dug out some trays. Lucky haul—half a battered fish, and a couple of bits of sausage. I gave it all to Casey, every single bit. I’d feed her up again proper, just as soon as I sorted some cash. I’d have to hook up with some old acquaintances, let them know I was back in business.
My business was packages, but only the small stuff, taking them from A to B and asking no questions. They’d chuck me a bit of cash, a twenty here and there. The big money was in the harder stuff, but that wasn’t my bag, not anymore. Too much jail time. She’d be dead by the time I made it out.
There ain’t no real jobs for a guy like me, not even round the dregs in these parts. I’m too well known. Known by face and known by fists. It used to bother me, used to eat me up that nobody had a chance to give me. Got used to it, though. Life ain’t never been kind, being older don’t make no fucking difference.
“Alright, Case, easy girl.” I sank against the wall, pulling her close. Nothing left of the haul but chip papers, and I didn’t want her chewing on that. I got out my baccy, made a roll-up. Only a skinny one, had to make it last. My jaw pounded like a bastard. Tyler had got me a good one, asshole. His luck would run out one of these days.
Two of the little slags that live by Mam cruised on by, stopping to give me the eye. They laughed, all giggly and stupid, then huddled whispering. I used to be tempted, before I knew better. Dipped my wick in any tight little snatch that offered. I used to think it meant something, meant something about me, but all it ever meant was they’d fucked the bad boy, like a prize fucking medal.
They think it’s a hard act, like I threw my manners out with the trash to be a cool guy. They’re wrong. I never learned any to begin with, never learned how to be anything else. Maybe that’s why nobody has a chance to throw my way.
I’m a loser. Born a loser, raised a loser, and I’ll probably die a loser.
I just hope Casey goes before I do, so she’s not alone.
My phone bleeped with a text. For a second I thought maybe it was her, Sophie Harding. Of course it wasn’t.
“Nice lady saved you, Casey, didn’t she? She weren’t so bad for one of them.”
Casey licked my face, giving me salty kisses. My perfect girl, my loyal girl. My only girl.
Well, maybe not quite my only girl.
“You wanna go and see Vick, Case? Shall we go and see Vicki?” She jumped up at the name, pawing me to stand. Clever dog.
I got to my feet, stomach still rumbling, but it didn’t matter.
Casey was all that mattered.
***
The months hadn’t been kind to Vicki. Her red hair was flat with grease, blonde roots showing. She’d come out in blotches her make-up couldn’t hide, and she’d lost weight. She was nearly as scrawny as Case.
“You eaten?” she asked. “I could stick you a bit of pasta on. I got a few bits left.”
“I ate already,” I lied.
“It’s good to see you, Cal.” She pulled me into a hug, crushing me with bony arms. “What happened to your face?! That from the Scotts?”
I ignored her questions. “How’s Slater?”
“So so,” she shrugged. “He’s with me mam. You’ll see him in the morning, if you’re still here. He grows so bloody quick.”
“Two now?”
“Last month. Had a little party for him. Shame you weren’t around. He loves you, Cal.”
I smiled. “Love him too, little tyke.”
“Haven’t got a roll-up, have you? I’m gagging.”
I sat myself down on the step and she perched alongside me. I’d been here so many times, hanging in her poxy little back yard, amongst Slater’s scooters and charity shop cars. Case and me would bed down in her tiny little shed sometimes, when it got real cold. I handed her the roll-up.
Casey nudged her hand, looking for fuss. “How’d you get her back, then? Did you have to kick the door in?”
I shook my head. “Didn’t go up there.”
“How come?”
“Had some help.”
She frowned. “Not from the Gabb boys? They’ll want repaying big time.”
“No. A woman, estate manager. Pretty, like.”
“The blonde one?” she quizzed. “Posh old cow, with a bob haircut? She ain’t pretty, Cal!”
“She sure ain’t old.”
“She is!” Vicki smirked. “Way older than us.”
Vicki was older than