Widows

Bella looked embarrassed for a moment. ‘You got the wrong person, darlin’, that was the old man. He did the final OD three months back.’ Then she added, ‘So I know what you’re going through.’ Linda knew that Bella had used heroin in the past and took her denial to mean that she was clean now. She certainly looked clean. In fact, she looked fabulous. Bella gave Linda’s hand one final, comforting squeeze and then left.

Charlie appeared next to Linda. ‘I could give that black chick one,’ he said, scratching his balls and sneakily sniffing his pit. Linda laughed at Charlie’s naivety.

‘She could give you one an’ all, but you wouldn’t get up afterward. You so much as look at her and she’d clip you round the ear.’

‘I wouldn’t dip me wick in her anyway,’ Charlie said defensively. ‘She’d probably give me a dose of the clap.’ As he slunk away, he added, ‘She looks way too much like a fella anyway.’

Linda looked across at Bella as she left with her Chinese punter. From the back, with their overcoats and short black hair, they looked incredibly similar. Linda grinned to herself as she opened the drawer in her desk and got out a new bottle of vodka.

Chapter 11

Arnie Fisher poured two glasses of champagne, then took both of them over to the leather sofa where Carlos was sprawled out reading a magazine. He sat close to him and put his hand on his thigh. Carlos took the glass and, laying his arm across the back of the sofa, silently invited Arnie to sit back into it. The men chinked glasses and sipped their champagne.

Arnie was looking very dapper in a new cream silk suit. He got up, admired himself in the mirror, turned and smiled at Carlos. ‘Would you like one made up, too?’ he asked. ‘It’d really suit you.’ Arnie loved to dress Carlos, like a toy doll or a dog who had no opinion of their own. Carlos didn’t mind, in fact he quite enjoyed being pampered. He nodded seductively and sipped his drink.

Gloria buzzed to come through and, without waiting for an answer entered, dressed up to the nines, her huge tits bursting out of the 46 C cup. She leaned on the door. ‘Boxer’s outside, wants a word... let him in, shall I?’

Arnie adored Gloria. If he had been straight, he would have had a scene with her. They got on well, he could yell and shout at her and she didn’t give a toss. She was a good girl was Gloria, been with him for years, used to be a hostess downstairs, got a bit old for the racket, and went upstairs to the office. Her typing was still haywire, and she couldn’t spell, but somehow she got things in order, and she looked good out there at her desk.

Gloria crossed to the champagne and helped herself to a glass before joining Arnie and admiring her figure in the mirror alongside his. She thought Carlos was a gorgeous-looking fella and didn’t know how he could stand Arnie pawing at him, but then she decided that poofs were all the same — just out for what they could get. She’d no doubt let Arnie paw her as well if she got silk suits and nice motors out of it. Yes, Carlos was doing very nicely out of Arnie, especially with all the added business going his way at his garage. She wondered how long he would last, though. Usually Arnie’s boys never made it beyond two months. He was a fickle bastard, but this one, this Carlos, it’d been near that already and they still seemed to be going strong. And if Carlos ever did get dumped by Arnie, well, she’d be there to comfort him.

‘I’m off home now,’ Gloria said, necking her drink. ‘Shall I let Boxer in or what?’

Carlos stood up to leave.

‘Stay. It’s only Boxer Davis,’ said Arnie. ‘Wheel him in,’ he told Gloria.

Gloria wiggled out and Boxer entered, his appearance catching Arnie off guard slightly. He’d had his hair cut, parted and flattened down on one side, which made his ears stick out, but more than that, Boxer was actually wearing a near-decent suit.

‘So, what you got?’ Arnie asked, lighting a cigar.

Boxer blurted it out. He’d been at the Rawlins’ place and had some information, which was worth a lot of money, but it was private stuff. Boxer looked at Carlos, hoping he would leave the room.

Arnie gave Carlos the nod to get another bottle of champagne. As he left, Boxer sat down without asking. This was a surprise. Boxer never pushed his luck with either of the Fishers, but today he seemed very confident about something. Arnie let Boxer’s disrespect go for now. He was intrigued to hear what the big oaf had to say.

‘I got news about Harry Rawlins, Mr. Fisher. I been with Dolly, gaining her trust back and, well, she confided in me.’ Boxer left a dramatic pause and then dropped the bombshell. ‘He’s alive. Harry Rawlins is alive.’

Arnie’s reaction was not what Boxer had expected. He sat at his desk, leaned back, took his glasses off and suddenly started to shriek with a high-pitched laugh. Then he looked up, glaring at Boxer with icy eyes as his face turned nasty. ‘Alive! She’s spinning you a yarn, you stupid little prick.’