by Masimba Musodza
We watched Jeremy fall in love with The New Girl.
At first, there was not much to see. We were at our usual table in the warehouse canteen, sometime after 2 a.m. Davinder, Pavel and myself (Gavin), the Three ‘Avs, as the Kids liked to call us. The Kids were Jeremy, Trevaine and Tony. We called them that because all three, being in their early twenties, were young enough to be our sons. Until last month, there were four kids. Then Fisnik “Fish” Marku was summoned to HR and told it had come to their attention that his residence permit had expired. It had been whispered that Fish had connections with the Albanian mafia, and they had been using our warehouse to facilitate their own duty-free imports from the European Union.
I cannot recall what the topic of heated discussion was, but, as soon as the New Girl walked into the canteen, Jeremy stopped participating in mid-sentence. As the ancient nymph Clytie had so longingly and futilely gazed upon the god Helios, Jeremy watched the New Girl circumnavigate the eight long tables until she was at the other end of the canteen, her back to us. She pulled a packet of sandwiches out of the left pocket of her hoodie. I caught a flash of yellow, the ubiquitous reduced-price sticker, before the sandwiches vanished from view.
I had never seen her before until about a week ago. There was nothing remarkable about her, except, perhaps, for her large green eyes and full lips. I wouldn’t go so far as to say she was not well-groomed, and this was not the job to come fashionably dressed and made up for, but there was an untidy, careless look about her. I guess that’s why she hadn’t yet made friends among the other young lasses at the warehouse; she did not look like one of them. She looked around the Kids’ age range, maybe a little older.
“Jeremy, her name’s Valerie,” said Pav, smiling. “I’m her supervisor, I could give you her number, but Data Protection and all that.”
Jeremy shook his head, snapping out of his reverie, and realised we were all looking at him.
“Jeremy’s going to be first to smash the new lass!” said Trevaine, flicking his right index and forefinger in the air emphatically.
“Oh, come on, Trev,” said Jeremy. “It’s not like that.”
“And that is the trouble, mate,” said Trevaine. “It’s never like that with you. Every girl you meet, you are ready to wife up. You didn’t even know her name until ten seconds ago, and you were ready to marry her! You are such a simp, bro!”
“Never heard that one before,” said Dav, thoughtfully. “What is a simpbro?”
“Another fancy American expression Trev here has picked up from his career as a blogger of men’s issues,” I said. “Tell them what a simp is, son.”
“A simp is a man who puts a woman on a pedestal when she has done nothing to deserve it, hoping she will like him back,” said Trev, pedantically.
“What we used to call a mug,” I said. “Or a fool in love. The male equivalent of a doormat.”
“And you learnt this from how many hours of watching Andrew Tate’s content?” said Jeremy, his face and neck suffused with red.
“I did a whole post on my own blog,” said Trev, indignantly. “It wouldn’t hurt you to have a read, you know.”
“No, thanks, mate.” said Jeremy. “I can already feel the misogyny coursing up my toes by osmosis through the floor from sitting next to you for this long!”
He rose, and walked over to Valerie’s table.
“I am nothing like Andrew Tate,” said Trev, to no one in particular.
“But you don’t like women,” said Tony.
Trev threw his hands up. “Does anyone ever read my blog? No, don’t answer that! I already know; sixteen thousand hits today.”
“Sixteen thousand hits from sad, pathetic incels,” said Tony.
“Oh, I wouldn’t call Trev here an incel, Tony!” said Dav. “You only have to look at his lovely girlfriend, Billie. Phwoar!”
“I have been booked for several speaking engagements around the country and online later this year,” said Trev. “There might even be a chat show on a local TV station.”
The Kids were all going places from this warehouse job. Trev was emerging as a powerful, bankable commentator on the controversial topic of masculinity in today’s world. Tony was developing an app, or some tech thingy or other, and had investors from an African country, which stood to use it to monitor wildlife migration, this close to handing him a fat check. Jeremy was short-listed for a job at a major bank in London, and would be travelling next week to attend the interview. Us ‘Avs, on the other hand, had retired from careers. The warehouse was our time away from homes where the kids, and, in the case of Pav and Dav, wives, had left to lead their own lives.
