Chapter 15 – January
FRANKIE
JANUARY
The sound of horseshoes clopping against the road feels like a countdown in my mind. I walk ten steps behind the carriages that carry my parents' bodies with Cora beside me, her hand in mine. I savour the feeling of it.
While we haven’t shagged yet, Cora has the ability to make me feel connected to her on an outer space level with simple gestures.
Whether that's ordering a food shop, linking arms while we were out, or cuddling on the sofa watching TV. We haven’t even had a cheeky kiss since the whole Christmas fiasco outside the boxing club.
Surprisingly, I’m glad of it. Sex makes things complicated, and women always want to know what the situation is afterwards.
I’m too scared for that to happen with Cora because I don’t have an answer for her.
She’s basically been banned from ever speaking to her family again, and while I lo—like her living with me, relationships take effort on both sides, and right now, I don’t have anything to offer her.
I don’t have a shit tonne of cash or a legitimate job that would make her dad happy.
I’m just Frankie. The wayward son of a kingpin.
We both wear brand new gear, courtesy of the devil brothers. This whole thing was paid for by them. Perhaps that would bother me if I were in a better head space.
In the last few weeks, Ben had taken over everything, and I’d handed it all over without a fight.
He took control of my dad’s old pub and had started bringing it up to scratch, had both my parents’ bodies released from the morgue within days of moving into Birmingham, and organised this entire funeral in a matter of weeks.
He learned everything about the operation here and had studied the different constituencies like his life depended on it, all while Zach looked over his shoulder and agreed with everything he suggested.
They didn’t push me out, I was there for every meeting, but my brain was getting foggier and foggier. I couldn’t retain the information like I used to, sometimes I’d even forget where I was or how I got there. But each time, I kept myself calm when the fog came down.
Now, it’s coming on again. I march down the streets of central Birmingham, the pavements lined with watchful onlookers filming and photographing my every move.
My mind scrambles, trying to hold on to the present, trying to push away the fog and images of my parents' cold bodies in the morgue and Louisa’s screams. I instead focus on how soft Cora’s skin is, how lucky I am to have her here to keep me grounded.
She hasn’t left me, unlike everyone else, and she’s made it clear she never will.
We’re two people who need one another, twin flames that burn despite being doused by water.
I picture those flames, right in the center of my mind.
The fog lifts and I find myself breathing a little easier.
I put one foot in front of the other, a silent march into the war that is brewing between me and the Russians.
We have intel that they’d try something today, which is why Ben has made this event into a fucking circus.
But, I have to admit, the cunt has style.
Dad would've liked him. Him and Lousia are similar in so many ways, it’s as if they’re cut from the same cloth.
I keep my eyes on the coffins. Both are black and silver, made from some kind of fancy-pants Italian marble. Knowing Ben they probably each cost more than my flat.
I make the mistake of glancing at the empty space on my left.
Guilt and sadness crash down on me, weighing my shoulders down as I think of my sister and how she should fucking be here.
My hands shake. I can’t tear my eyes away.
I want to scream at the fuckers standing on the pavements either side of the procession.
One of them is a fucking traitor and knows where she is.
I need a fucking drink.
I need to get so drunk that the world fades away and there’s nothing left.
I need to hit something. I need to claw out my own heart and offer it to Oscar on a plate in exchange for her.
I wonder if Zach would help me with that.
“Frankie?” Cora’s voice finally pulls me back to the present. “I know this is difficult for you, just try to get through the next few hours. Then we can go for a run.”
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth like she taught me. Cora has been forcing me to channel my emotions into fitness, and I have to give it to her. It does help. It makes me tired, just like the alcohol used to, but it doesn’t stop the nightmares.
“Frankie, we're coming up to the church now. It’ll be over soon, just keep breathing.” Her voice is soothing, but soon drowned out by the toll of the bells.
I look back down at the floor to see red rose petals had been scattered over the ground.
I don’t know if that’s Ben’s doing, or Dad’s old mates.
It doesn’t matter, they’re covered in horse shit now.
I keep breathing and staring at the floor as it all threatens to spill out of me. All the fucking shit that had been thrown at me my entire life is coming out one way or another, but it can’t happen here.
The bell chimes.
Another step, slower than before as the horses slow.
The bell chimes.
Cora squeezes my hand tighter.
The bell chimes.
My parents are dead.
The bell chimes.
My sister is being tortured.
The bell chimes.
One more step.
The bell chimes.
Immortality is real.
***
The church is packed. Most of the people here I recognise, but a few I don’t. It seems like every man and his dog have turned out in their finery to see the spectacle. I hardly hear anything the priest says. I just keep staring at the coffins. I’m numb.
Angry and numb.
I only come out of my trance when Cora shakes my arm and nods to the podium.
It’s my turn to speak. I swallow and get up, pulling out the fucking flashcards that Ben had given me.
I focus on my breathing, putting one foot in front of the other as I make my way up to the coffins from the front bench that only has me and Cora.
Lou should be there too..
I can almost picture her there, tears streaking her face and small sobs escaping her.
I ignore the feeling of inadequacy that builds inside of me and roll back my shoulders, keeping my eyes on the cards.
The stupid embossed G glares at me from the top one.
I clear my throat and glance up at my audience, meeting the eyes of every single one of the fuckers that let Lou down.
After all, I might not have been able to keep her safe, but these fuckers are gatekeeping where she is.
That makes them just as guilty as me. I glance back down at the words Ben has written; it’s full of thank you’s and some bullshit fucking excuses as to why Lou isnt here, then a little bit about how much of a top guy my dad had been when he was alive.
Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit.
My eyes find Charlie’s. He sits at the very back of the room, his black hood pulled up obscuring his face.
At least he had the sense to listen to me when I told him he could only come if he was good and did as he was told.
