Plebs

by Jim Goforth

  The abrupt quiescence was broken only by Desiree who began clapping, joined in her applause by Blaise, Peter and then the remainder of the group.

  Corey could only clap with one hand on his thigh, but he did that, nodding to Dennis in the rear view mirror.

  "Good for you Dennis," Blaise said, patting him on the shoulder, dragging a smile from him.

  This was probably the very first time in his entire existence that Dennis King had been the focal subject of a solid round of applause.

  What he'd said was very true in Corey's experience.

  In the gang formerly lead by Greg Scanlon, Dennis King was the perpetual fall guy, the perennial scapegoat. He must have suffered the consequences and received hundreds of punishments for actions and activities his supposed friends were really the instigators of.

  Now it would appear that he'd eventually had enough of it and Drake's callous treatment of him was the catalyst for his speaking out.

  "You're fucking shitting me aren't you?" Drake finally spoke, his voice heavy with disbelief.

  "Nope. Fuck you Drake. I meant every word."

  "What are you gonna do for friends now you little soft cock? You've got nothing."

  "I've got..." Dennis looked around hopefully at the array of faces in the car. "These guys."

  "Somerset and his cronies?" Drake snorted derisively, his laughter a harsh grating sound. "Now you've fucking lost the plot Dennis. They're not your friends. You fuckwit."

  "You're the fuckwit!" Dennis blared.

  "Who are you to tell him who he wants to be friends with?" Blaise asked Drake. "If he wants to jump ship and join us that's fine. That's his choice. He knows who's going to win."

  "You're a dead man King," Drake uttered and this time his voice was low, even and crawling with unbridled menace. "You're gonna be the first one to die."

  Desiree reached down so quick it seemed like she'd hardly moved and snatched a big handful of Drake's greasy hair, yanking his head up. She jammed the nose of her gun under his jaw line and put her lips very close to his ear.

  "Don't bet on it Big Wes," she said in a sinister whisper. "I think you'll be first to die."

  Then she let go of his locks and his cranium dropped with a thump to the car floor.

  A muffled grunt of pain was all Big Wes chose to release, he said nothing further.

  Corey could scarcely believe he was saying this to Dennis King of all people, but glancing in the rear view he said,

  "Welcome aboard Dennis."

  Dennis King looked very pleased indeed. He’d finally broken the chains of commitment which had kept him shackled to the troublesome likes of Haskell and Drake for years so Corey supposed he had a right to be happy.

  He'd burnt all his bridges and sided with former enemies, the downside being that he was now a marked man, targeted for termination.

  That fact didn't appear to have sunk in.

  "One thing though Dennis," Blaise said firmly. "One very important thing. If you burn us, if you suddenly decide to run back to Haskell and his crew, you will die. Understand?"

  "Yes," Dennis nodded very emphatically. "I understand. Don't worry; I'm through with those guys."

  "Oh you're through alright fucker!" Wesley Drake suddenly snarled. "Well and fucking truly!"

  "That's it," Desiree decided. "Ryan, pass me that tape."

  Ryan peeled off a long section of black tape which Jess slashed with a knife. They passed it up to Desiree who yanked Drake up by the hair again and securely plastered it over his gaping mouth.

  "Now try and talk cocksucker," Dennis taunted, secure in the knowledge that his ex-foes were now his protectors.

  He even seemed to bear no them animosity over Blaise and Desiree's previous displays of violence against him.

  All the same, Corey resolutely told himself, it wouldn't hurt to be very wary of Dennis and keep a watchful eye on him at all times. Until he'd absolutely proven himself to be a trustworthy member of their unit, under no circumstances should he be allowed access to firearms.

  “We need music," Peter declared in very high spirits and promptly switched on the radio.

  A blast of R’n’B burst out of the Rover's speakers, some lightweight tripe like Usher or something similar.

  "What the hell is this Dennis?" Pete queried, swiftly turning the knob to change stations.

  "I don't know. Drake likes that crap. Personally I like rock music."

  "Good stuff kid, so do the rest of us," said Pete, though Corey wasn't sure if he was including all the girls in that equation or just referring to the three lads who did indeed all like rock music, preferably of the heavy variety.

