Maggie Thomas was Katie's best mate, at least when it suited her. They were different in almost every way, but what had brought them both together was the nature of their respective mothers' work. Most people turned their noses at people like them. They knew how the women earned their bread and they considered it dirty money. It had been a great source of stress for the two girls as children, who were told time after time they might as well not go to school because they'd just end up turning tricks anyway, so they'd learned to stand up for one another and not let people like that slag them off. Of course, they slagged each other off behind the other's back all the time, but when it suited them, they were friends.
Right now, Katie was getting annoyed. They always walked home together from school, and Maggie had been chatting her ears off the whole way back about boys. She was boy crazy these days; Katie, not so much. Not after Liam had cheated on her (and already he'd moved onto another girl, the fucker!). And so she was bored to tears hearing about John and Greg and Danny and whoever else Maggie was infatuated with these days.
It was around halfway through their walk that Katie noticed a familiar car parked alongside a lorry park, and she quickly pressed her face up against the chain-link fence that blocked the enclosure off in order to get a better look at it. Sure enough, there stood a newly-cleaned black BMW with familiar-looking plates, and she pressed her lips together in thought.
Maggie was staring at her, annoyed that they'd halted their long walk home. 'What are you doing, Katie? Me mum's gonna whip me Khyber if I'm late again!'
'Keep your hair on,' responded Katie quietly to herself before she came to a conclusion, and turned around to look at the other girl. 'You go on without me, Mags. I've got to handle summink. I'll ring you later, yeah?'
Maggie just shook her head and started off down the pavement. 'Whatever.'
Once the girl's footsteps had retreated into the distance, Katie looked the fence ahead of her up and down before rounding it to find the entrance. The front was gated off electronically, and she cursed under her breath before looking around for an alternative. Her only other option, it seemed, was to scale the thing, and so she took a moment to knit her fingers into the loops and find a steady foot-hold before attempting climb over it.
The initial climb was nothing, but her school skirt got snagged on the top of the fence. Annoyed, she yanked it blindly until it tore, and she felt several feet onto the tarmac. She cried out as she scraped her knees and the backs of her forearms, cursing several times while she inspected the damage. She was bleeding and it stung, but it wasn't all that gruesome. And technically she was trespassing, so she had to toughen up and quickly hide before she could get caught.
Standing sorely, she brushed the dirt out of her wounds and scuffled off behind one of the lorries, limping towards the large, rectangular warehouse at the end of the car park. Certainly Freddie Evans had to be in there. That was his BMW, after all.
'Oi!'
The sudden voice startled her, and she ducked behind the lorry again, feeling her heart begin to race in her chest.
'I see you over there!'
She quickly took off running, but the footsteps that immediately followed her were faster, and suddenly a large hand grabbed her by the upper arm. Instinctively, she whipped around and attempted to clobber the fucker, but he held her down with both his arms and it was during this struggle that she realised he was only a kid, like her.
'Hey, hey,' said the boy, as she continued to thrash about. 'Relax, Jesus. What are you doing out here? Didn't you see it was fenced off?'
Katie forcibly pried herself from his grasp and took a few steps away, brushing off her uniform. 'I'm looking for Freddie Evans.'
The boy scoffed, amused, and gave her a once over. 'What do you want with him?'
'Whatever I want with him' she retorted nastily. 'Keep out me business, dickhead, and tell me where he is.'
'Right in front of your face, mate,' said the lad, gesturing to himself proudly.
Katie narrowed her eyes. 'Bollocks. I know what he looks like, you cunt, and you ain't him.'
'No, seriously!' he quickly interjected. 'I am Freddie Evans. Freddie Evans, Jr.'
'Oh.' The word fell from her lips, and she looked him up and down. No wonder she didn't like him. 'Your dad, then.'
Junior snorted. 'Well, me dad fucked off years ago. Fred's me uncle.'
'Your uncle?' Katie looked at him sceptically. 'You was named after your uncle?'
