Michael had just finished locking the takings in the safe when the phone rang. The minute he heard his drama queen of a wife ranting at him hysterically down the line, his good mood evaporated. His sons were a handful, especially Daniel. But boys would be boys and, as per usual, Nancy was making a mountain out of a molehill. So what if they’d had a ruck with some lads from the opposing team while playing football? That’s what lads did, and Michael was glad his boys had inherited his genes and stuck up for one another and themselves. ‘Nance, I really can’t be dealing with this right now. I’ll have a word with the boys tomorrow, OK?’
‘No, Michael. It’s not OK. I told all three of them to go to their room and stay there, but the only one who made a move to obey me was Lee. Daniel just laughed in my face, then dragged Lee and Adam out the door with him. I have no idea where they are now, so you really need to take a break from that bloody club of yours, and put your family first for once.’
‘It’s three in the afternoon, not the morning, Nance. Lee’s twelve, Dan’s eleven and Adam is nine. They’re hardly toddlers, are they?’
‘No, more’s the pity. Definitely got your family’s genes though. I despair for their futures, Michael.’
Feeling his hackles rise, Michael took a deep breath. No way would he still be with Nancy if it weren’t for the fact the boys needed a mother. ‘You need to take a reality check, Nance. The only one of my sons who has never brought the police to our door is Lee – and Denise gave birth to him, not you. If you’re searching for bad genes, why don’t you take a butcher’s at your own side of the family, eh? Your mum’s top drawer, bless her. But your father and brother are two of the biggest arseholes God ever put breath in.’
Little Vinny parked up in Cardigan Road, closed the roof of his white Ford Cabriolet, and sauntered towards the market. His life was pretty decent these days, apart from the odd flashback that disturbed his sleep now and then.
The July sun was scorching, so Little Vinny took off his T-shirt and slung it casually over his right shoulder. Checking out his reflection to ensure he had not messed up his carefully gelled hair, he was aware of a few admiring glances from younger and older females as he continued his journey.
Sammi-Lou Allen grinned as she spotted her boyfriend from afar. He was so handsome and at six foot tall he stood out even in a market full of people. With his jet-black hair, piercing green eyes and cute turned-up button nose, it really had been a case of love at first sight for Sammi-Lou. The fact he ran a nightclub and was Vinny Butler’s son was just an added bonus.
Putting his arms around his girlfriend’s waist, Little Vinny treated her to a short but passionate kiss. Sammi-Lou was the seventeen-year-old daughter of multi-millionaire Gary Allen, who owned Allen’s Construction. Five foot five, with beautiful blonde hair, a voluptuous figure and big chocolate-coloured eyes, it had been a case of love at first sight for Little Vinny too. Before Sammi he had played the field. The club turning into a disco and him being classed as management had enabled him to take full advantage of the young birds who flocked there in their scantily dressed droves – and take advantage he most certainly had.
‘What do you want to do first? Shop or eat?’ Sammi asked excitedly. Unlike her ex-boyfriend, Little Vinny was as passionate about shopping and fashion as she was.
‘Let’s grab a bite to eat. Not sure I’ll have time to shop today. My nan rung me as I left home. My aunt took a tumble earlier and she’s twisted her ankle. They’re in a boozer along the road here and I said I’d pick ’em up at four.’
‘Aww. I hope your aunt is OK. Her and your nan make me laugh so much. My dad’s organizing a big party at our house for my mum’s fortieth. All your family are invited. My mum can’t wait to meet Viv and Queenie. I’ve told her so much about them.’
Little Vinny felt a shiver run down his spine. He had been with Sammi just over six months now and had met her parents twice. Both times Sammi’s little sister had been present, and it had really freaked him out. The child was seven, had blonde curly hair and reminded him of how Molly might look now. Worse still, her name was Millie. ‘I won’t be able to get time off work, babe, if the party is at a weekend. I have a club to run, you know that.’
‘But it’s only one night, Vin, and I want you there with me. Surely you can take one Saturday off?’
Desperate to change the subject, Little Vinny clasped his girlfriend’s hand and smiled. ‘I’ll do my best. Speaking of parties, you looking forward to Charlene’s tonight?’
Sammi grinned. ‘Yep, but I’m only staying a couple of hours. I’ll be at the club with you by eleven.’
Little Vinny grimaced. As much as he thought the world of Sammi-Lou, ever since she had passed her driving test and her dad had bought her a brand-new Mini, she had taken to showing up at the club every single Thursday, Friday and Saturday night. ‘Sam, it’s your best mate’s eighteenth. You can’t sod off after a couple of hours. It’s not right.’
‘But I like spending Saturday evenings with you, and waking up with you on a Sunday morning.’
‘Yeah, I know you do, and I like it too. But because I thought you weren’t coming to the club tonight, I invited some old school pals of mine down. We’re gonna have a game of cards with Uncle Michael and a couple of his mates once we lock up. I can’t cancel now, it’s too late,’ Little Vinny lied. He didn’t even have any old school friends. The only pal he’d ever had in those days was Ben.
‘OK. If you don’t want me there, I won’t come,’ Sammi said, her eyes brimming with tears.
Suddenly feeling as suffocated as a Doberman locked in a two-foot cage, Little Vinny took his girlfriend’s hand and steered her into Beau Baggage. He knew it was one of her favourite shops. ‘Let’s not argue. Pick out whatever you want and I’ll buy it for ya.’
Vinny Butler finished his hundred press-ups and decided to have a rest before starting his sit-ups. At least six times a day he exercised vigorously. In prison you needed something to focus the mind on.
Thanks to his smart-arse brief and brilliant Queen’s Counsel, Vinny had literally gotten away with murder. The prosecution had tried to portray him as some kind of monster, but the jury had clearly been touched by Molly’s untimely death, and all he’d ended up with was an eight-year stretch for manslaughter. Bobby Jackson’s family and friends had gone apeshit when the murder verdict was read out as ‘not guilty’. Jackson’s lunatic of a mother had even lunged at Queenie and then been dragged from the court kicking and screaming.
Having already spent over a year on remand before his trial, Vinny should have been up for parole soon. It was usual to serve only half your sentence if your behaviour was good. Unfortunately for Vinny, he’d had a few altercations with other lags over the years, and as a result the authorities had argued he should not be released yet. His brief, however, was on the ball and had told Vinny that, providing he stayed out of trouble, he was sure he could get him parole in the next year.
Lying on his bunk, Vinny stared at the ceiling. He was by far the most respected inmate in the Ville now, and so he bloody-well should be – after all, he was the Vinny Butler. It hadn’t been easy, getting his head back together after Molly’s death, but once he’d made his vow not to think or speak about his daughter, he’d started to get back to his old self. It had been tough, and even now he couldn’t stop Molly appearing in his dreams, but he refused to shed a tear. Only weak men cried, and if prison had taught Vinny anything, it was how to be mentally strong.
He checked the time; his brother would be here soon. It was a prospect that gave him no pleasure. Relations between himself and Michael had become somewhat strained ever since he’d