Valerie passed us as she exited the canteen. It looked like Jeremy’s advances had been rebuffed. But, there was a perceptible swish to her gait, a subtle emphasis on her femininity that had not been there before. The other ‘Avs and I exchanged sympathetic glances. With a sigh, Jeremy resumed his seat at our table. Tony looked on straight-faced ahead, but his shoulders shook.
“She did not blow me off, if that is what you’re wondering,” said Jeremy. “She told me her name’s Valerie.”
“I told you her name’s Valerie!” said Pav.
“And then she told me again, Pav!” Jeremy snapped.
“Bro, please don’t tell us you broke into a rendition of the Eric Prydz song!” said Trev, throwing up his hands.
“You mean the Steve Winwood song!” said Dav, emphatically.
“Trev, I didn’t sing any songs, alright?” said Jeremy, punctuating each word.
“But you were thinking it, Jeremy!” said Trev.
“Oh, give it a rest, Trev!” said Tony. “So what if man here is smitten?” The rhetorical question was directed at all of us. “Even you were smitten by quite a few lasses in your time.”
“Yes, and I learned plenty,” said Trev. “Smitten and bitten. It is that wisdom that I want to pass on to my less-experienced pal over here, so he can avoid the mistakes I made.”
Jeremy’s sullen expression remained. “You know nothing about her!” he said.
“My sermon isn’t about her, pal,” said Trev. “It’s about you. It’s about your simping. Don’t ruin this relationship by simping.”
“Ah, so you approve of the relationship!” I said.
“Of course,” said Trev. “What I don’t approve of is man here overwhelming the lady by trying to show her that he is a good guy and expecting her to drop her knickers in return.”
“Well, since he did not bring out a wedding ring or even Borat’s marriage sack, I think Jeremy here means to let the relationship grow,” I said. “Come on Trev, you and Jeremy are the same age. True, you might have a bit more experience…”
“Experience?!” said Jeremy, to no one in particular. “Is that what we call misogyny now?” Bearing down on his friend, he said, “No offence, Trev, but I don’t need to be the one who restores balance in the universe by acting out your script to fix whatever it is that went wrong in your life in the past.”
There was a tense moment as they stared at each other. Then, Trev’s features relaxed. “Sorry, pal. I get too much into this manosphere stuff sometimes and forget that there are always variables. Because of these, no situation is the same. Therefore…”
“Apology accepted, you pompous doyle, you!” said Jeremy, grinning.
We all laughed.
The next morning, Jeremy and Valerie sat together in the canteen, and left together. The morning after that, she wasn’t on shift. Jeremy joined us at our usual table. The conversation was friendly enough, until the subject of Valerie was raised.
“So, Jeremy, have you taken it to the next level yet?” Tony asked.
Jeremy looked up and found himself under our interrogative collective stare. “It’s not like that,” he said, shifting uncomfortably. “She got two kids, by different fathers, and I don’t want her thinking that I think since she is a single mum, she is, you know, easy.”
“You don’t want her thinking you think she’s easy or she doesn’t want you to think she’s easy?” said Trev. “The Devil is in the details.”
“How can that be a bad thing, Trev?” said Dav. “She only wants to give the relationship time to grow, reducing the risk of being left holding the baby again.”
Trev smiled back at the older man indulgently. “That is one way of looking at it,” he said. “Another is that she is going to let him play the masculine role while offering him nothing in return!”
“I’ve already said it’s not like that!” said Jeremy.
“Oh, yeah?” said Trev, “I can’t help noticing she doesn’t get her sandwiches from the reduced-price section anymore. That’s how it starts, Jeremy. Next, you will be babysitting her kids, taking them to McDonald’s and stuff. Women like her have children with irresponsible men, safe in the knowledge that the world is full of simps ready to pick up the tab!”
