Die Hard Mod by Charlie McQuaker Page B

replying.
    ‘I don’t know what you’ll think of me if I tell you the truth, darlin’.’
    ‘I can handle it.’
    She set her glass down.
    ‘You remember that nightclub where I used to work?’
    ‘Aye, how could I forget a godforsaken meat-market like Temptations? All those flash wankers wavin’ their cash around and tryin’ to chat you up… and that sleazy posh-boy manager James Wilson always sniffin’ around you.’
    Around 2004, Temptations had been marketed relentlessly as an upmarket addition to the nightlife of a rejuvenated Belfast and moneyed urbanites flocked to the place in their droves while bohemians and inverted snobs like Steve and his Mod associates despised the place.
    ‘What can I say, darlin’. A girl’s gotta make a living. The problem was that the money was shit and one night Temptations was the operative word…’
    She smiled enigmatically.
    ‘Don’t go all mysterious on me, Jeanie. Spill the beans.’
    ‘Okay then. There was this backroom where James and the staff used to go for a little, y’ know, late night pick-me-up after the punters had left and we’d cleared up.’
    ‘You mean you’d be snorting coke into the wee small hours?’
    ‘I guess sometimes we did, yeah.’
    ‘So you got a bit of a coke problem that you didn’t want me to know about and you had to get away to go into rehab? Christ, Jeanie, I’d have been able to handle that. I’m no moralist.’
    Jeanie took a large gulp of wine before continuing.
    ‘If only it was as simple as a spell in rehab, darlin’. The thing is, they kept a safe in the back room and when the boss was putting the night’s takings away, he didn’t realise that I wasn’t so off my nut that I couldn’t keep an eye on what combination he was using.’
    Steve got the uneasy sense that he’d never really known this girl at all.
    ‘So you’re telling me that you’re not a drug addict, you’re just a thief. That’s okay then.’
    ‘No need to get sarky with me darlin’. Anyway, I thought you said you weren’t a moralist.’
    The same Presbyterianism that had instilled a work ethic in Steve also made him abhor dishonesty and he was finding it hard to reconcile this with the intense desire that Jeanie aroused in him.
    ‘Just tell me how much you stole, Jeanie. If you’re in the shit, I’d like to know how deep it is.’
    A faint smirk appeared on her face before she replied.
    ‘Twenty-five grand. Add half a kilo of coke and I’d guess I’m forty-five grand deep in shit, if that’s the way you want to see it. So do you see now, darlin’? My leaving Belfast was nothing to do with how I felt about you.’
    Steve looked in her eyes for signs of shame or regret but he didn’t see any.
    ‘Well I’ve told you now, Steve. Aren’t you going to say anything?’
    ‘What the fuck do you expect me to say? Well done, Jeanie, you’re a criminal mastermind? So I’m guessin’ when you fucked off, James Wilson must have gone straight to the peelers and told them who he thought the culprit was.’
    Jeanie’s calm façade no longer seemed convincing.
    ‘Thing is, Steve, James was just the respectable public face of Temptations… it’s the owner of the place I’ve got to be worried about and he wasn’t the type to have much truck with the police. You might have heard of him, he came from round your way… a nasty piece of work called Trevor McCann.’

 
    19
     
    After blurting out a ‘holy fuck!’ that made a few heads turn round, Steve offered to go up to the bar for more drinks. He brought back two large Jamesons and proceeded to tell Jeanie all about his own run-in with Trevor McCann.
    ‘Oh darlin’, that’s so awful… I know how close you were with Doug. I was fond of him too, he was such a lovely guy.’
    The words seemed hollow when Steve remembered how cold Jeanie had been towards Doug; never making any effort to be civil to him whenever she’d stayed over at their house, but he tried not to dwell on that.
    ‘Thanks