The Last Card (19 page)

W
earing an ankle-length, sheer, figure-hugging, black dress, covered with sparkling black beads, Nina was two-thirds of the way through the last song in her set, Jennifer Holiday’s ‘I’m not going’. Her shiny black Manolo Blahnik strapless shoes gave her another three inches in height and Nina used them well. She knew she looked damn good and her slowed-down, vamped-up version of the song had the crowd, mostly gay men, cheering their approval.

It was during this cheering that Nina suddenly saw a flurry of
activity
in the audience. Alan must have just entered the club. She saw him barging his way through to the bar where he joined Gavin. He yanked Gavin’s shoulder and the two of them disappeared round the side of the bar and out into the hallway.

Nina was a professional. She took great pride in what she did and she certainly wasn’t going to rush the end of the song. But this was one of those moments when she wished she wasn’t so professional. At the song’s end, instead of going to the bar and ordering her usual Tanqueray and tonic, Nina went round the side of the bar and edged out into the hallway. She couldn’t see but she could hear Alan talking with Gavin at the top of the stairs. Alan did not seem too happy.

‘… He’s a fooking liability!’

‘I’ll watch him, I’ll make sure …’

‘He bloody well told me he’s not going to take the fall!’

‘Alan, I’ll take care of it: I’ll see exactly what needs to be done and I’ll take care of it. Calm down …’

‘You fooking calm down! You fooking calm down!’ Alan was almost screeching. ‘Do you know how much fooking money is riding on this?!’

As Nina remembered the conversation she’d had with Hilary the night before she could feel the panic rising up in her stomach.

‘Do you want me to pay him a visit? Lean on him?’

‘No, I want you to pay him a visit and tell him what great integrity he’s got! Of course I want you to fooking lean on him! Break his fooking legs! Do what you have to do but he takes that fooking fall or someone’s going to pay! And I’ll fooking tell you now it’s not going to be me! Do you fooking understand that?!’

‘Yes, Alan.’

‘Yes, Alan. Now fook off and get to work!’

Pause. Nina could feel the thickness of the silence.

‘Er … Alan, if I physically, if I have, if someone hurts … he isn’t going to be fit to …’

Nina held her breath. She waited for Alan’s response to Gavin pointing out the flaw in his plan.

‘Has that bitch Nina come up with anything?’ Nina flinched at the sound of her own name.

‘Has she?’

Before Nina could hear Gavin’s reply one of the barmen squeezed past her on his way to the cellar under the stairs. ‘Are you going to stand there all day, Nina?’

His mild reproach was loud enough to be heard at the top of the stairs. Nina immediately slipped back into the club. She sat at the bar to think. She wasn’t sure what had happened with Hilary that evening but whatever had happened had left Alan in a murderous rage. She was scared. She crossed the dance floor and entered a door, using a security code that she tapped out on the keys. Inside was a small dressing room. This was where Nina had her things; a change of clothes, shoes, her coat, her handbag. Nina opened her handbag and took out her mobile phone. She dialled and listened. After four rings a man’s voice answered.

Nina picked H up waiting outside the Royal Court Theatre by Sloane Square Tube station. It was just after three in the morning and he stood alone, in the quiet of the night, smoking a cigarette. He saw her coming and stood next to the kerb as she drove up in her Z3
Roadster. She leant over and opened up the passenger door. He tossed away his cigarette and climbed in.

‘I didn’t know you smoked?’

‘Once in a while.’

‘I used to smoke. I gave up on Friday.’

‘I’m very happy for you.’

‘I give up every Friday.’ She looked across at him expecting at least a smile. Nothing.

Nina pulled away from the kerb, drove back around Sloane Square and on to Sloane Street. She knew something serious had happened tonight between Hilary and White Alan and that’s why she had called him. That’s why she’d called him? Why had she called him? The poor bastard had had a rough week. She’d take him back to her place which at least looked like somewhere you might want to be and give him a drink. Maybe even a warm bed. Maybe even her bed. She could see the pain in his face and felt like stroking him. She glanced quickly over at him and looked away. He was staring out of the window. Thank God for that! Her face had suddenly flushed! Holy Mary, mother of Jesus!

‘You look like shit!’

The look he gave her came slow and hard.

