Rival Sons

by Aidan Thorn

  Everyone sat in complete silence at first. Kyle scanned the room, his mother looked awkward as did Emma. Zoe, on the other hand, looked excited to finally meet the famous gangster.

  “Frank, this is Emma and Zoe,” Violet said, breaking the tension.

  “Well hello, Emma, I’m delighted to finally meet you. You’re so very welcome here.” Frank’s perfect host routine was as transparent as glass. It was false and purely aimed at irritating his son. He appeared to be moving in for a hug but Emma cut that off by standing and offering a hand.

  “Hello Frank.”

  “Ooh, very formal,” Frank said before turning towards Zoe. “Zoe, would you give your old granddad a hug?”

  Zoe eyed her father and saw the dread in his face. She stood and threw her arms around Frank.

  “Hello Granddad,” Zoe said in a sarcastic tone similar to that of Frank’s that was purely aimed at hurting her father—mission accomplished.

  Kyle’s natural reaction was to jump out of his seat and break up the embrace. But he knew that was exactly the reaction both his father and daughter wanted. They wanted to see that they’d hurt him, and Frank in particular wanted to paint Kyle as the bad guy. So Kyle sat and took the fire. He itched in his chair as he fought his natural protective urges for his daughter. Emma could see the anger in her husband’s face and knew it was killing him to not be able to do anything—but she understood why he couldn’t. Maybe it had been a mistake for Emma and Zoe to come north, especially with Zoe in the frame of mind where she’d happily rebel against anything her parents wanted—even if that meant cutting off her nose to spite her face.

  Chapter Eight

  “Yeah, that’s him,” Graham said as he flicked through the photos on Ian’s phone. “And these two beauties must be his wife and daughter. Ma’s told me about them but I’d never seen them.”

  Violet had tried to show Graham photos of his niece in the past but Graham hadn’t been interested. As far as he was concerned, the kid was nothing to do with him or his family. That link had died the day Kyle had walked out and joined the army.

  Graham threw the phone back across the room to Ian. Looking at the tiny screen had added to his headache. This morning he was stiff and finding a comfortable spot on the pillow last night had been hard. But none of his physical injuries hurt as much as his pride. He leaned forward, slowly, over the coffee table and snorted a line of powder—the second since Ian had been here. He came up wide eyed and sniffing, rubbed his nose as if trying to dislodge something and then flopped back in his chair. He fell still, and his eyes went distant as they always did when he was overthinking. Ian had worked for Graham for the best part of a decade and they’d been friends even longer—from school. Ian knew Graham’s thinking face better than anyone. It usually meant Ian would end up doing something dangerous—for himself, or someone else.

  “What you thinking, G?”

  “I’m thinking we can hurt brother dearest a lot more by hurting one of those two pretty little things.”

  Ian knew that was what Graham was thinking. He knew it and he feared it.

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Ian asked. People didn’t generally question Graham’s judgment. Ian had a freer pass than most—but it wasn’t completely free and so he asked with some trepidation, relatively safe in the knowledge that Graham wasn’t really in a fit state to act physically if he didn’t like where the conversation was going.

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Graham said indignantly, before asking, “Why?”

  “Well firstly, there’s your mother…”

  “I’m not going to do anything until Ma’s gone. I’ve already said that,” Graham snapped, cutting Ian off.

  “There’s also the fact that…” Ian hesitated.

  “What?” Graham said, impatient at the hesitation.

  “Well…is it wise to anger your brother? He’s already left Jim needing two days bed rest and done that to you.” Ian gestured to the bruising around the back of Graham’s head and around his jaw line.

  “Prick got lucky,” Graham said. “He caught me off guard, and clocked Jim while he was still stunned. I’m not afraid of that piece of shite. Just showing some interest in his beautiful little family…”

  Graham wasn’t a nice man, but at least he didn’t pretend to be.

