Lord of London Town

“And that’s what it is. History.” Betsy went to the bar and poured herself a large glass of wine. Eric’s eyes tracked her the entire way, that same possessive look on his face that he always got around her. Fucking psychos, the two of them. Like Fred and Nancy or some other toxic bollocks. Couldn’t be together, couldn’t be apart.

Betsy ignored Eric and dropped a kiss on Vinnie’s head as she passed, then dropped one on “Pearl’s”. “Vinnie, Pearl, you both okay?” she asked, like it wasn’t fucked up we all just pretended my sister was still here with us.

Vinnie smiled as wide as a fucking clown. “We’re good, Bets. Pearl says hello.”

“I miss you, Pearlie-girl.” The truth of Betsy’s statement shone through her face, before she schooled her expression and sat directly opposite Eric, glaring at him as she sipped her wine. Betsy and Pearl had been inseparable as kids. As close to each other and Vera as the fellas were to me. I thought the reason she played along with Vinnie’s hallucinations so well was because she couldn’t bear to accept that Pearl was truly gone either.

Ronnie grabbed her drink and lit her cigar. She sat down on a chair beside the fire. Vera sat on her lap, wrapping her arms tightly around her girlfriend. “And what’s it tonight?” Vera asked. Both she and Ronnie always dressed in suits—waistcoats and pocket watches included. They were fucking good fighters, good shots too, but our old men would never let women into our firm. They were old school and believed women needed to stay at home. It came from the fact that the only woman left out of all our mothers was my grandma. The rest had been killed, killed themselves or fucked off years ago, unable to cope with this life.

It took a certain kind of person to thrive in this fucked-up underworld. Dad didn’t believe women were made for the gangster life. One look at these three and anyone could see that was bullshit. But there was no convincing him otherwise. If I was in charge, I’d have them fighting by my side in a second.

“Russians.” I downed my gin. “Negotiating the routes for the new shipment of meth we just secured.”

“East dock would be best to use for the Reds,” Ronnie said, her hand slipping through Vera’s long blond hair. She said it helped her think. Ronnie’s dark hair was cut short and fell in waves like something from the 1940’s. Her dark eyes were lost in thought. She was Jamaican in heritage, but born in London, and a cockney girl through and through. Her and Vera had been together for a few years now. Ronnie had a fucking genius mind for this business shit. But the fact she had a twat made her a no-go to our fathers.

“Artie?” Dad said, coming through the door, Saville Row suit and hat in place. “You lot ready?”

I got to my feet, as did Eric, Charlie, Freddie and Vinnie. The girls raised their glasses at us in goodbye, and we fell into step behind our old men. We got into the van. I sat next to my dad, as always.

“We’ll go in. You guys watch the front for the Old Bill,” my dad said as we pulled out of the church grounds.

“I should be in the meeting with you,” I said. Charlie nodded from the opposite seat.

“These arseholes are old school. Wouldn’t take well to you being there just yet. It’ll be a quick meeting, then we’ll go for food.” My dad smirked at my scowling face. “You already gunning for my crown, Artie?”

I shook my head. “No, but these wankers are fucking dodgy. Have been for a while. You should have more back-up in the room than just you lot. I’ve been hearing about splits in their families, factions breaking apart and wanting other things than the usual shit of drugs and guns.” All the old men were looking at me, amused. It just pissed me the fuck off. “We should be sure we’re prepared for whatever they might pull. Kill them if we need to.”

“Alf, his bloodlust is on another level from even yours,” my Uncle Trevor said. He was Dad’s brother, Charlie and Betsy’s dad.

“Don’t I know it,” Dad joked, but his smile at me was proud as fuck. I turned and kept my gaze locked on our route to the old warehouse at the east docks. They might think me young, but I studied our “associates”. I knew more about the changing underworld than even Dad gave me credit for.

We came to a stop. The Reds were already inside the old warehouse. We all piled out. “Stay out front, fellas. Keep watch,” my dad said.

I grabbed his arm. “We should have had soldiers here. We haven’t got enough men if something happens. We’re too unprotected. We should never be unprotected.”