Chapter 5
FRANKIE
Multicoloured lights twinkle from inside the living room windows I pass on my way back to my flat.
Is it Christmas soon? Has it already happened?
I don’t even know what day it is. I just know that I need to be numb.
It feels like I’ve been hit by a train. All I want to do is take some fucking pills and go to sleep.
I don’t want to go to this poxy meeting and explain what had happened to Malachi.
Murdering the head of the Russian mafia is by far my worst choice to date, and I’d have to deny having anything to do with it because I can’t handle a war right now.
I glance down at my hands, expecting to see blood, or something, on them.
A glowing beacon that lets everyone know that I’m a murderer. But there is nothing.
How does anyone stomach this feeling?
Malachi’s phone burns from the inside of my jacket pocket. I had found it not far from where his body had landed, not smashed up too bad thankfully. Hope kindles within me, the answers we’ve been looking for are right there. That thought makes the guilt ease, just a bit.
It takes all of my willpower not to pull it out now and look. However I’m a great believer in the saying that curiosity killed the cat.
I grind my teeth together and pull my hood up as a gang of kids crosses the street towards me. I quicken my pace as my heart pounds, lowering my head as they come closer.
“Oi, cunt!” One of them shouts.
I slow to a stop in front of them and pull my hands out my pockets, showing them I’m unarmed.
“Easy lads. Just on my way home, I don’t want any trouble tonight.
” I slip easily into the mask I had worn my entire life.
The cheeky boy with the gift of the gab.
If I can avoid a fight with them, I will.
They’re just kids. We all are when we started hustling in dark alleys.
The shortest prick who’d spoken pulls out the most pathetic looking knife I’ve ever seen. The silver glints beneath the dull orange street lamps. The boy's hand shakes. “Nah bruv. Wrong street to walk down this late. Give me your money fam.” The other boys around him form a circle around me.
I stifle an eye roll. The fuck does fam even mean?
There’s a flicker of fear behind the deep brown orbs staring back at me.
The boy's eyebrows scrunch as he shuffles on his feet before he glances between the others. He doesn’t look much older than twelve.
Slowly I pull back my hood to get a better look.
They are all older than the boy holding the knife. Sixteen or seventeen maybe?
Shit.
This is an initiation.
I was this boy once. But he didn’t have a little sister to take the fall like I did…
I had gotten out of killing anyone so far thanks to Lou and my ability to make people think I was tougher than I actually am.
He probably has nobody; the gangs tend to prey on people like that.
A crack forms in the stone surrounding my chest. It would be easier for us both if I let him stab me.
He would be safe for another day if he passed the test.
Malachi’s phone vibrates in my pocket, reminding me that I can’t die, not today.
Remember you’re a fucking Garrick.
Fighting it is then. I square my shoulders back and spit on the floor. “Do you know who the fuck I am?” I say quietly to the boy.
He glances at the others again, as if waiting for someone to tell him it was okay to attack. But the rest look just as uneasy as him.
Pussies.
Sending a kid to do a man's job. I hate this fucking place. I’d happily destroy it all if it meant one more kid wouldn’t get caught up in this shit.
“Who cares fam? I said give me your fucking phone, or are you deaf?” The other boys snigger at this, which seems to give the kid a boost of confidence as he raises his chin higher.
“You’ve got two choices lads.” I keep my hands steady and raised in the air. “Choice number one, you can walk away and find someone else to shank.” The air turns icy, cold fog drifts from the boy's mouth. “Choice number two, I kick the shit out of each of you and teach you little cunts a lesson.”
Laughter sounds through the quiet street, the boys double over like I’d told the funniest joke in the world. Dogs bark from inside the houses we stood outside. Curtains twitch out the corner of my eye.
It’s the music of the streets. Laugh, bark, twitch. It repeats on a loop in my head, vibrating hard against my skull. Mum’s body flashes in my mind before her blank eyes morph into Malachi’s glassy ones.
Laugh, bark, twitch.
Fighting is like a dance. And unlucky for these boys, I am fucking great at dancing.
