Spick and span, Hobson's choice with crisp white sails rocked in the slight swell. In the cockpit and lounge, the latest navigation technology indicated wind speed and direction, depth of water under the keel, and position in the cockpit. His hands caressed the wheel as he pressed the engine start button. The Rolls-Royce Power System came to life vibrating the hull from stem to stern.
When a fresh easterly wind blew, they sailed and once clear of the harbour and with sails set, Davy stopped the engine. He improved his sailing skills, and Tracey learnt. On several occasions, the motion of the boat made Tracey vomit. In turn, she learnt to handle the craft in light to moderate winds.
On one of their regular jaunts and as they sat having breakfast in the club, drinking fresh orange juice, enjoying smoked salmon and scrambled eggs, the waitress arrived with the coffee and handed Davy a written message. Problems at home, I need to see you straight away, Emma. Without pausing, he paid and left. As he drove, Tracey tried to contact Emma by mobile, but the reception signal was weak. The traffic being light, in two hours they were in the club office.
They found Emma in one hell of a state sat in the office with Charlie. The eye to chin cut on her battered face shocked Davy. "Who the fuck did that? What was Charlie doing?"
Tracey put her arms around Emma.
Disturbed, David cleared his throat, "Emma, tell me everything."
He listened as Emma spoke. "The Red Mafia beat up Charlie. They want to buy this place, and when I told them to fuck off," she touched her cheek, "the bastards did this. Their offer is non-negotiable. Davy, I'm shit-scared."
"How much are they offering?" he asked.
"They offered fifty thousand pounds."
"Okay, the good days have ended."
"Why don't we fight the collectors?" said Charlie.
Davy glanced at Charlie and gave the idea much thought before speaking. "Well, I agree, we must do something. Why should these bastards take our money? I know we have to sell." After a pause, he said, "Why not snatch their collection bag?"
Charlie laughed. "You're crazy; these people are nuffing like what you've ever dealt wiv. They get rid of people, and no one asks questions.." He paused, "No worries, I'm up for it. Let's face it, in a couple of weeks I'll be looking for a new job. It's my redundancy money."
"Emma, it's up to you. When the collectors arrive, discuss the sale and haggle. If you don't, they'll get suspicious. When they have their money and leave, call me." He turned and faced Charlie. "You and I will be waiting for them to pass the alley. If you want to kick their balls, it's fine by me, but as far as I'm concerned, get your arse into gear and run. Agreed?"
Charlie nodded.
"Emma, you'd better tell the girls. Now might be a good time to leave. Have a word with Jay. She might take a few and train them as escorts. You never know."
Friday arrived too soon for Davy. He dressed in a dark tracksuit and soft running shoes. As he waited for Charlie to arrive, he reflected on how his life had changed. He was living a life of luxury with an ex-whore, and it didn't matter. Money was plentiful; he owned a nice boat, a Mercedes sports car, and could decide his own future. A knock on the door brought him back to reality. Charlie was waiting and dressed the same, but while Davy happened to be tall and slim, Charlie's beer belly bulged.
"Come on, Davy, time to hit and run."
Before he left, Davy picked up two baseball bats. They drove and parked a few streets away and walked to the alley where they waited for the collectors. Emma telephoned, letting him know the transaction was complete. He stared towards the heavens, the night sky was clear, and the stars twinkled.
