ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror (2 page)

“Okay,” Andrew said, turning to face the youths.  “I’m on my way to the shops anyway.  You want to give me the money now, or when I get back?”

The whole gang laughed like a pack of hyenas, but the lad in the red, woollen hat did not find anything amusing.  Aside from the facial tic that plagued every nerve on his face, the lad’s expression was completely serious – a look of indifference carved into a twitching slab of granite.

The lad took another step forward, closing-in tight enough that he was almost nose to nose with Andrew.  The stench of stale beer permeated the young man’s breath.  “Don’t think you understand me, mate.  You’re going to buy me some fags because you like me.”

Andrew took a step backwards, reclaiming some of his personal space.  He attempted to laugh, but it came out an asphyxiated splutter.  “I-I…I don’t think so, mate.  Get your own bloody cigarettes, okay?”

The lad took another step forward.  This time he snarled right in Andrew’s face.  “Listen, you cunt.  If you get back from that shop without my cigarettes, your head is going to hit this cement.  You get me?”

Andrew tumbled backwards under what could only have been utter shock.  Such threats and brutish behaviour were well beyond his comprehension and experience.  Yet it was happening to him right now.  He was furious, livid, that this wretched little thug felt he had any right to threaten him this way...

But he also felt sick.  His body trembled and his knees felt weak.  Instead of standing up for himself, all Andrew did was walk away, his head down, his mouth closed, his pride shattered.  The word ‘
prick’
floated after him as he retreated, uttered by a female voice.  He continued walking and didn’t turn back.  A numb kind of disbelief had washed over him and the feeling in his stomach was like a white-hot poker thudding against his ribs.

It was a good five minutes before Andrew regained any sort of control over his senses, but by that time he was already several hundred yards away from the gang of teenagers.  In fact he was almost at the small row of shops that marked his destination. 
Mickey’s
chip shop was just up ahead.

Andrew shook his head in disbelief. 
I can’t believe that thug spoke to me like that.  How dare he threaten me!  Who the hell does he think he is?  To think I was sticking up for those bloody kids not thirty minutes ago… 
Andrew scratched at the stubble on his chin and hissed at the night. 
Pen was right.  They
are
all a bunch of troublemakers.

Andrew crossed the road and headed into the chip shop, determined not to let the nasty exchange affect him a minute longer than it already had.  Inside was a member of staff that he recognised: a young, blond girl that had served him several times before.  They’d never spoken in a personal way but she always had a warm smile for him whenever he brought food there.  Tonight was no exception and he felt a little less angry as the girl showed her usual politeness by welcoming him in from the cold with a smile.

At least not all teenagers are bad.  Some still have manners.  This girl, and my daughter, for instance.  I’d go mad if Bex behaved like those thugs.

He quickly placed an order for his and Penelope’s food, as well as Bex’s –
salt, no vinegar –
before standing aside and warming himself on the shop’s hot, metal counter.  His entire body seemed to unload its weight onto his elbows as he leaned, like he’d been fighting off the urge to fall down this whole time without realising it.  The amount of anger he felt threatened to take over him, yet he felt strangely vacant at the same time.  It was as if the encounter with the gang of teenagers had sent him into some sort of a daze.

You still have to walk back past them to get home…

The thought caused another wave of nausea to crash through his system. 
What the hell should I do?  I’m not going to let them scare me into not walking the street outside my own bloody house.  
Andrew sighed and rubbed at his eyes. 
I should have said something at the time – stood up to them.  Bet they’re a bunch of cowards against anyone who gives as good as they get.

Andrew made a decision. 
That’s it!  That’s what I’ll do.  I’m going to stand up to the little swine and his gawking buddies.  See how big he is then.  I’m not going to let the little shit scare me.

“-ful they’re hot.”

Andrew looked up from the counter.  “Huh?”

The blond girl nodded to a plastic bag on the counter in front of him.  “I said, careful they’re hot.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.  Was miles away then.”

Andrew took the bagful of food from the girl, then thanked and paid her.  Then he wandered towards the door.  Before he got there, though, the blonde girl called after him.

“Are you okay?” she asked him.

Andrew turned back around, wondering what it was about him that caused the girl concern.  Was it so obvious he was rattled by something? 

