Rotten to the Core Read online

  “An eye for an eye only ends up making the whole world blind”

  ~ Mahatma Gandhi

  1

  Kate threw her mobile down onto the sideboard.

  Why wasn’t he picking up? It’s gone two thirty, please God, answer your phone, she thought.

  Kate went back to picking up the shards of glass from the grubby kitchen floor. There was always some domestic going on down this street, no matter what time of the morning it was. The neighbours were very good at pretending to be deaf when they needed to. Getting involved would be more than their lives were worth, and they were all very much aware of that. This morning’s shenanigans had been a little more eventful than most, thanks to her brother and his infamous bad temper. Kate wrapped all the bits of broken glass up in newspaper before carefully putting it in the bin: wouldn’t want anyone to get cut. She knew that there would be enough bloodshed to come. Billy would make sure of that. When he lost it, he really lost it, and tonight she feared would only be the beginning of her troubles. He had gone mental, worse than she had ever seen him. She had never had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of his temper until now, and she had watched horrified as he had smashed and thrown everything and anything he could get his hands on. She had even thought at one point that he was really going to hurt her. She had seen Billy kick off loads of times, but this was the first time that she had been the direct cause.

  Billy O’Connell was a big bloke, six foot two and built like a brick shit-house as some would say. Intimidating was an understatement, he was one of the most feared men this side of London. Feared but also respected. He was only a year older than her but it may as well have been ten years the way he carried on, always thinking that he knew best and that it was his right to know all her business. Kate should have guessed that he was going to react like this, it was stupid of her to think otherwise, but surely he would see it through her eyes, surely one day he would accept how happy she was.

  He had seemed in such a good mood when he had got home, and Kate had forced herself to tell him. She had been making herself physically sick all day by bottling it all up inside. It would only be a matter of time before somebody told him, knowing what this lot round here were like. It is better coming from me, she had thought. They had been sitting together at their little kitchen table and she had fetched him a whisky, thinking it would soften the blow a little. Boy, how wrong she had been!

  Now she was once again alone in the house, Kate slumped down on one of the only chairs that had escaped being broken into pieces. She placed her head in her hands, and she prayed that Billy wouldn’t be returning anytime soon.

  She just couldn’t understand how he could have been so angry, so disgusted with her. She grimaced as she went over the night’s events in her head. There would have never been a good time to tell him, though, she thought, and it hadn’t helped that he’d been out drinking with his pathetic cronies all evening. She hadn’t seen him looking so chirpy in ages and it had seemed like the perfect time. He had been telling her all the funny things that he and his mates had been up to that evening in The Dog, the local pub that he and his friends ‘invaded’ most weekends. They had spent most of the evening winding up the pretty new barmaid on her first shift. Really laughing, he was, as he told Kate of the night’s events. She reasoned with herself that he would eventually come round to it all, and that now was a good a time as any. Slowly plucking up a little more courage, she thought: it’s now or never.

  “Billy,” she said quietly, feeling her nerve go as soon as her mouth opened but realising there was no going back now. “There’s something you should know.”

  She watched him take another swig of his drink; whisky was his favourite, it always took the edge off. He was drinking more and more lately, not that anyone would have the balls to mention it to him: or not to his face anyway. As she sat across from him, she was aware, as always, of how much she reminded him of their mother, Kate had the same blonde hair and piercing blue eyes as she had, God bless her soul.

  Poor old mum, she thought, what a struggle her whole life had been, their old man had upped and left when they were just babies, leaving their mum to struggle with not a penny to her name. Same story with most families nowadays, but back then it was a bit of a stigma, the nosey old neighbours, with nothing better to do but gossip and look down their noses at her. Their husbands may be useless pieces of shit drinking away most of the money, but at least they had husbands: what a joke. Her mum had never let any of that bother her, though: “Mindless people with meaningless lives” she’d say. She was what you would call ‘old school’, a real tough cookie. She had more important things to worry about, like keeping the debt collectors from the door and putting food on the table for the only two people that mattered in her life, Billy and Katie, her pride and joy. Kate’s mum may have been a tough lady, but she had a heart of gold where her kids were concerned. There was nothing that she wouldn’t give them, and she always had time for them. Even when she was up to her tired, lined eyes with worry, she always had time to sit and listen to them. Kate felt saddened at how Billy had acted back then, bringing aggravation to their door on an almost daily basis. He had been a nightmare as a teenager, and she cringed now just thinking about some of the things he had said and done. You don’t realise the hurt and pain that you cause at that age, she guessed. All he seemed to think about back then was his main priorities, his mates and making a name for himself, which he certainly had now. He had definitely taken their mum for granted, Kate thought. Kate had always tried to be the peacemaker, always trying to smooth things over for Billy. Even though there had been times their mother had seemed genuinely upset and angry with Billy for all his getting up to no good, Kate knew deep down that their mother had always loved him very much. She just wished that he would realise it too, instead of always feeling guilty. There was no use feeling guilty, she thought sadly, Mum was at peace now. It was hard for Kate to believe that it had been almost a year since she died.

