CHERUB: Brigands M.C. - Robert Muchamore Page 0,70

flip it over.’

‘Ah-ha, look at the working man!’ Julian laughed from the other side of the counter.

‘Hey cock stain,’ James said, as he glowered at Julian’s curly hair and grinning face.

‘Keep your eye on the hotplate,’ Martin cautioned. ‘Now, get the skillet under and flip her before she burns.’

‘I saw you cleaning graffiti earlier,’ Julian said with a superior tone as James flipped the crêpe. ‘I don’t have to work because my family aren’t poor.’

‘Piss off, Julian,’ Martin said.

Julian grinned. ‘What was that, my little gay friend? Have you come out to your daddy yet?’

‘I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, Julian,’ Martin said.

‘Oh and I saw your new motorbike, James. I might buy an ice cream and stroll across for a proper look at it later on.’

James was determined to get his first crêpe right, but as soon as he dropped it on to the prep board he lunged across the counter so fast that Julian couldn’t move back. James grabbed a handful of Julian’s shirt and yanked him forward so that his face squished against the clear plastic display cabinet.

‘Touch my new bike and I’ll drag you over this counter and fry your head on the hotplate,’ James warned, before letting go.

Julian straightened his shirt up and tried not to look flustered as he backed away. ‘Have a nice night,’ he grinned.

‘I will,’ James said. ‘Especially after my shift when I’m banging your ex.’

As Julian walked away Martin cracked a big smile. ‘Julian’s the biggest moron. If he touches your bike again, tell Teeth. That whole car park is covered with CCTV and the Brigands have no time for people who vandalise motorbikes.’

‘I’ll remember that,’ James nodded, as his attention turned back to his crêpe. ‘So how did I do?’

‘Good,’ Martin said. ‘It’s a bit doughy in the middle because you used too much batter, and when we get a real customer I’d recommend more pleases and thankyous and slightly less of the threatening to fry their face and shag their ex-girlfriend.’

*

The South Devon Brigands had an open night every third Saturday. For poorer chapters open nights were a way of getting people through the door and making money selling food and drugs. For the South Devon chapter it had more to do with community relations.

Closed doors, security cameras and noisy bikes scared the public, especially when Devon police regularly described the Brigands as a menace. But for many locals and tourists, their only contact with South Devon Brigands was on the open nights when the Führer put his crew on their best behaviour.

There was free food and drink, while the outdoor compound behind the clubhouse was opened up for local kids and teenagers to have a separate party. The events were capped off with midnight fireworks, after which the public was kicked out and the clubhouse went back to being a private club.

By 9:30 the sky was dark and Marina Heights throbbed gently with rock music coming out the back of the Brigands compound. Lauren walked across the promenade with Joe, Dante, Anna and a few other mates. She had sand in her trainers after paddling on the beach and a chocolate, banana and nut crêpe burning her fingertips.

‘This is good,’ Lauren grinned. ‘I can make better pancakes than this, but when you consider that my brother cooked it …’

‘Your brother definitely didn’t like it when you kept calling him boy and clicking your fingers,’ Joe smiled.

They’d only get soft drinks in the Brigands clubhouse, so the thirteen- to fifteen-year-olds had all boozed on the beach before heading uphill to Marina Heights.

For Lauren it was a can of beer and a couple of slugs from Joe’s vodka bottle. Joe and Dante were more adventurous. They were sucking breath mints and behaving themselves because they wouldn’t get into the clubhouse if they were obviously drunk.

But they needn’t have worried. As soon as Joe approached the clubhouse he got a hug and a pat on the back from a thuggish looking Brigands prospect named Fluffy.

‘Your dad told me to send you over if you came in,’ Fluffy said. ‘He’s in his usual spot.’

Joe looked worried and wondered if it was to do with a letter home from school about a teacher he’d sworn at earlier in the week.

All the kids except Lauren and Dante had been in the clubhouse before. The main hall was as bland as the brick exterior. A polished wooden floor, fold-out tables piled with food, seats around the edge and a small stage with a DJ