Lord of London Town

“Cheska Harlow-Wright,” I said, my thick cockney accent sounding common as shit around her fancy double-barrelled name.

“You remember me?”

I closed my eyes, leaned my head back against the wall and took another drag of my cig. “Did you enjoy the show back there?”

I opened my eyes. Chelsea Girl’s mouth dropped open and her cheeks blazed bright red. I smirked and waited for her to speak, but the fire door flew open. Freddie was searching for me.

“Artie,” he said, all business. High or not, my body immediately went on alert. “Eric’s getting into it with a group of loudmouth Welsh pricks,” was all he said. “It’s gonna be bloody carnage.”

I closed my eyes, and my head fell back against the wall. I opened my eyes and flicked my cig to the floor. I moved past Cheska, followed Freddie and headed over to my mates.

Charlie fell into step beside me, tearing himself from some barman he’d clearly been chatting up. “We can’t even go a few hours without shedding blood.” He smiled at me, teeth shining. “I’m not complaining. Jason there was getting on my nerves anyway. All brawn, not enough brains,” he said. “I’m bored as fuck. I could do with breaking a few noses.”

“How many?” I asked Freddie, as I saw Eric near the front door, smiling his fucking deadly smile at the blokes around him. I shot a glance to Vinnie, who was bouncing on his feet as he joined us.

“I think it’s time to fight,” Vinnie said to thin air beside him. “It’s time to fight, baby. And I want to fight. I like the smell and taste of blood. I like feeling bones crushing under my hand.” Vinnie turned back to me. “We fucking fighting, right, Artie?” he asked, cheeks flushed. “Right, Charlie?”

“No doubt, old boy,” Charlie said, rolling back the sleeves of his shirt. “This is Eric we’re talking about. He could start a fight with his own bloody shadow.”

Vinnie looked beside him. And he smiled, but this wasn’t his manic smile. This was a true smile. One he only ever had for her. “I promise, treasure,” he said again to thin air. “I won’t get hurt. I never get hurt. I never want to see you upset.”

My sister. Vinnie hallucinated my sister. Had done since she’d died and her death had worsened his issues. Vinnie ran a hand down her imaginary face, caressing nothing but empty space. “You always worry about me, Pearlie-girl. But I’d never leave you, just like you’ll never leave me.” For all intents and purposes, Vinnie was in a relationship with my sister’s ghost and had been for years. It was the only relationship he could probably actually ever have.

“There’s nine of them,” Freddie said, pulling my focus back to him. “Eric was fingering one of their birds against the club’s wall, and her fella saw.”

I stopped when we reached Eric. He didn’t look away from the beefed-up wankers surrounding him. I put my hands in my pockets and stared at the red-faced twat currently firing daggers at my mate.

“Problem?” I asked, and the twat’s eyes swung to me.

“Good. Fucking more of them,” one of them said and rolled his hands into fists. I smiled, coldly. Then I stepped forward, and before the cunt even had time to swing his fist, I grabbed his jaw and ploughed my head into his nose. He dropped to the floor, and all fucking hell broke loose. It was a blur of fists and breaking bones as the pricks around us tried to take us on, each one dropping to the ground, not even getting a hit on us—unless it was intended.

Eric lowered his fists and let the main bloke punch him across the face. Eric’s head snapped to the side, blood pouring from his lip. He ran his tongue over the blood, then smiled, widening the cut. The guy froze at Eric’s reaction. Then Eric was on him. Tackling him to the ground and pummelling his face until the bloke was out cold. I stepped back, pulled out a cig and glared at the fuckers on the ground. I inhaled a drag, letting Eric have his fill of spilled blood, then, resting the cig between my lips, pulled him from the fucked-up prick on the floor.

“Outside,” I ordered Eric. He was breathing hard, his knuckles split from all the hits. We passed by the bouncers. I flicked my chin at the mass of groaning twats trying to get up from the floor. “Sort them the fuck out.” The bouncers moved to the Welshmen without question. The Adleys fucking ruled this town. Anyone who worked here wouldn’t dare question a word I said, not unless they had a death wish. My family had men paid off all over Europe. We ran Spain with our gear.

I pushed through the crowded street, drunken Brits falling over and getting in my fucking way. I pushed a smashed cunt aside when he fell in my path.