“A’way, mate!” I said. “That’s rather laying it on thick. The relationship’s only minutes old.”
Trev looked at the sullen Jeremy. “Sorry, mate. Sometimes I take all this masculinity stuff too seriously, and I miss the wood for the trees.”
Jeremy stared at him for a moment. “You use too many big words and all these clever sayings, Trev,” he said. “As long as there is a solid, manly apology under all that wordy fluff.”
“There is, pal,” Trev.
A collective sense of relief rose from the group. Tony, who it could be argued had started the whole thing, flashed a smile.
About five evenings later, Tony caught up with me in the locker room before our shift started. “I don’t want to say anything in front of the others, Gav.”
I forgot about what I was reading on my phone. “What is it, kid?”
“It’s Jeremy,” said Tony. “He borrowed £250 off me. He said it was for the trip to London, you know, for the interview? He said the money he had set aside got eaten up by direct debits he had forgotten about.”
“But you think there is more, don’t you?” I said.
“He admitted he had given nearly all his wages to Valerie.”
I only realised I had head-butted the locker when the coolness of the metal hit my forehead.
“He made me promise to keep shtum,” said Tony. “But you don’t need to be Trevaine to see the problem here. Jeremy’s my mate, and I am worried about him.”
“We all will be,” I said.
“Don’t tell anyone else, Gav!” said Tony, grabbing my right arm with alacrity, his eyes pleading.
“I won’t, pal,” I said, patting the hand that clutched my sleeve.”
Later in the canteen, I walked up to Jeremy and Valerie at their table. “Mate, the wife booked one of those packages where you get return tickets to London and two nights at a hotel. Turns out her sister, who we were hoping to meet over there, isn’t flying in from Barbados until next week, and she is landing at Tees Valley Airport instead. They wouldn’t refund, but they said we could transfer the name, and I just thought with your interview in London…”
“Oh my God, thanks, Gav!” said Jeremy, as soon as resumed control of his vocal functions. He cast a speculative glance at our table, just in time to see Tony direct his gaze at his plate. Trevaine was showing the other two ‘Avs something on his phone. Jeremy was no fool.
I saw the rage simmer in his eyes. Then, good sense washed over him again. “You will have to give me your bank details so I can refund you, Gav,” he said.
Valerie looked at him as he said this. I tried to read that look objectively. “There is no rush to pay me back, kid,” I said. “You guys are going to love London!”
“Oh, I couldn’t go along,” said Valerie. “I’d need someone to mind the kids.”
“Right,” I said. “Another time, perhaps.”
“Yeah,” she said, flashing a smile.
I went back to the others.
“What was that about?” Dav asked, glancing back at Jeremy and Valerie.
I shrugged. Trevaine uttered a gasp, and all attention diverted towards him. He was staring at his phone with an expression of utter disbelief. Then, he glanced around. “I had a Zoom interview with an American TV station the other night, and they’ve just sent me an email to tell me that I got the gig!”
He took in the applause and congratulations like an artist who had just finished a performance.
“So, will you still be working here, then?” Pav asked.
“Well, they are offering close to seven times what I make here, and a percentage of the online advertising revenue on a sliding scale,” said Trev. “But, more importantly, I won’t have the time. I will be handing in my resignation soon.”
“Looks like the Kids are finally flying the nest, eh?” said Dav, proudly. “Jeremy over there will be off to London, and Tony here will soon be selling his app.”
“It will be sad to see you boys go,” said Pav. “But if it means your lives are better for it, then I’m happy for you. All I ask is that you stay in touch from time to time. Don’t forget us, because we won’t forget you.”
Trev opened his mouth to say something. Just then, Jeremy and Valerie walked past, holding hands. They nodded at no one in particular, and did not wait for any of us to even acknowledge. After that, the mood at our table dampened, but it was soon time to go back to work anyway.