I had kept my promise to him so far and kept him safe from whatever gang it was that he failed his initiation for.
I don’t know how I’ve kept him from Cora so far, since he sleeps on the sofa.
But she hasn’t mention seeing him, so I never bring him up.
When his eyes meet mine, I see them shine with tears.
Why is he upset? I frown and tilt my head.
A cough from the front row drags my attention away from Charlie. Cora’s cough.
Oh shit, the speech.
“Um” I say like a fucking idiot as I fumble with the cards. I glance back up at Charlie, his face now stoic. He nods once. And I know what to do. I put the cards in my pocket.
“I’d thank you all for being here, like the cards tell me to do, but today isn’t about that.
It’s about honoring my parents. They were two pillars that kept our city safe and at peace with one other.
If my dad was here, he’d want me to tell you all to get fucked.
” The pews are so silent you could hear a pin drop.
“Which I won't do, but while I have the entire city here, I’d like to ask you all a question as we sit and remember my dear old dad. Where is your fucking loyalty?” They all shift in their seats as my eyes meet every single one of theirs.
“My dad was murdered. By Oscar. You all know this. Yet you have done nothing but sit in your homes and close your curtains. If it had been any one of you that had been killed and dumped on the side of the road by that fucker, my dad would have led the fucking cavalry to bring him down. Yet you fuckers have done NOTHING.” Some of them flinch as my voice reverberates off the old stone walls.
Ben stands from the back of the room and pulls his ridiculous sunglasses off.
Yeah, that’s right fucker, I’m going rogue.
“I want every single one of you on this. Not because I’m asking you to, or because you think I’m entitled to all of this because of him—” I point to the coffin with my dad inside.
“I ask you out of respect for him. My dad. The one who kept your families safe from outsiders, the one who made sure you all made money to keep them kids fed, the one who had every single one of you cunts’ backs!
” Spit flies from my mouth as the blood rushes to my head.
“Do it for him. Not for me or my sister.”
I don’t stay for the rest of the ceremony. I can’t be arsed listening to hymns or the song my mum played as she took her last breath. It wouldn’t be enough to drown out my sister's pleas for mercy, or the laughter of the men that took turns on her. I’m done.
I need to run. I need to run so fucking fast that my legs fall off and my lungs burn. I need to punish myself, before anyone else can.
I made it down to the bottom of the church steps before the doors slam open behind me.
“WHAT DO YOU—” I turn just in time to see the Grenville brothers, shortly followed by Cora, storming out of the church. Their burning silver eyes threaten to trigger my flight or fight response and tear down everything I’ve worked so hard to build.
“Please, just calm down and give him a moment will you? It’s his parents' funeral for Christ sake.” I hate that she has to defend me, it makes me feel like a fucking coward.
Ben stalks forward with Zach only a few steps behind like an ominous shadow. He looks a lot calmer than Ben right now, but I know that prick. He’d smile at me and ask me if I’m enjoying the weather right before he peels off my finger nails.
“You didn’t do what I asked you to do.” Ben snarls as he reaches me.
“Why the fuck should I? It’s not your mum and dad lying in there is it? You’ve got no idea what it’s like, watching all those fucking people pretend to grieve and feel sorry for me, when those are the same cunts hiding my sister!” It all spills out of me.
The truth of it all. No more dancing around it.
I need a fucking drink.
“I can’t do it anymore. I can’t pretend like you can, I’ve tried and it’s not me.
This is me. I’m the cunt that walks away when things go to shit, and I only ever think about myself.
I’m done with you and your brother and you—” I turn to Cora and falter on my next words.
“You… should go home. I don’t want you here.
I don’t fucking need any of you.” My chest heaves up and down, my throat burns with the need to drown it all out.
A shadow on the ground by the church doors catches my attention, I follow it and see Charlie peeking out from behind the double doors. He’s crying again. Why is he crying?
Zach steps into my line of vision. “You don’t have the luxury of walking away.
You say you’re done? Tough shit, I’m not done with you, and you owe me a lot of money, Frankie.
I’ve been where you are, I’ve buried more loved ones than you can count.
Instead of getting mad at us, the people who are trying to help you, the only ones who are on your side, use your anger to your advantage.
You just scared the living shit out of everyone in that fucking room?—”
I scoff, “they think I’m pathetic. That’s why I’m in this mess!” I feel the weight lifting from my shoulders with each admittance.
“No they don’t, they think you’ve gone insane.
You’re a wildcard, Frankie. And trust me when I say this, there’s no better person to be.
Let them believe that you’re unpredictable; they’ll drive themselves mad trying to figure out your next move, they’ll do every single thing you tell them to because they’re worried you’ll slit their throats while asking them about the weather. ” Zach’s grin turns evil.
How the fuck did he know that?
“Go to the wake, network, be the crazy fucker. If someone fucks you off? Punch them. Feel like murdering someone? Do it. Do yourself a favour and stop fucking thinking.”
I let Zach’s words sink in, my eyes seeking out Cora's. She looks worried and stressed, And it sends a pang of guilt through my chest. She doesn't deserve what I said, or any of this for that matter. “I’m sorry.”
She swallows and nods, tears almost spilling onto her cheeks. But those are just words. She’d spent the last month with me, day and night, trying to help me and the moment it gets too much, I tell her to leave.
I need to be better. To do better, by her, if I can’t do it for myself.
Fine, these fuckers want someone unhinged? I’ll give it to them. I’ll go to the pissing wake and try to figure out which one of these cunts knows where my sister is.
“I draw the line at murder.” I mutter to Zach.
He claps me in the back and pulls me in close as his arm dangles over my shoulder. We walk a few paces ahead of Ben and Cora before he whispers, “You’ll find that line more than easy to cross my friend.”