Chapter Eleven
“One more job, bruv, and that’s it.”
Desmond was unconvinced. With Vinnie Clark it was never “one more” of anything, not when there was money involved. “Just don’t feel right about it, Vin.”
Vinnie sneered. “Don’t feel right about it?” he mimicked in a high girly voice. “Why ya makin’ such a fuss all of a sudden? Ya goin’ soft on me or what?”
“I ain’t goin’ soft!”
“Then where’s your bottle? It’s so easy it’s like nickin’ sweets off a babe.”
The Clark brothers occupied their usual places on the sofa in front of the wide-screen TV, where a football match was in progress. Desmond hated it when his brother was like this. Vinnie had been in a right strop to begin with. He got that way every time he saw Carlos Tévez play, never having forgiven him for leaving West Ham United