Nearly a week after Jeremy was supposed to have returned from London, Myfanwy, his supervisor, told me he had been mugged on his way to the train station and was at North Tees Hospital with a broken arm and leg, and bruised ribs. The attack had been covered in a few paragraphs in the Gazette, I might even have seen it.
To say I did not take the news well would be an understatement. I had seen Valerie a few times recently, and she had never said anything. Was she that bent on isolating Jeremy from his friends? His judgemental friends, who had made it clear from the start they thought she was wrong for him.
“I hope he gets better soon, Gav,” said Myfanwy. “It will take him a while to pay off all these advances he has taken out.”
“Advances?”
Mfanwy glanced around guiltily. “I really shouldn’t have said anything, but you are his friend. I am worried that he has borrowed quite a bit against his wages. He wasn’t like this before, him looking to a career in finance and all.”
“Let me guess,” I said, “This all started recently?”
She nodded, and looked around to make sure we did not have an audience. Just then, three ladies of about the Kids’ age range entered the locker room. I made my exit.
I had to wait till dinner time at 2a.m. to speak to the others. By then, word of Jeremy’s hospitalisation had spread. As we sat down at our table, Valerie entered the canteen. She stopped when she saw us, then seemed to fortify herself for the walk past. I rose to bar her.
“Valerie, why didn’t you tell us about Jeremy?” I said.
“I thought you knew,” she said.
“Well, we didn’t know,” I said.
She folded her arms across her chest and sighed. “That explains why you haven’t asked how I have been. I was there too, you know. So were the kids. It all happened in front of us.”
“Do you want to sit with us, Valerie?” said Dav.
“I’m alright!” she said, and brushed past me.
“That must have been awful for them,” said Dav. “They had gone to see him off at the station, I think. Poor Jeremy, I hope the bank gives him another date for his interview.”
“Well, I think she has recovered nicely,” said Tony.
He shuffled under our interrogative stares. “Look, maybe it’s nothing, but I gave Valerie a lift home yesterday, and there was a man waiting for her. They got into her flat together, and he looked this way and that before he shut the door. She didn’t look too pleased to see him, and was uncomfortable that I had, too.”
“Maybe it’s one of the kids’ fathers,” said Pav.
“Come on, Pavel!” said Dav. “We are all starting to think like Trev! Just as well, he’s not here right now.”
“You don’t have to be Trevaine or read his blog to entertain the idea that maybe our Jeremy is being taken for a ride,” I said. “But we can’t say anything. For centuries, male friendships have ended over stuff like this!”
“And a few more will, soon,” said Dav, sombrely. “Look, why don’t we focus on Jeremy? We should go see him after work.”
“I’ll ask Valerie if she plans to see him,” said Pav. “We’ll give her a lift.”
“Now you’re talking, guys!” said Dav. “Seriously, we need to stop treating her like she’s the enemy.”
The subject switched to other things. Valerie left the canteen before any of us did. But, at the end of shift, I saw her walk with Tony to his black Passat. I wondered who she left her kids with when she worked the night shift, and who did the school run.
We found Trevaine and his girlfriend, Billie, waiting for morning visiting hours at the hospital. Trevaine did not look pleased to see Valerie. Surely, he did not blame her for the assault? I shot him a reproving look, and he threw back his hands and head as if to absolve himself of all accusations.
Jeremy’s swollen, bruised face lit up as we entered the ward. Valerie pushed ahead, reaching him before any of us. They kissed. She pulled back, and seemed to melt into the background. However, I was aware of her eyes on me.
“You should see the other guy, Gav,” said Jeremy. “They didn’t put it in the papers, but I gave them a run for their money. Bare fists against knuckle-dusters. I grew up in Grove Hill, you know.”
“A run for their money, he says!” said Dav, with a disdainful snort. “You’re hardly the typical Teesside lad, Jerry! Even if you grew up in Grove Hill.”
“Neither were they,” said Tony. “Five lads against you and your lass! Cowards!”
