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Chapter Thirteen

'I mean it, don't fucking wind me up. I ain't giving you nix.'

Dave and Tommy Williams were both at a point where murder was definitely an option. The man they were fighting with knew this but was not worried; at least, he was not as worried as he should have been. Both the Williams brothers were more than aware that he seemed almost uninterested. Colin Parker was an arsehole and they knew it. Till now, though, he had always been a nervous arsehole.

'Where the fuck is the money, Col? Just give it to us, eh.' The uncertainty was in Dave's voice and Parker knew it. He snorted with contempt, his red face and unshaven cheeks making him look worse than ever. He was an ugly man anyway, his sneer just made him look even uglier.

'Can I ask you two something?' His voice was calm, as if interested in their answer.

Dave nodded, out of curiosity. 'Course, what?'

Colin grinned and it was a sarcastic and brave action. Holding out his arms, he said slowly, 'Do I look even remotely bothered? You don't scare me. You're fucking ice-creams, no more and no less.'

He lit a joint with steady hands and when it was sparked up properly, he said with heavy sarcasm, If your brother Dennis ain't with you then you can both fuck off. Let's face it, he was the scary one.'

Colin Parker smiled then, a confident smile, one that was guaranteed to annoy. He was a small-time gambler who had a serious habit and, ergo, an even more serious debt. He was paying fuck all if he didn't have to.

Colin was a short, shaven-headed individual, stocky and strong. A founding member of the ICF, he was a bully boy who saw himself as above the common herd and as someone who could also look after himself if the fancy took him. He fought on the terraces every Saturday although that was often en masse. Alone, he could hold his own but he preferred to have a gang behind him. Safety in numbers was his usual credo, but these two didn't seem to be too much of a worry. Not after what he had heard on the streets; they were on their last legs. The Williams brothers had once been a force to be reckoned with, but not any more. These two were like Mutt and Jeff. About as hard as a nun with a water pistol.

He knew the Williams brothers were not the Faces they had once been and therefore he saw no reason to give them any money he could be using to his own advantage. A bet was a bet after all, and if he could delay payment, all the better. He wasn't averse to a little break in his payments to give him time to recoup his money or win back what he owed.

He grinned once more as he said, with conviction, 'Up yours, cunts.'

There was no respect in his voice and no fear. His attitude was becoming a regular occurrence lately and it hurt. Dave knew they were not going to get anything from this bloke without some serious threats and some serious violence. But Colin was a football fighter, he spent his Saturdays looking for aggro on the terraces. As a Boleyn boy, born and bred, he saw the North Bank as his stomping ground. Upton Park was his excuse to hurt people and gambling was his excuse to relax and take stock between games.

The Williams boys held no real threat as far as he was concerned, he knew they were yesterday's news and even when they had been on top, he had not felt any real kind of fear where they were concerned. He paid out for Brodie, no one else, and that had always been just before a serious reminder of his debt had been called for. This time though, he owed the money to Cain and Spider. People he had less time for than even Dave and his brothers.

When he was betting with Patrick he was a prompt payer, never more than a few days over his deadline, and even then, a smile and a cheery wave as he settled his debt. Not any more. Now, it seemed, he owed a grand to someone he saw as nothing more than a greedy black bastard; like he was going to put himself out to serve that ponce up with anything other than a fucking good hiding. Brodie should be ashamed of passing the betting monies over to the blacks.

If he didn't have such an important job on the terraces, sorting out the men from the boys, he would have been in the army. And now he had the added insult of being accosted by a couple of has-beens collecting his hard-earned poke for the blackies. What a fucking liberty.

It was outrageous and he decided to be offended. 'Tell the coons I ain't giving them nothing, all right?'

Dave saw the futility of his new role and his younger brother, Tommy, was looking at him with an expression that said he was getting towards the end of his tether; that he was looking for some kind of guidance from him. Dave wished that he had brought Ricky along. Although he was the baby, he was far more game and wouldn't expect him to guide his every move.