‘Is that your idea of conversation?’

Nina kept her eyes fixed on the road. ‘I … we … well, what do you want from me?!’

‘Nina, you called me.’

‘So? Yes, I know I called you. So what of it?’ She could feel his eyes boring into the side of her face and she knew why. She was talking gibberish!

‘He’s on his guard against you now.’ What was she saying? Why, why? Where was this going? She turned the car into her road and pulled up outside her house.

‘Do you know what happened tonight?’

‘Not exactly.’

As she locked the car and the two of them entered the house he told her what had happened. She could feel the two small, vertical lines appear in her forehead, just above her eyebrows. When he’d finished talking she took his arm and, without a word, guided him to
one of the sofas in her living room. She sat him down and went to make each of them a drink.

When she returned she gave him his and sat down next to him. He drank. He looked better.

‘Was it bad?’ she asked in a soft voice. He didn’t say anything, he just looked at her. She reached out a hand and stroked the back of her fingers against his cheek. It felt rough, scratchy. He didn’t move, just looked at her. And suddenly she felt the two small,
vertical
lines in her forehead, just above her eyebrows … disappear. They faded away. Nina moved the back of her fingers along Hilary’s cheek to his lips, feeling them. She turned her hand over so the tips of her fingers could feel his lips. She suddenly realised she had wanted to do that for almost as long as she had known him.

Slowly, she took her hand away, leant into him and gently kissed him on the mouth. He kissed her back. She then sat back, took his drink from his hand, put it down on the floor. She did the same with hers. The two of them simultaneously scooted closer together on the sofa and kissed again, this time deeper, Nina folding her arms around Hilary and feeling him do the same. God his lips felt good! As soft, as billowy as she had imagined! His arms felt strong and
powerful
as they wrapped her to him, his hands caressing her back. The front of her body felt alive, tingling, pressed against him. Nina hadn’t felt this good about kissing a man in a long, long time.

Hilary moved his hands beneath her jacket, easing her out of it. Once it was off, Hilary’s hands danced precariously over the jumper and were soon probing her skin beneath it, moving smoothly up and down her back and sides as though they were slowly searching for something. Each time they moved over her, Nina felt the tingling sensation spread. And the spread was making its way to her groin. Soon, she couldn’t stand it. She pulled away from him, flushed, breathless.

‘Let’s go upstairs.’ She rose, took his hand and led him from the room.

The two of them lay down on the bed. Hilary propped himself up on one elbow and Nina rolled into him. They continued where they’d left off on the sofa, Hilary using his free hand to pull Nina’s body into his. Again, he played it up and down her spine and, like a cat, Nina
arched her body into his with pleasure. Her hands now slipped under the T-shirt he was wearing and made their way over the smooth contours of his skin. Unbelievably smooth. She moved her hands down his back into the dip of his spine and down below the belt around his trousers. As far as she could go. His buttocks felt hard but smooth. She wanted to go down further. She eased her body away from him, moved her hand round and began to unbuckle the belt around his jeans. His kissing became more urgent, insistent. Nina pulled away from him and now used both hands to unbuckle his belt. But before she could finish, he eased back, turned over and sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her.

‘I can’t.’

Nina dragged herself across the bed and stroked his back.

‘What’s the matter? We can take our time, there’s no rush.’

‘It’s not that. I’ve still got Bev in my mind.’

Nina stopped stroking his back. She slipped round to sit next to him. Already the heat of the moment was draining away.

‘Girlfriend?’

‘Babymother.’

Nina left the bedroom and came back a moment later with two lit cigarettes and an ashtray. She gave one of the cigarettes to Hilary.

‘I thought you gave up?’

‘I did.’

‘Where’d you get these from?’

‘They’re yours.’ They both smiled. He leant over and kissed her on the lips. To Nina, it wasn’t a sexy kiss, it was a ‘you’re actually all right’ kiss. She liked it almost as much as the other kind. They sat and smoked.

‘I just can’t do it.’

‘What?’

‘Take the fall.’

Nina thought about that for a moment. ‘Why not? It would make life a lot easier for all of us.’ She laughed without mirth. ‘If you were ever going to go for Alan, after what happened tonight, the best time to do it would be straight after the fight. When he’s least expecting it.’ She looked at him to gauge his reaction to her words. There wasn’t one.