  A more suitable choice blared from the system now, the blistering stomp of Slipknot's 'Duality', the first single release from the Iowan nine piece bands third major record release.

  "Yeah!" Corey enthused. "That's what I'm talking about!"

  "This is Slipknot right?" Dennis said, seeing how the fast paced music amped up his fellow travelers, and not wanting to appear ignorant.

  "Correct," said Peter whilst incessantly tapping his fingers and feet in time with the beat. "A most important band in the modern evolution of heavy metal music."

  "They're pretty good."

  "And that's an understatement."

  Corey abruptly turned the volume level down a few notches as the song finished and the next track kicked in, Mushroomhead with 'Sun Doesn't Rise'.

  "Hey Desi, you got that mobile phone?"

  "Blaise does."

  "Okay. Blaise, punch in this number," Corey rattled off his own number at home. "Ring it and when Lee picks up; tell him to open the garage. Let him know we're in a white Range Rover so he doesn't freak when he sees 'BIGWES' coming."

  Ringing Corey's home number Blaise sat tapping one foot on Drake's thigh, waiting expectantly for the phone to be answered.

  "Hello?" Came the suspicious voice of Lee Hunter.

  "Lee? Hi, it's Blaise. Corey says to open up the garage door. We're coming in and we're in a white Range Rover."

  "White Range Rover?" Lee said like some idiot echo. "How the hell did you turn Haskell's van into that?"

  "Magic," Blaise giggled. "Just open the door and all will be revealed. Everything alright there?"

  "Yep. Very uneventful."

  "Good. We like it uneventful," Blaise said. "Keep it that way and we'll see you in a bit."

  With that Blaise concluded the conversation and hung up the phone.

  Twilight was now well on its inevitable way, encroaching on daylight territory, leeching all the bright colour out, replacing it with dark and greys.

  Shadows crawled, stretched and lengthened, stealing all the light away with grasping fingers as the day surrendered its post to the approaching night. With the stealthy army of shadows came the accompaniment of a chill breeze, an icy bluster which touched all with frigid blast.

  Tonight was going to be much colder than the relatively pleasant atmosphere of the previous evening.

  Corey was glad they weren't far from home. Despite the fact that he was capable of driving at night, his vision was occasionally suspect in the dark and he preferred to drive during the day where possible. Oddly enough his abilities to shoot firearms and still prove a decent marksman during the dark were not affected.

  If there was any amount of night driving done this evening Corey decided he would hand that mantle of responsibility over to somebody well accustomed to driving after dusk, possibly somebody such as Ryan or Peter.

  Glancing once more in the back, Corey was amused by the appearance of his peers, especially the trio in the middle seat.

  The growing crowds of shadows pooling over respective visages made Dennis King resemble something like a bizarre little gargoyle being book-ended by the Amazonian goddess figure of Blaise and Desiree.

  All three looked like rejects from the KISS army, black shadows streaking their features like so much dark, runny make-up.

  Further in the back Ryan and Jess were just feature
less blobs, though the fact they were engaged in passionate kissing and weren't facing the front may have explained why Corey couldn't see their faces.

  Next to him Peter sat in his own world, lost in the music emanating from the stereo system, American industrial rockers Dope with their rendition of Dead or Alive's eighties hit song 'You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)'.

  Corey made a mental note to check his compact disc collection the next time a spare moment arose, it sounded as the radio station had hijacked said collection are were spinning songs extensively gleaned from it.

  "Here we are," Corey announced unnecessarily, pulling the Range Rover into the lane which would lead him right up onto his property, and providing Lee already opened the door, into the garage.

  "Hey, break it up guys," Blaise advised the amorous couple in the back. "This ain't a blue-light disco."

  "Yeah, or a kissing booth," Dennis King chimed in.

  "You're a funny guy," Ryan said, crawling out of the clutches of Jess.

  "Really?"

  "No, you're an idiot."

  Fortunately Lee Hunter had been expeditious in raising the garage door. He himself stood to the left of it as the Range Rover screeched up the back driveway. A comical expression of interest danced across Lee's face as he identified the personalised licence plates on the vehicle.