  “Right, the lads from Glasgow will be here any minute. Is the money ready?” Graham asked, changing the subject and going all business. His Glasgow drug supplier had called to say they’d be dropping off another load this morning. It wasn’t ideal, what with his head swollen like an overblown balloon and Jim still not able to leave the bedroom unless he needed to piss or throw up. He’d asked if they’d mind dropping it with Ian this time, but they didn’t go for it. They’d only ever dealt with Graham and they weren’t going to change things now, not at short notice. So Ian was coming along for the introduction.

  “Yeah, I’ve got it all. Obviously, we were a bit light what with that prick the other day not having any cash for us, and you and Jim not being able to complete your rounds collecting the dues yesterday, so I’ve had to top it up with some extra from the reserves.”

  Graham wasn’t pleased to be reminded, again, about what had happened in the pub yesterday. He made a mental note to give Ian a clout when he was feeling a little better.

  “Right, well you’re fucking driving, obviously,” Graham said. “Come on, we’d better be on our way.”

  “Do you reckon Jim’ll be alright up there on his own?”

  Graham shrugged his disinterest and got uneasily to his feet.

  “You know this is fucking mental, right?” Ian said sat in the driver seat of his car and looking across at Graham.

  “What can I say, they’re paranoid as fuck. It’s this way or no deal,” Graham replied.

  “But it’s fucking freezing out there and we don’t know how long they’re going to be.”

  “They’ll be here any minute, they’ve probably already got eyes on us.”

  This thought didn’t reassure Ian any.

  Ian grabbed the bundles of cash that he had personally wrapped in cling film out of the holdall on the back seat and cracked open the door.

  “Fuck, it really is fucking cold.”

  “Shut up your whining and get your soft arse out there.”

  The barn that they’d agreed to meet the Glasgow firm in was across an overgrown field. They were under strict instructions not to park the car within 100 metres of the barn and to walk the money over. Ian broke into a jog as he made his way across the field, Graham might have joined him if his head hadn’t felt as if it could explode at any moment. The Scottish wind felt like it had picked up most of its strength in northern Greenland.

  They stood and waited in the abandoned barn with more holes in its rotting walls than a colander. It offered almost no protection from the bitter wind. Yes, Graham was a big fish around town, but this was a small town and there were far bigger fish out there that Graham and his boys relied upon to keep the money coming in. Around here Graham could run things with a couple of lumps of muscle, Ian and Jim, and a handful of kids dealing for him. He didn’t have the pull to stand up to firms from the likes of Glasgow and so, if they insisted meeting in a falling down barn exposed to the worst the Scottish elements could throw at them, then that’s what he had to do.

  “Are these guys fucking mental or something?” Ian asked.

  “No, I told you, it’s a paranoia thing. I guess maybe they do a bit too much of their own product. They’re cagey as fuck, but I get it for a good price and they keep it coming.”

  “It would want to be a good fucking price to go through this shite.”

  Both men stopped talking as they saw headlights crest a hill in the distance. It was the middle of the day but the battleship grey clouds hadn’t broken. There had been no sound except the wind, but as it blew in their direction it carried the purr of the car’s engine towards them.

  “Is this them?�
� Ian asked.

  Graham squinted into the dimness, “Yeah, looks like it.”

  “Thank fuck for that then, I think my cock’s about to snap off.”

  “Wouldn’t be a big loss,” Graham remarked. If Ian didn’t know Graham better, he’d have taken it as a joke, but he knew Graham didn’t joke.

  The black Lexus LS crumpled the weeds that had grown through the cracks in the road that led to the barn. Ian peered into the front windshield and saw two smirking men with dark hair and even darker clothing.

  The Glasgow boys stepped from the car and barely acknowledged Graham and Ian as they opened the boot and took out two large bags each. They exchanged words under their breath as they walked towards them.

  “Afternoon, Graham,” said the man that had been in the passenger side seat, “and this must be Ian.”

  Neither man was big, and Ian was pretty confident that, were it likely to come to it, hand to hand he and Graham could take them. But that was never going to happen. They were clearly part of a much bigger operation and finding Graham and his crew wouldn’t exactly be difficult for them should anything happen to these boys today.

