Stag Nights and Secret Plans
Nora Opens Jimmy's Package : A Web of Secrets & Lies #5
[Earlier episodes are free here on Substack]
“So what happens at a stag night, and who’s getting married? Am I invited to the hen do?”
Nora was partway through styling her hair, with one side damp and wavy, and the other side smooth and flicked up at the ends. Jimmy’s announcement had ambushed and rattled her. Now she watched him closely, as she had ever since she witnessed his furtive conversation with the unknown woman.
Jimmy stood with his back to her, projecting nonchalance, and it was precisely his ‘easy breezy’ manner that made her spidey senses tingle.
“Don’t get your knickers in a twist sweet’eart,” he teased. “It ain’t a proper stag do, there’s no groom or wedding. It’s a men-only evening down at the working men’s club. There’ll be a comedian who tells blue jokes and a couple of strippers.”
He admired himself, over her shoulder, in the mirror; teasing his hair in place with a little product. When he dropped his head and kissed the back of her neck, where the skin was tender, heat bloomed in her belly.
“Don’t get my –” she exploded. “That’s worse than I thought, thank you, Jimmy!”
She twisted out of his grasp, anxious to get away before her body was befuddled by his caress. Already her nipples were straining and dark sensations swirled between her thighs.
“You’ll hardly miss me,” he reasoned. “That’s the night you do Pilates and go for a drink with the girls.”
Nora couldn’t argue with that but felt like she wanted to anyway.
The other night Jimmy had been delayed by the mystery woman, now Jimmy doing anything ‘extracurricular’ made her uneasy. What they’d discussed was unknown, but he had taken custody of a flash drive, albeit reluctantly.
The memory stick was a generic brand, the same type Nora used to back up her laptop. She’d considered swapping them that night, when Jimmy had fallen asleep, exhausted by the sexy, icy games she’d encouraged him to play. But she needed to act smarter than that.
Jimmy always went for a run on Saturday mornings. Nora had feigned sleep but leaped out of bed when the street door slammed. She’d downloaded and viewed the file on the drive, which nearly broke her heart.
The file contained a schedule of Stagelight Sparkles’ classes: the days and times when the dancing school offered tuition at many primary and middle schools in the area. Bonnygrove JMI, where Nora worked, was listed.
She knew the routine; for the duration of the classes, the school’s front door would be left on the latch, allowing access to the pupils and the carers who came to collect them. Nora could not know the specific items the mystery woman wanted from behind those unlocked doors, but she could hazard a guess.
For over a year, the PTA at her little school had been fundraising hard, determined to provide interactive whiteboards powered by laptops for every classroom. Its computer suite and special needs area were also tech-heavy, thanks to a ‘matching’ scheme by local government.
Nora broke out in a sweat imagining how easy it would be for a team to gain access to these items via the front door. They could park near the school and load a van with whatever they had lifted. At Bonneygrove JMI, the staff meeting convened on the same day as the dance classes. It would be easy as pie, nobody would question the presence of strangers, as the School Secretary wouldn’t be at her desk.
Jimmy rattled the letterbox to be let in, and Nora closed her laptop hurriedly. She dropped the incriminating memory stick back in his pocket and fretted over a way to prevent the thefts. Gnawing at her gut was the part Jimmy played in this. When would he pass on the flash drive? Working at a gym provided plenty of opportunities.
She’d stopped herself wiping the data because she worried about the repercussions when the recipient opened the file. How ‘heavy’ were the people with whom Jimmy was involved? The strange Christmas card that had fallen out of his pocket suggested he’d already tried to break away. His attempt at disentanglement had failed. Might they hurt Jimmy if he proved to be an incompetent messenger?
Robbing schools was low, it hit her where it hurt. Big corporations with huge profit margins could take a hit or make the loss tax-deductible, but this plan would make children suffer, and impact their education. She knew how hard everyone at Bonnygrove had worked, and likely other schools were in the same boat. Nora couldn’t let it happen if she had the power to stop it.
She felt impotent. If only a wish would make it all go away. At the risk of being dramatic, she knew from The Godfather and Goodfellas, Tokyo Vice, and Layer Cake, that once a person was involved in a crime ring, they couldn’t simply say, ‘stop the merry-go-round, I want to get off’.
She was frightened for Jimmy, but she wanted to do right.
The night that Jimmy went to the stag do, they argued. When he hadn’t come home by two o’clock, she’d cycled through a range of negative emotions: lonely, jealous, disgusted, worried, and frightened. When Jimmy finally tripped unsteadily upstairs and stood, swaying on the landing as he tried to remove his boots after unsuccessfully catching his jacket on a hook, Nora was drawn and tearful.
“Where’ve you been?”
“You know where Nora, the working men’s club for the stag.” Jimmy’s boot gave way so suddenly that he nearly hit himself in the mouth.
“Never tell me it’s open after one o’clock — where else?” She put her hands on her hips; the international body language of a wronged woman.
“We ‘ad a whip.”
“What does that mean?”
“A whip round, for the girls.”
“But surely you paid at the door. Why did you need to give the girls more money?”
Jimmy had the self-preservation to blush as he answered, “To do a double act.”
For a moment Nora was stumped, then she got the picture.
“You paid extra for them to do a lesbian scene.”
“Yeah.”
“And did you touch any of the girls? Did they come into the audience and do a lap dance or …”
“No Nora, nuffink like that. The girls rolled around on the stage together. Kissing and touching ’n’ stuff.” Jimmy shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal, which awoke further suspicions.
“A likely story,” Nora muttered. “There’s still an hour that’s unaccounted for. Where else?”
“Nowhere else Nora, I got an Uber home with Maz Barker. He said he’d got some whisky — real strong stuff, from Japan. We drank some. I dozed off at his.”
“You’re so irresponsible,” she flung at him.
She studied her fella’s face, as pale as uncooked pastry, with bloodshot eyes. She was inclined to believe the last part of his alibi.
“Well you’re sleeping on the floor,” she told him, pulling the sleeping bag and a blanket from a chest at the foot of their bed.
“Aww Nora. Babe — why? I told you I never touched ’em. They were rank!”
“That’s hardly flattering,” she huffed. “My reasons are two-fold. One — you are very drunk and I can’t risk you throwing up in our bed.”
As she spoke she fetched a plastic bowl from under the sink. “Two — I refuse to have sexy time with you when it is not me, or thoughts of me, that got you excited. I’ve said it about porn, and it holds true with pole dancers and strippers, such as the girls you watched tonight.”
Jimmy’s hang-dog expression conveyed confusion and wounded pride. Nora ignored that and passed him a pillow, tucking her dressing gown more tightly around her slim body. Then she fetched a big glass of water and some painkillers.
“Take these when you wake up in the morning.”
“But Nora, sweet’eart…”
“Goodnight Jimmy.” She shut the bedroom door firmly.
She was too wound up to sleep, but it wasn’t long before she heard Jimmy snoring. How dare he worry her so badly? Her imagination had showed her terrifying images. Jimmy battered and bruised, ‘worked over’ by thugs, or driven somewhere remote to be abandoned, or worse. Luckily he didn’t appear to have a scratch on him.
How could Nora foil the school robbery plan and ensure that her man remained unscathed?
To Be Continued next week, but if you can’t wait, the final episode is on my Medium profile. This series first published by