look like the area was covered in a white cloud.
For some reason, the cocaine had taken a liking to him and however hard he tried, he wasn’t able to kick the habit. Admittedly, he hadn’t really tried very hard and taking the coke didn’t really bother him. What did was the amount he spent on it. More to the point, how much he owed because of it.
The hammering continued and Nicky cursed loudly, before pulling himself up and half falling out of the car as he opened the door.
He was greeted by the amused face of Gary Levitt, Gina Daniels’ nephew but more importantly, his coke dealer. Nicky got himself properly onto his feet and stretched, eyeballing Gary hard.
‘Do you have to batter on the frigging window like that; you fair gave me a heart attack.’
Ignoring Nicky’s annoyance, Gary spoke. He was amused to see Nicky wearing the same clothes he’d been in the night before, which meant he’d probably crashed out on coke and been in the back of the car ever since.
‘How long have you been here? You look and smell like crap.’
Nicky Donaldson couldn’t answer the first part of the question; he’d no idea what time it was. The second part of the question he agreed with so he didn’t say anything, instead attempting to scrape off the encrusted vomit from the collar of his black Chanel shirt.
‘I thought I recognised the car. It’s your old man’s ain’t it? A nice bit of motor; shame he’ll have to sell it to pay off your debts.’
Nicky shot his head up at Gary. He knew he owed money but he didn’t think it was anything near the region of the price of a luxury car.
‘Don’t look so worried, I’m only having a rib, I ain’t going to be too hard on you. Gina tells me you’ve been sorting her out, I appreciate that. Just do me a favour and clear the money up in the next two weeks. In the meantime, take this.’
Gary Levitt went into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bag of white powder, passing it to Nicky, whose eyes were wide with anticipation.
‘Cheers Gal, is this on the house?’
Gary burst out into scornful laughter. ‘Is it fuck, I’ll just add it to the bill you already owe me.’
As Nicky jumped back into the car and drove off towards Covent Garden, Gary watched and wondered how Nicky could be such a fool for the drugs when he already owed so much. Not that he minded. His clients owing him was a natural part of the business. Eventually they owed him so much he ended up owning them. Hook line and fucking sinker. His to do what he liked with.
More often than not, he’d pimp out the women who owed him money. The men who did? He’d pimp out their girlfriends. They were too scared to object. One way or another he always got his money back and then some. And Nicky Donaldson would be no different – whether Nicky’s father, Max, was a face in Soho or not.
Of course he had to be careful, but he doubted Max would give him any trouble. The man didn’t seem to give a damn about Nicky. No one did. Apart, he supposed, from Nicky’s sister, Maggie, who he hadn’t seen in a while. The entire family was messed up and none more so than the oldest Donaldson son, Tommy.
Tommy Donaldson sat rubbing his eyes on the unmade bed, the only piece of furniture in the whitewashed room apart from the closet. He was enjoying the peaceful solitude as he stared at the blank wall in front of him. This was his private sanctuary. No one really came here and that was just the way Tommy liked it.
There were times he needed to get away, just to think, just to try to get rid of the voice and the vision of the woman he saw and heard so often inside his head. Now was one of those times.
He turned to look at himself in the mirror; he was twenty-eight years old but his blue eyes showed the signs of someone older. A man who hadn’t slept for a couple of days. His skin was pallid and pale and Tommy knew he looked as bad as he felt. He was tired; his head was tired and that was a constant.
It seemed as if he’d lived with the voice and the visions most of his life. As a child he’d heard and seen it but there was never anyone to tell. No one to help him understand what it was. No one to trust, except for maybe Maggie. He’d often thought about telling her, but when it actually came down to it, he couldn’t. Worried by what she might think. So every night he’d huddled alone in the dark, listening to the voice. Seeing the woman’s face which haunted him and made him live in terror. Then on the rare days his head was quiet and still, he’d had to listen to the screaming voices of his mother and drunken father in the room below.
As a child he’d always been too frightened to call out for help in case the woman with her bloodied whispering screeches – which only he could hear or see – became angry with him. Or worse still, in case his father had heard him calling out and had come up the stairs to beat him for making a noise, leaving him struggling to walk the next day.
Over time, the secret fears which had plagued Tommy’s mind as a child began to isolate him from his family. He was unable to listen to their raised voices as well as the one in his head.
Sometimes it got lonely being on his own, though he’d never had many friends as a child either. Not after the age of ten, not after Tommy had brought two of his best friends home after school to celebrate his birthday.
He remembered he’d had fun; his mother had secretly made him a cake. Maggie, who was three years younger than him, had given him a cross of St. Christopher, having nicked some of the church collection money off the plate. It had all been going so well, then his father had come home and found them playing with his music collection. Although nothing had been broken or damaged, no excuses were ever needed in the Donaldson household to launch into a violent attack.
His friends had managed to escape with only minor cuts and bruises; too terrified to tell their parents for fear of reprisal from Max. But Tommy had been badly hurt, as well as deeply humiliated at the thought of his home life becoming the subject of his classmates’ idle gossip.
After he’d recovered in hospital – telling the medical staff he’d been attacked by a group of boys – Tommy had left friendships for other people. As he got older, the only other people he had around him apart from his family were the almost daily one-night stands. He liked the company of women. If it’d been his choice some of them would’ve stayed in his life longer than the few midnight hours, but he knew his father would have none of it, seeing women only good for two things; fucking and causing trouble.
On some days like today, shameful, clear and vivid memories came back to Tommy. Things he’d been a part of, things he certainly couldn’t tell anyone about. And then he’d find himself drowning in his private sea of despair unable to save himself, seeing himself as a monster; a freak.
It was too late now to tell Maggie, everything had already gone too far.
Tommy stood in the deserted car park behind Lexington Street, wondering if anyone had seen him. It was dark as he stood over the semi-naked woman lying helpless at his feet on the cold wet ground. He saw the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him, wondering what he was going to do now.
His breath formed a hazy mist in the frosty unlit night. He tilted his head to one side watching the woman’s chest rise
