.

For as long as John could remember, his brother Billy’s eyes had always portrayed his mood. It was subtle—the type of anomaly only family can spot. It wasn’t as if his pupils dilated, let alone that they became bulbous, there was nothing that John would ever be able to describe to anyone. It was sometimes more a feeling than a look. But there could be no doubt of Billy’s feelings today—his eyes were as dark as the night.

“So how did it go with that bitch of yours last night brother?”  Billy smirked.

John knew he was looking for a rise, a reason to argue. John recognised when Billy’s mood was not to be tested. He swallowed the thought of confronting Billy about the way he talked about the woman he loved.

John took a breath. “Good thanks Billy.”

“Yeah Uncle Ray said it was alright,” Billy added.

Billy always called their Uncle Roy, Ray, when he was in one of these moods. He knew it upset John, as their uncle had only ever shown love for the three boys. He had arrived on the scene two years after his Ma’s death, when the wounds were still raw for the young boys. Looking back now it appeared clear. His brother’s damaged psyche had taught him to be wary, even to hate men of Roy’s age. They must remind them of Ma’s murderer.

Roy gave John a nod from his usual place behind the bar, as if to say not to take on the argument for him.

“I told Ray, you’d be back; what with the progress we’ve started to make with our own business,” Billy said.

John sat down on the scruffy old sofa, which had pride of place by the window. His other brother Nick was sitting on the other side of the sofa and his concentration was completely on the TV playing in the corner of the bar.

“You alright Nick?” John said, nudging his brother.

Nick ignored him, but this was his usual reaction while he was watching TV. Billy sat down on a seat opposite the sofa.

“We need to celebrate today. We passed stage one in my plan,” Billy said looking for John’s reaction.

“Your plan?” John replied.

“Yes, while you were off with that bitch,” Billy stopped momentarily to assess John's reaction before continuing. “I decided we should have a plan. Step one, kill Robert Payne. Done. I’m a fucking legend now...”

John’s stomach turned, at the flippancy with which his brother portrayed the killing of a human being. Billy’s smile was hard to describe; he looked vaguely reminiscent of the Joker, from Batman; pure joy mixed with insanity. 

“Step two, make a deal with the guy from Mexico. And then finally—step three—pop O’Neil,” Billy smiled. He was impressed by his own genius.

“Kill O’Neil?” John almost choked on the words.

“Of course; you have to be proactive. Kill before you get killed. We’ve started the whirlwind, brother. We gotta keep moving before it engulfs us,” Billy said, his eyes now darker than ever before. “If you want to be successful you have to keep moving forward. There is no choice for us now, we’ve got to keep moving forward. Start mitigating our future risks.”

“I think we need to lie low, for the moment. O’Neil will be looking out for the people who might have done this.” John knew his voice had more fear in it than he intended. “I mean Mickey the Bag is probably pounding the streets as we speak.”

“Lie low,” Billy laughed, his eyes darkening still. “I’ve got a Mexican to meet.”

“What are you talking about?” John said.

He couldn’t believe it. The only reason he was here at the family bar was to convince Billy to start to mend his ways. There was no choice now; they had to lie low or risk the vengeance of Charlie O’Neil.

“And how do you propose to make a deal with these Mexicans? Payne gave us no details about how to even contact them…” John said.

“Really?” Billy grinned, the type of grin only people who know something that’s others don’t can grin. “Actually, he very kindly set up a deal for me.”

“What Payne did?” John replied.

This made no sense? How could this be?

“Even the great Robert Payne had his limit of pain. I gave him a final choice; kitchen knife to the heart, or I make it slow. He could tell I was going to enjoy every minute of it. So, he took the sensible option; phoned the greasy Mexican and arranged a meeting. Said I was going to be the man to talk to.”

“What?” John replied, still in shock. 

“Then I stuck the knife through his heart,” Billy smiled. “Of course, I suppose I need to be a clever cunt, like you, to know for sure it was his heart. All I can say though is that when it went through his chest it made some breaking sounds. You reckon that was his heart?”

John looked back at his brother; what was he doing here? He couldn’t fix this. The pleasure Billy took in killing Payne was not normal. There was no coming back from that. Was that the first person he’d killed? He didn’t even know.

“Oh look, it’s the stranger!” Auntie Mary said, walking into the bar.

Mary walked in, stopping next to Billy and stroking his head in what should have been an affectionate way. To John though it reminded him of a hunter stroking their favourite killer hound.

