Takeover, page 3
John shook his head. ‘Not as far as I know, but I’m planning on finding out.’
Len nodded. ‘I’ll put in a call to arrange the meet with Stoker.’ He glanced back down over the casino. ‘We’ll keep this to ourselves for now. I don’t want anything spoiling Sam’s night.’
John nodded resentfully. Of course, nothing could be allowed to spoil anything for Samantha… Besides, it was hardly likely anything would be mentioned to her anyway. She had fuck all to do with this place and never would.
Still looking down over the main casino, Len frowned. ‘Is that him? The Stoker boy?’
John walked over to the glass and peered down, seeing Sebastian Stoker leaning against the bar like he owned it. ‘Yeah, that’s him. Arrogant bastard. I told him to take a drink, though. Thought it only right.’
Len nodded. ‘Yes, good. It never hurts to have manners and he had the decency to bring the message. Right, I’d best get back down there before Gloria strings me up for disappearing on Sam’s birthday.’
Tom laughed loudly, Jock’s joke about the monkey tickling him no end. He slugged down most of his latest pint in one go, some escaping his mouth and spraying over his open packet of pork scratchings.
Finally catching his breath, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Fuck me, Jock. That’s a good one. I’ll have to remember that.’
Jock Sawyer grinned. The joke wasn’t even funny, but it didn’t take much to make Tom laugh – not when he was in this state. But then Tom’s unexpected return to Birmingham was a bit of good luck. After recently having his hours cut from the Rover factory in Longbridge, it had been a godsend when Tom offered to recoup his diminished wages with a few nice little earners.
It was just like the old days, except this time around Tom had gone up in the world with his gaff on the Hagley Road. All Jock had to do, apart from test-ride women – which was never a hardship – was filch some business from the pushers in certain patches.
He’d been surprised at the cut Tom was offering – it was a decent wedge. Easy money. That was until he’d cottoned on to whose patches were required. But it made little difference to him as long as he didn’t get dragged into it.
Jock eyed Tom, unsure how much of this the man would remember. ‘Getting back to business, we’ve made headway with two of the patches you wanted.’
Tom signalled to the barman for another pint, then, closing one eye to reduce the three copies of the ashtray swimming around his blurred vision, stubbed his cigarette out. He smiled, pleased to hit the target. ‘That’s good to hear, Jock, good to hear. Keep on with it and ramp up the pressure. This is just the start.’
Jock’s face grew concerned. ‘The firms know we’re treading on their toes. Word is they’re putting the feelers out. Their runners must have reported back our threats.’
Tom flapped his hand. ‘You mean, your threats? Ah, but I know you won’t let any of that old bollocks bother you.’ He made to slap Jock on the shoulder, but his drunkenness caused him to miss and instead whack Jock in the chest. ‘Hard as nails you are, Jocky boy!’
Jock grinned. That much was true. He wasn’t a soft touch and doubly good with his fists and, come to mention it, any other weapon that came to hand, but there was a limit. ‘You’re stepping on the Reynolds’ and Stokers’ toes here, Tom,’ he said cautiously, his voice guarded.
‘Fuck Stoker and Reynold!’ Tom yelled, his hand veering his pint in the air, lager slopping on both the table as well as Jock’s arm.
Jock glanced around uncomfortably. Was Tom trying to get them both killed? ‘Keep your voice down, mate,’ he hissed. ‘We don’t want any undue attention.’
‘They’re not all that, you know,’ Tom slurred, his voice still full volume. ‘I could tell you a few things about them fuckers that would make your hair curl.’
Jock tried to smile, but failed. There weren’t many people around here that didn’t know exactly what either of those firms would dish out when needed. ‘Shall we make tracks?’ he suggested. ‘We can discuss this another time.’
‘Nah, I wanna stay here. I’ve got a new pint on the way.’ Tom swung his head around to face the bar. ‘Come the fuck on, Dave! Where’s my bloody drink?’ He groped around the table for his cigarette packet. With fumbling fingers, he took out another cigarette and lit it. ‘Yeah, them lot… Fucking phonies, that’s what they are.’