  “Morning Marcus, Ryan,” Graham replied, “Yeah, this is him.”

  The four bags were dropped in the mud a few feet from where Graham and Ian stood.

  “Pleasure to meet you, Ian. Sorry about the location. You understand right? We can’t be too careful you see.”

  “No worries, good to meet you.” Ian replied, just wanting to get this all over and done with quickly so he could run back to the car and blast some radiator heat out.

  Ryan, the driver, took a step closer to the pair and reached out a hand for the cash they were holding, “I take it that’s ours?”

  “Yep, it’s all there,” Graham confirmed as they handed over the cling film wrapped bricks.

  “Right, we’ll see you again in a week or so,” Marcus said, “Now that we’ve met Ian, it’s cool if you send him in future, but we don’t want this thing getting too big, OK. We’ll only deal with you two.”

  “Sounds fair,” Graham replied.

  It didn’t sound fair at all as far as Ian was concerned. He knew all this meant was that in future it’d be him standing in a field—alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Violet’s condition was worsening by the day. It had been expected but still the physical deterioration was hard for Kyle to see. If she’d looked close to death’s door when he’d arrived a few weeks ago, she now had at least one leg over the threshold. Despite the physical decline Violet’s spirits remained high. She’d been buoyed by the arrival of Emma and Zoe. Emma and Violet got on like long lost friends. Emma couldn’t do enough for Violet and the fact that his mother allowed her to do things for her showed Kyle the strength of this relationship. His mother had been a proud woman, and only ever let in those close to her. Yes, her health didn’t allow her to be overly picky about the help she accepted, but it was unheard of for her to actually ask for it as she did with Emma.

  Zoe’s frostiness towards her parents hadn’t extended to Violet and, after their tentative initial meeting, Zoe spent a lot of time with her grandmother. She was a completely different girl around her, more like the Zoe Kyle had enjoyed the company of three or four years ago, when she was a sweet girl interested in dresses and dance classes. Kyle had rarely spent extended periods with his daughter; his work hadn’t afforded him that opportunity. But he’d noticed such a change in her in recent years. He knew teenagers were supposed to be awkward, they wore it like a badge of honour, but a few years ago he’d have told anyone that warned him what to expect that they were wrong about his Zoe. Still, he was pleased that her moods appeared to be reserved for her parents and didn’t extend to her grandmother.

  He wasn’t so pleased to see the relationship that was developing between Zoe and Frank, though. And that relationship had been brought starkly into focus that afternoon.

  “Where’s Zoe?” Kyle asked, returning from a grocery run. He’d dropped the food at home and held the few bits his mother had requested in a single carrier. There was nothing in the bag for herself, it was all biscuits, tea and cakes for her guests and some chocolates for Debbie—she liked to give the home help nurse a gift every now and then.

  Kyle could see he wasn’t going to like the answer as Emma prepared to give it.

  “She’s gone to the pictures with Frank,” Emma said sheepishly, braced for a reaction.

  “Are you fucking joking?” Kyle said, not quite believing what he’d just heard.

  “No, look, I’ve told her she’s to go straight to the cinema and come back as soon as the movie finishes. I’ve checked the film times, if she’s not back I’ve told them both I’ll be out looking for them.”

  Kyle was conscious that he didn’t want to distress his mother.

  “Come with me,” he said to Emma quietly.

  “Whatever you have to say, you can say in front of me, Kyle Gordon.” Violet’s voice had weakened with her physicality, but her mind hadn’t.

  “Look Ma, I don’t want to cause you any stress.”