  Knocking back the last of the whisky, Billy glanced up at his sister. When the time was right, Kate was going to make somebody a really great little wife, he thought; she would often have him a nice dinner on the table if and when he chose to come home, and she kept the place nice and tidy. She was a real homemaker. He never really returned the favour in that respect, but he was sure she knew that he appreciated it, deep down. He was paying the mortgage, after all, it’s the least she could do really, he justified. Kate had been acting a bit shifty tonight though, Billy thought, and looking closer he could see that she looked really knackered. He could see bags under her eyes and that she was deathly white-looking, too. Something was definitely up.

  “Billy, listen,” Kate’s voice was almost a whisper as she tried to get her words out. Something in her tone had him feeling wary now; the whole mood in the room had changed, and he could feel the tension in her voice – or was it fear?

  “Go on,” he pressed.

  “Well, you see, it’s... well… it’s just that… I’ve met someone… I’ve got a fella... and he makes me really happy….” She was babbling; she could feel the words tumbling out without really thinking first.

  Billy gave her his full attention.

  “He treats me like a princess, Billy, I’ve never been so happy; I know it sounds really daft but it’s like what happens in films, you know? I love him….”

  “Who is it?” She could see Billy was getting really impatient now.

  “Look… please, Billy, please don’t be mad….”

  “Get to the fucking point: who the fuck is it?” Billy bellowed; he slammed his glass down on the table, making Kate jump.

  “Look, Billy, please don’t be angry. It’s Jay.”

  “Jay? Jay who? Te
ll me that you are not talking about Jay Shaw.” He was rising to his feet now.

  Slowly nodding, Kate could see the veins throbbing in Billy’s forehead; his face was red with rage. He looked like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

  “That major fucking waster, are you taking the piss or what?” He was staring at her intently. She’d heard the expression ‘if looks could kill’, now she completely understood it.

  “Please Billy listen…. He is really good to me, he really is a nice bloke, and you have just got to give him a chance….” She was crying now, she knew there was worse to come, and that from the way he was reacting he would never see it from her point of view.

  “A chance... give him a fucking chance? I’ll tell you what I’ll give him, Kate, a pair of broken fucking legs, that’s what I’ll fucking give him! You and Jay are over, do you hear me? I’m going to go and give that cheeky fucker the news myself!” Billy was fuming; if that lowlife scumbag thought he had any chance with his sister he had another thing coming.

  It had all seemed to happen in slow motion after that. Kate remembered seeing him go towards the front door and chasing after him, begging him not to go, begging him to leave her poor Jay alone. He shoved her out of the way with such force that she screamed it at him, at the top of her lungs in a desperate bid to get him to see sense: “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him, Billy, I mean it!!!! You don’t know everything." She was really sobbing now.

  Through her sobs, he heard her say quietly: “I’m pregnant, Billy, I need him.”

  It was all a bit blurred after that, her brother had just gone completely loopy. She had sat huddled in the corner of the room, her knees bent instinctively to protect her stomach and her head buried under her hands as Billy had smashed up the whole place. She hadn’t dared to speak in case he realised that she was still actually in the room.

  “What a major fuck up, how could you have been so stupid?” he bellowed, as he emptied the cupboards onto the floor, smashing plates and cups. “You’re no better than any other slag on this estate now.” He was kicking the cupboard doors, as he paced the kitchen. “You’ve really gone and fucked your life up.”

  He must have burnt himself out; because the next time Kate looked up, he was heading out of the front door; that had been about two o’clock this morning: which thankfully, Kate thought, was the last time she had seen him.

  She had called Jay straight away, to warn him that her lunatic brother was on the warpath. He wasn’t answering his phone, so she had just left a teary answer phone message asking him to call her as soon as he got it.

  So she was pregnant: big deal. Billy was probably more worried about his own life and his own reputation than he was about hers. The way Billy had reacted you would have thought she had just told him she was selling herself on the streets for a fiver a go.

  She wasn’t as stupid as Billy had often assumed: she and Jay had been together for just over a year. A whole year ago when Goldie’s nightclub had first opened, from the moment Kate saw Jay, she just knew that he was for her. She had managed to keep it a secret from Billy up to now, which pleased her no end, especially given the way he had just reacted. Billy liked to think he knew everyone’s business around here, she knew he would no doubt be even more enraged when he realised that he was the last one to find out about his little sister’s fella.

  She placed her hand on her stomach and felt a warm, fluttery feeling. She couldn’t believe that she had a tiny baby growing inside her: Jay’s baby. It was still early days in her pregnancy so she wasn’t showing. She still had to remind herself, sometimes, that it was really happening.

  Jay wasn’t like most men where she lived. He didn’t need to go around threatening people to gain respect; he kept his head down and worked hard for his money. She had known that he was special the moment she had met him. Why couldn’t Billy just be happy for her and keep his bloody nose out of it?

  2

  Paul Goldie felt as if he had really arrived. Goldie’s was going to be London’s most happening nightclub.