'Yeah, well me dad weren't exactly worth it, you know?'
She shrugged. She supposed that was reasonable enough. 'Well, where's your uncle, then?'
'He's inside,' Junior said, gesturing towards the warehouse. 'But he don't take visitors, especially those what sneak in. D'you know what I mean?'
A short silence passed between them as Katie folded her arms over her small bust and looked over at the warehouse. She couldn't hear any noise coming from inside, but she supposed that was the point. Whatever was going on in there wasn't any good.
'Who is your uncle, anyway?'
'What?'
'You know.' Katie shrugged. 'What does he do?'
Junior glanced at the warehouse and back to the girl ahead of him. 'He's... a businessman, like. He's handling business right now.'
'What kind of business?'
'His business is what. And you should piss off before he sees ya, 'cause you don't want him to make it yours.'
Katie didn't have to be told twice. With one last look at the warehouse, she began to back up, and dropped her arms back to her sides as she turned around.
'Oi.'
Sighing, she turned around once more, an annoyed look on her face. 'What?'
Junior was smiling at her. 'What's your name?'
She debated telling him a fake name, but sussed out that he was probably harmless. Just a bit of a tosser. 'Katie.'
'All right, Katie,' said Junior then. 'I'll see you around.'
'You should be so fucking lucky!'
Junior laughed, amused at the strange little mare, and watched as she headed off and disappeared behind the lorries. But more than his curiosity about the girl herself, he wondered what she wanted with his uncle. She wasn't one of his girlfriends, was she? No, even that was a bit much for Fred—and Junior knew his uncle well. So then what could she possibly want with him?
In any case, he reasoned he should tell the man, and headed back into the warehouse. 'Uncle Fred, there was this girl outside, and she...'
He fell silent as he got a good look at the scene inside. In only the ten minutes or so he'd been outside to have a smoke break and watch the perimeter, his uncle Fred and one of the lackeys dubbed Lenny the Nut had the squat, pot-bellied man they'd previously been chatting with taped up to the chair he was on. There was a rag shoved into his mouth and he was struggling against the restraints as Fred poured petrol over his bald head.
Junior's mouth felt dry. 'Jesus...'
'Junior,' said Fred without looking. 'There you are, lad. See, Dicky, I'm teaching me nephew here how to deal with cowardly, grassing scum like you!'
The man in the chair, Dicky, was sobbing against the cloth, his eyes squeezed tight as petrol dripped down his head and into his face. The Nut watched onward was Fred took care of business, making sure Dicky was sufficiently coated before he capped the container and dropped it heftily onto the nearby desk.
'Now,' he said, lowering himself so he could look the grass in the eye. 'I wanna know exactly what you told the constable, and I want no details left behind. Otherwise...' He lit a match and held it directly in Dicky's face, who screamed and recoiled as much as he possibly could. '...I'm gonna light you up like a feckin' Christmas tree, you understand me mate?'
Dicky was nodding and crying, and Junior swallowed hard, watching the events unfold before him. The world slowly became white noise as he watched his uncle pull the rag from the other man's mouth, and as Dicky sobbed out the story like a prayer.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed before both Fred and the Nut seemed satisfied with themselves, and Fred waved the match in Dicky's face a few times just to hear him cry. Extinguishing it on the bald man's tongue, the two gangsters were both laughing as they stood, and threw a few punches at him before they headed out towards the door, towards Junior.
Suddenly, reality hit him again once Fred clasped his hand around his shoulder, but he couldn't peel his eyes away from Dicky, who sobbed pitifully in the restraints, in pain and shamed by the loss in masculinity and the piss in his trousers.
Most people would have been shocked to see such an act of cruelty, but Junior was nauseous—nauseous with excitement. He saw the fear in the bald man's eyes as his uncle intimidated him, and without much violence at all. He wanted that kind of respect, needed it, craved it. And he knew in that moment, as he'd always known it, that Fred was the kind of man he strived to be.
He knew it down to his very soul.