Page 4 of Into the Dark

“You look different, Jay,” he says. “What’s with the strange-and-weird? You undercover or something?” The irony of his comment isn’t lost on me; it sends a spidery chill down my spine.

I run my hand over my new facial hair. “What? You don’t like it? They’re in these days. It’s kinda growing on me.” I smile, putting my hand up immediately to apologize for the terrible pun.

Fred just smiles. “They’re in, are they? Well, you could pull off anything with that face.” He smiles. “Though if I had that face, I wouldn’t be hiding it under that thing, that’s for bloomin’ sure.”

Admission: I’ve always been a little scared of Freddy’s laugh. When he laughs it’s never entirely clear what’s about to happen. Laughter is supposed to put people at ease, relax the tension out of uncomfortable situations, but not Freddy’s. I’ve never had any personal reason to fear it—I’m always just afraid for someone else in the room.

“Anyway, this place is looking good.” He nods as he looks around, out through the wall-sized window behind me. “You’ve done well, Jay. Never understood why you had your heart set on it, but it looks like it worked out. I’m proud of you.”

I swallow, feeling the guilt settle somewhere around my chest and stomach. Somehow, I manage to still stare him right in the eye. “Thanks, Fred. Means a lot.” I nod. “Couldn’t have done it without you.” Which is true.

He nods again, bright blue eyes burying themselves deep inside me. For an instant I’m convinced he knows everything. Everything. But then, just as quickly, the notion is gone and I realize it’s just paranoia.

Fred lifts his cup and takes a long, deep gulp before leaning back in the chair. “How’s my nephew?” he asks in a warm tone, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Yeah, he’s good. And, listen, thanks for buying him the iPad. He loves it. He watches his films on it and some of those kiddie games. He’s permanently fucking attached to it. He sleeps with the thing,” I tell him as I take another sip of Coke. My mouth feels bone-dry all of a sudden.

“Yeah? Good. He’s a good kid. Takes after his dad.” He smiles.

Freddy’s fond of Caleb—spoils him rotten, in fact, which I don’t like. Mainly because I don’t want Caleb coming to look up to Fred as if he’s some kind of all-powerful, all-giving god. The way I used to look up to him.

“How’s his mother doing?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You still fighting her off?” His tone is playful, but there’s intent there. There always is with Fred. He knows Vicky’s issues. He knows mine. He’s never forced it. Stayed well away when it’s been about us, which I’m glad about. Still, I don’t bad-mouth her in front of him.

I give a small, noncommittal shrug.

“Yeah, I thought so. My niece is persistent, I’ll give her that. You see that prick she’s with now? Terry Lewis’s son. What a tosser. Always thought he was a shirtlifter, you know.”

I shake my head with a small smile. He’s just thrown three separate insults at the guy. I have seen Cole Lewis about. He’s one of those guys who’s either in front of a mirror or in the tanning salon. “Dunno, Fred. I’ve never spoken to the guy beyond a quick hello,” I say with another shrug.

He nods. “Yeah, well, you know, I’d rather she were with you.”

I purse my lips but don’t respond.

“But I get it, son, trust me. Her mother was hard fucking work too. Before,” he says, pursing his lips as if he just tasted something bitter.

Vicky’s mother and father’s marriage is legendary in the East End. They had hundreds of fights in pubs and clubs, at weddings and funerals, even put each other in hospital countless times. That was before he died of lung cancer at forty-five. Her mother died five years later of liver disease. She’d been living on vodka and gin for the past twenty years of her life, though, and so that was normally how those kinds of things worked themselves out. Freddy is the only family Vicky has left now, and he looks after her. He looks after his family.

Another stab of guilt hits my gut.

“Yeah, I met Tanya a few times. She was something else,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck.

“Yeah, she was. Fucking loony. Anyway. I never came here to talk about you and Victoria or Del and Tan. Although I always fancied a wedding between you two, son, ain’t gonna lie. Be like my own two kids getting married, you know.” He gives me sort of sad look.

I decide not to point out his two kids getting married would be considered incest.

“But you’ve always been stubborn, Jay. Shame ’cause that girl never got over you. Doubt she ever will either. But the heart wants what it wants, and it don’t want what it don’t want.”

I really fucking hope he’s right about that ’cause I really fucking hope Alex’s heart still wants me.

“You can’t force a square peg in a round hole—I know that.”

“You’re right about that, Fred.” I nod. I really just want him to get to the crux of why he wants to talk. I also don’t want to talk about Vicky anymore. I lean forward. “So what’s up? What do you need from me?” I ask, elbows on my knees.

He stares at me for a long time before, finally, a sad kind of concerned look comes across his face. “It’s Kev,” he says.

Fuck, what now? I’m sure he’s about to tell me he accidentally killed someone again, or something similarly messy that I’m going to have to help clean up.

Fred leans forward on the desk and steeples his hands under his chin. “Someone’s been talking to the cops. It’s him, Jay. We’re pretty sure he’s made a deal.”