Jock stiffened. ‘Tom, I really don’t think y…’
‘Cuckoos!’ Tom roared, grinning widely as his fresh pint was deposited on the table.
‘What are you talking about?’ Jock frowned.
Finally Tom found the sense to lower his voice. ‘One of them lot isn’t one of them lot, if you get my drift?’
Jock sighed, getting frustrated. ‘Tom, I haven’t got a clue what you’re going on about.’
Tom grabbed Jock’s shirt. ‘Mention that next time you put the pressure on the runners. Their bosses won’t want folk to know that one of their kids isn’t their own.’
Jock sat back astounded. ‘Which? Who?’
Tom grinned, a trail of dribble hanging from his mouth. ‘Never you mind, but just let it be known that everyone will learn of it if we don’t get what we need.’
Jock sat back. Tom really was far too pissed. ‘How the fuck do you know this?’
Tom cocked one eyebrow and smiled slowly. ‘Because, my man, one of those fuckers bought my kid and a shit price they paid for it too.’
4
Seb leant casually against the shiny, black, marble countertop of the bar. He didn’t need to check that he hadn’t inadvertently placed his arm in a pool of spilt beer or champagne because the attentive bar staff ensured any spillage was immediately wiped up. The place was spotless!
He had to take his hat off to Reynold – this place was the dog’s danglers. Although it was years since he’d ventured inside the doors of this rival casino, it was the business since its most recent overhaul.
That wasn’t to say his father’s place wasn’t both sumptuous and glamourous – it was, but everyone knew Len Reynold refreshed his décor on a five-year cycle, making sure all the fixtures, fittings and upholstery were top notch, up-to-date and displayed no signs of wear or tear. And it showed. Never having diverted from the original colour scheme of purple, black, silver and white, the place oozed class on every level. It looked good. Really good.
Seb raised his bottle of beer to his lips and assessed the admiring glances he was receiving from a healthy number of women around the large room. The talent here was hot, too – no one could argue with that. He grinned at a slender woman with the deepest auburn hair. It was refreshing to see new faces instead of the familiar selection at the Peacock. Not that anything was wrong with the women at the Peacock, he might add. Both his father’s and Reynold’s clubs had a reputation across the whole city for their beauties, but the ones in the Orchid were a most welcome change of scenery.
Seb was now glad he’d been the one to deliver the message. That part had been straightforward enough. With his morose face, it hadn’t been difficult to spot John Maynard. Admittedly, in the handful of times Seb had met him, he’d never had much time for the man, but despite the bloke being miserable beyond words with the added impediment of abruptness, at least he’d had the good grace to offer a drink on the house, so credit to him and Reynold for that.
Aside from his reticence to give Reynold and his firm a heads-up with the word on the street, Seb also knew it was prudent to stay on cordial terms. Which included Maynard. It was common knowledge Maynard would eventually take over the running of the Orchid from Reynold and, being as his own line for taking over the Peacock was assured, it would be him dealing with Maynard at some point in the future.
Signalling to the barman for a refill, Seb continued scanning the room, his eyes stopping suddenly on a brunette. This one was stunning. A real show-stopper.
Feeling his throat tighten with the vision of the woman’s figure-hugging cream dress slithering to the floor, his teeth pulling at her lacy underwear, Seb took a lazy swig of his beer. Nice. Very nice…
Seb grinned as the woman turned, her eyes meeting his across the expanse of people. She’d seen him. She must be able to sense his interest and she wasn’t looking away either. Game on…
Placing his bottle on the bar, Seb tugged at his cuffs, making sure they protruded from his jacket just enough, and was about to make his way over when another man approached the stunner and placed an arm around her shoulders.
That was Reynold.
Seb frowned. It wasn’t like Reynold to flaunt a bit on the side. The man was well known for being true to his wife, everyone knew that.
Wait. Holy fuck! That wasn’t Reynold’s bit on the side, that was his daughter!
