Page 11 of London's Calling: Part 1
I catch them, nodding a thanks, and get up to leave.
“Mickey, remember who she is. She might look fuckable and sweet, but she’s Franklin’s spawn. Don’t let your dick lead you down a path with no happy outcome…for anyone.”
“I don’t need to fuck the Ice Queen, Dad. I’ve got more than enough pussy to keep me and my dick happy.” I leave, passing through the kitchen again so I can filch a couple more of Mrs Howe’s cookies.
“Hands off, Mickey,” she yells, but not before I grab a handful.
Mrs Howe has been living with us for as long as I can remember, and her cooking is truly spectacular. Despite neither me nor my sister Simone living at home anymore, she still bakes. I’m a regular visitor, but Simone not so much.
After Mum and Dad split, she moved out with Mum. She’ll argue that it’s because she didn’t want to leave Mum on her own and hated how Dad had treated Mum, cheating on her many times over the years, but I know it’s because Dad disapproved of her boyfriend Mitch. She must have lost her damn mind if she thought Dad was ever going to be happy to see her dating a cop—not unless he could pay him under the table. But from what I’ve seen of Mitch, he’s a straight cop and plans to work his way up the ranks.
Simone has never liked our family’s less than legal business, so this is a perfect way for her to distance herself from it. I’m not looking forward to the day Dad finds out she’s changed her name to Mum’s maiden name. That’s a day I don’t want to be here for.
I call Fletch on the way back to Mayfair and tell him to get his arse there with my stuff.
He’s already there when I arrive and busy arguing with a traffic warden.
“Why don’t you go fucking annoy someone else.” I hear him say as I get out the car.
“You can’t park he?—”
“Read the sign. Loading and unloading only. See this?” He points to the truck loaded with my stuff. “I’m…unloading,” he says slowly like she’s too stupid to understand.
“Fletch, knock it off.” I toss the apartment keys at him. “Start unloading,” I say as I approach the traffic warden.
He throws her an aggravated glare before moving to the back of the truck.
“Sorry about that,” I appease, laying on the charm. “We won’t be long. I promise.”
She scowls at me, completely unimpressed and still livid at Fletch’s attitude. “I don’t care who you are, or how long you’re going to be, you can’t park here.” She tears the ticket from her pad and strides to the front of Fletch’s truck, then purposely looking at me, she slaps it to the window screen.
“Have a good day,” she says before walking away.
“Fu—ooph” I elbow Fletch in the ribs cutting off his insult.
“Shut up. Let’s just get this shit back inside.”
It takes us over an hour to unload my shit and carry it up the stairs thanks to there being no lift this side. I’m placing the last box to the ground and shutting the back doors of the truck when Roni exits the front door of my actual apartment.
“Roniiiii, looking sexy, but I much prefer you without your clothes,” Fletch says as she slowly turns around.
She saunters over, and you wouldn’t know that just a few hours ago I was fucking her against the wall. She’s still dressed in the grey knitted dress with her coat thrown over her arm.
“Well, I hope you locked that image down tight in the spank bank because it was a one-time opportunity.” She looks me up and down. “Mickey,” she says, then turns and walks away.
I watch her leave, striding down the street and ignoring the wolf whistles from a group of guys across the street. I pin a glare on them as they pass, catching the eye of one of them.
“Soho is that way,” I shout over, pointing in the general direction, which is opposite to the way they are going. “Think you took a wrong turn, mate,” I add with a thread of warning.
“Just offering the rich pussy an alternative to you jumped up pricks,” he fires back, flipping me the finger.
I take a step forward ready to show this wanker what us jumped up pricks can do, but a hand on my shoulder stops me.
“Not worth it, Mick. Let someone else give him a night to remember. Come on, I’m starving.”
“You buying?” I ask, taking a final look in the direction Roni walked, but she’s gone. I trail after Fletch.
“Not if you’ve got a hankering for anything from Sasha’s. That place is overpriced.”
