it’s true about Nicky. I didn’t want to say anything ’cos the last thing I want is to cause trouble. I thought it was better him getting the stuff from me than some toerag who might rip him off.’
‘Or you thought you’d do it yourself. Rip him off, like.’
‘No I swear to you, Max. It ain’t like that. I thought I was doing him a favour but I can see how it might not look like that. All things considered.’
‘So what’s the damage?’
‘Nothing, let’s say we’re quits. Whatever he owes me, he can have. He’s welcome to it.’
Max stared at him, then walked over to where Gary was sitting. He bent over and Gary tried to crane away but the table behind him didn’t give him any leeway to escape the stale alcohol smelling breath.
‘And after what you’ve just said, you expect me to go into business with you?’
‘It was just business, Max.’
‘And that’s my point. Just business. When I consider going into business with someone and they decide it’s better not to follow up on what’s owed because of sentiment, then I have to think twice about having any dealings with them.’
Gary was stunned. He hadn’t expected this, but then, this was Max Donaldson. The same Max Donaldson who put so much fear into his kids, even as adults, knowing wherever they went he would always find them.
‘I thought that’s what you’d want. I thought you’d want me to let Nicky off.’
‘Don’t try to think for me, Gary. Never try to think for me.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I want you to sort it.’
‘In that case I’ll make sure Nicky’s my priority. I’ll get back what’s owed.’
Max straightened himself up, pushing his fingers into his lower back. ‘Make sure you do and when you do; tell him his Da sent you.’
When Gary Levitt stepped out of the meeting he’d been in his element. It’d gone better than he could’ve ever imagined. But as successful as the meeting had been, the shine was starting to wear off now that he was at his flat.
His Auntie Gina hadn’t yet bothered to turn up. The new clothes he’d bought to go with his new image were pissing him off. A Dolce & Gabbana black shirt, Vivienne Westwood Gold Label trousers and a pair of shoes from Hobbs which he now knew he shouldn’t have bought, especially without trying them on. Because even though they’d looked crisp and the dog’s bollocks, they were too small and squeezing the fuck out of his feet.
Annoyed, he threw them to the other side of the kitchen, only for them to drop down, land on the box of baking soda and send clouds of white powder across the room.
Angrily, Gary picked up his mobile, wanting to offload his annoyance onto someone else. He dialled Gina, hoping she’d pick up so he could give her some verbal for not turning up, but it went straight to voicemail. He cut it off as he heard her request to leave a message, knowing abusing a machine wasn’t nearly as fulfilling as it was to her face. Next, and still wanting to let off some steam, Gary dialled Nicky to put the wind up him.
He’d held off with Nicky, extending payment days and not really giving him the full monty of his wrath, because at the back of his mind he knew Nicky was a Donaldson. Now though, everything had changed. Max had given him the nod to send out a warning to everyone who didn’t pay their debts by using his son as an example.
Nicky’s phone rang but he didn’t have a voicemail. Still, he wasn’t going to let two people and a pair of shoes spoil his moment. What he’d negotiated with Max was the next step, and it was a big fucking step at that. Everything he did from now on would be backed up by a face. And once people found out, no one would mess with him. Before long he’d be someone. Gary Levitt was finally in business with the big boys.
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