by Karen Woods
Sarah wasn’t sure if this was some kind of sick joke. Rachel was always telling her things that weren’t true and she didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “Rachel, I never know when you’re telling lies. If this is your way of trying to scare me off then you’re doing a good job of it, let me tell you. I’m scared to death.”
Rachel was in no mood for games and now Gary was gone there was no time to make enemies. She was alone and nobody had her back. “Sarah, you have to help me. They’ll be here soon. They had hold of me today and told me they want to string our Mikey up. Ten grand’s a lot of money and Davo won’t stop until he’s got back every penny that he’s owed.”
“Ten bleeding grand! Mikey nicked ten grand from this guy and now he wants it back?”
“For crying out loud, yes. I had hold of the money but Gary’s nicked it just now. Bleeding hell, what aren’t you getting here? I’ve told you how many times.”
Sarah sat back in her seat with her arms folded tightly against her body. She looked over at Rachel and her face was bright red. “What the hell are we going to do? They’ll find out I’m his girlfriend and then what? Oh my God, they could kill me too. I’m too young to die.” Rachel gripped her by both arms and shook her with force, she was hysterical and going way over the top. “Mikey is sorting it out but until then we’ve got to keep a low profile. Is there anywhere we can both go until this blows over? I swear, Mikey’s going to go sick when he’s heard Gary has nicked his money, this is all going to go from bad to worse.”
Sarah was the one in control now and for the first time Rachel listened to her. “My gran has a bungalow on the other side of Manchester. She’s staying with us at the moment and it’s empty. We could go there, we would be safe.”
Rachel was relieved and for the first time she spoke to her with some respect. There was no attitude anymore. Sarah looked at her wrist watch. She had an idea. “Get some clothes ready. Just take all you need for now. This is a complete nightmare. Rachel, if they hurt one bone on my boy’s body I’ll kill them myself.” The two of them started to run around the house gathering clothes together. They were sitting ducks now and the clock was ticking.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mikey stood on the landing looking down at the main prison. He saw himself as a predator. Things happened at the blink of an eye in this place and he needed to be vigilant; everyone was up to no good - whispering, looking round corners, ducking and diving. This was a bad place to be in, nobody could be trusted. These bastards would have your eyes out and come back for the sockets if you weren’t careful. Mikey’s jeans hung low and the top of his boxers were on show. Not his usual Armani make though, these were prison issue ones that somebody else’s knackers had been floating about in at some point. They were itchy and he was sure he’d caught something from them. His eyes shot down to a few inmates playing pool and socialising. It was his job now to suss out who was who. There had to be a main man, someone they all licked arse with, someone who called the shots. Each wing had one and he knew before bang up he would have located his target. This wing was full of hard men and he’d heard the name Frankie Warren being dropped a few times from a few lads he’d already spoken to. Mikey stood back from the landing as a man approached him from below. There he was, he knew it was him just by his presence on the corridor. Inmates stood with their backs against the wall and let him pass in silence. Mikey clocked Frank and stood close to the banister. He was a big cunt and he looked like he could have a go, probably a sted head, he thought. Mikey watched carefully as his wing men strolled at his side. Something was going down, he was sure of it. His neck stretched out. “Come on you bastards, nicely does it,” he whispered under his breath. There it was, the switch. He nodded and sucked hard on his gums. He had all the information he needed now, this shit was going down. With a bounce in his step he walked downstairs to meet the others on the wing. Potter wasn’t far behind him. He was pulling his jumper over his head and trying to look half decent. He’d had a crap night’s sleep and was still uneasy in here. Mikey sat near the pool table and shouted over to the inmates already playing. “Put me and Potter down for the next game, lads. I’ll whoop his arse and show him who’s boss.”