Seb’s heart geared up a notch. Samantha Reynold had clearly changed a hell of a lot since he’d last seen her. Although it must be over ten years, if not longer, since he’d last seen the girl, he didn’t remember her being so drop-dead gorgeous.
He watched Sam listening to whatever her father was saying and decided he’d make his way over to wish the girl a pleasant birthday regardless. After all, it was only polite and he was nothing if not polite. At least, when it suited him.
Seb’s plans were cut short when the music suddenly dropped and the voice of Len Reynold boomed through the vast array of speakers.
‘Good evening, ladies and gents. It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to the Violet Orchid in celebration of my daughter Samantha’s birthday. I also have an announcement to make…’
Seb leant against the bar and picked his beer back up, intrigued to hear what Reynold was going to say. Then, after the man had said his bit, he’d resume the plan to re-introduce himself to that damn fine-looking daughter of his.
Sam inwardly cringed with embarrassment as her father spoke into the microphone. She glanced at her mother and raised her eyebrows, only to get a confused shrug in return.
Taking his place by Sam’s side, Liam whispered into her ear, ‘What’s all this about?’
‘No idea,’ Sam replied. It was unusual. In all the birthdays she’d had here, her father had never taken the mic. And there was a surprise too?
Excitement bubbled. Trust her father to do something on top of the party. He never ceased to amaze her.
‘Hey, maybe he’s got you a cake with a hunky, six-foot, male stripper inside?’ Liam laughed. ‘Although why would you want that when you’ve got me?’
Sam was glad she couldn’t respond to Liam’s comment as her father’s voice continued, the volume drowning out further ability for conversation. Would she need to have that talk with Liam again? The one about being better off as friends?
Suddenly, she felt horribly nervous. Oh God, this wasn’t anything to do with Liam, was it? He hadn’t arranged with her father to propose or something equally dreadful? Nerves fluttered and gained pace, causing a sudden urge to run from the room.
Stiffening, she watched Liam from the corner of her eye for an indication he was about to be handed the microphone, then drop to one knee… Oh, he wouldn’t do that to her, would he? Not in front of all of these people? Please don’t let him do this, she chanted silently.
Feeling an intense stare burning into her, Sam glanced back across the room, seeing the man leaning against the bar. She’d noticed him a few minutes ago and although too far away to see clearly, it distinctly felt like she knew him from somewhere. Try as she might, she couldn’t put her finger on where or how she recognised him. There was something very striking and unusual about him – unnervingly so – and he was still staring at her. Almost peeling away her layers.
Unnerved and slightly uncomfortable, Sam turned back to Liam, fleetingly wondering whether she should ask if he knew who the distinctive stranger was. Thinking better of it, she instead smiled up at her father and joined the rest of the crowd eagerly waiting in anticipation for his words. As long as her father wasn’t in cahoots with Liam for an ad hoc and awkward marriage proposal, then any announcement or surprise would be acceptable.
Seeing her father beckoning for her to join him, Sam frowned.
‘Come on, Samantha. Come up here a moment,’ Len’s voice boomed through the microphone.
Sam reluctantly climbed the steps up the raised dais to join her father and stared at the sea of people in front of her. She blushed, her legs becoming shaky, her comfort in the limelight only slightly better than her mother’s. What was her father going to do? At least Liam wasn’t rummaging in his pocket for an engagement ring, so thankfully it looked like that theory was unlikely.
‘I think most of you here tonight know how special my gorgeous daughter is to me,’ Len said, looking first at Sam and then at the crowd. ‘It’s a family tradition to host these parties for Sam’s birthday – the most important day of mine and my dear wife Gloria’s lives,’ he continued. ‘But tonight I’m breaking tradition by doing something that isn’t usually done in my line of work…’
Sam frowned, utterly confused. Break tradition?
Len smiled widely and turned to Sam. ‘I’m so very proud of you, my darling. You’ve proved yourself more than capable of everything you set your mind to do and so…’ He turned to Gloria. ‘Even my wife doesn’t know about this, but I know she’ll agree… I’ve made the decision that when I retire, Samantha will take over the business.’
