up whining when you’ve got to get up for school in the morning I’ll make you damned sorry.’
Dante studied his mum’s expression. Sometimes she got so angry that you had to do exactly what she said or she’d go bananas, but he wasn’t getting that look and decided to play for sympathy.
‘I came down because you forgot to bring my glass of water.’
His mum took a tumbler out of a cabinet and slammed the door shut before filling it from the cold tap. ‘There,’ she said, as she passed it over. ‘Now scram.’
Dante reached the hallway as hell broke loose in the living-room. His dad shouted. Then the table grated across the floor and the Führer shouted back.
‘I’ve put my own sweat and money into this, Scotty. I’m not leaving this house until these papers are signed.’
‘You think you can bully me?’ Scotty screamed. ‘You don’t know me at all, do you? Get out of my house you short-arsed son of a bitch.’
Scotty stepped out from behind the table, muscles swollen beneath his vest and looking like he could break the Führer in half with a sneeze. Dante swelled with pride, but the balance of power changed when Felicity pulled a handgun from beneath his leather waistcoat.
‘You sit down and sign it,’ the Führer ordered, as the Wrestlemania pen smacked down on the table.
‘You think you can muscle this?’ Scotty shouted incredulously. ‘After all these years? You’d better kill me because this is way out of order. I’ll have this put to a vote and you’ll be out of the club.’
The Führer smiled. ‘The accountants found some irregularities in the books from last year when you were club secretary. I’ve already discussed it with the London chapter and the national president. They’ve left it at my discretion for now, but you’re looking at a disciplinary hearing and being kicked out of the club in bad standing.’
‘Trumped up bullshit,’ Scotty hissed. ‘How much did you bribe them?’
‘Enough,’ the Führer smiled. ‘That’s all you need to know.’
Dante had the best view in the house. As well as a clear view into the living-room, the crashing table had brought Jordan and Lizzie out on to the top of the staircase behind him. In the kitchen, his mum stood on an upturned bucket and pulled a shotgun wrapped in a bin liner down off the cabinet.
‘Dante, upstairs,’ his mum shouted, before ratcheting the shotgun, heading into the living-room and aiming it at Felicity. ‘I think it’s time you boys said goodnight.’
Scotty was alarmed and raised his palm. ‘Carol, you be careful with that thing,’ he warned. ‘It’s loaded.’
‘Well you don’t say,’ she carped, as Dante got halfway up the stairs and stopped. ‘Now I don’t give a shit about your development, but it’s two in the morning. I’m awake, my kids are awake and I want you two out of my house. Is that crystal clear?’
The Führer looked at the barrels of the gun and smiled. ‘Carol, why don’t you put that thing down?’
‘You know what?’ Scotty said, eyeballing the Führer. ‘I don’t need this shit any more. I’ll sign the papers and take my two hundred grand. I signed up for a brotherhood not a business, so you can take my Brigands patch and stick that too.’
As Dante’s mum lowered the shotgun, his dad bent down to pick the pen off the floor. The Führer set the table straight and told Felicity to help pick up the papers and find the pages that Scotty needed to sign.
Carol looked back into the hallway. ‘You kids get back in bed,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t make me come up there.’
Dante moved up a couple more steps, but his two teenage siblings didn’t like being spoken to that way and stayed defiantly still on the top landing.
‘Don’t make me come up there, you three,’ their mum repeated.
‘I’m trying to get past,’ Dante protested.
This earned him a withering look from Lizzie at the same moment as a baby’s squeal came out of their parents’ room.
‘Aww great,’ Carol said, as she turned back towards the three men. ‘That’s an hour getting Holly back to sleep.’
‘I’ll get her,’ Lizzie said wearily, as she headed towards the cot in her parents’ room, mumbling, ‘Don’t mind me, I’ve only got a Spanish exam tomorrow,’ to herself.
In the living-room the papers were back on the table. Scotty reached between toy cars and blocks underneath the sofa to grab Dante’s pen. As he straightened up, he saw Felicity’s handgun pointing limply at the carpet. Felicity’s