He had nothing left to give him. He knew that Colin Parker was a nut job and he also knew that if he didn't bring the money back to Cain there would be ambulances arriving and that they wouldn't be for Parker, they would be for them. His confidence was shot and he was a bundle of nerves; his life was like a fucking soap opera these days. All aggro and excess alcohol, it was all he could do these days to climb out of his pit in the morning. He knew that Colin Parker was just fronting, no more and no less, but he also knew that Colin Parker had already sussed out that his tactic had worked. He walked out of the flat in Leytonstone with his heart beating loud in his head and his stomach ready to vacate its contents at any moment.

He took deep breaths to calm himself as he waited for his brother to follow behind him. 'Are you having a tin bath or what, Dave?' Tommy spoke quietly, aware that they would be listened to by anyone within earshot.

Dave shook his handsome head and said in a whisper, 'It's all shit ain't it? It is all fucking, poxy shit. And me and you are the fucking fall guys, thanks to that cunt we called a brother…'

Tommy was fed up with Dave and his girly whining. His anger was phenomenal and his temper was at its height. He was not a man to be fucked with any more. Something had to be said and he was the person to say it. His disgust was evident, even to himself, and also to the brother he had always looked up to. But times were hard and they were changing by the minute, as Dave would soon find out.

'Look at you. Call yourself a man, a Williams? Will you fucking give it a fucking rest? We have to collect this poke or we are fucked. I am just about fed up with it all. Right? So can you just for once, once, concentrate on the job in hand. I don't want a fucking postmortem on our lives and I don't want a fucking post-mortem on our cunt of a brother and his mistakes. I just want the money, that's all. And I want it now, Dave.'

Dave nodded with complete understanding, but without any kind of belief or any kind of energy. He was finished and he knew it but, more to the point, Tommy knew it.

'I know. Course I know that. But you saw Colin, he is a lairy little fucker. What are we supposed to do? I don't want to take him on. I don't want to do this any more.'

And he didn't. Dave had lost the nerve that was needed to iron out enemies. He'd lost the want and the enjoyment that a good fight could bring. Dave was like a fucking no-neck; he was like the people they collared off. Dave had made the ultimate mistake; he had become the person they depended on for their livelihood.

Tommy closed his eyes and sighed, forcing himself to be calm enough to talk rationally.

'What we going to do, mate? How are we going to sort this out, eh? Please, Dave. Pull yourself together and we'll beat this fucker to a pulp and get on with our lives.'

Tommy was irritated and Dave could see that.

'I don't know what to do, Tom. We need to get that money, iron him out as we would usually, but Colin is a mad cunt.'

Tommy sighed heavily. He could hear and feel the fear in his older brother's voice, could feel the indecision and the nervousness inside him. On one level he understood his brother's careful consideration for the family, on another level his brother was getting on his tits. He'd had just about enough. He stared around him for a few moments, breathing in the evening air and calming himself down so he wouldn't lose it completely.

They were on the balcony that fronted the flats, the air stank of chip fat and stale cigarettes. All around them was the bustle of a council estate during the early evening. The young girls were dressed in their finery and hanging around waiting for the young men who would be their downfall. Dealers were out for their first foray of the night and old dears were on their way to bingo, knitted gloves and knitted hats the order of the day. Kids as young as three were still playing out the front, their clothes filthy and their faces already hardened by the act of bringing themselves up.

It was a reminder of their own upbringing and Tommy was on the verge of tears, tears of anger and the humiliation they were on the receiving end of. Tommy was a lump as the local people would say. He was big and he could have a row and he was at the age when he was willing to make his mark, even though his older brothers were happy to sit back and become no-necks, nothings. He couldn't believe they would let the work of a lifetime go, just because they were wary of Brodie. Well, fuck Brodie and fuck the rest of them. He was determined to make his mark, no matter what, and he was going to fight for his right to earn in the highest echelons of their chosen profession once more.

'What the fuck are we going to do then?'

It was a statement and Dave could hear the challenge as well as the anger in his brother's voice. He knew he was finished in his brother's eyes. He only wished he could explain properly just how much trouble they were now in.

'Are you going to answer me, Dave? For fuck's sake, we were asked to collect and I am going to collect, with or without you.'

Dave shook his head in distress. 'No matter what we do, Tom, we won't get any real thanks for it. All we will get is grief from Colin Parker and his cronies.'

Tommy stared into his brother's face and swallowed down the urge to lamp him one.

