Chapter 8
FRANKIE
I’m welcomed by my dad’s old mates with open arms which boils my fucking piss.
Not one of them is happy to see me, not really.
I can see straight through the comradery of it all.
The gold covering their cigarette stained teeth hold the words they won’t say, but I see it in their eyes. Jealousy, anger, disappointment.
Dad’s been dead for all but a month, and Mum only a few days, but it seems like it’s business as usual here. They don’t care.
They should.
All my anger, all my frustration, my pain, my sadness, my grief…
I need to use it all. They need to feel it all as much as I do.
The sting of their betrayals, the gaping hole that my parents have left behind.
They deserve to feel it. I’ll give them all the monster that they’ve asked for time and time again.
I swallow hard and roll my shoulders back, cricking my neck in the process. “I’m not here for a drink, lads. I got wind about Malachi, have we got any news?” The chortling stops abruptly and the wrinkled faces of the middle aged men turn sour.
“You best take a seat, boy. His body was found about a half hour ago in neutral territory. Whoever cleaned up did a professional job. None of it is any of our styles.” Boy. It’s the only word I seem to be able to pick out in Gary’s ramblings. Gary takes my father’s seat as I narrow my eyes at him.
He had sat at our kitchen table more times than I can count, and from what my dad had told me about him, he was about as loyal as they come.
Clearly his loyalty doesn’t extend to his friend’s son.
My jaw ticks when his fingers begin to drum against the arm of the chair, the leather still indented with my dad’s finger prints.
My hands clasp together firmly behind my back and my chin tilts a little higher as I plant my feet firm to the sticky floor.
“Who do the Russians think it is?” I ask as my heart skips a beat under their watchful eyes.
Remember you’re a fucking Garrick.
Gary takes a sip of his drink; his fat fingers grip the glass and the ice cubes jangle together, the sound somehow cuts through the loud music.
Who the fuck drinks whiskey with ice cubes? This cunt apparently.
“Funny enough, Malachi’s second, Vlad—” Of course his name is Vlad.
How much more Russian can you pissing get?
“—says that he had a meeting with you today.” The men shift in their seats as a bead of sweat trickles down my back.
Fuck. The game is over before it had even started.
“Was it you, boy?” Gary’s thin lips twist into a taunting smile. Ah fuck it.
I shrug my shoulders in indifference.
“Does it matter?” I ask.
They’ve made no secret of their dislike for the Russians.
Ever since they came here in ‘95, the five families have been hesitant of doing business with them. From what I can remember, Dad only made a deal with them so that they would sell our drugs instead of their own. He handed them a small piece of Gary’s territory in the north in return for peace.
We have always been the peace keepers, that is our family legacy.
I barely remember the story of the first Garricks that took power.
It makes me miss Lou even more. She always had the answers before I ever knew I needed them.
“No, I s’pose not, boy.” My jaw ticks. “Looks like you did us all a favour, but your clean up could have been better. Next time, bury him so deep beneath the ground that not even the fucking sniffers can find him. Looks like we’ve underestimated you, Junior.”
Junior, boy, why doesn’t he just use my fucking name?
“But you’re gonna have a job on your hands trying to keep the peace with Vlad. He’s a crafty fucker. He makes Malachi look like a pussy cat.” Gary takes another swig of his drink, irritation creeps up my chest towards my face.
This is all Zach’s fault. He’s the one that set this chain of events into action, but I can’t tell them that.
“I have to ask, why did you do it, boy? This could very well blow up in your face if you don't play your next move right.” Gary lights a cigarette, casting a shadow of grey smoke around himself. What was my next move? Being calculating isn’t my strongest attribute, it’s Lou’s.
Lou, I have to find Lou.
“Malachi had information that I needed. Info that you fuckers have been keeping tight lipped about." They all stiffen at my words and glance between each other.
So I’m right, it isn’t that they can’t help, they just don’t want to. But why? What’s their motive? I look between them all, maintaining eye contact with each face that I pass. None of them were in the video..
“What information exactly?” This time it’s not Gary that speaks.
It’s Archie, the fat red head from the south.
Archie has the biggest territory out of everyone and his grip has spread a little further than the borders of Birmingham, but nobody takes him seriously as a leader.
Dad used to say he was like a mosquito, he’d suck you dry when you were at your lowest point if it benefited him, but fly away when you needed his soldiers the most.
That’s exactly what I lack, soldiers. If I could just get them all to get down off their pissing high horses and help me, Oscar would be forced out into the open and dealt with like the traitor he fucking is.
“Are you all going to sit there and pretend that there isn’t a rat running around thinking he can take what isn't his? My dad’s murderer has my sister, and while you’ve all been sitting around playing king in my absence, I’ve been doing all the dirty work myself to try and find her and bring that little cunt down.