  “And what, you think knowing that you’re tearing a strip off of Emma in my kitchen isn’t going to distress me as much?” Violet said. “If you’re going to have a go at anyone it should be me. Emma said no at first, it was me who told her to let Zoe go with your father. The girl’s bored out of her mind sitting here day in, day out. Your father isn’t the man you remember, he hasn’t been for a few years. He’s not dangerous now, he’s just a washed-up old drunk with one too many stories to tell. Personally, I’d rather he spent a few hours in a picture house with his granddaughter than getting drunk with his old cronies. He can’t hurt her, he wouldn’t. He thinks the world of Zoe. He’ll never show you his softer side, for obvious reasons. But when you haven’t been around he’s told me he’s glad he got to meet her.”

  Kyle heard his mother’s words and found it difficult to be angry with her, but he was. He didn’t care what she said, his father and his daughter having any sort of relationship was a no go area as far as he was concerned.

  “How did they get to this cinema?” Kyle asked, knowing that there wasn’t one locally and fearing that his alcoholic father might have driven his daughter.

  “I gave them some money for a taxi,” Emma said, appearing to realise how big a mistake she had made now that she’d seen Kyle’s reaction.

  “So where have they gone?”

  Emma gave Kyle the name of the cinema in the next town. He dropped the bag of groceries where he stood and took his car keys back from his pocket.

  The film wasn’t due to end for another half hour. Kyle fought against every instinct not to burst into the screening and start calling out his daughter’s name. He knew his being there at all wasn’t going to be a popular move and embarrassing her in front of a room full of people wouldn’t help matters. That was if she was even inside. Frank and Zoe had told Emma they were off to the cinema, but Frank wasn’t exactly high on Kyle’s list of people he’d trust as far as he could throw. The truth was they could be anywhere and Kyle would have to wait another 30 minutes to find out.

  He switched off the radio chat show he’d been listening to. The idiots that were calling in, all high and mighty on the newsworthy topic of the day, were annoying him. He hadn’t been paying attention to what the topic was or what they were saying, it was just the tone of the voices that irritated him and the way the show’s anchor was deliberately trying to stir up tension between callers with opposing views. He hit the CD player button and Gaslight Anthem had kicked in half way through I Coulda Been a Contender. He was a fan, but he lasted about a minute before he hit the power button, preferring to sit in silence. He watched the windshield slowly blur under a mist of fine rain. Occasionally he hit the wipers to clear his view. As the time for the end of the film approached the flicker of his eyes between dashboard clock and cinema entrance intensified.

  As people started to drift out of th
e cinema, Kyle stepped from the warmth of the car and waited. He saw his father and daughter before they saw him, but only by a split second. Kyle was at least relieved that he was in the right place and they hadn’t lied about where they were going, but he still wasn’t happy with the scene in front of him. The person he loved most in the world, unconditionally and protectively, was standing next to a man he could never trust.

  On spotting her father Zoe’s heart visibly sank. She nudged her grandfather to look in Kyle’s direction. Frank wore a look of indifference, as if he knew Kyle had a problem with the situation but wasn’t prepared to see it from his son’s point of view. They walked slowly in his direction and were speaking with lips that barely moved so as not to show Kyle what was being said. But it was obvious. Zoe clearly wanted to turn and walk in a different direction and Frank was persuading her, by hand, to continue toward her father’s car. Even though Frank was leading Zoe toward him, Kyle couldn’t bear the sight of his father having any physical contact with his daughter.

  Kyle held open the passenger side door and gestured to his daughter.

  “Get in.”

  She looked at her grandfather and reluctantly did as instructed. Clearly the mumbled discussion between the two of them on their approach had been Frank telling Zoe to just do as she was told and not make a scene.

  Kyle and Frank eyed each other over the top of the car. There was something vaguely victorious in Frank’s gaze.

  “You’re in the back,” Kyle said to his father without extending him the same courtesy of opening the door for him.

  “I just took the girl to the cinema,” Frank said. “There’s no crime in that.”

  Kyle walked around the car to the driver’s side door and got in without responding.

  No words were exchanged between the three as Kyle drove them back to his old family home. Zoe made to remove her seatbelt, but Kyle reached a hand across to stop her. He saw his daughter’s eyes roll and heard her huge dramatic sigh. Frank let himself out.