Francesca, page 35
Sleazy Barry was running around behind Tony begging him to stop. He was waving his arms in the air in a panic. He was wearing only his tracksuit bottoms and an old stained shirt. And the threadbare pair of slippers he was wearing weren’t much protection against all of the shattered glass on the floor. He continued begging Tony to stop, his feet bleeding as he ran behind him. But this only seemed to spur Tony on. Listening to the man beg seemed to give him a sick sadistic satisfaction.
Jake was shocked. He hadn’t seen Tony like this in years. This was how they had started out—leg-breakers, scaring the life out of people for money. Tony actually seemed to be enjoying this. He wasn’t listening to anyone. He seemed lost in his own world, like some crazy guy.
‘I’ve got your money, Mr Lambrianu. Here.’ Barry was behind the bar and was opening the cash register, which still had last night’s takings in it. Barry put his hands in the cash register to take out the money, and Tony slammed the drawer shut with all his might, trapping Barry’s hand inside.
The scream of pain from Barry was deafening. Tony opened the drawer and, with a horrible snarl on his face, slammed it shut again with the full force of his hands. Jake could only watch with shock. Tony was doing all of this without having spoken a word; his mind was driven.
Jake ran up to Tony. ‘Enough. Enough, right?’ He shouted. He grabbed hold of Tony’s jacket, trying his hardest to pull him away.
Barry was almost on his knees with his hands still trapped in the drawer. He was screaming in pain and crying. Spit was dribbling down the side of his mouth, and his feet were covered in blood.
Tony’s face was red with anger. He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were fierce and full of hatred. The horrible sneer on his face turned that charming beautiful man into a monster! He fell back a little, with Jake still holding onto his jacket. He had pulled him so hard he had ripped the sleeve. Jake was sweating and breathing heavily. His knuckles were turning white from the grip he had on Tony.
At last Tony spoke. ‘Stand up, you snivelling bastard! Stand up,’ he was shouting. He stood back and took a breath. Barry could hardly stand. It was obvious his hands were broken. He was shaking, and he was bleeding. He looked a mess. Tony showed no mercy and punched him hard in the face with his free arm, making him fall flat onto the wet alcohol-stained floor, covered in half-smashed bottles.
Jake pushed Tony aside and knelt beside Barry on the floor. ‘Come on, mate. Get up if you can.’ Jake had paled. Sharon had been right telling him to go. God knows how far Tony would have gone if he had been alone. He tried helping Barry up. The man was in a state, trembling, crying, and not taking his eyes off Tony for a second, not knowing what to expect next.
Tony stood there, his hands on his hips. He brushed his hair away from his face and wiped his bloodstained hands on his jacket. He noticed the tear in his sleeve and looked at Jake.
Among the broken bottles at the back of the bar, Jake noticed a bottle of brandy that hadn’t broken. He opened the bottle and held it to Barry’s lips. ‘Here. Take a sip of this.’ Jake held the bottle to his mouth as Tony looked on.
Barry couldn’t hold the bottle for himself, his hands were so swollen. Jake looked disgusted at Tony. A thousand pounds? This was way too much of a beating for a thousand pounds. Tony was way out of control. He had to get him out of there.
Tony ignored Jake’s look and Barry’s moans between gulps of brandy to dull the pain. He turned towards the cash register and took out the money that was in it. It was pretty full. Without counting or checking it, he put it into his inside jacket pocket.
‘I suggest, Barry, my friend,’ said Tony, his breathing returning to normal again and smiling his charming smile, ‘that you get those hands X-rayed at the hospital. We don’t want you too weak to count out next month’s money, do we? I take it you won’t be reporting this incident to anyone when you are asked by the hospital staff. I would hate to have to come back angry.’ The cold stare he gave Barry behind his calm voice was enough to warn him. If this wasn’t Tony Lambrianu angry, then God help him.
Tony turned to Jake and straightened his tie. ‘Come on, Jake. We have got what we want and made our point. Now it’s time to leave.’ Tony turned and started walking to the door, his feet crushing the broken glass as he walked.
Barry waved Jake away and nodded for him to go with Tony. He would be all right. He just wanted that madman to leave.
