Zodiac's toy by John Jones (read 50 shades of grey .TXT) 📕

he knew where he stood, knew he could get away with anything. Ray, Shane and Victor didn't have a line that Lee dare not cross. He could say and do anything, and they simply accepted it, because they could do nothing else.

He continued to clean Lee's flat and was mopping down the kitchen when Lee walked in.

Victor felt a twinge of embarrassment as though he'd been caught trespassing, but Lee didn't seem to notice or care. He threw the handouts onto the kitchen counter.

"Good lad," he said as Victor mopped away. "Can't stop, just seen my probation officer, gives me some shit about some fucking programme I've got to do. I think I might give some serious thought to blowing the fucker away. I've got to go and see Blotto in about half an hour, but it'll take me half an hour to walk there, so just come to drop this shit off and grab my coat. What would us fuckers do without you eh?" he said, picking up his jacket from the back of a kitchen table chair. Victor blushed, smiled slightly, and carried on mopping, but then stopped.

"You wouldn't happen to notice who did this, do you? Can you find them and beat fuck out of them?" He opened his shirt and exposed the crab. "I can't get it off. Someone can't have brought a tattoo gun surely". Lee just stared at the image for a while.

"To be honest Vic, I haven't got a clue. I don't know who half those fuckers were, but it should come off if it's just felt pen or something. It won't have been Ray or Shane, but well, fuck knows...sorry fella". Victor nodded, and went back to mopping. Lee left, and even though the weather and inside the flats was fairly warm, Victor felt shivery, and started coughing. He knew it was not a resurgence of a hangover, but some of the spittle that landed on the floor was red. I'm not feeling too well, he thought, and sat down for a while.

 

It wasn't particularly sunny, but they just about got away with seeming like they were sun-bathing, even though they were fully clothed, and laying on the grass, staring up at the clouds. A few people passed by and looked on with curiosity at Ray and Shane but they were in no position to care.

The hangovers they had clung on with straining fingers but let go, and they felt like rough sleepers.

"Not had a night like that in a while," said Shane, sitting up. Ray sat up as well and slowly climbed to his feet, stretching.

"Fucking starving," he said, and Shane got to his feet as well. Shane's mobile rang and he fumbled around trying to answer it.

"Unknown caller, who the fuck's this?" He answered. "Hello," he said rather loudly. "Caroline? Oh hi Caroline how are y...? right ok, he's here". He passed the mobile to Ray.

"Ray, where's your bloody phone? I've been trying to ring you but the line's dead".

"Er, well, Lee accidently broke it. I need to get a new one".

"Why am I not surprised by that? Anyway, your boss from Ambroses was trying to ring you. He wants to see you".

"What? why?"

"What d'you mean why? how am I supposed to know? he's not gonna tell me".

"When?"

"Now, as soon as possible, and get yourself a new phone". Ray nodded, and ended the call.

"Boss wants to see me".

"Why?"

"Fuck knows. I'm getting some food before though".

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 17

 

The light blue door was sandwiched between a butchers and a florists, and the scent of honeysuckle invaded Lee's nostrils. It looked like the place could be abandoned as the door was thick with dirt and the paint was cracked. It almost looked as if it had not been opened in years. One of those places that goes by unnoticed. Even if this was your local shopping area, you could go years without noticing it, and one day, see the door and ask:

'How long's that been there?' such was its insignificance.

Lee wondered if he had got the right place and decided to ring rather than knock. There wasn't even a number on the door.

'Next to the butchers on Hendrick street', he was told, but on the other side of the butchers was an opticians, so this had to be the place. He took out his mobile and rang the number he had been given. It was answered immediately.

"Blotto," said Lee, "I'm outside, I think I'm at the right place".

"Alright I'll be down now". Blotto took a few minutes to open the door, and when it did it dragged on the carpet and he had to pull hard, but soon he was closing it again as him and Lee made their way along a gloomy corridor, up stairs and into one of the rooms above the florist.

It had been made into a makeshift office. A man sat behind a desk, leaning back on a wooden chair. On the desk was a laptop attached to a printer and three mobile phones. In one corner there was a filing cabinet that looked old and ready to be thrown out. In front of the desk there was a wooden chair and on the right wall was a light brown two-seater sofa that looked like it had been salvaged from a skip.

"This is Lee," said Blotto, "A friend of mine from back in the day, the one I told you about who's just been inside for two years and needs a bit of work. Lee, this is Gary".

The man nodded. He was in his late fifties, but looked older, wore a badly fitting brown suit and had scruffy hair as if it had never been combed with a short black and grey beard.

