Even Angels Fall (29 page)

Liam, Darren and Sophie are blowing raspberries on the glass, causing their cheeks to fill with air and widen comically while leaving streaky marks beneath their lips. Gemma is waving enthusiastically, and Lucy and Nathan are flailing about, pulling all sorts of ridiculous faces. Tom is next to them, knocking on the window, pointing, swearing and beckoning them outside.

“Friends of yours…?” The waiter asks as he appears beside them with a plate of cheese cake in each hand.

“I’m afraid so…” Alex confirms, in mock disappointment.

“They don’t get out much, not without supervision…” Abbey stammers slightly, and she tries to suppress her laughter as Alex cracks up again.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to settle the bill and leave…”

“How much are we talking?” Alex stands menacingly and the restaurant starts to buzz with a mixture of ardent disapproval and anticipation.

“It’s £238.75 altogether…” He states, expectantly.

Alex takes his wallet out and drops £300 in twenties onto the table, much to the shock of the waiter and the numerous others who have been watching them non-discreetly all evening. Abbey finishes her wine and quickly puts her jacket on as Alex holds his hand out to her, smiling ominously at the waiter.

“Keep the change…” he states in a mildly threatening manner, before he casually drapes his arm over Abbey’s shoulders and guides her through the crowded restaurant. The others approach them outside, still laughing as they greet them, drunkenly.

“Sorry to interrupt your date, but we thought you might want to ditch the first class posers and come and have some proper fun?!” Lucy announces flamboyantly as she steps forward and hugs them both.

“What was all that about?” Tom asks.

“It’s nothing… they were just surprised we paid the bill…” Abbey shakes her head, rolling her eyes irritably.

“They giving you hassle?”

“No…” Alex frowns, “Just the usual stuck up arseholes you find in a place like that…” He shrugs, lighting up a cigarette.

“Is that right…” Tom laughs loudly, “So they think they’re all important eh? Don’t they know who the fuck you are?! No one disses my boy…” He shouts, striding back over to the vast window as the others stare at him in shock. They watch as he bangs on the glass so hard that it shakes and the people still attempting to enjoy their expensive meals inside drop their cutlery as they look up in disgust, “You might be sitting in there with your sharp suits and your designer dresses, flashing your expensive watches with all your family heir looms hanging around your neck. But you ‘aint nobody…” He shouts dramatically, raising his arms out to the side in an over exaggerated fashion, as if he is a performer on a stage and this is his audience, “Life isn’t measured by how big your house is, by how many cars you own or the size of your fucking bank account… life is measured by moments, real fucking moments, of joy and laughter and pain and confusion. So while you’re sat there eating at your fancy restaurant just know that you’ll never be as alive as us… you’ll never know how alive you can feel, being fucked up, out of your mind, coasting through life without a plan or a clue… filling the dull, meaningless void with real love, real friends, real memories… living each day like it counts. We’re the kings and queens… we own the night… we live life with no regrets, and because our minds are open and we’re free from the mediocracy of control and repression, we will ALWAYS be far fucking richer than you…!”

The others burst into a huge, rapturous round of applause, cheering and wolf whistling as Tom takes a dramatic bow. People passing by on the street who had stopped to listen are clapping too, and he lights up a cigarette, turning slowly with his arms out stretched, relishing the moment.

There is a sudden flash of blue light at the end of the road and a siren sounds as they all turn and run in the opposite direction. As Tom catches up to them, Alex hooks his arm around his neck and gently pulls him down into an affectionate headlock.

“What the fuck are you on tonight?!” He laughs, messing his hair up before releasing his grip.

“Just high on fucking life mate…!” He replies, pushing him back playfully.

The Locke pub is absolutely packed to the rafters like it usually is on a Friday night, and Abbey fights her way to the bar with Darren as the others find a table in the beer garden. Alex is mobbed as soon as he walks through the door, shaking hands with numerous members of staff and stopping to talk to several people who Abbey recognises as regulars.

