Frankie ruffled his brother’s hair. “Just going to look for some munchies.”
Then Frankie disappeared into the kitchen. Somehow the room felt empty without him, like an atmosphere of oppression and danger had left the room. Andrew took the chance to speak to the others.
“Davie, you have to stop this? We’ve done nothing to you.”
Davie shook his head and didn’t reply – his expression was tormented.
“Davie!” Andrew repeated.
A slap stung his cheek, rattling his entire face. It was one of the twins that had hit him. “Shut the fuck up, bitch, or I’ll mess you up bad!”
“Nice one, Dom,” said the other twin. Andrew noticed a slight difference between them now. The other twin, Jordan, had a wispy goatee growing on his chin, whilst Dom was clean shaven. Dom also wore a sovereign ring which had been attached to the hand that had slapped him. Andrew could feel a throbbing bruise forming already.
“What do you get out of this?” Andrew directed the question to all of them.
“Shits-n-giggles,” Dom replied. “Now be quiet, or else.”
“Or else what? You’re going to do what you want to do anyway.”
“Yeah, but we can make it hurt a lot worse,” said Frankie re-entering the room. “So don’t get on our tits.”
Frankie was clasping a pair of scissors that he must’ve gotten from one of the kitchen drawers. The blades were long and glinted under the soft light of the living room.
“Before the party starts we need to get everyone looking presentable.” Frankie pointed the scissors at Pen. “And I think this old bag is in serious need of a haircut.”
The teenagers cheered, except for Davie who seemed like he was trying to force a smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
“Leave my wife alone!” Andrew shouted.
Frankie ignored the outburst and grabbed a hold of Pen’s hair. She squealed, making a tormented sound that Andrew had not heard from her before and would be happy to never hear again.
Andrew screamed again at Frankie, ordering him to get out of his home, but the demands fell on deaf ears. Frankie dragged Pen down onto the floor and yanked a thick clump of her hair. Then he cut it with the scissors. She began to weep as strands of her soft brown hair fell to the carpet in front of her.
Less than ten minutes later, Frankie had hacked every hair from Pen’s head, leaving behind several clumps of ragged stubble. When Pen gazed up at Andrew, she looked like a different person – bold with a face stained black with smeared mascara. Andrew’s chest hurt and for a moment he thought he was having a heart attack. Then he realised it was just the grief of seeing his wife humiliated this way. Andrew joined in her sobbing.
Frankie was grinning. “She looks much hotter now, don’t ya think?”
Andrew spat. “Fuck you!”
Frankie rushed forward and struck Andrew across his face. Stars invaded his vision and he wondered if the blow had broken his jaw. He moved it left and right, sparking extra pain, but was satisfied that it hadn’t.
“Come on, Frankie,” said Davie. “You’ve made your point. They’re both in tears. Let’s go.”
Frankie turned and pointed the scissors at Davie and shook his head. “I ain’t even getting started yet, little bro.”
“What did this guy do to you?” Davie asked. Andrew wondered about the answer himself.
Frankie’s lip twitched as his anger seemed to rise. “Why do you care so much, man? He’s just some stuck-up cunt with a flash car who thinks his shit don’t stink.”
Is that it? Andrew thought. Is this whole thing just because I have a nice car? This whole nightmare is down to some insecure thug resenting me, jealous of what I have?
“What’s your problem, little D,” asked Michelle. “Just chill your fuckin’ beans, twat!”