The insanity with Amy is the only thing keeping me actually sane.
The Puppet Master title the industry slapped on my head over a decade ago suits me well, but not as well as it did, and not anywhere near as well as it suits my slimy fucking father.
His grubby fingers are in everything, twisting everything.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise when he blasts his way into my office before lunch. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when he slaps a copy of the paperwork Brenda faxed across to the school onto my desk.
“What the fucking hell is this, boy? Have you lost your fucking mind?!”
It takes all of my restraint not to reply in the affirmative.
“The boys are changing schools,” I say. “I’ve discussed it with Claire, I’ve discussed it with them.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” His eyes are angry and wired. Just as they were all those years ago in the public toilets.
Just as they’ve been so many times since, when I haven’t played into his filthy fucking hands at every opportunity.
“It’s none of your cunting business, old man,” I tell him.
“Oh, but it fucking is,” he hisses. “Those boys are next in line to the family business. My fucking business.”
I laugh in his face.
And there, amongst the laughter, is the simple truth I’ve been avoiding my whole fucking life.
The truth of the peace I’ve granted my boys, even though they don’t realise it yet.
I want out.
“You’ll have to find another puppet to train in my stead. Thomas wants to be a footballer, and Matthew… well, Matthew doesn’t have the disposition for this shit. I see him as an artist maybe, or a celebrity chef. Maybe even a flower arranger.”
“Don’t test my fucking patience, boy.” My father’s disgust is actually etched into his features. A lifetime of scowling carved into stone under spiteful eyes. “You’ll withdraw your instruction with immediate effect. I’ll handle Claire and her lunatic educational preferences.”
“I won’t,” I say, “And you certainly won’t be doing fucking anything about Claire.”
The thump of his fist on wood makes my pens rattle. “Be careful, boy. Be very fucking careful.”
I don’t even blink. “We’re done here.”
It’s in my eyes and I know it. I know he sees every single flicker of hatred I have for him, and this shitty fucking business, and the way I’ve lived my seedy fucking life.
“We’re not done,” he seethes. “Not even fucking close.”
“I’m done,” I tell him, and I hate my beating heart. “I’m done with bailing out cunts and crooks.”
“What the–”
“I’m done with shaking hands with addicts, and fraudsters, incompetent fuckwits with more money than sense.”
“Don’t–”
“I’m done with rapists and murderers, I’m done with people hiding behind expensive suits. And I’m fucking done with you.”
“YOU’RE NOT FUCKING DONE!” he roars.
I laugh, because he looks even more unhinged than I feel.
“Oh, but I am,” I say. “I’m going to off my caseload onto Hugh Lister. He’s doing well. A rising star in your delightful organisation. I’m sure he’ll be able to handle it.”
His finger is white when he jabs it in my direction. “You don’t walk away from clients like yours, boy. And you can’t walk away from clients like mine.”
My gut twists.
“I haven’t had anything to do with clients like yours for fucking years.”
“That doesn’t fucking matter,” he says. “You know things. Things that make you a fucking liability if you stop toeing the fucking line.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
My eyes are like steel. His are like stone.
“I couldn’t keep you safe, boy.”
“You wouldn’t try,” I say.
He doesn’t even attempt to deny it.
“What in the name of holy fucking Christ is going on with you?” he asks, and he’s searching. Digging.
I hate the way it makes me shiver.
I force bravado. “I’m thinking I might take on some legal aid cases. Represent the good guys for a change. Who’d have thought?” My laugh comes out twisted.
His pupils are like pinpricks. “Something happened to you, boy. What the fuck is it?”
“Something happened to me a long fucking time ago and you fucking know it. You were there.”
His smile is grotesque. “You liked it, boy. You moaned like a little fucking sissy bitch as you shot your load over that piss-stained wall.”
“Get out of my office, you disgusting old cunt.”