“Ten days ago. He was coked out of his head on a beach in Sant Antoni. I took him back to his flat and made sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit for a couple of hours. He’s been about since then. Ralphie Jones said he was in Buddhababa last week with a couple of girls. He was still posting on social media four days ago. I checked.” It had killed me, as I’d rather just pretend that Ashley didn’t exist.
Colm didn’t say anything, just tapped his finger on the table until the champagne appeared. “Why’s no one told me he was fucking about in Santa Gertrudis?” He sounded far too calm.
I shrugged. This was a case of it not being my circus and definitely not being my monkey. “I only heard today. No idea why no one else hasn’t said anything. He’s done this before, Colm.” My voice was low, that was par for the course. But I was surprised I sounded as sympathetic as I did. “He’s probably in Marbella on a mad one.” He’d done it before. Two weeks, coming home with a list of favours he owed people you wouldn’t want to owe favours to.
Including me.
“Anyone else missing?”
I shrugged. “Don’t know. I’m not asking around. I don’t want any part of this. You’ve got enough troops to find out where he is.” I took a drink of my water, ignoring the champagne that was probably a couple of hundred for the bottle.
Colm didn’t try to persuade me. “What’s he been doing in Santa Gertrudis?”
“Sent some lads out dealing. Small shit. One lad got his face rearranged - that’s how Damon Gallagher found out. They beat it out of him who he was working for.” It hadn’t made the news. The police were either oblivious or the right cop had been on duty and had been keen for some extra cash.
Colm didn’t show any form of interest in how the lad was now. He shook his head, finished the glass of champagne. “You’ve no idea where he might be?”
“It isn’t my business. You know me and Ashley don’t get along.” If I had the chance, I’d set him adrift in the Mediterranean with a very heavy weight attached to his legs. Any form of family loyalty had turned to ashes about seven years ago. But as much as I didn’t want it to be my business, it still was. I was related to the fucker, and he happened to sometimes cause problems where my business was, a business I was trying to keep clean. So I kept tabs on him.
Colm knew there was no love lost between us anymore and he knew why. He tried to forget about it, pretend it hadn’t happened, but I wouldn’t let him do that.
Ashley had fractured our family with a fissure so deep you’d drown in the blood running through it if you fell down there.
“I know.” Colm rubbed his eyes. “I might need you to find a couple of things out.”
“No.” It was an easy word to say to my uncle.
“This isn’t negotiable, Tommy…”
“Why? What will you do? Have me killed?” We both knew that wasn’t going to happen. “Find Ashley. Give him a project to do that’s anywhere but here. I don’t want him on my fucking island. Send him out to Miami, or The Keys. Fucking Monte Carlo – I don’t care where he is, but we don’t need him here, fucking everything up.” The words were harsh, but my tone sounded like that of a parent reading a fairy tale. This tale didn’t have any happy endings though.
“When I find him, I’ll make sure he stays away from here. If you tell me what you can find out.”
“About what?”
“Not what. Who. Information, Tommy. I just need some information. Nothing doing, no fire lighting. I just need some info.”
“About who?”
I sat back and this time took a mouthful of the champagne, listening to my uncle as he started the next chapter in his cruel saga that I doubted I’d ever be free from.
I didn’t bother leavingafter one drink. Colm finished the bottle and headed somewhere else for the evening, maybe back to his wife. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. He’d added to the headache that his son had caused and I wasn’t sure what painkillers would get rid of it any time soon.
The club started at eleven, the deejay fairly established on the island with her own following, only a lot of them wouldn’t be coming into a place likeEl Jove. Playing here was a first for her, and she had a weekly slot now, a chance to prove herself then she could move from Wednesday. Come June, every night would be packed with clubbers, all high on life and sometimes something chemical. Champagne would flow and everyone would turn an eye to the white lines that were drawn.
Tonight, the start of the season, it was just warming up. Nowhere was as packed as it would be in a few weeks, and the air wasn’t as potent. It was a good night to be alive, and I did wonder if Ash was enjoying it somewhere.
He had nine lives, and he’d probably borrowed a few more from someone else with an empty promise.
I’d ordered a Tom Collins, watching Imelda mix it, then went outside, the bar feeling too oppressive when there was still some light left in the day.
It was laughter I heard first. A peel of it, like bells at Christmas. I looked over to where it came from and saw the girl from before, the architect.
She was wearing a dress, one that was tight enough to show every curve she had, although she didn’t have many. Blonde hair toppled down in waves to the middle of her back, her face almost as bare as before, just glossy lips and something on her eyes. Her dress was short, showing off slender legs that went on forever, legs that me and every other bloke with a pair of eyes were imagining wrapped round their waists as they fucked her.
Jay Jay. She was called Jay Jay. Jameson Kearney, Lara’s sister and the daughter of people who were Ibizan royalty. I’d heard my father talk about their mother’s coke habit, back in the day. It was all back in the day with him, because he didn’t have much to do these days.
Jameson was talking to a man I recognised, knew his name. He was all gym muscles and designer labels, veneered teeth and a hand on her waist that I wanted to rip off.
