Widows

‘Charlie, my old darlin’. How are you?’ Charlie held up his empty mug and flicked his eyes toward her vodka bottle. ‘Bugger off.’ Linda whispered through the gap where she gave people their change. ‘Everyone’ll want some.’ Then she howled laughing. Letting her head flop forward, she started making the odd drunken snorting noise. After a few moments, Charlie could no longer tell if she was laughing or crying. He was just about to ask if she was OK when she flicked her head violently back again. Her eyes were hard now, and she spoke through gritted teeth.

‘You know what, Charlie boy? I fucking love this place. I mean, look at it. There’s underage kids with fake ID being pestered by the local pedo... there’s a drunk kipping on the doorstep... there’s more dealers than druggies... and passing trade is prossies, their pimps and their punters. I’m surrounded by the best of the best. Yeah, I’m really going places, Charlie! Cheers!’ Linda emptied the remaining vodka in one swallow.

As Charlie went back to stand by the entrance door, he saw Bella O’Reilly walk in. Linda was right: the passing trade was prostitutes and their pimps or punters. Bella had brought both. She had beautiful shiny black skin, sultry looks and was dressed to kill in a skin-tight yellow satin top and tight black jeans, a matching jacket slung over one shoulder. Her high heels made her look even taller than her imposing six feet. Bella stopped in the middle of the arcade, surveying the scene, as did her pimp, who hovered a short distance behind her. Oil Head, as he was commonly known, started joking with a couple of Chinese guys while twisting his black Fedora in his hands, his gold rings glinting in the arcade’s flashing lights. Charlie knew he was organizing a drug deal. He’d told Oil Head before about plying his trade in the arcade, but the pimp had just laughed — a sort of grunting nasal laugh, a result of snorting too much cocaine. The problem with Oil Head was you didn’t know if he was laughing with you or at you. He was a nasty bastard who liked roaring around on his Harley Davidson and all his girls were scared shitless of him, all except his number one — Bella O’Reilly.

Bella started swaggering round the machines like a seasoned rock performer working the stage, even stopping to sort out two loud-mouthed youths who gave her the come on. Whatever she said had the desired result. They both looked petrified, apologized profusely and made a hasty exit. Bella saw Linda in the booth and gave her a big smile before coming over. She didn’t need to say excuse me to get past people; they nervously stepped out of her way.

‘Bella!’ Linda screamed from inside the booth. Bella, still walking, did a quick bump-n-grind and then stopped in front of Linda, propping herself up against the glass.

Linda and Bella knew each other from way back. Bella had always been in a class of her own: big enough to take care of herself and scared of no one. Linda, unlike Bella, had never worked for a pimp; she’d been more of a lone amateur who only gave hand or oral relief as opposed to full sex, and well before she met Joe.

‘How can you stand it in here?’ Bella asked.

‘It’s soundproof and the voddy helps,’ Linda joked. ‘I love your hair, Bell.’ Bella’s fabulous hair was now cropped close to her head, in a Grace Jones style. She wore a gold headband which, although it was cheap and sold on the market stalls, looked a million dollars on Bella and made her look like an African princess. ‘What you up to these days?’ Linda asked.

‘Same old, same old. Three spots a night at the “Z-Easy” and anything I can fit in between.’

‘How come you’re back in this neck of the woods?’

‘You know me. I was doing all right, but then I lost my temper one night and beat this geezer up. Foreign bastard he was, couldn’t understand a word he was saying. His hands were everywhere, but he hadn’t paid for everywhere so I told him to leave off. When he didn’t I lamped him one. I pled guilty and Oil Head paid my fine.’

‘So you owe him.’

‘Big time. I’ll pay him off then see what I fancy doing.’ Bella glanced across to Oil Head, who was whispering to one of the Chinese men and pointing toward Bella. ‘Looks like I might have a client.’ Bella’s face became serious and she moved round to the door of the booth. Linda opened it so that they could talk face to face.

‘I heard about Joe and I’m really sorry. He was one of the best and you two were great together, sugar. You need me, a few quid or anything then just ask, I’m gonna move back to my old pad soon so I’ll be close by and visit you more often. For now, I’m at the International.’

‘Thanks, Bella. I appreciate that.’

Oil Head whistled to Bella and she held up her hand. Linda took her gently by the wrist. ‘You off the hard stuff?’