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“Sure, Iris. That’s exactly how it went down. And not that Dante has anything to prove, but you are aware that his family own two houses? One of which has eight bedrooms, all of them being en-suite. The second is a three-storey, six-bedroom, open plan, detached house. His family owns a pub and a very successful motor repair shop. There are no less than twenty motorbikes in his possession, all of which cost more than your car. And that’s not to mention his other business ventures. Just because he doesn’t come dressed sporting a Rolex and diamonds everywhere, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have money. And evenifhe didn’t, that certainly doesn’t mean that he’s less than or beneath those that do.”

“We’ve heard all about his business ventures, thank you very much,” Iris replied.

“I guess you mean drugs,” I said, standing up as Chris came back in with the towel to clean up Rachel’s mess. Rachel snatched it out of his hand and threw it on the floor, stomping her foot over it to sop up the liquid. “I make no secret of the fact that we sell drugs. Never have, never will. It’s not an ideal business, and I don’t touch that shit personally, but the reason my family is so powerful is because we got in ahead of the game. Drugs are an unfortunate reality, and it was either sell them ourselves, and know that the shit we’re selling is clean, or let someone else come onto our patch and sell shit that could be laced with all sorts. You might not understand it, but I’m not asking you to understand. It doesn’t affect you, so why are you bothered?”

“And you’re okay with this, are you?” She snapped, directing her question at Chris.

“I’m not over the moon, no. But if prison taught me one thing, it was not to judge. I saw too many of those men on all sorts. Dante’s right when he says cleaner drugs are the better oftwo evils. They were mixing their gear with all sorts and were no better than zombies half the time.”

“Gear,” Iris sneered. “Do you have to speak like them?”

“That’s what it’s called. How do you think I survived that place? It wasn’t by keeping my head down and ignoring what was going on. I spoke to people. I got to know them. I learned the lingo. In fact, it was a biker who took me under his wing and taught me the inner workings of prison life.”

“Is that so?” I said, my interest peaked. “Who was it?”

“Brett. Brett Carmichael. He told me he goes by the name Waltzer.”

I grinned. Waltzer was an old Devil’s Disciple who used to belong to the Welsh charter. He was still a member. He just chose to do his own thing, travelling up and down the country with the local fair – hence the name Waltzer.

He would still have the Devil’s patch on his cut, but instead of saying the specific charter on the front, like mine said Vice President - Leeds, his would simply identify him as a Nomad.

He used to do a lot of work for my dad back in the day but got arrested when he killed a man who tried to rape a young woman at one of the fairs. He was sentenced to life in prison for severing the man’s head and installing it in the whack-a-mole machine.

“I know Waltzer, he’s a good man,” I smiled at Chris.

“He is,” Chris smiled. “He’s as deranged as they come, but he never did me wrong. The old boy really took care of me. I know my stay there would have a been a lot worse without his protection. I also know that he took more than a few beatings off the others when I first arrived in order to keep me safe.”

“Sounds like he’s getting soft in his old age.”

“Prison will do that to a man.”

“I’m surehewould know,” Iris hissed.

“Interestingly enough, I’ve never been to prison. I don’t even have so much as a parking fine against my name, but feel free to make assumptions,” I smirked at her.

“Neither does Rachel, but we all know her list of crimes is as long as her arm.”

“Both arms now, actually. Dante has kept me busy,” she nudged me with her shoulder, and I laughed, bending down to kiss her cheek.

“Ignore them, Iris,” Chris said, smiling at my display of affection before waving her away as she bristled on her side of the sofa. “They’re deliberately trying to get a rise out of you, and it’s working. Leave the kids be. They seem happy enough.”

I was thirty-five years old, and it had been a long time since anyone had called me a kid, but I let it slide since he appeared to be on our side.

“She’ll strike again, you mark my words. And who is going to take the fall for her this time?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Rachel said, bringing the cup of tea to her lips. “I’ve already done it. And I got away with it this time. No need for a fall guy.”

“I’m back!” came a voice from the hallway as the front door opened. Rebecca came hurrying in, her hair perfectly styled despite the wind outside. She rushed over to her husband, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw him. She bent down to place a kiss on his lips before straightening and looking back and forth at us three.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake. What did I miss?”

We didn’t stay much longer once Rebecca came home. Fending off verbal attacks from one was fun. Having the two of them was nothing but a headache. It wasn’t long before I went from mild amusement to gritted teeth and a short temper. When Rachel’s replies became clipped and snappy, I called it a day and told her we were leaving.

Chris had walked us to the door and given me another handshake, and handed Rachel his number, making her promise to keep in touch. She said she would. With the provision he wouldn’t allow Rebecca to have her number, and that he didn’t show her the text exchange between them. He had tried to convince her, and whilst I admired the loyalty he had towards his wife, it also pissed me off because there was a lot of bad blood there, and even he must see that his wife and sister-in-law were toxic women. Both of whom were responsible for what Rachel went through as a teenager.

He was himself, but at least he was trying to make amends. He had finally agreed to her demands, realising it was the onlyway to be a part of his daughter’s life, and we said a friendly goodbye, promising to be in touch soon.

“There,” I said to Rachel as we climbed back on my bike. “That wasn’t as bad as you were thinking, was it?”

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