City Of Need

11 ❤️‍🔥 Wilde's World

Jack

Three days later...

I bang on the back door of The King's. No answer. It's been four days since I met Roxy here. Watched her being approached by all those losers. I thought it was funny at the time but now I'm wondering how many men have approached her since I last saw her and why she's hadn't fucking called me.

'Hennessy!' I yell up to the back window. It's his office window. Sometimes he sleeps there when he's worked the club the night before. Jameson mentioned on the phone this morning that Hennessy is having trouble with his current girl so I've got a feeling that he could have stayed here late enough last night to sleep in his office.

I throw a stone up to his window.

Still no answer.

I pick up a bigger stone and throw that. It goes straight through the window and I hear him shout, 'What the fuck!' Then his face appears at the window.

I hold my hands up in front of me and say, 'Sorry mate! I was just trying to get hold of you!'

'Fucking Jack Ramona. Why can't you just pick up the bloody phone like any normal bloke would do?'

'Can I come up?' I grin sheepishly.

'Yeah you can come up. Stupid mother fucker. And you can pay for that window n'all.' He disappears from the window, still muttering. Something about idiot friends.

A minute later I hear the clanging of bolts on the other side of the door. His face appears around it and he says, 'You got any cash on you?'

'How much?'

'About a ton.'

I pull a wad of notes out of my pocket and hand him two fifties.

He takes it and says, 'Cheers mate. That should cover the window,' then turns his back on me and starts walking up the stairs.

'Fair enough,' I say following him.

The office is a mess. There's a relatively clean duvet strewn over the sofa. Ash trays full of cigarette butts and an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor.

'You sleeping here much?' I ask as I step over the broken glass from the window I just smashed.

'If it's been a late night.' He rubs his hand over his shaved head and grimaces. He looks tired. He's always been lean but he looks thinner than last time I saw him. He pulls a T-shirt over his head, covering up some of the tattoos that the girls seem to go wild for. He's a handsome bastard and he uses it like a throw away commodity, bait on a hook, to get the girls.

'Having a lot of late nights lately?' I ask.

I'm fishing and he knows it.

'Jameson called you didn't he?'

'Yup.'

'Fuck's sake,' he grumps. 'That bloke. It's like he thinks he's my Dad or something.'

I laugh, 'Awww Hennessy, you want him to be your Daddy too? There's a cue of girls a mile long wanting to be his Baby Girl. I don't think you stand much of a chance!'

'Of fuck off!' He shouts, laughing and throwing a screwed up pack of cigarettes at me. 'You're a sick fucker, you know that Jack Smith.'

'It's Ramona now, Baby Boy,' I laugh and shoot the pack back at him.

He sits in the big leather chair behind his huge battered wooden desk and I wonder how many girls he fucked over it last night.

'So what's going on? Women trouble?' I ask.