“Didn’t you want us all to stick together?”
Frankie walked into the room and sat on a futon opposite the sofa. “At first, yeah, but Damien told me that if the police come and find us in a group matching the exact description that a victim gave it would corroborate their evidence. I gave everyone their stories and sent them on their way. They know what to say so don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried,” said Davie. “I don’t know what I feel. Last night was fucked up.”
Frankie nodded in agreement, seeming to reminisce about the events. “Should never have gone down that way. Way too messy leaving things like that. Jordan’s face was really messed up this morning – think it’s infected or something. My fault, though; should have dealt with things better…more neatly.”
“What do you mean?” asked Davie. “You should have killed them?”
Frankie shrugged. “Maybe. Too late now, though. We just need to be ready.”
“Ready how?”
Frankie smiled and tilted his body forward, sliding off the futon onto his knees. He reached an arm underneath the sofa and retrieved a flat wooden box, placing it carefully on his lap.
Davie frowned. “What’s that?”
“Our insurance policy,” said Frankie, unfastening a pair of brass clips on either end of the box and popping the lid.
Davie couldn’t believe what he saw inside. “Guns? Are you crazy?”
“Chill the fuck out. They’re just in case that nutcase comes after us. I ain’t going to play with this guy no more.”
“Nutcase?” Davie was dumbfounded. “We held him hostage and stabbed his family. I think he has good reason to be a little nutty.”
“Whatever,” said Frankie dismissively. “If he comes at me he’s going to taste lead…or whatever the stuff they make bullets out of nowadays. Now quit your bitching and take this.”
Frankie thrust one of the revolvers at Davie and he immediately tried to shove it back. “No way! I don’t want it.”
Frankie pushed harder until Davie had no choice but to take ownership of the weapon. “Keep it in your waistband. You don’t have to go looking for trouble, but I want to know you’re going to be safe if that prick comes after you.”
“Andrew.”
“What?”
“His name is Andrew.”
Frankie shook his head in confusion. “Does it look like I give a monkey’s nuts?”
“No,” said Davie. “No it doesn’t. Fine! I’ll take the gun, but only for protection. What about the twins? Did you give them a gun?”
“Fuck them,” said Frankie. “They can fend for themselves. Only person I care about is you.”
“Hope I’m not breaking up a Hallmark moment.” Damien entered the room and stood in front of them both. Everything he was wearing was emblazoned with a logo of some kind.
Frankie looked up at him from the sofa. “Nah, man, everything’s cool. Was just getting my little bro strapped.”
Damien nodded. “What’s your next move?”
“Don’t know,” said Frankie. “Either the police will turn up at my door or this guy that has a beef with me will. I’ll be ready for whatever happens, though, thanks to you.” Frankie waved the gun as though it were a toy and not a deadly weapon.
“You get caught with that you leave my name out of it, you hear me? They belong to my old man and he’d go ape if he knew I was lending ‘em out. Can’t have you dead, though, can I? Need you out on the street. What you do to this dude anyway? You can’t have just fucked up his car and house.”
“We stabbed his wife and daughter,” Davie blurted out. It felt like a weight had been lifted by the sudden confession.
Damien’s eyes widened and his eyebrows lowered into a scowl. “The fuck? The hell you do that for? You don’t fuck with a man’s family – with women.”
Frankie waved a hand dismissively. “Shit went down. That’s all there is to it. You’re one to talk, anyway, man. You fuck people up all the time.”