Barry knew he had been a fool to try and short-change Tony. Business had been slow lately, and he should have just gone to Jake and explained. Jake would have seen reason. After all these years of paying up on time, Jake would have turned a blind eye.
Tony and Jake got into the car waiting for them. Nothing was said. They just sat in silence.
Finally, Jake could stand the tension no longer. ‘What the hell was all that about, Tony?’
With a stern face, Tony took the money from Barry’s cash register out of his pocket. ‘It’s all about this, Jake.’ Tony waved the cash under his nose, as though it excused his behaviour. ‘Money is what it’s about, Jake. People think that now we’re doing big business with Ralph Gold that we’re not paying attention anymore.’
Shaking his head and disagreeing with Tony’s excuse, Jake said, ‘That’s why we pay people, Tony, to do all our dirty work for us. A couple of the guys could have gone and made your point. God knows how he’s going to pay next month. He hasn’t got any stock or a pub.’
‘Sometimes,’ said Tony, sarcastic and smug, ‘it pays to remind them who the boss is and who they are paying. You know what? We’ll get our money next month on time, even If he has to sell his mother to get it.’ Tony shrugged his shoulders and started to laugh at his own joke. ‘Come on, Jake. It was fun getting our hands dirty again. And the look on Barry’s face—even you with your morals have to admit it was funny.’
Poor Jake was still trying to make sense of it. Tony was showing no remorse. Nor was he talking business. He was laughing about it. Hell, he was like Jekyll and Hyde. ‘To start with, Tony, “we”, didn’t get our hands dirty; you did.’ He let out a deep sigh. There was no point in trying to reason with Tony in this mood. He wasn’t listening. ‘You need to change your clothes. Your shirt has got blood on it, and your suit is torn. Come on. We’ll go in the back way where no one will see us.’ Jake was at a loss.
When the car stopped and they were getting out, Tony leaned over to the driver. He took a handful of the money he had taken. ‘Here. Buy the wife something nice.’ With that, he walked ahead of Jake and up the back stairs to his apartment.
Jake waited until Tony was out of sight and then spoke to the driver. ‘Go back to Barry’s place. See that he gets to the hospital okay and organise someone to help get the place cleaned up.’ Jake felt that was the least he could do. He felt badly about Barry, and there had been nothing he could do.
John was a loyal driver and had worked for Tony and Jake for many years. He understood, and he knew how to sort things out. He had done it many times before.
‘What about this, boss?’ John held up the cash that Tony had given him.
‘Keep it,’ said Jake. All that fuss over the money Barry owed, and what did Tony do? He gave it away to the driver to buy his wife something nice. Jake felt it was dirty money. He got out of the car knowing that John would sort everything out and walked up the steps to Tony’s apartment.
Tony was drinking a large whisky. He calmly offered Jake one and then told him he was going to take a shower. Everything was back to normal. It was like nothing had happened.
Jake looked down at the table and saw the divorce papers. Now everything about Tony’s behaviour made sense, if anyone had taken a beating it was Tony. Barry’s injuries would heal, but Tony was hurting deep inside and couldn’t cope with his feelings.
I knew everyone in the doctor’s surgery was talking about me, though no one mentioned it. The divorce had been in the newspapers and a local celebrity magazine. There was an old photo of me and Tony at some party dancing together. The magazine had drawn a big zigzag line between us. It looked like a bolt of lightning. ‘Lambrianus Split,’ the headline read.
I must confess, I hadn’t expected it. I wasn’t prepared for it. And when I saw the magazine on the way to work, I knew by the way everyone looked at me that they had seen it too. The sympathetic looks were more than I could bear.
Apparently, reporters sit in courts and are well informed about all the celebrity gossip. How they had learnt about this so quickly was anyone’s guess.
By lunchtime, I’d had enough. I stood in the middle of the staff canteen where the staff was all gathered. ‘Yes, Tony and I have divorced,’ I announced. ‘End of story.’ I hoped that would be the end of it.
I never went into any more detail. I didn’t need to. They could read it all for themselves. Tony had been fooling around with other women. There were no headlines about me getting some big cash settlement or anything. All it said about me was that I was the wronged wife—a very familiar story. Bad news travels fast, and today’s news was tomorrow’s fish and chip paper. Right?