At this, a collective gasp went up, followed by a round of loud applause. Sam blinked several times in succession. What had he just said?
‘Congratulations, Sam, my dearest!’ Len continued. ‘But don’t get too excited. I’ve got no plans to step down and don my pipe and slippers for a long time yet!’
A good-natured laugh resounded from the crowd, then turned into another round of rapt applause and cheering, along with flashes from every corner of the room as the press captured the moment.
Len hugged Sam and kissed her on both cheeks. ‘I wanted to give you something extra special as a surprise for your thirtieth, sweetheart. I hope it pleases you.’
‘Thank you so much, Dad,’ Sam muttered, not knowing what else to say.
‘Champagne on the house for everyone!’ Len boomed, garnering another wild cheer and round of applause.
Unable to stand it any longer, Sam hurried from the dais and made her way back to Liam, who greeted her with a glass of champagne. Taking the drink, panic set in.
How could she inherit this casino and her father’s business? She didn’t want it! She had her own business planned. No, no, NO! Why would he do this? She knew nothing about this sort of thing.
‘Wow, Sam,’ Liam cried, making sure he took the opportunity to slip his arm around Sam’s waist. ‘That’s amazing! You must be so pleased!’
‘I never expected it, that’s for sure,’ Sam replied, hoping the smile on her face looked genuine.
Such was Sam’s shock, she failed to notice the expression on John Maynard’s face or that the tall stranger who had been intently staring at her over by the bar had disappeared.
5
Leaning back in his leather desk chair, Mal inhaled deeply and stretched his back to relieve the tight pain in his chest, the ache spreading up into his neck.
He massaged the back of his neck with his thick fingers in a bid to reduce the discomfort, but it was to no avail. This horrible suffocating pain was occurring more and more frequently, no doubt triggered by the recent stress.
Mal frowned. He didn’t want a two-bit outfit such as the Aurora attempting to step on his toes and interfering with anything to do with his casino. Not that he knew much about the place, short of, by all accounts, it was one of those seedy, shitty places with few morals and even less organisation.
‘Are you all right, Dad?’ Gary asked, his face awash with concern, watching his father’s face twist with pain.
‘What? Oh yes, yes, I’m fine,’ Mal replied, relaxing a little as the discomfort started to ebb away. ‘Just tense, that’s all.’
‘You should see a doctor if you’re having problems,’ Gary continued, ignoring the warning looks from Andrew and Neil.
‘Since when does anyone need to see a quack because of a bit of fucking stress?’ Mal barked, knowing he was getting on the defensive, but he couldn’t and wouldn’t let on to any of his sons that he was worried over the increasing amount of breathlessness and pain. He didn’t have time to be ill – not while random scrotes were digging around his patches. ‘And where’s Sebastian?’ he snapped. ‘I wanted the lowdown on what happened at the Orchid. Did he call any of you last night?’ He frowned at the general shake of heads around the room.
‘Seb probably pulled and is still otherwise engaged!’ Neil winked in Andrew’s direction. ‘I know I would have!’
‘I think you’ll find that wasn’t the reason for my attendance,’ Seb said bluntly as he walked into his father’s office, shutting the door loudly behind him. ‘Although there were many delectable ladies present, I was distracted by what I heard…’
Mal folded his arms. ‘I’m not interested in idle gossip. All I want to know is whether you got my message to Reynold. Are we having a meet or what?’
Seb eyed his father carefully. ‘Yes, message delivered to Maynard. He said he would pass it on.’
‘I take it you didn’t see Reynold yourself?’ Mal asked.
‘I saw Reynold, but not to speak to. He was too busy…’ Seb continued, amused.
Mal sighed. ‘If you’ve got a point to make then just bloody make it, will you?’ he snapped, rubbing at his neck once more.
Seb grinned. ‘This “idle gossip”, as you so succinctly put it, is that Reynold has broken with tradition by making his daughter heir of his business.’
A heavy silence fell in the room, the men exchanging surprised glances.
Mal rolled his eyes. ‘Where did you hear this pearl of wisdom?’
