I open the door and push her outside, banging it shut behind me. Fucking slag. I should have known better than to let myself near her in the first place. The trouble is, they’re all like that these days. Plastic Barbie dolls teetering in here on their high heels with more plastic injected in their bodies than blood. They have fake hair, fake boobs and fake lips and I’ve had it with the lot of them.
The phone rings and I bark angrily, “Yes.”
“What’s the matter with you, is that the way you answer my fucking phone?”
Sinking down on my seat, I say wearily, “Sorry, pops. Just a bit of business that needed dealing with.”
He says angrily, “The only business you’re interested in wears a skirt. For fuck's sake, Maxwell, I’ve told you time and again to find a decent girl and settle down. It’s all very well playing with the tarts on offer but they’re not the sort to bring home to your mother. It’s about time you grew up and started taking responsibility for your life.”
I say nothing because it’s a speech I’ve heard countless times before. He’s a fine one to talk, anyway. We’ve all heard about his indiscretions and past mistakes but nobody would ever call him out on them. Joseph Carter is not the sort of man who would appreciate it. Even though he’s well into his fifties, he’s still a man you don’t mess with. Born in the East End he clawed his way up off the streets. His life was hard and most of it against the law. Joseph Carter is still that man today. He may have legitimate businesses but is not averse to bending the law to get what he wants.
He barks, “You still there, son?”
I sigh. “Yes, what do you need?”
He says angrily, “I need you to find your fucking brother and then get your backsides over here for lunch. Your mother’s getting worried in case the dinners ruined and I’m so hungry I could eat the dog. You know the rules, Sunday roast at 2 pm and if you’re late, you suffer the consequences.”
I laugh. “Sure, I’ll pick him up and we’ll be there no later than 2 o’clock.”
As I replace the receiver, I think about my mother. Rosemary Carter is a force to be reckoned with. She met Joey about fifteen years ago when she did some book work for him. It turned out my mother helped him in more ways than one and now we are one big happy family. He took me and Charlie and made us his own and raised us to call him dad. Now we’re the sons he never had and always wanted and are heirs to his empire.
Sighing, I grab my keys and jacket and set off in search of my brother. Nobody misses lunch with my mother because the consequences he spoke of wouldn’t come from him. No, nobody upsets my mother unless they have a death wish.
I hear him before I see him.
“Oh baby, that’s so good. Fuck me, Charlie, you’re so big. Give it to me hard just the way I like it.”
His groans can be heard down the hallway and I roll my eyes. I wonder what unfortunate girl fell on his dick today?
I knock loudly on the door and shout, “Drop her, Charlie. Mum’s waiting and dad’s on the warpath.”
I hear a muffled, “Nearly there.”
I laugh to myself as I lean against the wall and try not to hear the sounds coming from the room. I shout, “Now you dickhead before I come in there and drag you out myself.”
The girls’ screams tell me what I need to know and I’m sure the whole of London hears her shrieking his name.
It only takes a minute or two before the door opens and he saunters out looking extremely pleased with himself. “Fucking weirdo listening at doors. There’s a name for men like you.”
I push him roughly and growl, “Fuck off. If you think I want to hear my kid brother getting his rocks off with some tart in the office, you’re seriously deluded. I thought you had more class than that.”
He shrugs and winks cheekily. “What can I say, it’s a cross I bear but someone’s got to break the new girl in.”
Shaking my head, I click the alarm on my car and we jump inside. The roar of the beast reminds me of what I love about this car. Pure. Fucking. Power. It’s an addictive drug and the only one I really need. Power is my preferred drug of choice and that brings with it other benefits that are on a constant supply.
As we wheelspin away from the kerb, I can’t shake the feeling that I need something more. Maybe Pops is right, maybe I should start settling down. The trouble is, who with?
4
Maxwell
Sunday lunch is a tradition in our house as it is in most homes in the UK. We live in a smart area in a large house with everything we could wish for. Mum keeps the place nice and dad indulges her shopping habit.
It always feels good to be home. No worries, no looking our shoulder every five minutes and no women desperate to claim our attention. The only woman in this house never needs to try. She’s the most important one in all our lives -our mother.
My heart lifts as she hears the door and comes to meet us.
“Boys, good to see you.”
We move across and kiss her warmly in turn and she looks at us critically. Rolling her eyes, she reaches out and uses her tea towel to wipe a smear of lipstick from Charlie’s mouth before batting him around the head with it.
“For gods’ sake, Charlie, couldn’t you at least try to respect the Sabbath? You should be praying hard in church for forgiveness young man and failing that, ask for a woman who will put up with your nonsense and give me the grandkids I’m long overdue.”
Charlie grins and I see the twinkle in her eye as she turns to me.
“Same goes for you, Maxwell. Open your eyes and see the real women standing behind the plastic ones you surround yourselves with. For god’s sake, I’ll be in my grave at this rate and I want an excuse to shop in those baby boutiques in the shopping centre that draw my eye every time I walk past.”
I shrug and she rolls her eyes. “You boys will be the death of me. Go and wash your hands. Your father’s in a right mood in there as his stomach thinks his throats been cut.”
We do as we’re told because nobody messes with Rose Carter and why would we want to? She is everything to the three of us and rules this family with a velvet covered fist.
As we eat, we chat about anything other than work. It’s always been the rule. No work at the dinner table. We listen as mum tells us stories of the families she mixes with and dad just smiles as if interested but downs more beers than a body should surely stand.
However, as soon as the remains of the apple crumble is cleared away, I notice that look in my father’s eyes that spells trouble.
As mum starts filling the dishwasher he says loudly, “I think I need a game of squash to work off that meal. How about it boys, do you fancy challenging your old man?”
I feel Charlie’s good mood change as the tension sets in. We both know what he really wants, and it’s not a game of squash.
Mum rolls her eyes. “That’s a guaranteed heart attack if ever I heard one. Why do you want to be playing sports after a Sunday lunch? Honestly, Joe, you should be taking it easy at your age.”
He shrugs. “I need to shift some of that crumble you just fed me so I can stay fit and healthy for the foreseeable future.”
She shakes her head. “Well, let your dinner go down first. I don’t know, this family will be the death of me.”