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This morning was my dad’s last breakfast in charge of the Club and the Cobras, but also the day that he gets to pick up his lifelong best friend from prison after serving time for a crime very few around me seemed to know anything about. Or maybe they do know and they just won’t tell me – not as though I have asked in years but them knowing and refusing to tell makes much more sense than them not knowing at all. I mentally shake myself for ever believing that they didn’t know. How would they not? There would have been court dates, police interviews, and newspaper articles. Hell, I could probably find out myself if I really wanted to.
There is an aura of excitement at the table this morning as everyone picks from the buffet in front of them and places their food on the plates in front of them.
I had picked up a sausage, a slash of bacon, an egg, and a few hash browns. Crow has about triple if not quadruple what I have on my plate and will probably go back for seconds and possibly even thirds. The man eats like he’s starved.
Dad, Dove, Tin, and Crow are chatting animatedly. The faces of the men around me are scattered with smiles and laughs. I join in when needed. I am nervous. For far too many reasons to count. I am nervous about seeing Liam.
I watch my dad as he chats with the others with ease. He seems more relaxed than normal.
I think maybe he is finally ready to hand over the reigns. He has enjoyed his time as President of the Cobras but I think he is happy enough to let Liam lead now. Even though he will still be Liam’s second in command and be at all the meetings, the work load and pressure won’t land on him as directly as it will on Liam.
I pick my book up with one hand and open it to begin reading whilst eating breakfast with the others. The chatter around me doesn’t bother me as I delve deeper into the world of dark romance that captivates me in a way very few things in the real world do.
I had been obsessed with creating lists and reviews of everything I had read for the past few years, but since Gray’s disappearance, the stress of the rival gangs, and now my for sale tag, I haven’t given much thought to my future, apart from knowing that I want to get out as soon as I can. I just don’t know how to make that happen yet. I can’t leave until Gray is back or we have answers about him one way or another. That’s why I have put university off until next year. It doesn’t feel right moving on with my life while Gray’s potentially hangs in the balance.
There’s suddenly a high pitched intermittent ringing in the background that interrupts my thoughts and my reading. My head lifts, and I realise with a start that it’s the house phone. It’s Liam. He was going to ring with a time to be picked up, Dad had told me last night.
My dad smiles to the others and practically sprints to the phone to pick it up. He’s impatient as he listens to the drone of the robot voice telling him that there’s a call for him from Wrexham High Security Prison, from “Liam" and asks if my father wants to take the call. Press one if you’d like to take the call. Press two if this is a wrong number. Press three if you feel scared, afraid or threatened in any way. I could still recite the recording they sent out to everyone before you spoke to your family member or friend. I've heard it so many times from the times that I did speak to Liam on the phone that it is reserved in my memory now as another piece of pointless information.
My father, of course, doesn’t let it get any further than that. He accepts the call.
“Liam, my man!” my dad shouts excitedly, moving his free hand around animatedly as if he’s speaking to Liam for the first time in ten years rather than the thousandth. Well, I’m not sure how accurate that number is, but it’s certainly not far off.
My dad’s brows shoot up, his eyes widening in surprise at whatever it is Liam’s telling him.
“Alright, I can do that, man. I’ll see you in an hour bud!” my dad tells him and promptly hangs up the phone. That’s got to have been the quickest conversation I’ve ever seen them have. They are normally talking and gossiping like a couple of middle aged meddling women for over an hour. An hour for which I’m rolling my eyes usually just listening to Dad’s side of the conversation.
My dad spins round so quickly, I’m surprised he’s not got whiplash, and tells us, “He wants me to pick him up alone so we can talk, and then we’ll meet the four of you and the others at the Club. No club girls, just Alice and Ben. We’ll be there at eleven. Got it?” We all nod. No questions asked.
“Fucking hell, let’s get goin!” Tin says as he jumps from his chair and practically drags Dove, Crow, and I along with him.
I stop to turn back to Dad and watch as he nods at me and begins getting his things together.
“Tin, I need to get dressed,” I pant out, tired from trying to resist the pressure he’s using to pull me along like an excited puppy. He turns back to me with confusion written all over his face.
“He’s seen you in pj’s your whole life girl, come on.” The “on” in that drags like he’s an excited child, dragging their parents out of bed on Christmas morning.
“I’ll meet you there soon guys, okay? I promise,” I reassure him and begin heading up the stairs before anyone can stop me. Crow, of course, follows me in my haste, whereas Dove’s already out the door before he gets the chance to mess my hair up anymore, and Tin sighs up at me before running from the front door with nothing but glee on his normally sullen and paling face.
And now I must decide what on earth I wear to spend the day with these mad men.
* * *
I’m at the Clubhouse chatting with Crow at one of the tables set out for the cafe.
The men around me are loud, excited and somewhat annoying in their boisterous nature, although I can’t blame them. They haven’t seen Liam in years and Crow, Alice, her younger sister Kira, and Ben, one of the newer recruits, haven’t ever met him.
Crow’s anxious energy is obvious. His hands fidgeting with one another, clasped together in front of him on the table, his eyes darting around the room as if waiting for a bomb to go off any second, and his lack of conversation is more than anything a sure sign that Crow is as nervous as I am, although for vastly different reasons.
“Stop stressing, Crow,” I tell him as I reach for his hands to pull apart the fidgeting hands in front of us.
He looks up at me and with those soft brown eyes that usually hold the hardest of looks and I can feel myself softening under his gaze.
“Easy for you to say, you’ve known the man your whole life, Char. What if he doesn’t want to keep us on?” He’s asked me this so many times in the last few weeks. I get it. I do. New leadership is frightening and with so many of the new guys having nowhere else to go, it’s a scary prospect that someone might tell them to leave.
“I won’t let you leave alone, you know that. Come on, come out the back with me. These lot and their fidgeting are even making me nervous.” I don’t tell him that I’m nervous regardless of the drinking and hollering happening around me.
Crow slowly rises from his chair with a sigh, the squeak of the chair moving is barely noticeable in the atmosphere that surrounds us.