“The papers don’t say what the problem was,” I said, thoughtfully.
“The police think it’s a case of mistaken identity,” said Jeremy. There was a guarded edge to his tone. He was looking directly at me, and I had the feeling this was because he did not want to make eye contact with Valerie.
“I hope we get them before the police do,” said Trevaine.
“Leave it, man!” said Jeremy. “It’s just one of those things. I can’t wait to get out of here, and get on with my life.”
“Have you heard from the bank?” Pav asked.
“Yeah, they said I should take as long as I need to recover, but they still want me for the job.”
“And you take as long as you need, you hear?” said Pav. “You still have the warehouse job, too.”
Jeremy’s parents and teenage brother arrived, so we all trooped out. Pav offered to take Valerie home, it was on the way to his daughter’s house. As we stepped out of the main entrance into the glare of a summer morning, Pav and Valerie detached from our little group and headed left. Pav found a spot at the far end of the parking area.
Suddenly, Tony stiffened, and averted his gaze. I barely noticed the two men who brushed past us and strode into the hospital. “That’s him!” he said. “That’s the guy who was waiting for Valerie the other day. I have never seen his mate.”
“Are you sure, Tony?” I said. The two men had vanished from our view of the interior of the main entrance area.
“I only saw him once, but I took a good look at him,” said Tony.
Quickly, he briefed Trevaine and Dav.
“He could be visiting family,” said Dav. “We mustn’t jump to conclusions.”
“It’s as plain as day to me,” said Trev. “Valerie has baby-daddy issues, and now they are Jeremy’s issues too!”
“Oh, wouldn’t you just love it, Trev?!” said Tony.
“Actually, I wouldn’t,” said Trev. “Jeremy is our mate. And what I see in store for him when I look into my crystal ball is not something I would wish on a mate.”
I told myself that now was not the best time to mention what I had learnt about Jeremy’s financial situation.
“So, do we confront that guy?” Tony asked, cocking his head towards the entrance.
“Not until we are sure he is who we think he is to Valerie,” I said.
“And I have just the means!” said Trevaine, whipping out his phone. “I’ll take a picture of him when he comes out, and this new app will find any websites with more pictures of him, and hopefully a name and other information.”
“Babe, I thought we were going now!” said Billie. “I have that eleven thirty, and then I have to start cutting the last footage.”
“You go ahead, Bill,” said Trevaine. “This is something I have to sort out. My mate’s in trouble.”
She sighed, and nodded. They kissed, she took the keys out of his hand and headed off towards the car park. We sat in mine for about thirty minutes. Trevaine asked Tony how the app was coming along. I must have begun to doze off, whatever Tony was telling his friend became an incoherent drone.
“There he is!”
I was snapped back to the present. I glanced across the windscreen towards the hospital entrance. Tony and Trevaine were stepping out of the car, the former pointing out their quarry to the latter. I caught a glimpse of two nondescript lads in suit jackets and jeans before they were swallowed up in the human traffic. Tony and Trevaine were exultant as they returned to the car.
“Check this out, our man’s called Chad Rooky,” said Trevaine. “He’s only thirty-seven, but most of his adult life has been at Her Majesty’s pleasure. He was acquitted last winter of assaulting a pensioner, one Hugh Lockeridge.”
“Chad…Rooky,” I said to myself. “I went to school with a James Rooky. He became Teesside’s most ruthless loan shark.”
“Yes, it says here in the same article that a James Rooky and one Khalid Aziz were found guilty of beating up 80-year-old Mr Lockeridge over a debt,” said Trevaine.
Realisation hit all three of us at once, stunning us into a moment of silence.
“They were trying to get away from loan-shark enforcers, fleeing to London together by train when Jeremy got jumped,” I said.
“I told you she would get him in trouble,” said Trevaine.
“Bet you never thought it would be loan shark trouble, eh, kid?” I said, turning to face him. “A loan shark problem has nothing to do with her being an unskilled single mum in need of a man to come to her rescue. It can happen to anyone.”