  He pointed at them in curiosity as Corey drove into the garage, parked the car and switched off the ignition.

  Lee followed them in and lowered the garage door behind him.

  "What gives?" he queried as Corey unfastened his seat belt and let himself out of the automobile. "How come you have Wes Drake's car?"

  "Wes Drake's car?" Peter echoed, stepping out and sliding open the back door. "Not only that, but we have Wes Drake. And a new addition to our team."

  Lee's interest was further piqued and he tried to peer through the darkly tinted rear windows with raised eyebrows and minimal success.

  "I'll bite. What the hell happened?"

  "What happened is this," Corey said by way of explanation. "Haskell sent a welcoming party out to Bodyworx. Only, Blaise crashed the party and beat up Wesley Drake. Since Drake had been hiding under the Beast we suspected he'd tampered with it in some way so we took his car."

  Lee's eyes widened even further than seemed humanely possible.

  "How did Haskell know you were at Bodyworx?"

  "He didn't. He just sent all his cronies around our various hangouts. It'd be fair to say somebody has probably been to your house to scope that out."

  "My house? Won't find nothing there. So Blaise beat up Drake?"

  "Yep. Well and truly. Well he hit her first actually. But she sure punished him for it. My advice is never ever pick a fight with one of these girls, especially Blaise and Desiree."

  "I wasn't planning to."

  The remainder of the posse departed the car and were coming around to join Lee, Corey and Peter on the other side.

  Ryan and Jess came first, and then came Blaise and Desiree prodding a stumbling Wesley Drake between them. Drake's big mouth was still kept securely shut by the strip of electrical tape, his hands tied behind his back. His eyes were wide and angry, rolling crazily around in their sockets. When they spied Lee they decreased to mere enraged slits.

  Bringing up the rear was Dennis King, swaggering long untied and ungagged.

  Once Lee saw this fellow wandering freely he jabbed a stabbing forefinger at him.

  "How come you haven't tied this fuckknuckle up?" he wanted to know.

  Corey was unable to suppress a grin, seeing Lee typically react true to form.

  "Because..." Corey said, pausing a lengthy and unnecessary period of time for dramatic effect. "...Fuckknuckle is the new addition to the team Pete was referring to."

  CHAPTER 32

  The eyes of Lee Hunter could open no wider so it was the mouth which dropped open, gaping soundlessly.

  "You're kidding me aren't you?"

  "Nope," Corey shook his head as Dennis stood behind him, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

  "Hi Lee," Dennis spoke up amiably, but was ignored largely by Lee.

  "Hi nothing. Whose brilliant idea was this?" Lee directed at Corey.

  "It was kind of a unanimous decision," Corey said. "Dennis is through with Drake and Haskell and all of them. He's burnt his bridges pretty comprehensively."

  Lee gazed in disbelief from Corey to Dennis to the rest of the group who seemed to be involved in this unwanted decision.

  "What the fuck do you mean?" He blasted. "This guy? You can't be serious!"

  "We're serious Lee. Dennis is on our team now, and trust me; he is going to be very useful."

  "No, this is bullshit. You can't trust Dennis King. He's one of them."

  "No I'm not," Dennis firmly refuted. "I'm not. I'm one of you guys, that's if everyone is happy with that. I can see you aren't so all I can do is apologise to you for everything I've ever done. Probably don't mean much, but if you can give me a chance I'll let you see that I can be trusted. I've told Drake I'm finished with him and his friends, always putting me down, blaming me for stuff and making me do stuff I don't want to."

  At this point in time Wesley Drake lashed out at Dennis with a swinging foot, catching him behind the right kneecap, making him stumble and fall against the garage wall.

  Desiree responded with a swift backhand to the taped mouth of Drake, causing a combination of pain and anger to flare in his glaring eyes.

  "Shoulda tied his feet together and dragged his ass inside," Pete said.

  Rubbing his leg vigorously Dennis glowered at Drake.

  "So as you can see," he said to Lee. "I'm done with those guys, so if you don't want me, I've got nothing."