Within minutes the banter stopped and there was an eerie silence as Frank Warren arrived at Mikey’s side. His warm breath tickled the side of his neck. He didn’t know this kid from Adam but already he’d taken an instant dislike to him. Who the fuck did he think he was coming onto his turf and shouting the odds like that? This kid needed to be put in his place before he got ideas above his station. Frank’s voice was deep and he was ready to cave this prick’s head in if he gave him any back chat. “Oi, I’m on here next.” All the other prisoners were watching now, each of them knowing that Frank was a crafty cunt and he could one-bomb Mikey at the first opportunity. This guy was ruthless and when you least expected it, he’d strike a blow. Mikey raised his eyes to meet Frank’s, his ears pinned back slightly. There was no way he was letting this cock talk to him like this. He’d didn’t give a fuck who he was or what reputation he had made for himself. Mikey had nothing to lose and everything to gain. There would be a new sheriff in town from now on and they were all just about to find that out right now...
Mikey cleared his throat. “Is that right? Have you put your name down?” This was the best action any of the inmates had seen for months. Frank Warren was a bully and if he was put on his arse today there would be a lot of celebrations going on behind closed doors. Each convict knew if Mikey knocked this fucker out, all their debts would be cancelled. No one would pay a second prized wanker. Frank would be shipped out for his own safety and never seen again. Good riddance to bad rubbish. Mikey had support now, allegiances turned in an instant as the tide suddenly changed. Frank didn’t sense this change, or if he did he ignored it. He chuckled, trying to laugh off this imposter and made sure everyone could hear him. He still thought he was untouchable. Mikey was in the zone now, he was focused and already looking for his target’s weakness.
“Listen up lads,” Frank started, “have you heard Braveheart here asking me if I’ve put my name down for pool. Somebody word him up please before I lose my rag with him, fucking idiot.”
One of Frank’s acolytes walked over to Mikey, “Frank runs things around here,” he said nervously, “he doesn’t put his name down for anything. That’s just the way it is.” Mikey was far from impressed. What was up with this bunch of fairies? Why didn’t someone put a pool cue over the prick’s head? Warren needed to be put in his place - there were enough of them here, they should have wasted him but they were all shit scared. Was he that big and hard that nobody had ever tackled him before? Mikey Milne would show them how it was done. He’d never back down to this clown. Mikey smirked as Potter arrived at his side. He knew he was dicing with death but he didn’t care. The inmates were whispering now, side bets were being placed. It was going to go off, they were sure of it; a real fight, a one-on-one, a battle that could determine the new boss of the wing. This was a show not to be missed. An inmate whistled up the landing to a few others stood talking, no-one wanted to miss this.
They checked the coast was clear and put a look-out on the end of the corridor. The circle of men started to close in around them like a pack of wolves. If this was going to kick off, their job was to make sure no screws got to them before the beef was over. Mikey stood and went nose to nose with the main man, teeth clenched tightly together. Their foreheads touched, their eyes were locked. They were touching heads now, it was a test of strength. Potter stood with his back to the wall. What was he supposed to do? He didn’t have a clue. Should he be preparing to jump Warren and help his mate if he was getting leathered? Potter looked confused. Should he stop the fight, whack the kid over his head with a chair? He’d seen stuff like this before on the TV and he knew a few moves he could throw into the mix if he needed to. For now though, he was frozen to the spot.
Frank’s eyes were bulging from their sockets and he knew this inmate wasn’t ba
cking down. Mikey had balls and he was willing to go all the way. There was no way he was having the piss taken out of him. It wasn’t his style. He had a name to protect, a wing to run. Winner takes all. Frank sank his fat fingers into Mikey’s cheeks, squeezing at them, his warm stale breath on the end of his nose. “Fuck off nobhead before I put you on your arse in front of this lot. Don’t ever think you can chat shit to me. Go on, do one.” The other inmates were on edge. This had to happen fast, the screws would be here soon. Someone needed to throw a punch. The prisoners were sneering now, placing bets on who would knock who out.
“Fucking waste him Frank,” his wingman yelled.