‘Everything’s a mess. The only thing that has any meaning, that isn’t shit, is the boxing. It’s … pure.’

Nina didn’t get it. ‘So? Who really cares about that, who cares if it’s pure?’

‘I do!’ He swivelled round on the bed to face her. ‘Listen. Some days are good, some days are bad, some days are shit; that’s life. But when you box, when you box … it’s different. It’s about two athletes, going at each other: all that training, all that energy, against what the other guy can do. It’s down to you. There’s no place to hide in a boxing ring, there’s no one else to blame, it’s all down to you. You show people what you’re made of.’ As Nina looked searchingly into his eyes he seemed to be willing her to understand. ‘Fucking hell, it’s about control, Nina! Taking control. If I haven’t got control over boxing …’ He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray.

‘You’re just a romantic …’ she began.

‘I’m a human being, for fuck sake!’ The strength of his feeling surprised her. She took the ashtray from him and stubbed out her own cigarette. She then guided him back down on to the bed, the two of them lying next to each other. And then Nina found herself talking about things that she hadn’t spoken about to anyone for a long, long time.

‘I used to think I had control. Before Alan. For a woman, being thought of as good looking is the best possible gift you can have. Men are so stupid they’ll do anything for a pretty face. So I was going to be a singer. I didn’t know anybody who’d ever done any kind of performing but I just put myself out there and started meeting people. I don’t have a fantastic voice, I know that, but it’s not bad. And I know I look okay.’ Hilary gave a hint of a smile. ‘So soon people were asking me to do PA spots in clubs. It wasn’t long before owners would take one look at me and bingo! I was in, I was making money. What I didn’t know was that Alan Akers was charging protection money from most of the clubs in the area …’

‘Where’s he from? Where’s his accent from?’

‘Doncaster. Up north. He and his brother Paul, came down to London about fifteen years ago. No money and no contacts. Now look at them.’ Nina explained to Hilary how they had made London work for them, bent it to their will. ‘They’re into drug-running, fraud and extorting protection money from clubs. All over North London and the West End. That’s how I met him. He took over one of the clubs I used to sing in. The Three Pines, in Stoke Newington. When he opened up
Roxy’s in Soho he wanted me to be a part of his move. Stupidly, I was flattered.’

‘So why isn’t it working out for you?’

‘Because Alan’s losing his grip. He’s moved into the West End with Roxy’s and he’s left Paul in charge of their operations back in North-east London, but he refuses to deal with the fact that Paul is a full-time coke head. Paul’s not up to running things and the whole operation is beginning to unravel. North London now isn’t the North London he moved into fifteen years ago. Things are changing there. The young black kids there are growing up and taking over. They’re not interested in listening to old-skool crap about ‘ways of doing business’ from dinosaurs like Alan and Paul Akers. They’re listening to all this stuff from America about ‘the ghetto’ and ‘OGs’ and ‘gangsta rappers’ and they want their guns; they’re all hip-hop, they want a piece of what’s out there and they want it now. I’ve got a
Nigerian
girl friend over in Homerton in Hackney. Maxine. Her baby brother, Ade, he lives on the Gascoyne estate, works for a kid called Dunstan. Those kids are still in their nappies, I mean, they are so young but between them, they’re taking over Hackney, Stoke Newington, Dalston, Bethnal Green. Those kids are dangerous. And Alan’s feeling the heat.’

‘And you won’t just leave him because of the money?’

Nina turned to look at him. The scorn in his voice was
unambiguous
.

‘And live like you?’ she snapped. She didn’t mean it to come out as harshly as it did.

‘What do you do for the money?’ He asked her straight and her reply was equally straight.

‘I sing.’ That’s what she said but what she thought was ‘Fuck you!’ Who was he to judge her? What was so great about his life? The next second he leant into her and kissed her deeply. Nina felt more grateful for that kiss than she would have dared admit.

‘Whatever we had, it’s over. As I’m sure you can tell.’

‘I believe you.’ The two lay on the bed staring up at the ceiling.

‘Maybe … maybe you’re right,’ she almost whispered.

‘What?’

‘If boxing means that much to you, why don’t you take the fight with Mancini … and beat him!’