‘Come on, Jessie, spill!’
Jessie stretched herself once more, a deliberate, sexual movement that made Natalie feel uneasy. It was too calculated, too deliberate.
‘His name is Bill, and he is a builder. He is really good-looking, Nat.’
Natalie was intrigued despite herself. ‘How old is he?’
Jessie pouted sexily. ‘Late thirties. I’m not really sure, to be honest.’
Natalie looked suitably scandalised, and that pleased Jessie. It was exactly the reaction she had wanted to create.
‘You will be careful, Jessie, won’t you? Promise me.’
Jessie laughed in delight. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m always careful, Nat.’
Natalie Childs shook her head slowly in disbelief; she couldn’t believe her friend was so willing to take such chances, knowing the trouble it could cause. Everyone knew her dad wasn’t a man to cross – not that she would ever say that to Jessie outright, of course. Her family’s name and reputation had never been spoken of outright, but it had always been there between them. Jessie’s father was a dangerous man, and if he found out what his Jessie was getting up to, Christ Himself only knew what the consequences would be. Jessie just didn’t seem to give a damn.
‘You’re mad, Jessie. You can’t keep all this up for ever.’
Jessie laughed, a deep husky chuckle that sounded far too old and knowledgeable for her years. ‘You’re probably right, Nat, but I really couldn’t give a fuck either way.’
Chapter Eighty-Eight
Terence Brown was not a tall man, but what he lacked in height he made up for in width. He spent a lot of time in the gym, and his body showed that devotion. He wore clothes to accentuate his build. He wasn’t a handsome man, but had an interesting face, and he looked very amiable and friendly. People assumed he was approachable – his countenance led people to think he was willing to open up a dialogue with them. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Terence Brown was a man who could pick a fight with a novice nun if the mood was on him. He saw the majority of the people in the world as no more than an irritation, none more so than the people who insisted on attempting to engage him in pointless conversations. He made his living by collecting outstanding debts; they were always for huge amounts of money, and employing Terence Brown was the last resort. He could track any debtor, no matter where in the world they might have travelled to. He was like a bloodhound. He could sniff the fuckers out, and track them down with an ease that was as fast as it was unexpected.
His reputation was his greatest asset, and he used it to his advantage. He took thirty-five per cent of the monies that he collected, plus the ten grand up front he insisted on, to be paid whether he collected the debt requested or not. It was for his expenses and his time, and he saw that as his due. He was known and respected as a man who did the job required of him, not only quickly but, more importantly, quietly. If Terence Brown arrived on a doorstep, the person concerned made sure that they found the money needed as quickly as humanly possible. He was known to dispose of anyone who was unable to pay him. He saw failure to pay as a grave personal insult to him, and his retaliation as a reminder to anyone he might call on in the future. Terence Brown had carved a good life for himself, against the odds, and it was something he was proud of.
He glanced around the pub. It was Friday night, and it was packed out as usual. He paid for his drink, and sipped it carefully as he scanned the bar. It was just after ten and the place was buzzing – the music was loud and the conversations were louder. A bird he hooked up with occasionally was already walking towards him, and he smiled widely at her. She was a great-looking girl, all blond hair, minimal clothes and fake tan. She was also a good laugh. That was the main attraction for him – so few people caught his attention, but her sense of humour impressed him. She was looking for a Face, he knew. He wasn’t going to get caught up in that shite, though. If, and it was a big if, he ever did decide to marry, it wouldn’t be to someone who had lain down with anybody who bought her a few drinks and paid for the odd meal.
‘I thought that was you, Terence!’ He grinned at her, happy that she never made the mistake of pretending they had a real relationship. So many girls in her position tried to manufacture a closeness that wasn’t there.
‘I was passing, so I thought I’d pop in, Jan, and see if you fancied a quick drink?’