  "We're not going to leave you with nothing Dennis," Corey said. "Like we explained in the car, if you can prove to us that you deserve to be with us you can be. We're all on the same hit list anyway."

  "Lee?" Peter asked. "What's your take on this?"

  "Doesn't really matter what I think does it?" Lee shrugged. "Seems like the decision has been made regardless. I don't agree. but I'm outvoted aren't I?"

  "Pretty much," Corey said, though he hated putting Lee in the position. "Look he's gonna come in handy. He knows where Haskell is and he's gonna help us, aren't you Dennis?"

  "Yep," Dennis nodded enthusiastically. To Lee he said, "Look Lee, I don't wanna cause trouble, I just want to help you guys out. I'm done with these fuckers."

  "Whatever," Lee brushed him off. "Just stay out of my way."

  "Okay."

  "Let's go inside shall we?" Desiree suggested.

  "Top idea."

  Lee was first inside, marching through the kitchen without a backwards glance. Pete, Ryan and Jess followed, Pete swinging Corey's gun bag in one hand.

  "After you Big Wes," Desiree said to the unhappy Drake who mumbled something behind his electrical tape gag.

  "Move it dumbass," Blaise snapped at the uncooperative thug, brandishing her pistol.

  Drake moved reluctantly, trudging inside, herded by the two women.

  Dennis hovered uncertainly by the door.

  "Go on," Corey told him and Dennis slouched inside, hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his coat.

  He turned to address Corey as Corey entered the kitchen, pulling the adjoining door shut.

  "Lee's not real happy is he?" Dennis commented.

  "Honestly Dennis I didn't really expect him to be overjoyed about you switching sides and I'm sure you weren't expecting him to be happy either."

  "Guess not," Dennis conceded.

  "He'll get over it. You show us how committed you are to our cause and I'm sure Lee will come round."

  "Yeah, he might hey?" Dennis nodded, spirits bolstered a little by Corey's positive reinforcement.

  "Desi, Blaise," Corey called out to the departing backs of the girls. "You want to hang in here for a moment? Dennis, can you go out to the lounge room and tell Pete I need a word with him?"

  "Sure thing.
"

  "What about this jackass?" Blaise indicated Wesley Drake.

  "Leave him there. If he makes a run for it, shoot him in the leg," said Corey, sounding more and more like some hardened gangster than plain old Corey Somerset.

  Pete wandered in a few seconds later, moseying over to join the trio by the garage door.

  "What's up?" he wanted to know.

  "I want the four of us," said Corey, "to constantly keep an eye on Dennis. Wherever he is one of us will be alright? I know he swears he is finished with Haskell and his cretinous crew, but less than an hour ago he was going for Blaise's gun. He says we can trust him, but until he proves that we can't take any chances so under no circumstance is he to be given access to the guns and don't let him go anywhere unless escorted by one of us. Alright?"

  "Sounds fair," Pete nodded. "I know Lee's none too happy about Dennis joining us."

  "Understandably," Corey said. "I believe Dennis you know. I think he really does want to sever ties with these clowns and make a fresh start, but all the same you can't be too careful. Until he's proven himself undeniably, he's got to be watched like a hawk."

  "Too easy," Blaise said. "Desi and I planned to keep an eye on him anyhow, considering he had such a sudden change of heart about whose team he was playing for. If he is entertaining thoughts of completely double-crossing us he won't get far."

  "Good. I don't think he is, I think he's just made a whole lot of enemies out of his ex-friends, but really, they never were his friends. I think you'll find now that we've given him a chance he'll be fiercely loyal to us."

  "Hope so. For his sake." Desiree said.

  "Okay then. That's sorted," Corey said. "Let's join the others. I didn't want to include Lee in this because I know he'll be keeping close tabs on Dennis anyhow, just waiting for him to fuck up."

  Back in the spacious area of the lounge room the space itself was beginning to diminish. There were now thirteen of them in the room, along with the bound and gagged Wesley Drake who'd been made to sit on the floor in the corner behind the front door.

  He sat and fumbled, mumbling gibberish behind his electrical tape and glowering intently at everyone, but reserving an especially venomous glare for his former confidante Dennis King.