Mikey freed himself from Frank’s grip. They were all looking at him now, he had to come back with something, make his mark. Potter was trying to support his mate and before he knew it he was shouting too. “Bust his nose Mikey, give him a dead leg.” The inmates sniggered at Potter. Where the hell did he think he was? This wasn’t a bleeding youth club scrap for fucks sake! This was serious shit. This was jail life. Mikey flicked his eyes rapidly and clocked a weapon near him. But, this was a one-on-one, no weapons were allowed; a bare knuckle fight. He might have bitten off more than he could chew, he’d not thought this through. He was going to get wasted if he didn’t think quickly, he needed to pull something out of the bag. Here it was, Mikey reached the point of no return. He was ready to rumble. His fists curled into tight rounded balls at the side of his legs and his nostrils flared. It all happened so fast. Mikey steamed into Frankie and twatted him. The pair were going for it now; punches, kicks and head-butts were exchanged. Potter moved closer, he was steps away from the pool cue. Was this the right time to pick it up and steam in as well? He wasn’t sure. If he moved in, Frankie’s mates would as well…
Frankie was like a gladiator, he picked Mikey up and slung him against the table. His head crashed against it and it looked like it was all over. No, wait, Mikey was back up and his eyes were menacing as he ran at his opponent at full pelt. He was rapid and each punch connected with his opponent. The inmates heckled and some of them started to bang objects on the walls. “Fight, fight, go on, kill the fucker.” Potter chewed on the end of his fist. Mikey wasn’t giving up without a fight, he was giving it all he’d got. He was a crank, he was biting and mauling his victim, he fish-hooked his mouth at one stage, it was a superb move that hadn’t been seen for a long time in the big house. The inmates were alive, they were ready to kick off and smash the wing up. What did they have to lose? Frankie might have been bigger than Mikey but the younger man was fit as a fiddle and agile, he dodged Frank’s punches and stung Warren with his own. Inmates gathered around the pair of them, this wasn’t going to last much longer. Mikey had Frankie on his arse in minutes and was kicking fuck out of him, pummelling his fist deep into his face. “Go on Mikey, give it him,” Potter screamed at the top of his voice. His eyes were dancing with madness, his head was in the game. He’d never felt excitement like this before, he was alive and part of something.
Alarm bells were ringing now. The footsteps of the screws pounded ever closer. The inmates backed off. The show was over anyway and there was nothing much left to see. With one final kick Mikey took his role as the main man on the wing. Frank was out for the count, sparked. Mikey growled and let out a roar from the pit of his stomach as he banged his fist onto his chest. He’d earned his stripes now, they now knew what he was all about. He wasn’t all mouth. He was a hard fucker. Who’d have thought it? What a result, there was no way in this world you would have backed Mikey against Frank. Gasping for his breath Mikey was quickly rugby tackled to the floor by two screws, he fell like a sack of spuds and was soon pinned down. The screws were eager to get the cuffs on to restrain him; there was shouting as inmates hurled abuse at the officers. It was kicking off now on the wing and it might take hours for it to calm down.
Potter was up in arms and ran to Mikey’s side but he didn’t get a word in because the screws pushed him out of the way and started to drag them down to the block. The pair of them were forced down the corridor at speed. The poor fucker, he was done for. Mark was on B-wing now with Smithy by his side and they were making sure all the inmates were back behind their doors. There could have been a riot; chairs smashed, windows going through. It was a struggle at first but with a bit of extra manpower they were getting there. At last the prisoners were doing what they were told. Frank Warren was still on the floor receiving urgent medical attention. He was coming round now and his eyes were twitching slightly, he was fucked up. What a disgrace he was, he’d been beaten by a newcomer, his empire was in tatters. How could he ever come back from this? He was a laughing stock now. His reign was surely over. From this day forward nobody would listen to a word he had to say anymore, he was just another wannabe. There was only one option for him, he had to be shipped out. He would go on the vulnerable prisoner’s wing, what a disgrace this was.
“Fuck me, loosen the cuffs, they’re digging into me,” Mikey howled at the top of his lungs. He was right too, his skin was starting to bleed and the colour of his skin was changing.
