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'What's the problem, sir?'

The man was feeling ambitious; he had on a grey pinstriped suit and his shirt was expensive though his watch wasn't. He had obviously drunk more of the champagne than the girl, that was part of her job, and he was about five seconds away from an argument.

'I asked you a question?' The words were spoken respectfully but with authority.

'I want to leave and she won't come with me. What the fuck did I come here for if I am going home on my own?'

Lance looked at the girl and raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

'So? What's the problem?'

She was absolutely terrified and the punter quickly picked up on that.

'Go on then, mouth almighty, fucking tell him.'

Lance pointed a finger at him and it was enough to shut him up.

'Come on, what's wrong?'

Everyone was watching them and she knew it. The hostesses were all standing by the dance floor like a flock of exotic birds. This was something that could affect them all and they knew it.

Lance was not unaware of them but he was concentrating on the punter and his arrogance. The man's disrespect was annoying him. The girl was only young and she was a bundle of nerves.

'I can't go case unless the man buys three bottles of champagne… He can't seem to understand that.' She pointed at the table holding the ice bucket and the empty champagne bottle. The ice had melted so he knew it had been there a while.

Lance looked back at the man.

'If you are in a hurry sir, we can wrap the champagne and you can take it to the hotel with you. But the girl is right, it's three bottles or she stays where she is.'

The man was just getting the courage up to jump on his high horse when he saw another man walking towards them. He was the double of the man he was speaking with and he suddenly realised that he was in deep trouble; that the man in front of him was not going to be in any way amenable.

'What's the problem, Lance?'

Pat's voice was friendly but the man sitting with the hostess could hear the underlying question there. He knew the man was being asked not to harm him in any way and he was being reminded that they were in public. He didn't know how he knew that, he just did. It was a learning curve, an introduction to the world he had chosen to frequent for easy sex and the feeling of being a player.

The girl was looking down at the table; there was no way she was going to look anyone in the eyes or engage them in idle conversation.

'This man is trying to stiff us. He wants this girl to go case with him and he doesn't want to pay for the champagne. I am just going to explain the situation to him, explain how the club works. I need to explain that we ain't a fucking charity for cheap cunts or fucking muppets.'

Patrick knew that Lance was on one of his missions, this happened periodically. He got a bee in his bonnet and nothing would be right with him until he had taken out his anger on someone. This man was not unaware that his life was in danger if he argued back or disagreed with the man smiling at him in such a friendly way. So that was a result at least. He just had to diffuse the situation and get Lance away.

'Pay the lady and pay her now.'

The punter looked from one brother to another then he took his wallet out quickly and looked at Patrick, saying loudly, 'Of course, how much?' He said it as if stiffing her had never entered his mind.

'Forty quid. Now.'

The punter gave the two twenties to the girl and she walked away from the table as fast as she could without actually running.

'Now get up, pay the bill for your champagne; they take money and credit cards at the bar, and then my advice to you is to fuck off.'

The punter did not need to be told twice. As he got up from his chair, Lance grabbed him by his shoulder and dragged him physically through the club, past the girls and out the front door. As he landed on the pavement, Lance kicked him with all his strength in the kidneys.

Back inside the club, Patrick shook his head in absolute wonderment. 'You never manhandle a punter on the street. What are you trying to do, Lance, bring the filth in here? Legitimate filth who will bring us to the attention of all the wrong people? And what about his bill, eh? The bottle of champagne he drank, who's paying for that?'

Pat wiped a hand across his face and forced himself to calm down so he didn't cause any more trouble for them both.

Lance turned to the doorman then. He was still after a fight of some description and everyone watching was more than aware of that.

'You should have sorted that, you should have been in here and watching the tables.'

Keith had just about had enough now. For all that Lance was a big part of this life, he was sick of being treated like a fucking no-neck.

'That is the head girl's job, Lance. I resent you trying to fucking make me look a cunt. You might be his brother but I take my fucking orders from him, not you.'

Pat stepped between the two men and Lance knew that this was something he would have to place on the back burner. He'd wait until the time was right to finish it.

'Oi. Come on you two, what the fuck is all this about?'

Pat pushed Lance towards the stairs and walked close behind him as they went up to the office. He shut the door quietly and then he turned on his brother with more anger than Lance had ever seen before.

'What the fuck are you doing, Lance? You lost your fucking mind or what?'

'What are you on about? I was trying to make us some money; that cunt is always chatting up the hostesses and he ain't got the fucking nous to do that job.'

Pat held up a hand in a gesture of silence.

'You do not tell anyone what to do unless I expressly say so, you hear me, Lance? I am the boss of this outfit and that fucking includes you. Keith's all right and the Munroes are a fucking good crew. If you cause a war with him they will all be out of sorts and at the moment I can't afford for that to happen. So shut the fuck up and stop trying to cause upset where there ain't none.'

Lance didn't answer him, he just stood and stared. His face was, as always, expressionless unless it displayed anger or distaste.

Pat wondered at times if this man was even on the same planet as everyone else. Lance was his brother and he loved him but he was a loose cannon and, worse than that, he was devoid of anything even resembling human emotion. Except when it came to Kathleen that is; she was the only person who he seemed to care about. It was his one saving grace and it had saved him a few times lately, if he only realised that.

'What happened with Donny?'

'Sweet as a nut. The money was paid in full, of course.'

'Well, where is it then?'

Lance shrugged then, as if he was talking to a moron, someone without any intelligence whatsoever. It was all Pat could do not to murder his brother there and then.

'It's in the safe over there, of course.'

Pat nodded. He knew that if Lance had access to the safe then he was snooping all over the place and he made a mental note to have the locks changed.

'Come on, Lil, eat something.'

'I can't Janie, I feel like shit on a stick.'

They both laughed then.

'You look like shit and all.'

'I feel a bit sick.'

'Well, a baby will do that to you, Lil. I was as sick as a dog with all mine.'

Janie sat beside Lil at the kitchen table and lit herself a cigarette.

'I bet you couldn't believe it, could you?'

Lil laughed and her face looked young again, but just for a moment.

'Just my luck, ain't it? Another bloody baby at my age.'

'Look on the bright side, Lil. This one could be the baby for your old age. Years ago, if women had a late one, it was seen as a blessing. A child for your old age, a child to look after you and make sure you were all right.'

Lil sighed once more.

'I can't see it being anything like that, Janie. Kids nowadays don't seem to have that kind of tolerance. It's all about them, not anyone else.'