One of the older receptionists was retiring. She and her husband had bought a bungalow by the sea in Devon. Everyone had bought presents and a cake for her.
‘Fran, will you do me a favour?’ she said, handing me a small plastic bag. ‘Here is my uniform and keys. The management want them back, though God knows what they are going to do with a uniform my size. Hand them in for me. I just want to leave, okay?’
I put the bag into my locker, and that was when I started to think. My wedding rings had been my uniform, and so they didn’t belong to me. Maybe I should give them back like Sue was doing with her uniform. I also felt that I owed him some money for the house extension.
Tony had never been in touch or visited, and the only time I had seen him privately was when I had gone to his office the night of the party—when he had been with a woman. That was not the time to discuss money, not in front of his girlfriend.
By the time I had finished work and picked up Bobby, I had made up my mind. The rings were Tony’s to do as he pleased with. I bought one of those bubble wrap envelopes on the way home. And much later on, when Bobby had gone to bed, I picked up the square jewellery box and put them in the envelope. Then I wrote a cheque for thirty thousand pounds. I wasn’t sure how much the extension had cost, and this wouldn’t be nearly as much. But unless I knew for sure, I could only give something towards it.
I took the locket he had given me for Christmas. He had assured me he had bought it for me, but I still felt it had been something to show to all of the wives who were eager to see what Tony had bought me for our first Christmas. Opening it, I saw the photos inside.
There was a picture of Tony and me on our wedding day. I couldn’t think of anything else, though I thought I should put a note in it about his old study, which he never used.
I sealed the envelope and would take it to the post office in the morning and send it by recorded delivery.
The following morning, the sun was shining through my bedroom windows. In three weeks my mam and brothers would be here having a holiday by the sea. I was looking forward to it. Although we spoke every day or so, it wasn’t the same as having them there in the flesh.
I took Bobby to school and saw some of the other mothers stop their conversation when they saw me. Hopefully, the gossip would be over soon, and that would be the end of it. Bobby kept asking me why Tony didn’t come around anymore. All I could say was that he was busy. This was what I hadn’t wanted—Bobby to get used to having Tony around and then lose him. This was all very confusing for him, and he had been dragged into it. It was all my fault.
At least unlike my former divorce, Bobby and I had come out of this with some security for our futures. This had been the plan all along. It made me think back to when I had received my divorce papers from Luke. That had been the night I’d met Tony. Can you believe it? I sent the parcel and felt satisfied that was the end of it.
Tony’s birthday party had been a total waste of time as far as Jake was concerned. Tony had reigned supreme. He had stood at the bar, surrounded by beautiful women drinking champagne and toasting his birthday. Jake had stood at his side watching him drown his sorrows.
Sharon was on hand helping Jake get rid of the parasites who were lapping it up. They watched some of the some of the women with their arms around Tony’s waist and kissing him, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.
Tony was dancing around with them and laughing and joking without a care in the world. Jake felt it was all hollow—for everyone else’s benefit. One or two women put their drunken arms around Jake’s neck provocatively, but he pushed them away. This was a party, not an orgy.
Jake watched Sharon behind the bar. He could empathise with Tony. His own divorce was well and truly underway. He hadn’t rushed it through the way Tony had. He took a sip of his drink and wondered how he would feel when his own decree absolute came.
He wasn’t happy about it, but he could understand Sharon’s reasons. He was always busy. But then, so was she. They both worked the clubs. Sharon was in charge of all the strippers and the pole dancers, which was a job in itself. Making sure the girls towed the line, turned up on time, and kept up standards was no picnic. Sharon had to sort out their bitching and money-making ideas and the occasional scheming to try and pick up one of the rich men in the clubs—a taboo that some tried, which ended in their being sacked. She ran everything smoothly—so much so that Tony and he weren’t needed.
Sharon enjoyed being in the middle of it all, organising the rotas, even though it meant late nights and not a lot of time left for each other. She had always wanted a baby, something he could never give her. Jake wanted her to be happy. He loved her and always had.