  With Paul, you always knew where you were. He was as straight up as they came; you give respect to get respect, he always said, and he lived by that. He was an excellent boss and he treated his workers fairly. He was always cool and calm where business was concerned, but if anyone was stupid enough to cross him they would pay dearly. He wouldn’t take any shit from anyone. Everyone wanted a piece of Paul. Men wanted to befriend him, to have him on-side, he was that sort of bloke, the life and soul of the party: wherever he was, was generally the place to be, as he had a real vibe going on. As for the women, they threw themselves at him. He was a real looker, dark and rugged with twinkly eyes: the whole package. Most importantly, though, he had ‘that spark’. One of Paul’s main qualities on which he prided himself was his intuition; he lived by it and it had taken him far. He knew who the people were who always seemed to be after something. The ones who always seemed to be on the take, out for whatever they thought they might be able to get. They were easily spotted from the word go, and he never let them close. Sometimes he would use them to his advantage, play them at their own game, but he preferred to surround himself with people he could trust. To have a few real friends was always better than to have a room full of fake users was his creed.

  Looking around the club he felt a surge of pride at what he had achieved in such a small space of time. The top floor of Goldie’s was a private members club, a modern day gentlemen’s club. The exclusive membership cost a lot, but money wasn’t an issue with the members. Quite the opposite, in fact, the more money some had the more others tried to outdo them. If there was anything big or worth knowing about going down in London, you could bet your life someone in that room would be the brains or the brawn behind it. No women were allowed access, apart from the ones provided for the men’s personal pleasure. Sexist it may be, but that’s what his punters wanted and that was what they got, and what’s more that’s what worked.

  The area was kitted out so tastefully it was hard to imagine the sordid goings-on that it would no doubt be used for. It was already a huge success and word had spread quickly among the men. It was just a chilled out place for like-minded men to have a few drinks, talk business or if the mood took them to indulge in a bit of pleasure. That pleasure came in the form of top London call girls who were paid to cater for the men’s every whim. There were a few large booths so that the men could have some privacy with the girls should they choose to, which most of them regularly did. The men were happy because their wives would never find out, the girls were happy because they got tipped well for their services, and Paul was happy, because his little empire was raking him in an absolute fortune. There were drugs being handed around like Smarties up there, but Paul knew when to turn a blind eye. Drugs were a mug’s game, he would never fall victim to depending on them to get his rocks off. But, of course, there was money to be made supplying them, and Paul had a couple of guys there to make sure that his members got what they wanted. His stuff wasn’t cut with anything dodgy, so the men knew they were better off getting their gear here. It was not something that he personally got involved with, it just wasn’t his thing, but he was more than wise to the whole supply and demand thing, and if there was a demand, he would be sure to be the one supplying, it would be stupid not to.

  The specially fitted big plasma screens flashed up scenes in the main part of the club, and were very popular with the members. The screens allowed them to watch young girls grinding about on the dance floor below them and to keep a general eye on those coming in and out of the club. There were cameras fitted everywhere in the club and the security and bouncers were shit hot; if anyone even looked like they wanted to kick off they would be dealt with immediately. With the things he had going on here, Paul wanted minimal trouble.

  With all this in mind and the right décor and music, the club had a vibe about it. It was the place to be, and Paul was like the cat that had got the cream. He smiled to himself as he looked around at the cl
ub; it had only opened last week and it was heaving, there were at least four hundred people in already and the night was young.

  Emma handed Kate a shot glass and picked up her own from the bar.

  “To us, babes: the hottest girls in here,” she giggled, as she unsteadily lunged towards Kate.

  Emma was pissed already, and it was only nine thirty in the evening. Kate wished they had slowed down on the shots now. She could more than handle her drink, but her friend was a bit of a light-weight. Kate had just wanted to have a good night; now she was worrying about her tipsy friend.

  “Em, you’re going to have to take it easy, babe; I’m not spending the night in the toilets again. This dress cost me the best part of my wages, and I’m not having you puking anywhere near it. Here, let me get you some water,” Kate insisted.

  “No, Kate!” slurred Emma. “I’m fine honest, I’m just enjoying myself. Chill out.”

  The music was booming, the DJ had worked in some of the best clubs in Ibiza and his tunes were going down really well; the dance floor was packed and as he played a new tune that had only just been released that month, everyone started cheering.

  “Oh my God, it’s our song,” shrieked Emma, as she dragged Kate towards the dance floor.

  Emma was singing along as she threw herself about on the dance floor, grinding sexily with any bloke who happened to be nearby. She wasn’t naturally pretty like Kate, but she did have two huge attractive assets, both 34E to be exact, and most men spent more time looking at them than her face. Emma wore too much makeup and always made sure that if there was a party going on, she was the main attraction. She and Kate had been mates since school, and although she thought the world of Kate she was a bit jealous of her too. Kate could give any model a run for her money. She was naturally pretty, she didn’t even need makeup. She was tall and skinny too, which always pissed Emma off as she couldn’t even seem to so much as look at a cake without gaining five hundred calories.