Trevaine shrugged. “It’s still her problem, though. If he stops messing about with that lass, he’ll stop bringing her problems onto himself,” he said.
“How is he going to do that?” Tony asked no one in particular. “Would you really leave anyone, even a total stranger, at the mercy of those people?”
“No,” said Trevaine. “I’ve seen what those enforcers can do. I’d sell everything to save someone from being hurt.” He glanced around. “Is that what we are talking about, doing a whip round for our mate?”
“Yeah, kid,” I said.
Dav looked at me, and I knew he knew I had another plan, one that was perhaps best kept to myself.
“We need to find out how much Valerie owes this Rooky fella,” said Trev, thoughtfully. “I don’t think she’d tell me, though.”
“If she thought you’d give her the money, she would,” said Tony.
“Yeah,” I said, absently. My attention was on the plan forming in my mind. “Tell you what, guys, I will catch her at work tonight and get the information out of her. Then, tomorrow, I will go the bank and cash my bonds.”
“We are all chipping in,” said Tony. “Even if I have to sell something valuable too.”
Beside him, Trevaine nodded emphatically. And, I thought; they are good kids.
***
I loitered around Roman Road for a good three hours. I knew exactly where he lived, but I did not want him to know that. My best hope was that he would come out of his house at some point and pass this way. I had run into him twice in this area. We had exchanged pleasantries awkwardly, childhood friends who had long become strangers to each other. I wondered if he had read about me in the papers as well, the way I had read about him? Some of those articles had pictures, too. Well, the articles about him often had pictures, a nondescript, balding man with a thin moustache trying to shield his face from the cameras as he came down the stairs at the magistrate’s court.
I turned to my right, and there he was on the other side of the road, walking at a brisk pace. He wore jeans and a bright blue polo shirt. He passed me, and turned into Oxford Road. I crossed the road, and trotted after him.
I caught up with him as we passed the shops. Seeing me, James Rooky broke into that affable grin of his. His eyes, however, were wary, and his thin fingers tightened their grip around his mobile phone.
“Alright, Gav!” he greeted me. “Haven’t seen you around here in years.”
“Actually, I was hoping to run into you, Jim,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, that sounds rather ominous, pal!” he said, throwing his hands up and making a face. But the eyes remained chips of green ice.
“A young friend of mine is in hospital,” I said. “In the papers, it was reported as a mugging. But word around the campfire is that it was on account of a debt his girlfriend owes a local, um, lender.”
“Oh, yes?” said James. “Now that is a shame. I hope your friend gets better. More importantly, I hope your friend doesn’t get himself into any more trouble. A gentleman always pays his debt, I am sure your friend understands this now.”
I grabbed him by the collar with both hands and glared into those chips of emerald. As his face blanched, they seemed less lifeless, less ruthless.
“Oi, oi, Gav?” He tried to keep his voice level. “What’s all this for, pal?” He shrugged me off. He glanced around. “I’m going to forget you just did that.”
“Yeah?” I reached out again, but he held me off by raising his hands. “OK, I am giving you a last warning, Gav. You and me go way back, but it could all end here and now!”
It could, at that. But, my gaze remained level. After a ten-second impasse, I saw those green ice chips melt a little. “It’s business, Gav!” he said. “Nothing personal. I never force anyone to take out a loan. They come to me.”
“They’ve got nowhere else to go, Jim,” I said. “Easy pickings. You call yourself a hunter, but you’re just chasing the lame.”
“They’ve got nowhere else to go, and I take them in!” he said, with self-righteous indignation. “I take risks with a couple of grand, that no bank, even with their billions and billions more in insurance from some stash in Luxembourg or somewhere, is willing to take. It’s the business, it’s the free market! It’s how a Teesside lad like you and me get to be up there will all those fat cats in London!”
“No bank sends thugs after defaulters!”
