Bang Gang

“Tyler Dean?” I said. “Lanky little shit with glasses?”

She nodded. “He’s so horrible, Dad. He’s really horrible. His knuckles hurt my head so bad, and I can’t cry because he’ll get mad at me.”

“And your mum knew about this, did she?”

She shook her head. “Only about the names, she went to Mrs Webber, said Mrs Webber would sort it out.” It broke my heart to see the tears on her cheeks. “I couldn’t tell her, Dad! Because she’ll only go to Mrs Webber again and Tyler Dean will be even worse! He’ll be even worse, Dad!”

“He won’t be fucking worse, Mia,” I said. “Don’t you worry about that.”

Her eyes were glassy. “You promise?”

“I fucking swear it.” I brushed the tears from her cheeks. “Chin up, now. Get your things together, we’re going out.” I gave her a hug, kissed her head.

“Are you going to say something to Mum? I don’t want her to be mad at me.”

“She won’t be mad at you,” I said. “And I’m not going to be saying anything to your mum. Not yet.”

I turned off the TV, told Ruby to get a move on through her huff at having Clarkson cut short. I smoked a cigarette while the girls got belted up in the truck. Paced up and down the street while the twitch twitched in my jaw.

Roger Dean lived up Elmgrove. The house with the green painted fence. He drives a Rover, I did his tyres the month previous.

I didn’t say a word as I drove up the hill and past Jodie’s turn off. Didn’t say a word as I took the road up to Elmgrove. I parked the truck right outside Roger Dean’s house, left the engine running and told the girls to stay put.

Roger was in his yard by the time I reached his gate.

“Trent,” he said, and he was smiling. “What brings you up here?”

I spotted the dipshit in the doorway, his arms folded, face white as a fucking ghost. I jabbed a finger in his direction and the red mist exploded.

“Your cunt of a son,” I barked. “That little fucking wanker of yours has been bullying my Mia.” Dipshit went to dash into the house, but his dad called after him, stopped him in his tracks.

“Tyler! What the fuck is this? Is this fucking true?”

The kid looked like he was going to crap his pants.

“We’re friends now…” he said. “After Mrs Webber said…”

His dad took a step towards him. “What do you mean after Mrs fucking Webber said? Have you been bullying Mia Trent?”

“Mrs Webber called his mother,” I grunted. “He knows just what the fuck I’m talking about.”

“Christ,” Roger said. “That fucking woman. Dawn’s too fucking soft with him, lets him get away with fucking murder. I knew nothing about this shit, Trent, I swear.”

That made fucking two of us.

“Little cunt knuckles her hair, says she should kill herself.” I lit up a cigarette. “She’s been crying her fucking eyes out this afternoon.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, Trent, I’m so fucking sorry. She ok?”

“She will be now.” I shot him a glare. “You gonna sort this shit out, Roger, or do I have to?”

He gave me a nod. “I’ll sort this shit out, Trent, don’t you worry about that.”

“If I catch wind of any more of it…”

He slapped my arm, tipped his head. “Understood, mate. I’ll sort it. I’m not like his fucking mother.”

I shot Tyler a glare, flicked my cigarette away. “Stay away from my fucking daughter,” I snapped.

The girls were watching through the truck windows, eyes like saucers. I climbed up into the driver’s seat, watched Roger go storming down his garden path after his dickhead son.

“Thanks, Dad,” Mia said.

“Should have punched him in the mouth,” Ruby said. She showed me her fist. “POW!”

“No need,” I grunted. “Not yet anyway. Lad’s got his old man to answer to now.”

The girls were quiet as I drove back to Jodie’s. They piled out of the truck and gave her a hug in the doorway. She smiled at me but I didn’t smile back.

Then she saw Mia’s face, her puffy eyes. She wiped her cheeks, and I could see the fear in her eyes. “What the hell happened?”

Mia started crying all over again. “Sorry, Mum,” she said.

“Go inside,” I said to the girls. “Watch TV with Nanna.”

Jodie stepped out, closed the door after her. “Darren? What..?”

I lit up a cigarette. “Tyler fucking Dean!” I snapped. “That’s what!”

Her face turned pale. “But that’s sorted… Mrs Webber…”

“Mrs Webber didn’t sort shit, Jodie. Mrs Webber told the lad’s fucking mother who lets him lord it around like little lord fucking muck.”

She stared at me. “What did you do?”

“What fucking needed doing! I went to his fucking father, sorted this shit out man to man!”

“Did you hit him?!”

I stared right back at her. “No, I didn’t fucking hit him. I didn’t need to fucking hit him, Jodie, he just needed telling like it fucking is.”