He showered and changed, fumbled in his pocket for the unfinished wrap of coke that he had been enjoying last night, and emptied it out on the back of the cistern. He had a twenty in his other pocket; he rolled it into a tube, pushed the end up his nose and sucked up one line, then switched nostrils and did the other. The coke was from his personal stash, as pure as it had been when he had received it in the last load, not stepped on with the powdered milk and laxatives that they used to bulk up the weight before they sent it out to the dealers to be shifted.

He dropped the wrap in the toilet and flushed it away. He pulled on his shoes, swiped his car keys from the table and headed downstairs.

Vanessa, his wife, was in the kitchen.

“About time!” she complained.

“Shut your mouth,” he said. “I had a late one.”

“I know you did. You know what else I know?”

“What?”

“I know you were out with those two sluts again. You know how I know that?”

“Piss off, Vanessa,” he said, starting for the door.

“I know, you stupid prick, because you took pictures on your phone and forgot that they upload to the Cloud. They were on the iPad this morning. It’s a miracle the kids didn’t see them when they were watching their cartoons.”

Jackson groaned inwardly. Linzi and Becca were call girls who liked to consider themselves “high end.” They were a pair of slappers, of course, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t both fit, or that he wasn’t open to the prospect of rolling around with them both every now and again. He had ended up in one of the bedrooms above the club last night and tried to remember if he had taken pictures. Probably. What a dick.

“I’ve had enough,” Vanessa was saying. “I can’t keep on living this way.”

“There’s the door, then,” he said. “Don’t let it hit you on the arse on the way out.”

“You piece of shit.”

“You know why I did it? Because I can’t stand the sight of you. I come back here and the place is a dump. I wanted a beer last night, but we’re out. And you know what’s worse than that? I’ll tell you—look at you. Look at the way you’ve let yourself go.”

She reached down for the vase on the sideboard and launched it at him. He ducked out of the way. The vase smashed against the wall behind him, and, as she came in with her fist raised, ready to hit him, he reacted faster and planted a straight right jab in the middle of her face. Jackson was a big man, and he caught her flush on the point of her nose. She went down, blood already running freely from her nostrils.