Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“People are getting edgy.” Lake’s eyes were ice, trained on the crowd and missing nothing. The tall Englishman was wearing a black T-shirt over jeans; his arms were folded, muscles bulging. His blonde hair was military short. His blue eyes narrowed.

Flynn knew very little about Lake’s background except he was ex-SAS, a security specialist and a scary dude.

The band started a sound check behind them.

“We clearing the place out?” Lake asked.

“We’re waiting. Backup is coming in about five minutes.”

Matt cocked an eyebrow at him. “What backup? As soon as those guys start playing, they’re going to wind up the folk who are already halfway to tanked, and the weasel producer is walking through the crowd stirring things.”

Flynn followed Matt’s gaze to see the gleeful expression on Brian’s face as he “interviewed” some of the guys with scarier tattoos. It was obvious from the angry reactions his questions were designed to antagonise.

“Spill,” Lake ordered. “What’s the plan?”

Flynn heard a familiar car engine sputtering along and pointed. “That’s the plan.”

The men turned as one to see a station wagon coming down the drive. It was followed by several sensible cars and two people carriers. The station wagon swerved off the road and squeezed through a gap in the fence someone had taken down earlier to make space for parking. It drove at about two miles per hour straight through the crowd, aiming for the stage and blasting its horn to warn people to move out of the way.

Matt started to laugh. Lake’s lip twitched in his version of hysteria.

“You called the vicar?” Matt said. “I take it back. You do have a brain.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll get the boys to position themselves beside the band and their roadies. From the looks of it, if there’s trouble it will start there.” Lake waved his hand at his men. They nodded, seeming to know by telepathy exactly what their boss wanted. Flynn was impressed. It was one scary talent.

“Is that the knitting group?” Matt asked with a grin.

“Yep.”

Matt patted him on the back. Flynn wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet. Things weren’t anywhere near under control.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” he told them. “I’m the MC.” He headed for the stage, nodding and smiling as he went.

By the time Flynn got there, the local vicar was already standing on the platform, glaring at people. He wasn’t angry—that was just his face. Flynn smiled at the lead singer of the band.

“Glad you could make it,” he told the guy. “When I heard you lot were turning over a new leaf and looking for some good publicity, I was happy to help out. One reformed bad boy to another.”

The tattooed skinhead scowled. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Language,” snapped the vicar, giving the guy his own scowl.

The look of confusion on the singer’s face was priceless.

“My producer, Brian—he’s the guy over there.” Flynn pointed at the weasel and waved. Brian looked confused. Good. Scared would be better, but hopefully that would come later. “He set this up. He said after last year’s arrest you were having trouble. I believe in second chances, so when the vicar here organised this rally, I suggested you guys. I’m grateful you could make it. Did Brian mention you’d need to tone down your lyrics? Wouldn’t help the cause if we offended the local women’s group.” Flynn pointed to the mass of middle-aged women approaching the stage.

The singer’s jaw dropped as Flynn’s aunty Heather waved at him.

The women of Knit or Die, plus quite a few others from the church who’d been roped in, filed onto the stage. Each of them held a small bucket, and they were wearing matching pink shirts with Knit or Die in bold over their chests. They were also giggling like schoolgirls.

“What the fuck?” the singer said again.

The octogenarian vicar reached up and smacked the guy on the back of the head. “God is listening, boy. Have some respect.”

The singer actually seemed a little ashamed. Flynn grinned at him before tapping the microphone. He looked out over the crowd, noticing Lake’s men and his ex-football team members were dispersed throughout, ready to quell any trouble before it broke out.

“Hello, everybody,” Flynn called. “Thanks for coming out today. This event means a lot to me, and I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you here.”