Looking at Tony, Jake knew his heart wasn’t in tonight’s celebrations. He was a newly divorced man back on the scene, although he had never left it. Jake decided to leave him to it. He went to the side of the bar were Sharon was standing. She poured him a drink and stood beside him, commenting about the night’s events. He didn’t want to be like Tony, and to prove it, he asked how Sharon and her new man were doing. It hurt him deeply to discuss the matter, but doing so was civilised.
Jake thought it was strange, maybe just awkwardness, but Sharon just smiled and told him that everything was fine and that was it. They both turned their heads and looked towards the corner where Tony stood. The music was in full throng. The lights were flashing like colours of the rainbow.
They both watched Tony walk down the corridor with some beautiful woman, a known model who was draped around him like a curtain. They both knew he’d had too much to drink. Tony had his arm around her waist and was stroking her bottom as he led her to her office. They didn’t need to guess why they would be going in there with his large sofa.
Sharon tried changing the subject. ‘How is Barry? Have you heard, Jake?’
Jake put his hand on hers. ‘I had John go back and sort things out. He took him to the hospital, and they have put his hands in plaster casts. Barry told the hospital staff he had fallen.’ Jake rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. ‘They wouldn’t believe it. We both know that, but what can they do?’
Jake shrugged his shoulders. He looked at a loss. ‘The cleaners from the club went there with John and cleared away all of the glass and tidied up. I had some barrels of beer and bottles of alcohol sent over so he could open tonight.’ Jake felt replenishing poor Barry’s stock was the least he could do.
Sharon linked her arm through his. She could see he was at a low ebb. ‘Nice one, Jake, love. You’re a good man. I know Tony like you do, but he needs to sort himself out. He’s done all of this the wrong way around. Most people fall in love and then get married. But not our Tony.’ Sharon burst out laughing and kissed Jake on the cheek. ‘Tony gets married and then falls in love with his wife!’
Jake had never thought of it like that. He knew people were only thinking about the length of Tony’s marriage to Francesca. But Jake knew it went further back than that. This had all started from their first mysterious meeting in the beer garden. She had been on his mind then, and he had thought of her instantly when Ralph Gold had wanted to know what his girlfriend was called. It dawned on Jake that Tony had been in love for a very long time.
Sharon poured Jake another drink. She had a big grin on her face. She leaned closer to his ear so that he could hear her properly over the music, ‘That was quick.’ She pointed her finger discreetly.
Jake turned and saw Tony and his lady friend walking back up the corridor from his office to rejoin the party.
Tony carried on drinking the night away—until Jake walked up to him and said he was going up to the apartment and he thought Tony should join him. It surprised him that Tony didn’t put up a fight about it. He agreed and walked away from them all without a backward glance.
Jake made some coffees. He could see that Tony was drunk but not over the top. He flopped onto the sofa. ‘You and Sharon looked very cosy tonight. Anything I should know?’ He was grinning at Jake in a drunken way, a silly grin on his face.
‘We’re friends, Tony, just friends. She has a new life, and I wish her well. We both work at the club. We have to be friends, and I still love her.’ Jake felt embarrassed. He wondered if this made him sound weak in front of Tony.
Tony looked suddenly melancholy. ‘Francesca doesn’t want to be my friend,’ he said, his voice slurring. ‘She hates me.’
Even now, thought Jake. Tony had been in the club drinking and laughing, supposedly enjoying himself—even to the point of blatantly taking a woman to his office for a quick sex session. But Francesca was still on his mind. Jake sat opposite him. Now it seemed, while Tony was drunk, was the time for truth.
‘Have you asked her to be friends, Tony? Maybe Francesca would like to be friends. But she’s not going to be if you let her find you with a woman sat on the side of your desk. That was the scenario you let her walk into at the party. Cheap trick, Tony. Why didn’t you tell her it was the croupier supervisor from the casino? Wendy is beautiful and glamorous, but she is also a happily married woman with a young child, and she was there speaking to you regarding business. You’re a fool, Tony, and you need to do something about it. Take today—there was no need for that outburst.’ Jake hoped what he was saying would sink into Tony’s drunken brain.