There are four hip looking Indie lads setting up their equipment on the stage at the back of the bar and the atmosphere is lively and friendly, with groups of people varying in age, laughing, drinking and enjoying the start of their weekend. The meal had been wonderful, and the alone time with Alex even more so… but this is their scene. This is where they belong. In their down to earth local with the people they love. Abbey is very much at home here and she feels safe, completely accepted as part of the crowd that everybody knows and respects. It is an exhilarating feeling; being a part of a group and having people know her name. Just like they know that she is Alex Matthews girl.

She has caught a few men giving her admiring glances before now, but they would never dream of acting on it, knowing that she is taken and knowing who by. Just like the gang of girls who frequent the pub hoping to catch the attention of Alex and the rest of the lads would never be brave enough to actually approach their table. Instead giggling, whispering and admiring from afar like a flock of infatuated groupies.

They are living the high life - and Tom is right - there is no greater feeling in the world. Kings and Queens he had called them, and it certainly feels that way sometimes. They live by their own rules. They do what they want, when they want and they have the most amazing time, with no worries or responsibilities, especially once the weekend arrives. They party it up, live life to the full and don’t have to answer to anyone. Abbey never knew it could be this way. She never knew life could be so exciting, so unpredictable and so much fun. Certain people may disapprove of them but they are usually the same people who radiate jealousy and understandably so. They are well known, well liked, well respected, close knit and from the outside, utterly untouchable. Life is good and Abbey is certain it can’t possibly get any better.

But how long can it last? Living a life of excess will surely catch up with them somehow. Being free and not conforming, having a blatant disregard towards the expected ‘norms’ of society… it must come with a price. Nobody gets to live so freely without any repercussions what so ever, and secretly, Abbey is starting to worry that the bubble will burst. As limitless and invincible as they may feel in their own private world, nothing this good can last forever. Kings and Queens are over-ruled, thrones are lost and nobody is immune to losing everything. It is all so incredibly fleeting, and unbeknownst to them they are about to discover just how easily it can all come crashing down around them. It really doesn’t matter how high they soar because they aren’t untouchable, despite what they believe. Even angels fall.

Alex is exhausted. It is 2am and after almost four hours of working the club, he is on the verge of calling it quits and heading home. Last night’s festivities had once again continued into the early hours of the morning and even after he had taken himself off to bed, he’d struggled to sleep. His insomnia seems to be getting worse these days.

The pounding music is starting to give him a headache and he can feel his eyes stinging from fatigue. He has made a good profit tonight, with plenty of revellers seeking him out for a decent score. He had received a message from one of his regulars about an hour ago and has arranged to meet him outside the club, away from the CCTV cameras and prying eyes. After this drop, he is done.

“Alright mate…” Alex turns to see his final customer approach.

“Now then, how’s it going?”

“Not bad, cheers. You got the stuff?”

“Yeah… not a problem…” Alex makes the exchange, the drugs for a nice wad of cash. Easy money.

“Cheers for coming through man. I’m on a bit of a blow out tonight, really need this…”

“Don’t mention it. Have a good one yeah?”

They keep it brief so as not to rouse suspicion, shaking hands before they go their separate ways. Alex prides himself on being careful. He is always vigilant and a constant professional. In his opinion, it doesn’t matter how good you are at what you do, if you become blasé you trip up and make careless mistakes. He will never get too friendly with his clients, and he will never, ever, under any circumstances, become cocky about not getting caught. He knows that anyone could be undercover police and although he has a deal in place with the owner of this bar, he will of course deny all knowledge if the law gets involved. It is his neck on the line and he always conducts himself in a way that protects his interests as well the interests of those around him.

“Are you Alex Matthews?” A tall, dark skinned man in his mid to late thirties appears at the end of the alleyway just as Alex slides his wallet back into the pocket of his jeans.

“Depends who’s asking…” He answers, cautiously.

“I was hoping to get a deal?”

“Were you now? And you are?”

