That Lenny had abandoned Lil with two extra kids was a nine-day wonder and was something he would never live down. Until now, that had not bothered him too much; seeing Lil brought low had given him a measure of satisfaction. It had been the ultimate slap in the face for Brodie and for her, because her children were more important to her than he would ever be. Lenny would never accept that from anyone.
'Look, Lance, I appreciate all you've done for me lately and I understand you not wanting your brother to find out about any of it and he won't. He wouldn't be as open-minded as us, now would he?'
He let his words sink in before continuing; his voice, as always, neutral. 'I wouldn't grass you up, would I?' Think about it, you're like family to me.'
This was from a man who had let his wife take his children away with her and who had no real affection for them or for any of his other children come to that, Lil's included. He gave women kids for no other reason than to put his mark on them. He did it to make sure that they never forgot him, even though he was liable to forget about them at some point.
'What about me mum; you won't get away with short-changing her now he's back on the scene.'
It was the way Lance had expressed his brother's presence that alerted Lenny once more to Lance's feelings about his older brother. He loved him, that had never been in any doubt at all, but he also resented him because his mother had worshipped her eldest son since she had given birth to him. Whereas Lenny knew that this boy was not high on her list of favourites. In fact, she avoided him when possible.
Lance himself knew that she found him difficult to care for and that she had no real affection for him. He had been forced to rely on his grandmother's love.
'Pat will make sure you sort yourself out, Lenny. He has a habit of making people do what he wants.'
Lenny forced down his anger at Lance's attitude and his anger, when he let it go, was legendary. 'Why don't you let me worry about that, eh?'
Lance stared at him and once more Lenny Brewster was unnerved by the boy's complete lack of emotion. He was only there now because Pat was finally home and he would be making a song and dance about everything as usual. Pat thought he was the dog's knob, always had done. Now Lance was nervous because he had been working for Lenny on a regular basis and he was worried that his big bruv wouldn't approve. Lance would also know that Pat Junior would have expected him to watch out for his mother's interests, at least. Patrick, he knew, would be after something for his younger siblings and that meant he would be around to see him at some point.
'Why don't you get home, Lance, and let me worry about the big man, eh?'
The sarcasm was evident, as was his complete disregard for anyone or anything he saw as interfering with his equilibrium.
Lance knew that Lenny had something over him with Pat's release from prison and that he would use his recent disloyalty against him without a second's thought.
As he walked out of the warehouse, Lance pushed over a pile of boxes, knocking them to the floor with such force that the bottles of wine they housed shattered on impact. The wine bled out from the cardboard boxes quickly, snaking across the concrete floor and picking up dirt and grime in its wake before finally disappearing down the drains.
Lenny stood there for a few moments watching the liquid as it slowly ran its course and then he turned back to the job in hand and finished his inventory. Lance had pulled a few stunts that were not exactly kosher and he had been well paid for them, so Lenny was secure in the knowledge that Lance, for all his bravado, would not want these little indiscretions coming to light. But then neither would he, come to that. Which is why he had brought Lance in on them in the first place.
But Lenny Brewster knew that he might have to welcome home the prodigal son with open arms because, by the sound of it, that was what everyone else was going to do.
Lil was in the club and she wasn't happy at all. For the last few weeks she had gradually been getting more and more irritated with the way the girls she worked with were carrying on.
This was a straight hostess club, no more and no less; she had opened the club with her old man, for fuck's sakes, and now she was having to deal with people who acted like she was an incompetent. Lenny's treatment of her meant that they thought she wasn't worth their respect any more. It was hard for her to keep any kind of order and to make the girls work the way they were supposed to without her resorting to threats and intimidation. She was aware that the girls had heard the whispers about her. Within days of her offering them a job, the insolence would be on their painted faces. Lenny's attitude would be common knowledge, making her job all the harder. But the hostess had not been born who would get the better of her and they eventually found that out the hard way.
Since Patrick had come home from prison she couldn't help being reminded that she had once owned the bloody club and that now she was reduced to running it. To add insult to injury, the new crop of hostesses were under the mistaken impression that they knew it all. A few months on the game and they were convinced they had some kind of fucking second sight. They thought they knew everything that they needed to know about the life and were now experienced enough to lecture her on the correct way to get them earning.
The main culprit was a new girl called Ivana. She was probably thirty though she swore she was twenty-two and she seemed to have a negative opinion about almost everything around her. She had ambitions for herself and Lenny, that much was evident in the way she spoke to Lil and the way she smiled as if she had some kind of authority over her and the club itself.
Lil was not in the mood for her tonight and whereas she usually listened politely to the girls' petty grumbles and let them get them off their chests, tonight she couldn't be bothered. In fact, she was feeling positively aggressive. As Ivana walked purposefully towards her she knew it was going to be another twenty minutes of pointless griping; insinuations that Lil didn't know what she was doing and if she would just listen to what she was being told she would learn something of merit. The girl was a brass and, when all was said and done, that was the sum of her life experience. She had the hard eyes and the blank look of a woman who had slept with too many men in too short a time. Lil wasn't in the least bit interested in entering into any kind of dialogue with her.
'What is wrong with you now, Ivana? Is the floor too near your fat arse? The punters not tall enough? What?' Lil was blunt to the point of rudeness, as she had intended to be.
Ivana opened her arms in a gesture of futility; her slim body was encased in a cream boob tube and a black leather miniskirt. Her long, blond hair was styled to perfection and her make-up was flawless.
Lil was generous enough to admit that the girl was absolutely lovely; far too good for this club. She should really have been on someone's books earning a fortune and flying all over the world meeting rich Arabs, secure in the knowledge that they would pay her exorbitant amounts for her body and her discretion. That way she would have at least had the opportunity to marry someone with a few quid. A lot of older men were willing to buy the girls with marriage and make them respectable in the eyes of the world, if not in the eyes of their Soho counterparts. Instead, the silly bitch was here and arguing the toss every night like some kind of fucking shop steward. Lil knew there was a hidden agenda, there always was. Girls like Ivana saw everyone as a mark eventually; they used everyone in their orbit through sheer force of habit.
'Look, Lil, I am only trying to make this a better place to work in; we could earn a lot more money, you included.'
Loud music then filled the club as a stripper walked on to the small dance floor. She was a Soho veteran, in her thirties, and she had her act off pat. Three minutes of pure semi-naked pleasure and for the last ten seconds, total nudity. Of course it seemed much longer to the audience. Like everything in Soho, it was an elaborate charade. It promised the earth while actually delivering next to nothing. The stripper would go from club to club throughout the night, with her music tape and her costumes. She would earn a set amount for each strip and still be able to have an Equity card and class herself as an exotic dancer.