Isn’t this what my dad paid you for? To do the dirty work and provide information that he needed?
” My words slice through the air. To question their loyalty to the Garrick name is a risky game, but I don’t have time on my side.
Not after what I saw earlier.
Lou’s twisted, pain filled face flashes in my mind before morphing into my mum’s lifeless body, and I almost buckle from the weight of it.
“Those are some serious accusations you’re making there, boy.
Are you suggesting that we’ve turned a blind eye to it all?
When you came to us a month ago, we told you exactly what I’m gonna tell you now.
We don’t know anything.” I don’t buy Gary’s pathetic speech so I can’t help it when a smirk forms on my face.
I pull out Malachi’s phone and the video sent from the mysterious A and play it for them all to watch.
Their faces don’t change, there’s no flicker of emotion across them. Which tells me everything I need to know. They’ve either seen it before, or they are complicit. Either way, it doesn’t fucking matter because the rage that heats my blood at this moment feels unstoppable.
The video finishes, Lou’s screams stop.
They all look between each other, but say nothing.
“Now, this was sent to Malachi by someone on his phone called A. And I wanna know who this fucking cunt is.” Fuck I need to hit something, all of them maybe.
“We don’t know who A is. You killed the only person who could tell you.” Don, the bloke who runs the west, finally pipes up. I scoff.
“I’m not the brightest bulb in the box, but I know you fuckers know exactly where he is.
Now, here’s what's going to happen…” I point to Gary.
“You, are going to get the fuck out of my seat.” My finger moves to the other three sitting on the sofa to my right.
“And you lot, are going to make finding my sister a priority. I didn’t want to have to do this, but I’ll hold every single shipment that comes into Birmingham if I have to.
I’ll leave you all hanging out to fucking dry until you respect me and do what I fucking tell you.
” I keep my voice low, letting the base of it vibrate through my chest. And for the first time, in my entire life, I know my dad would be proud.
I watch intently as Gary gets up from my chair.
“You really think you can come in here and make threats like that, boy? Let me tell you how fucking lucky you are that I’m not slitting your fucking throat where you stand.
” Gary takes a step towards me, closing the space between us.
“You disrespectful little prick.” Spit hits my face, but I don’t snap.
I keep myself calm, calculated, like Lou would do if she were here.
My lips curl into a grin, because these old bastards are forgetting who the fuck I am.
I’m Frankie fucking Garrick and I’ve never lost a fight. And this is my moment.
“Then you don’t leave me with much of a choice, mate. I’ll fight you for it.” The blood drains from Gary’s face, a flicker of fear dancing in his bulging eyes as he realises what I’m saying.
“That’s right, I’ll play by your old rules. I’ll fight you right down there in that ring, I’ll make sure you never fucking walk again, then I’ll rest easily in MY seat while you fight for your pathetic life.”
He wars with himself as he spins around to get the other’s approval. I called on the old rules, and if he refuses a fight he knows what it means: he will have to forfeit his territory right here on the spot and he’ll have a big fat target on his back for the rest of his life.
The others on the sofa don’t seem too bothered by my offer.
After all, if he forfeits one of them would have the opportunity to expand their territory.
Greedy cunts. There's no loyalty here. It died with my dad.
Gary takes another step towards me, the veins in his neck look like they're about to burst as he gets redder and redder, when a voice that has the power to bring me to my knees drifts up to the balcony.
My head snaps toward the fighting pit, but I don’t have to search long as my eyes lock onto a ball of silky, bright blonde hair as if they’re trained to seek her out in the biggest crowds.
Why the fuck is Cora here?!
For a moment, I'm so stunned by her that the world around me fades away. She sticks out like a sore thumb; dressed to the nines in a sparkly silver halter neck dress that hugs her body in all the right places, her hair is perfectly styled in an up-do that reminds me of my childhood crush—Pam Anderson. But my bubble soon bursts as I watch the security guard grab her arm tightly. It hadn’t even registered that she was arguing with someone.
“Ow! Stop manhandling me, you great buffoon! Do you know who I am? I’ll have you fired for this! Where is your manager?! I demand to speak to them!” I would laugh if I wasn’t so angry with watching someone else touch her.
I glance at Gary, who is watching where my attention has gone, his lips turning up into a sadistic smile.
Oh fuck. No, no, no. She can’t be here, They can’t find out who she is.
“My name is Cora Stanley, as in Stanley Oil Enterprises!” Well there goes her anonymity.
I have to get her out of here, more than I need to fight these cunts right now.
“This isn’t over. I want you out of my fucking seat the next time I come here.
” I mutter to Gary, but I know the threat doesn’t hold.
Not when he’s just spotted a bigger one to hang over my head.
I rush down the stairs to where Cora is and, just for good fucking measure, I punch the security guard in the back of the head.