“Have you seen what the banks do to people who can’t pay their loans, Gav?” He was on very sure moral ground now. “I have never actually killed anyone. Do you know how many people top themselves every year in Teesside alone because they can’t keep up with their mortgage, or the monthly on a mobile phone? Where do you think those old bums shuffling along Linthorpe Road on a Friday night come from?”
“It’s not right, Jim,” I said, softly.
“It probably isn’t,” he said. “But, it is what is, as they say in America.”
“So, that’s your final answer?” I said. He was a low-life, but I did not want to move to that final drastic option. That was what this confrontation was about, a last futile throwing of a lifeline to a man who did not know that he was drowning.
“I am sorry about your friend, Gav,” he said. “But, I can’t make exceptions. They knew it when they came to me. Unlike the banks, I do not have the law to enforce payment of my debts. They knew it when they came to me. If I let one person off, I would have to let all of them off. See you around, pal.”
He brushed past me, and swaggered off. This was the last time I would ever see him again.
***
The disappearance of Messers James and Chad Rooky, and several of their known associates, went generally unremarked. The consensus among those who cared to make enquiries was that they had simply folded their tents and moved to greener pastures. Lots of small post-industrial towns all over Britain, full of broke, desperate people that no bank would lend a fiver to. The police thought the disappearance of the black leatherbound ledger in which the brothers Rooky detailed their transactions imparted plausibility to this theory of their relocation.
The important thing was the brothers Rooky were gone, and with them, nearly all of Teesside’s loan shark problem.
The kids were gone too. Tony had sold his app to six African countries, and now spent most of the year on that continent. Trevaine had taken his show to the whole world. There were pictures of him with celebrities all over the internet, but he still called on the phone from time to time. Last week, he asked us ‘Avs to have our passports ready as he had finally popped the question to Billie, she had accepted and they were going to have the wedding at an exotic location. Jeremy lived near London now. His wedding to Valerie was less ostentatious, but he was in the league that made the huge bonuses.
***
I nearly bumped into Fish as he stepped out of the new kebab shop on Crossfell Road. He looked stouter than when I last saw him over three years ago. The giant polystyrene box in his hand suggested that he intended to get even stouter over the foreseeable future. He was wearing a trendy, expensive-looking suit. Even the odd one out of the Kids was doing well.
“Gav, old man!” The pleasure at seeing me was sincere. He sort of leaned against me, and patted my back with his free hand, while the other tried to keep his kebab from dripping its juices. “How are you buddy?”
“I’m alright, pal,” I said. “Nice threads!”
“Oh, thanks. You’d be surprised what you can get in Istanbul,” he said. “I was there last week, on my way back from Tirana.”
“How is your family, Fish? Mum doing alright?”
“Everyone’s well, Gav.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were out there?”
Fish looked startled, and I could have kicked myself. Up until now, I had never referred to the Rooky brothers, and their close associates. When Fish had agreed to take on the job of transporting them, against their will and in need of urgent medical attention, to Albania, where they now stay indefinitely as guests of his Mafia relatives, it had not been explicitly stated that we would never bring the matter up. Still, and not that I am an expert on such things, it was bad practice to casually raise such topics. Walls had ears. God knows what Fish got up to these days. He could be under police surveillance right now.
“Like I said, Gav, everyone is alive and well,” said Fish, still grinning. “I will remember you to them next time I am in Albania.” Maybe not all of them. “Got to run, mate. I only have half an hour with this kebab, then it’s back to work. My regards to the other ‘Avs.”
Fish lumbered past me towards a black Ranger Rover Sport. He opened the passenger door and leaned over. The back of him would have used a modest office desk as a bar stool. He retrieved clutter from the passenger’s seat to make room for his kebab, tossing various items into the back seat. The last item was worthy of more consideration, so he opened the back seat door. My heart lurched when I saw what it was.
A black leatherbound book. Like an old ledger.
I snapped back to the present when he looked back at me and flashed his smile again. Slamming the doors shut, he lumbered over to the driver’s seat. My head spun as I watched him drive off.
THE END