“We have a friend in common, or you supply to a friend of mine… he gave me your name. He’s inside the club now, I can go find him if you want?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about mate, sorry. You must have the wrong guy…”

“Look I’m not police OK?” The man steps forward, blocking Alex’s path, preventing him from getting past, “I just want a gram, that’s all…”

“Get out of my way…” Alex squares up to him and he bows to the intimidation.

“Please… look I have money…”

“I don’t care…”

“Please…” The man scrambles nervously in his pockets as he edges forward, rambling incoherently the whole time. Alex backs away to keep a steady distance between them - not threatened, just wary – and he waits for the opportune moment to make his move. He could have floored him by now and easily fought his way past, but something about the man makes him think twice. He almost feels sorry for him, standing in a damp, secluded alleyway begging a complete stranger for drugs. It is pathetic.

“I’m only gonna ask you politely one more time… move…” Alex threatens; irritated by this unexpected inconvenience when all he wants to do is go home. Suddenly, the man stops and looks up, assessing Alex closely for a brief moment before he begins to back away, “What the fuck is your problem?” Alex asks, but the man says nothing. He simply turns and walks briskly back out onto the street and disappears around the side of the building.

Something isn’t right, his behaviour was strange… too strange. Something about the last 5 minutes is seriously off and it doesn’t add up. Alex is completely on edge as he stands, running over the confrontation in his mind at lightning speed. ‘He didn’t threaten, he didn’t attack… he didn’t go for the money or the drugs, he wasn’t in any way offensive or violent, but he was forward… overly forward… he wouldn’t stop approaching, wouldn’t stop pushing… so much so he physically forced me back…’ And then it clicks. The man only stopped once Alex had taken his final step backwards. A step which had plunged him into the shadows and distanced him far enough away from the main road not to be seen, noticed… or heard.

It takes a matter of seconds for Alex to work it out and for the thought to register in his mind, when he suddenly senses movement behind him. He turns, and almost instantly there is a loud nauseating crunch followed by a severe jolt of pain as a fist connects powerfully with his jaw. He drops to his knees and two more punches rain down on him, followed by a sharp kick to the ribs. He is winded, and as he gasps for breath, two sets of hands lift him roughly by the arms and drag him behind the club.

They throw him forward, causing him to land on his knees in the mud-covered, gravel, and he spits a mouthful of blood onto the floor. A pair of polished, brown leather shoes, appear in his eye line and he looks up to see Marcus towering above him.

“Now Alex… didn’t I tell you we would be meeting again soon?” He smiles, cheerfully.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He gasps, breathless.

“I thought I would pay you a visit, old friend. I apologise for the back hand tactics. We paid that chap handsomely to distract you and get you where we wanted…” Alex tries to get to his feet but Marcus places a firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

“What do you want…?”

“There are a lot of things I want Alex… a lot of things… but mostly, I just want to get along…” He sighs, over dramatically. He has two of his henchman flanking him, and two more are standing just behind Alex’s right shoulder. There are probably more lurking in the shadows, as Marcus always did prefer intimidation by numbers.

“You have a funny way of showing it…” Alex groans as he sits back on his heels.

“Well the problem is, dear boy, you keep finding yourself in these predicaments because you don’t ever seem to consider my feelings. And that is rather hurtful…”

“Fucking hell, you don’t even get remotely tired of hearing your own voice do you?” Alex laughs, scathingly and Marcus marches over to him with absolutely no hesitation, back hand slapping him hard across the face. Alex spits another mouthful of blood onto the floor before staring Marcus straight in the eyes. He won’t whimper and mule. He won’t give Marcus or anyone else the satisfaction.

“You better hold your tongue boy, because I’m still debating whether or not I should cut it out…”

“So what is this so called predicament?” Alex presses. The quicker he gets Marcus talking the sooner this confrontation will be over, although he can’t possibly imagine what the hell it is actually about? He hasn’t seen or heard from Holt for months now, not since they settled their score. But he has always been a loose cannon, completely random and totally impulsive.

“I’m glad you asked. You see, it’s all about chance and consequence, son. The choices we make, the paths we venture down… life works in mysterious ways, but also with a beautiful symmetry. Some people refer to it as karma…”