"Yes, thank-you". Blotto sat down heavily on the sofa. He was shorter and slightly older than Lee, over-weight but not too much, was bald through choice. Lee had never seen him with hair. He walked across to the chair and sat down without waiting to be asked.

"First of all," said Gary, "I don't care about your background, what you've done. It doesn't concern me. Blotto's filled me in". Lee looked across at him but Blotto just smiled and nodded.

"Did he tell you what the job is. What I do?"

"You borrow money to people, I get it back, something like that".

"When the banks and even those payday loan places don't lend you money, then people come to me, and I will, but I'm not one of those that charges high interest rates. I charge modest rates. I've got to make a profit somehow, you know how it is, but lending money is as you're probably aware, risky business. Nobody likes to pay money back. I'll tell you that for free. Everybody hates to owe money, so you'll understand getting what is owed to me can take a little work, so I employ Blotto here, as well as others in different places, to help people keep up with their payments. Thing is though, one of my agents left to be a security guard in Wales, getting less money than what I gave him, so fuck knows what he was thinking, and Blotto here suggested you".

"Ye, thanks for this opportunity," Lee said, and Blotto looked pleased with himself.

"Most people indebted to me are fine. They pay on time. Everything's good, but then sometimes there are those that don't pay, or need reminding, which is where you and Blotto come in. Sometimes folks needs a little persuasion. You won't always be working together. Sometimes only one of you is needed, but then there are times, when, I'll be honest...we".

Blotto interjected. "We need to get what is owed. So if they can't or won't pay, we take the equivalent. We’ve got several lock-ups with expensive stuff. Televisions, computers, jewellery, whatever, which they can get back when they pay up, and if they haven't got it in what we take from them, well we have to take it out of them in what I call 'medical fees'. We then write the debt off, but by then it's cost them a whole lot more".

Lee nodded, understanding.

"Sounds easy," he said. "So what's the pay?" Gary smiled and nodded.

"We'll discuss that in due course but I need to make sure you can do it. You understand that right?"

Lee nodded, "Fair enough. I'll just give them a reminder". Gary took a note-pad from the desk drawer and began to write in it. For a few moments there was only the sound of pen on paper, traffic outside had seemed to stop, but then it began again.

Lee was handed a scrap of paper. On it were three names and addresses.

"The top two are overdue with their repayments. They're the ones that need reminding, and get something of a deposit from them. Rachel Ward owes me three-hundred quid, always pays but never on time, and sometimes it's never enough, but she's a week overdue. So a little nudge, and Harvey Stewart. He's got a good job. One of those computer geeks that earns, well, I don't know but it's a pretty penny. He owes five hundred quid. I do know he's got a gambling problem, loves betting on greyhounds, and I understand he owes other money-lenders as well, so probably lends off me to pay someone else, but I don't care about that. If he owes me he owes me. So just remind him his payment is overdue, and remember if they haven't got any money on them then take something of worth. They'll get it back when they pay up. The other one, Keith Matthews owes me a grand. The payment was overdue two weeks ago. I've heard nothing. I understand he's a bit of a fuck-nut. Never answers his phone. I've had problems with him before, but this time I want you to take one of his possessions. His brand new sports car. That'll wipe off the grand". Lee nodded.

"One small problem," said Lee. "I haven't driven a car in years".

"Don't worry about that," said Blotto, "I'll meet you at that job and drive back, just give me a ring".

"There you go," said Gary, "See how you do with them and then let's see about getting you paid".

"Fucking right," Lee stood up and shook hands with Gary.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 18

 

Ray felt apprehensive. An employee called into the bosses office usually conjured up images of being sacked, being given marching orders, and that was what he envisioned.

With hands wedged into his pockets, he walked across the car-park and nodded an acknowledgment to a worker in the shop foyer before making his way to the back of the store, through a staff-only door, along a corridor, up a flight of stairs and across to a small office, the door slightly ajar. He could hear nothing from within, and tentatively knocked.

"Come in," he heard, and Ray walked into the cramped office where his store manager sat at a desk looking at a computer monitor. He glanced at Ray and gestured for him to sit in a well-used grey fabric office chair opposite.

Allan Chandler basically stepped into the position straight from university, from a graduate training scheme and with a father who had deep pockets encouraging him along, he never started from scratch, at the bottom of the ladder. He took the lift, and passed by those on the ladder, stepping out into the position he was in in the super-market, and at the age of twenty-four, he had many employees beneath him, many who had been there since before Allan had set foot in university. Rather small for his age, as though he should really still be studying, he always looked put upon, even though he brought it on himself by knowing the authority he had, and wielding it like a weapon he did not know how to use.

Ray thought him rather aloof, as if he thought the job was beneath him, as if the lift could go to higher floors. Perhaps it could, but for now he was here, superior