CHAPTER 40 - RED
CHAPTER
Red
S HAKING YET ANOTHER HAND, I offer more condolences.
It’s all I’ve done since we arrived at the wake.
Steve has a great turnout, which isn’t surprising.
He was a loyal and efficient man - one who I will sorely miss - especially at times like this, when I could use some solidarity against the judgmental glares from half the people here.
They won’t dare say anything outright to me. Most of them work for me after all, but I’d be blind to miss the distinct hint of resentment behind their eyes and within the polite words they speak.
Steve wouldn’t judge me though. I can see him now - standing there with his huge breezeblock head and shovel hands. He’d shrug his massive shoulders and say, “Do whatever you think right, boss” .
He wouldn’t allow a single disappointed glance to be sent in my direction, let alone condone veiled comments or hushed gossip behind closed doors. He’d stamp it out before it started.
But Steve’s not here. He’s in the crematorium incinerator.
I glance at Steve’s wife, Izzy, who smiles weakly. What else can she do, the poor woman?
I ensured she received a hefty payout for Steve’s life. It won’t bring him back, but the least I can do is give her and their kids the means to function comfortably without his paycheck.
Keeping hold of Arianna’s elbow, I steer her away from the latest group I’ve offered sympathies to.
She looks tired and on edge but still remarkably beautiful.
That she hasn’t protested or pulled away from me is also something I’m grateful for.
It’s strange, but having hold of her arm is oddly reassuring.
Besides, the last thing I want in front of anyone is to look like there are problems in our “unexpected marriage”.
In all fairness, Arianna’s playing the part well, but I need to get back to the casino. There are things to deal with - the main one being setting a plan for dealing with Tom Slater’s dishonesty.
My eyes wander in the direction of where he stands.
Yes, the thieving cunt is here, like half of the firm, paying respects to Steve.
But Slater has no respect for anyone, otherwise he wouldn’t filch off the hand that feeds him.
Setting up another man to take the flack if his treachery ever became exposed is a further black mark and shows the level the sly piece of shit will stoop to.
I wonder how Cal Bennett would react if he knew this slimy tosser placed him as the fall guy? That was something which very nearly worked too, which makes me even angrier. Cal has always proved faultless - another reason why I’m convinced he should get the chance to step up and take Steve’s place.
But as for Slater...
My free hand curls into a fist. How I’d love to smash the greasy fake fucker in his gravestone teeth and rip him to pieces, not giving a shit who witnesses it. But I know better than that. Plus, I have manners. The last thing I’ll do at a loyal man’s wake is kick off.
But I’ll plan, and that’s not something I can do here. After three hours of making small talk and offering solemn words for the death of a man where a large percentage of the mourners blame me, I’ve just about had enough.
Arianna looks up at me. “Where are we going?”
The light accentuates the violet hues in her eyes and makes me feel strange. I take a small sip of the same whiskey I’ve nursed since arriving. I’d love to knock back a whole bottle, but I can’t afford to dull my senses. “We should think about leaving.”
“I thought you’d never suggest it,” she whispers.
“It must be very inconvenient attending a funeral the day after your wedding!”
My head spins toward the gruff voice, and seeing the two men who accompanied Izzy Farrow, my heart sinks. I can guess who they are.
Any other day, I’d put this mouthy cunt in his place, but not today. Instead, I extend my hand. “I wouldn’t have missed this for anything. Your brother was one of the best.”
I stare at my ignored, unshaken hand before dropping it back to my side, fury for this man growing.
“Steve would still be here if it wasn’t for her .” The man jerks his head in Arianna’s direction.
The second brother places an equally meaty hand on his arm. “Joe, leave it!”
“Is this a new pastime of yours, lady? Getting hitched to any face you can dig your claws into?” Joe looms close to Arianna, who instinctively steps back.
“I’ve seen the papers, as has everyone! A fucking measly week since your last old man pegged it!
Do you Eyeties have no morals? Stick to your own greasy inbreds, rather than infiltrating us English! ”
He then turns to me. “Or are you Irish? Fuck me! With a name like ‘Redmond’, perhaps you’re a mick?
” Joe’s face morphs into an ugly sneer. “Either or - it ain’t important, but if she’d stuck to fucking her own, my brother would still be alive, not gunned down like an animal by her dirty fucking lot! ”
Arianna pales, whereas I see red. “That’s enough!” I hiss. The fewer people who hear this altercation, the better. This goon isn’t shy in playing his face at top volume, but I won’t follow suit or pull rank unless I have to.
Keeping hold of Arianna’s hand, I move closer to the man whose name I now know to be Joe, my chest pressing against his as we face each other off. “Apologize to my wife and I’ll put your display of rudeness down to grief.”
“Apologize?” Joe sneers. “What the hell for? Speaking the fucking truth?”
“Joe!” the other brother hisses, tugging at his arm. “Steve wouldn’t want this. He thought the world of Red Bateman. He’s given Izzy that money and...”
“Yeah?” Joe barks. “Well, Red Bateman’s blood money might appease you and her, but it don’t appease me!
” His finger shoots out to point an inch from Arianna’s eyes.
“You might have a pretty face and a body worth fucking, but you’ll take everyone down with you, you will. You’re a Black Widow, make no mistake.”
Hearing Arianna’s soft yelp is enough to make me shelve my promise not to kick off at a funeral. Dropping her hand, I grab Joe Farrow by the lapels of his massive suit. “ No one thinks about fucking my wife, apart from me , you overgrown cunt!”
“Red!” Del’s meaty hand lands on one of my arms, my brother Oscar’s on the other. “Our taxi is here, so I think now’s a good time to leave. ”
Inches from Joe, I will myself to drop my grip of Joe. Del’s right - now is not the time to retaliate, but I want to. I want to rip this bastard’s head off. Still, it is a good time to leave.
Dropping my grip, I shrug Del and Oscar’s hands away and glance at Arianna, who is wracked with more guilt now than ever.
I nod brusquely at Joe and his brother and gripping Arianna’s hand once again, I stride purposefully towards the door.
As I reach the exit, I turn around to motion to Del to join me back at the Scorpio Lounge, but he’s in conversation with that piece of shit, Farrow.
What the fuck is he wasting breath talking to that lowlife for?
Reaching the conclusion that Del’s being Del and smoothing things over for Izzy Farrow’s sake, I let it go and continue through the door.
He’s wasting his time though. Joe Farrow has made a big mistake and marked his own cards. He’ll be dealt with after I’ve sorted out the rest of my fucking never-ending to-do list. But I’m not waiting around, so if Del isn’t in the cab by the time my seat belt is on, he can make his own way back.
In a worse mood than ever, I drag Arianna towards the waiting taxi.