“I’m fine,” he assured her.  “Just had a run in with a gang of kids.  Haven’t quite calmed down about it yet.”

The girl’s face dropped.  “You don’t mean Frankie Walker, do you?”

Andrew shrugged.  “Don’t know their names.”

“Red beanie hat?  Weird twitch?”

Andrew nodded.

The girl shook her head and wore a grim expression.  “I’d be careful if I were you.  He just got out of a youth offender’s home and he’s been pretty messed up ever since – in fact he was pretty messed up before.”

Andrew huffed.  “He’s just a boy.  I’m not going to let him intimidate me.”

“Just watch yourself, okay?  I mean it; he’s a nasty-piece of work.”

Andrew stood in the doorway and thought about it for a mument.  It felt wrong to let a teenage boy worry him.  England was a country where everyone had the right to be free, safe, and happy.  No one had the right to take those things away from anybody else. 

“What’s your name?” Andrew asked the girl behind the counter.

“Charlie.”

“Well, Charlie.”  He did his best to smile.  “Thanks for the advice, but I think I’ll be just fine.  You take care yourself, okay?”  He pulled open the exit door and stepped back out into the cold. 

The world had gone fully dark now beyond the narrow cones of light from the streetlamps.  The well-lit shopping area was like a beacon in a shadowy abyss.

Andrew started his journey home.  The warming aroma of hot chips and acrid vinegar made Andrew’s mouth water.  Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get back to his family and eat.  It was a greasy, unhealthy dinner, but he could stand to put a few pounds on his slender frame anyway.  
Bit of junk food never hurt anybody.  
He picked up speed, hunger encouraging him onwards.

Rounding the final corner before home, Andrew thought about the teenagers again.  It was surprising that his mind had briefly managed to turn to other things – it’d been easier once he decided that this ‘Frankie’ was not going to intimidate him – but now his thoughts turned right back.  Despite choosing not to be afraid, it was still a relief when it turned out the gang had moved on.  The street corner was now free of their presence and the cones of light from the streetlamps illuminated nothing more than the cracked and worn pavement of the road.

Cowards.  Didn’t have the balls to stay and go through with their threats.

Andrew was just about to grin when he heard voices.  He narrowed and strained his eyes, seeking out bodies in the darkness, but ended up having to use his ears to hone in on the right direction.  The noise was coming from several yards ahead, right outside his house.

Andrew spotted the teenagers loitering around a Mercedes parked on the curb – it was
his
Mercedes.  The lad known as ‘Frankie’ was sitting on the softly-contoured bonnet of Andrew’s car, leaning back on his elbows and laughing.

“Cretin!”  Andrew almost spat the word as he marched across the street.

Frankie spotted him approaching and waved merrily.

Don’t you wave at me, you insolent little shit.

“How’s it going?” said Frankie.  His eyes narrowed beneath the brow of his beanie hat.  “You got my fags?”

Andrew rushed over to the group and this time felt none of the shock or anxiety that had plagued him during their earlier encounter.  This time Andrew was angry.  “No, I haven’t got your goddamn cigarettes!” he yelled.  “Now get the hell off my car.”

Frankie did as he was told.  He slid off the bright-red bonnet of Andrew’s car, then looked back behind him, admiring the vehicle.  “Nice motor, mate.  What is it, an SLK, yeah?”

“Yes,” said Andrew.  Impatience now enveloped every word that came out of his mouth.  “Just step away from it, please.  It’s brand new.”

Frankie nodded his head and whistled.  “You hear that everyone?  Brand new Mercedes.  Nice.”

“Yeah, nice” agreed a young girl beside him.  Her unkind face was caked in gaudy make-up and framed by streaky-blonde hair. Her tits were practically hanging out of her top, despite the chilly weather.  “Thinks he’s well bling, innit,” she said, “with his flash motor.”

Andrew stared at the girl and shook his head.  “Do you know how stupid you sound, young lady?”

“Thinks his shit don’t stink,” added a Black kid, identical to the one stood beside him.  They were obviously twins, matching in both genetics and clothing; they wore the exact-same blue jeans and plain, white t-shirts.

