“Why the fuck would he do it?” I said, walking to the window and staring out at the stream of traffic out on the footpath. Crooks and officers were heading to appointments, work or to the gym. Right then I thought of Rock McGovern. I don’t know why that scumbag popped into my head, but I could see the spot where Aiden died from here, Red Block angled just right to give me a slightly obstructed view of the place.
“Guess he was scared. Frank probably-“ Hal began but I shut him down.
“Not Raz. Frank. Why would Frank go after my father? Why would he want to kill him?” I didn’t turn as I spoke so didn’t see the new guest enter the room. I’m sure he heard what I said but didn’t acknowledge it.
“Frank wants to see you,” Nails said from behind me. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, Hal and Jack staring up at him from their seats.
“I bet he does,” I said. “I’ll be there in a second. Need a piss first.”
“Now,” he said, taking a step forward. I stood my ground, unfazed by this prick.
“I wouldn’t,” I said, Hal and Jack both getting to their feet. “You don’t order me around, cunt. I’ll be there in a second.” He remained where he stood for a few more seconds, eyeing each of us before admitting defeat. He looked at me a final time, shook his head and left as quietly as he arrived.
“Fuck, Dyl. Don’t take him on. He’s psycho, man,” Hal said. Jack nodded in agreeance. I didn’t care. At that moment, I could have killed both Nails and Frank with the anger I had inside me.
“I don’t really care right now, I said, walked to the toilet and lifted the lid. Without needing to be asked, Jack and Hal went to go, each clapping me on the back. Almost in unison, both wished me luck as they left my cell.
3.
Nails watched me walk from my cell, up the stairs and towards Frank’s cell from his vantage point, leaning on the hand railing like a guard dog. I knew I had to watch him; I just didn’t know to what extent. Him and Frank were in cahoots those days, almost to the point of shafting the rest of us.
Our eyes locked for the last few yards and I could see he wanted me dead, or at least on the ground with the shit kicked out of me. My stomach felt on fire with rage and I wanted to reciprocate the feeling to the prick standing before me.
As I passed him, neither of us spoke, me turning to Frank’s door, him gazing back over the unit like a screw on watch. I suddenly had the urge to turn back, lift his legs and throw him over the railing. It would have been sheer bliss to listen to his screams as he plummeted to earth, hoping for his head to hit the linoleum floor first and smashing like an egg. Oh, how glorious that would have been. But not today.
4.
Frank was sitting back on his bunk, that day’s newspaper in his lap. His glasses sat precariously balanced on the tip of his nose. He didn’t acknowledge my arrival, remaining fixed on the paper as he continued reading.
I didn’t bother sitting, standing just inside the closed door. We must have remained like that for at least an entire 3 minutes. I followed his eyes as they scanned the page, picked up something of interest, then proceeded to read the article in its entirety. Only when he finished the page and turned to the next did he afford me a brief glance.
“My chair not good enough for you anymore, Dylan?” he said, sounding remarkably composed. I glanced down at it by my side, considered, then sat. I don’t know why, but knowing he had a gun seemed to convince me to keep my cool.
He began scanning the paper again, as if waiting for me to speak up. I didn’t, a fact I wish I could change now. It made me feel weak, despite the current situation that brought me to the meeting.
“San and I had our differences long before you ever came along,” he finally said, closing the newspaper, slowly folding it in half and sitting it on one leg. “So, before you think this has anything to do with you, there are things in this world that don’t involve Dylan Moody.”
“You shot my father,” I said, a little too quietly.
“I? I didn’t shoot anyone. Take a little more care with your choice of words.”
“OK, fine. You had my father shot,” I said, this time with a little more enthusiasm.
“Yes. Yes, I did. And do you know why?” he asked, sitting a little forward, as if following his words. I shook my head, not sure I wanted to hear his reasons. They didn’t really matter as far as I was concerned.
“You know, Dylan. You chose to join us; our little family. You. We gave you a choice and you grabbed the opportunity with both hands, if I remember correctly. No-one forced you. San crossed your family. The family you had long before he showed interest in joining yours. Remember that.”
“Why, Frank? Why was he shot?”
“Because he’s not just your father,” a voice suddenly said from the doorway. I turned to see Nails standing there, his chest out far enough to make his shoulders look uncomfortable.
“What?” I asked, a little too bemused by that arsehole’s attitude.
“It seems Aiden wasn’t your only brother, son. Young Russel here is also one of your clan.”
“Bullshit,” I said defiantly.
“Bullshit?” Nails sneered. “I felt the back of that cunt’s hand across my face more times than you’ve had hot lunches, motherfucker. Only I wasn’t good enough to treat with respect. You and your brother were all he cared about. Frank didn’t have him shot, I did.”
I suddenly saw red, leapt from my chair and launched myself