“Who the fuck do you think you are big man? Go on Charlie, shank him!” The tallest of the group breaks the rhythm. Fuck it.
“I’m Frankie Garrick.” The tallest boy's face drains of colour at the sound of my name.
White flecks of snow begin to drift down from the dark sky.
My knuckles explode on impact with the boy's face.
The others stand still, shock vibrating against the chill in the air.
“Who the fuck are you?!” It comes out like a war cry.
The boy lies unconscious on the ground. Blood drips from my hand onto the slush piling up in the street.
Snow never gets stuck here.
I turn to the smallest one. His body shakes in fear as the weight of my gaze settles on him.
I feel like a monster. But isn’t this what everyone wanted?
For people to fear me, like they did my dad?
Then why at this moment do I feel disgusted with myself?
I want to reach out and comfort him. To tell him to run as fast and as far as he can.
But that isn’t an option for boys like him.
This is the fucking game.
Kill or be killed.
Be the top dog or answer to someone else.
Be a soldier and nothing more.
Follow orders and never question them.
But I am more. I have inherited the fucking game. The game made by my ancestors.
The older boys run back in the direction they’d come from, but he still stands frozen.
“Charlie, is it?” I ask him.
He nods as tears form in his eyes.
Guilt punches through me. “Looks like you failed your initiation.” I glance down at the unconscious fucker left on the ground, abandoned by his comrades. The knife clatters onto the concrete.
“They’re gonna kill me.” Charlie mutters as the snow falls heavier.
“Whose soldiers were they?” I asked, fixing him with a hard glare.
“O… Oscar’s. He told us that he ran this end now and to get rid of any pricks who said otherwise. He said you weren't about. If we’d known, we wouldn't have…”
Finally, here we fucking go. Two birds one fucking stone.
“Looking for a job, Charlie?” He eyes me warily, like a rabid dog backed into a corner. Isn’t that what we all are? Strays raised by the violent red bricks of the towering factories.
After a moment of sizing me up, Charlie nods.
“You got a place to stay?” I narrow my eyes, his clothes are ripped and damp.
“Nah.” He looks down at his feet. The gaping holes in the front of his trainers glare back up at me.
I check my watch. Only 5:30pm. I have a few hours until the meeting. “I’ll give you a job and a place to stay, but you know that shit doesn't come for free.” I soften my expression, trust is earned.
“I ain’t a fucking snitch bruv.” He backs up a few steps.
“You’re under the protection of the Garrick family now. Do you understand what that means?” My dad’s words flow from my tongue into the cold air of their own volition.
I feel possessed.
Charlie shakes his head from side to side.
“It means nobody will touch you. But my protection comes at a price. I need to know everything you fucking know about Oscar.” What am I saying?
What am I offering? I have no soldiers. All I have is an ancient name, a run down bar, and two brother-in-laws that I'm pretty sure are psychopaths.
But Charlie doesn't know that. And I need information.
Finally he nods, and I could've bent down and kissed his feet right there and then. “Come on. Let's get you some food. You can tell me everything you know once you're out of the cold.”
We walk in silence towards the block of flats I live in.
It’s in the nicer part of town thanks to the generosity of the Grenville brothers.
I stick out like a sore thumb, though. The tower block is full of wealthy businessmen that wear flashy watches.
I would have nicked them straight from their wrists had I been ten years younger.
Malachi’s phone buzzes again, I almost forgot what had happened not even an hour ago. I pull it out—curiosity finally getting the better of me.
It’s a text, and the words made my stomach churn.
GARRICK SCUM - A.
Who is A? A video is attached to the message.
I open it. As it plays, I wished I hadn’t.
I can hear nothing but the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears.
Charlie’s talking but I can’t process what he’s saying.
My vision blurs.
Someone is screaming. Is it me?
No.
The sound is coming from the phone.
I’m frozen.
I can’t do anything but watch them rape my sister.
One. After. Another.
I commit each face to memory, some I recognise, most I don’t. Oscar has found some new players.
I don’t remember pulling out my phone.
I don’t remember dialling Zach’s number.
But for the first time since everything had happened, I’m glad our parents are dead.