The screws at the side of him were not listening to a word he said, they were ragging him about. “Shut it Milne, let’s see what kind of a big man you are once you’re down the block,” one growled at him. This convict was a trouble causer and they knew the moment he had landed in the jail that their work was cut out for them. Mikey was cut on the side of his cheek and bright red blood was seeping from a deep gash but what did that matter now, he was a winner. He’d taken the big bastard down and made a name for himself in the jail. Cuts and bruises were the least of his worries. Mikey was flung into a cell and the door slammed shut behind him. It was just something he was used to nowadays. The screws were stood outside and he could hear every word they were saying about him. “He needs sorting out. We should put his name down for a ship out, who’s his personal officer? I need to have a word with him. I can’t be arsed with all this shit again. We’ve only just got the wing sorted out and that prick in there thinks he can mess it all up. Look at the state of me, I’m sweating my nuts off.”
Mikey smirked as he held his ear to the door. He was used to people talking behind his back and didn’t give it a second thought. He’d done what he had set out to do and that was all he was arsed about. Mikey started to calm down and licked the blood from the end of his knuckles. Was he really fucked up in the head or was he just misunderstood? It said on his personal file that he was a violent prisoner but didn’t most of the inmates have an evil streak in them? It was the environment they were living in, it changed men forever. There were only two charges of assault on his criminal record and, could you really call them violent crimes when he had slapped a youth around his head and took his mountain bike from him? They had it marked down as assault and robbery on his notes but not a word was said that it was nothing more than a slap, he had just clipped the kid and got off with his bike. Yeah, he robbed the bike but he’d wanted one for ages and this rich toffee-nosed kid was riding one about without a care in the world. He even left it outside the shop when he went inside, he didn’t care about his possessions. His family had more money than sense. Mikey lay down on the bed. The block was getting to be his second home now. No sooner had he left there than he was back again. It didn’t faze him, it was what it was, pure bang up and more thinking time.
*
Mark sat with his colleagues around a table in the cafeteria. Their shift was over and they were just finishing off a coffee. Barry, the one who’d nicked Mikey earlier, marched to the table and gasped. “Mikey Milne, he’s your lad isn’t he?”
Mark hated this tosser’s attitude already and snarled at him, “and what?”
“Either sort him out or get him out of this jail. Two minutes he’s been here and he’s fucked everything up. Frank Warren is on the hospital wing in a bad way. A broken nose and ribs they think. He’s not with it at all, he’s still in shock.” Mark was sick to death of this smart arse. If ever there was a problem on B-wing
this shit-stirrer was always there knocking at his door about how he should control the inmates on there.
Smithy sniggered and looked away. He was aware of the beef between these two and didn’t want to get involved. Mark could hold his own, he didn’t need any help from him. He folded his arms tightly across his chest and watched the fun and games begin. “Listen Barry, crack on with your own shit and stop sticking your nose on my wing. I will sort Mikey out, so just back off. And, if I remember rightly pal, am I right in saying Frank Warren was on your wing first before you carted him over to me?”
Barry stuttered and loosened the collar on his shirt. “He was, but it was none of my doing why he was moved. Talk to the governor about that, he was the one who made the decision on that one not me.” This guy was lying through his teeth. Everybody knew Barry was a smacked arse and if any bit of trouble came his way he was banging on the main man’s door asking for help. Barry was too old for the game now. Like a lot of the other officers who worked there he was waiting out his final years here before retirement and a fat pension. He didn’t need the aggravation, the fights, the endless rows and banter between inmates. He wanted a quiet life.
Mark knew he had him where he wanted him and he turned his head slowly towards Smithy. “Isn’t that right mate? Everybody knows about Barry’s snide meeting with the governor. You’d better be careful, people will start getting the wrong idea about you. Nobody likes a suck-up.”
Barry was up in arms. He’d never snitch on his work mates and he was more than willing to put his neck on the line to prove it. His cheeks were bright red now as he rested his body on the wall behind him. How dare anyone blacken his name in this joint? He was a team player, there was no way in this world he was a Judas. Mark knew just by looking at him that Barry was backing down. His tone changed completely and he sat next to Mark patting him on top of his shoulder. He backtracked. “No offence meant, Mark. All I’m saying is can you have a word with Mikey? He’ll listen to you. You have a way of getting through to anyone with a chip on their shoulder.”
