The Gilded Cage

1 - Nothing like a beating in the rain

             Ethel watched on from his personal tent, his father punching a man repeatedly under the cold chill of the rain. Water tipped off the roofing, made of poor animal hides sewn together, periodically, navigating its way down the boy's spine. He didn't know who the man was under his father or what he'd done to piss him off so poorly, but he certainly felt bad for the guy. He'd been in his place one too many times to count. Not even for reasons he could control sometimes, for example, one time his father beat him to a pulp because he reminded him of his mother. Another time because he had a girly name. Colm O'Driscoll was an unpredictable man, but if he was cruel to his son, he was even crueler to others.

            Roy pushed up against Ethel under the rain, somehow the foul scent of blood and sex still managing to follow him around even in this weather. Ethel wouldn't be surprised if the scent was sewn into him by now. Roy was a shit head and Ethel never liked him much, especially now that they were 17 and he was starting to find enjoyment in prodding into Ethel's personal life and getting piss drunk every night. Roy was Ethel's competition from the very beginning. Both were born into the gang and were expected to take over once Colm finally keeled over. They were supposed to be close and able to work in synchronicity but every time Roy talked Ethel just felt like hitting him.

           "Whatcha doin pretty boy? Joe not enough for you already?" Roy sneered, finding immense humor and comedy in his jab at Ethel. Roy would never admit it, but he was jealous of Ethel. Good looking, sharp tongue and a daddy who cared about him to boot. He's all you could hope to be out here in the wilderness.

             "Piss off Roy, I'm busy." Ethel replied, delivering a slick elbow into the taller boy's rib cage. The fact that Roy was taller than him had been enough of a reminder already why he wanted to strangle the shit out of him. Roy's height made his father consider his manhood. How could he run the gang when he was still a small boy?

           "Doin' what?" Roy tugged at a strip of dirty blonde hair teasingly. "Busy watching big strong men do what they do best?" Roy asked. Ethel ground his teeth together. That was the other thing about Roy, he always had to insinuate that Ethel was a homosexual. Not even for good reason. Roy just thought that Ethel was a feminine name, and females enjoyed male genitalia typically. Ethel wanted to grind Roy's face down into the mud.

          "Counting my spare change. I plan to visit your mother tonight, think 3 nickles will be enough?" Ethel sneered, glaring at Roy, who glared right back now. Before he had been teasing, but now he was mad too. Ethel had that effect on people, he supposed, a spoiled brat who didn't know when to hold his tongue.

          "Where are they?! You shifty old bastard, tell me..." Colm O'Driscoll yelled, spit covering the poor man's face alongside blood and bruises and mud. Roy didn't bother replying, he couldn't if he wanted to. The camp had gone silent, watching their leader in the center of a ring of tents holding an old man by his shirt collar.

           "I'll tell you please stop hitting me,..." The old man dry heaved and Colm drew back, pulling the man up to a standing position once again.

          "Very well then, let's talk like civilized creatures. Ethel, grab the whiskey and meet us in the tent." Colm commanded, putting a veneer arm around the man's shoulders and dragging him to his personal tent like they were old friends. Ethel sighed, walking towards the mess tent and grabbing one of their finer whiskey bottles. Might as well get a good drink in if he was going to be forced to talk with his father.