“Give the lad a break Mary,” Roy said defensively.

“Did I ask for your opinion?” Mary snapped back.

Roy seemed to shrink a little, picked up a glass and started to polish it. John hated his Aunt. He could never be sure if it was the horrors that Billy and Nick had seen that made them how they were, or if it was just the evil oozing out of Mary that affected them.

“You couldn’t make it last night then Auntie Mary?” John asked, keeping his voice calm. “I thought you were ill?”

“Boy, I have no interest in meeting those stuck up twats; just for them to look down their noses at me,” Mary crossed her arms. “And I told you I don’t like that girl.”

John again wanted to say something but thought better of it and managed a weak smile. He could barely be bothered to give Mary a thought at the moment; his head was still whirling from Billy’s latest idea. Should he try one last time to save his brothers from themselves, or should he just leave them?

“Billy, what if,” John said turning back to his brother. His mind raced, trying to think of alternatives for them. “Why don’t we meet the guy from Mexico and…” he continued, playing for time, desperately trying to think of a new plan. “Yeah, we could tell the guy from Mexico that Payne asked us to meet him. We meet him and then check in with O’Neil.”

“What!” Billy snapped.

“Wait, hear me out. If O’Neil thinks Payne trusted us and wanted us to look after the Mexicans for him, then he'd never think it was us who had been behind Payne’s death,” John explained, his eyes pleading with Billy. “It would sort everything.”

“Nothing needs to be sorted out,” Mary said, cutting John down. “Billy, you are now a legend—a real legend. Every pub in London will be saying how you killed Robert Payne. People will be talking about this for years.” The old woman turned to John. “And you want us to pretend this never happened. This new woman’s had a terrible effect on you.”

“We don’t want anyone to know that Billy killed Payne; he’d be dead before the end of the day if they did!” John said.

“You need to have more trust in your brother boy,” Mary replied.

Nick burst into laughter at the TV, oblivious of the conversation going on around him. Even Billy was momentarily distracted by this before turning back to John.

“He’s a crazy bastard isn’t he,” Billy said, nodding to Nick. “Don’t you sometimes wish you had his simple mind? Flick on a good TV show and he’s happy as Larry.”

John shuddered, he couldn’t think of anything worse than spending a moment in the twisted mind of his youngest brother.

“Trust me, the world has turned. We’re serious people now, John. People across London will fear our name,” Billy said. “What you need, brother, is some chill out time. And you’re lucky cause that’s exactly what I had planned—celebrations and drinking.”

“When do you start your new job John?” Roy said suddenly from behind the bar.

John turned to his uncle, giving him a look that questioned the old man’s motives. But from the corner of his eye, he could see shock spreading over Billy’s face.

“Uncle Roy, what are you talking about?” John said, trying to change the subject—urgently.

Roy stared back, not knowing what to say. And Billy looked like he was trying to evaluate the unsaid conversation going on the room. This was not the time for Billy to learn about his job, John knew. It would only lead to some vindictive response from his brother.

“Why would I want a stupid job at a bank, when we’ve got all this stuff going on?” John lied.

Billy looked at his brother, looking suddenly younger than John, like a young child wanting to understand the truth in an adult conversation.

John stood up. “I thought we were going to celebrate?”

Billy’s face lit up. “I knew you wouldn’t let us down! Let’s go drink and plan our takeover—of London.”

Mary turned to Roy. “You need to learn to stay out of Blake's business.”

Roy looked down to his polished glasses. John wanted to hug the old man and thank him for his kindness but knew his role, at the moment, was in somehow steering his brothers to some form of stability.

Several hours later, John got into the back of the taxi and instructed the cabbie to take him to the new home he shared with Emma.

He hoped his brothers hadn’t noticed he had left—it wasn’t late. It was probably not even nine o'clock; but he had left at what he thought was the best opportunity he was going to get. Billy and Nick had headed upstairs for private dances with lap dancers and, by that stage, they had drunk so much they could not possibly be lucid enough to have any understanding of time. John hoped that, by the time they came down, they might think that hours had passed and that John might have gone off with another stripper.

John himself was no longer drunk; having started the drinking around lunchtime, he was instead beginning to feel hung-over. He was wishing that he didn’t still have the taste of lager in his mouth.

The taxi driver turned to look at John. “You’re finishing a bit early aren’t you son. You're leaving your mates behind?”

John looked out the window. “If only I could.”

The cabbie turned back, clearly deciding this was not a guy to have a conversation with.