“Nothing,” said Davie. “She’s just mouthing off at the television again. You know what she’s like when she’s been drinking.”
Frankie examined Davie’s face, trying to work him out. Eventually he nodded and said, “Yeah. It’s what she’s like when she hasn’t been drinking that I know nothing about. Old bag’s a waste of space.” Frankie stepped over to Davie and put his hands on his shoulders. “Go find your coat, bro. We’re going out.”
Davie frowned. “Where to?”
Frankie smirked, his twitch turning the expression into an alternating grimace. “To go and have some fun, man.”
Great, thought Davie, heading to fetch his coat. More fun…
Chapter Seven
Andrew was upset, frightened, angry, and a multitude of other unwanted states of mind. The amount of adrenaline in his body had at one point almost driven him to full-blown panic. It was only thanks to a combination of deep breathing and the brisk walk home that he managed to keep his anxiety under control. Now that he was rounding the final corner to his house, Andrew’s predominant emotion had become anger.
Frankie’s attitude had been aggressive just like Andrew expected it to be. What he’d not expected was the boy’s mother to be just as confrontational as her son. In many ways, it explained a lot – almost made the monster that was Frankie understandable and, perhaps, even forgivable. It didn’t make things right, though.
Andrew decided enough was enough.
Frankie was just a teenage boy, living with his mother and dating a school girl. Andrew was willing to bet his watch that the lad was all front and little substance. He’d only had the guts to throw a punch at Andrew the previous night because of a gang backing him up. People were only afraid of Frankie because of the reputation he worked so hard to cultivate. Things would be different if people fought back instead of buying into it.
Andrew was an averaged-sized guy, healthy enough to throw a punch if he had to. If Frankie wanted to try and victimise him then he was welcome to try. Andrew knew where the lad lived now, and who his family were. They were on an equal playing field.
Andrew reached the path to his house and started up it. He could see the shape of Pen and Bex through the net curtains of the front window and smiled at the thought of seeing them. He hadn’t expected them both to be home.
Is it dinnertime time already?
Andrew checked his wristwatch and saw that it was getting on for six-o-clock. As if in affirmation of the late hour his stomach began to grumble. Food was something he hadn’t thought about all day, but perhaps his appetite returning was a good sign – a sign that things were no longer getting to him quite so much.
Andrew unlocked his front door and stepped into the porch. Then he kicked off his shoes, removed his jacket, and passed through into the hallway. Pen and Bex were on the sofa in the living room. The carpets were still a mess, but the smell was mostly gone now. They gawped at him as he entered.
“Where you been?” Pen demanded. “Have you seen what they’ve done to your car?”
Andrew set himself down in his armchair and released a long, weary sigh. “I know. I went to that lad’s home to try and put a stop to things.”
Pen’s eyes widened. “Really? What happened?”
Andrew leaned back into the chair’s cushion and shrugged his shoulders. “Not a fat-lot. The kid’s whole family is as bad as he is. Was like banging my head against a brick wall.”
“So this isn’t over, then?” Bex asked, sat beside her mother and still wearing her school blazer.
Andrew shrugged again. “I’m hoping so, honey. The little git knows I know where he lives now and that I’m not afraid to confront him. Hopefully that will be enough to make him think twice. Either way, don’t let it worry you. Things will be okay.”
Bex seemed unconvinced. “How do you know?”