“I don’t think anything like that,” said Andrew.  “I just think you should all respect other people’s property, and that pretty young girls should be home this time of night.”

Andrew didn’t know why he used the word ‘pretty’, as the girl was anything but.  It was meant only to be a placating gesture to try and stem the animosity.  It seemed to do the opposite, though, and the girl scowled and spat right at him.

“Fucking Perv,” she said.  “You’re a pedo, innit?  A sick, child-banging pedo!”

Andrew’s temper broke its bonds.  “How dare you!” he snarled.  “Show some bloody respect to your elders, you nasty little harlot.”

Frankie shot forward and pushed Andrew’s shoulder, jarring the plastic bag from his hand and spilling the chips all over the road.  He moved forward again and poked Andrew hard in the chest, repeating the gesture with each word that came out of his mouth.  “I…think…you…need…to…respect…me…”

The sudden fright flooded Andrew’s system with a surge of adrenaline.  His stomach turned over and he felt like he might throw up over the teenager’s shoes, but he would not allow such an indignity to take place.  He had to man up and not let the situation get to him.

I’m not going to be intimidated by this hooligan again.  No way in hell.

Andrew snarled right back into Frankie’s smug face.  “Why the hell would I respect an idiot like you?  You’re nothing but a pathetic bully trying to show off in front of your equally pathetic friends.”

Frankie seemed to enjoy Andrew’s reaction.  He turned and looked over his shoulder at the assembly of teenagers.  All of them laughed as they crowded around the Mercedes, their loose circle tightening around the entertaining spectacle of Frankie and Andrew.

“Now, now,” said Frankie in a voice so patronising it sounded like he was trying to teach a foreign language to a guinea pig.  “No need to get upset, mate.  We’re just talking.  In fact, it’s me that should be upset.”

Andrew huffed.  “Why, exactly, is that?”

Frankie punched Andrew in the stomach.  The sudden pain was excruciating and took his breath away so completely that it felt like he no longer had lungs.  Andrew fell to his knees, wondering if he would ever breathe again.

Frankie crouched down beside him.  “I asked you for a pack of cigarettes and you just mugged me off – then you come and make pervy comments about my girlfriend.  I thought we were friends, but you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.  That’s a really stupid thing to do.”

Andrew couldn’t speak.  The tightness in his chest and stomach seemed like it would never let up.  Mortal panic clamped every cell of his body as he struggled to suck in even the tiniest morsel of oxygen.

Frankie straightened back up and kissed his boney fist like a trophy.  “Come on, gangsters,” he said.  “Let’s leave this piece of shit to eat his chips up off the floor.  We’ll carry this on another day.  Nice trainers by the way, mate.  Got to get me a pair of those.”

Andrew rolled onto his side and groaned as the teenagers left him on the floor.  Gradually – very gradually – his breath came back to him in great heaving gasps.  The noises coming from his throat sounded like a pod of distressed dolphins.  Part of him wished for his family to run out and comfort him, but another part – a bigger part – made the thought of them seeing him like this intolerable.  Andrew tried to get to his feet, using his palms against the floor to steady him.  He was shaken and felt sick – sicker than he’d ever felt – but his stomach just about managed to control itself.  When he looked down at the scattered chips and mashed-up cod on the floor he realised he was crying.  Several lonely tears crept down his cheeks and left freezing-cold trails behind them.  He didn’t know if they’d been caused by the pain, fear, shame, or humiliation.  The fact that someone had frightened him to tears made Andrew feel pathetic.  The fact it was a teenager made him feel even more so.

He shot forward and heaved up the meagre contents of his near-empty stomach, coating the discarded chips on the floor in a hot broth of the undigested coffee and biscuits he’d eaten earlier. 

Three minutes later, Andrew wiped his mouth and started the long, lonely journey up the path to his house.  It no longer felt like home.

Chapter Two

Andrew sank down on the bench inside the porch and took several deep, painful breaths.  Then he kicked off his trainers and just sat there for a while.  He’d already hung up his coat and could have gone inside, but for some reason he just couldn’t.  Something was holding him in place.  It felt like his very presence inside the house would infect his family with something terrible.

I’m too ashamed to face them.