'It's a fucking grand, that's all. It's peanuts to this wanker and we are hardly asking for the national debt, are we? And if we don't spank for this one we're on the skids; who the fuck will use us in the future? Why would they? We have to make some kind of fucking stand now, or we will be scratching in the dirt for ever.'

Dave knew he was right but he didn't ever want to have to face Jimmy Brick or Patrick Brodie again.

'Give him a week and we'll have a rethink. OK?'

Tommy shook his head in disgust and, hawking in his throat, he spat on to the concrete floor. Then he walked back into the flat and, picking up a kitchen chair, he crashed it over Colin Parker's head with all the strength that he could muster.

Colin was as amazed as Dave. He tried to crawl across the floor on his hands and knees, his head pouring blood and his mouth trying to bring forth some kind of warning, but all he could manage was a low animal grunt. Tommy Williams repeated the blows over and over again. The force of his anger and disappointment made him vicious and determined. Parker tried to crawl under the table but Tommy just kicked him over and over again, until he was spent and Colin was still, lifeless. Tommy stripped him of his jewellery and his wallet and walked outside once more.

He looked at his elder brother and said quietly, and with hatred, 'Fuck you, Dave, and fuck Brodie.'

He pocketed his spoils and walked away from his brother without a backward glance.

Dave watched him go, his heart heavy with the knowledge that he had been beaten and cowed, but with good reason. He knew what could happen if you pushed it too far and he was sorry that he had not explained that sufficiently to his little brothers.

Spider and Cain were in the club they frequented in Paddington. The usual customers gave them the salute they had come to expect and, walking through the main bar to the small offices behind, they greeted everyone with a smile and their usual cheesy grins.

The club was owned by them, though no one would ever be able to prove that. Even paying legitimate taxes was beyond them. They were also not about to be placed anywhere for any length of time by the filth. This was just another hang-out as far as anyone was concerned. Nothing to write home about and nothing could pin them down here.

In the back room, called the office for no other reason than they couldn't think of a better word for it, sat Jimmy Brick and Patrick Brodie. That Spider and Cain were surprised to see them was evident, but they both recovered from their surprise with an ease that made Patrick Brodie suspicious.

'Hey, how are you, man?' Spider, as always, was pleased to see his friend.

Patrick grinned. 'Good, as always.' He stood up and clasped his friend's hand tightly, telling him that he was still in the frame whatever happened.

Patrick sat down once more and stared at Cain with cold eyes. 'And how are you, mate?' The question was loaded with malice and Patrick was pleased to see the flicker of fear that passed ever so briefly over Cain's handsome features. He had hit the mark as he had intended. He just hoped that would be enough to bring him in line.

But Cain recovered his equilibrium quickly and shrugged nonchalantly, saying with the arrogance of youth and inexperience, 'Never better.'

Spider saw the look exchanged between Jimmy and Patrick and his natural suspiciousness took hold.

'Glad to hear it.' Patrick threw a bundle of money on to the table.

'What are you doing letting people like Colin Parker have credit?'

Spider's eyes widened slightly at the words. Other than that, no one would have guessed that he was rattled by Patrick's words. Patrick knew he was though, which is why he had said them in the first place.

'Did you know about this?'

Spider was expecting the question as he knew Patrick would have been expecting him to know it. He wouldn't have asked it otherwise. Brodie was not going to throw him a blind side, a curve, he wanted peace at all costs.

They were just play-acting, and Spider appreciated his friend's decency and his guarded pretence as he spoke to him. Spider was so annoyed that he could easily have bludgeoned his brother with anything that came to hand. Instead, he said, with an almost genuine honesty, 'Please, Pat. You know I would never countenance anything like that.'

Cain could hear the underlying annoyance in his older brother's voice but he was still too new to this game to realise that he was being flaked by the three main players in the room. His brother included.

Cain was unaware just how angry Patrick Brodie was with him, or that he had stepped on someone else's toes. He didn't yet understand that it was only because of his brother he was being given a Get Out Of Jail Free card.

Cain was shrewd enough to know that he had dropped a serious bollock and he was only interested in talking himself out of any kind of aggravation.

'Have I done a wrong 'un?'

Cain was being rude and he was over the top. He was without a brain cell if he honestly thought he was going to get away with any of it. He was standing by Patrick, his arms out in a gesture of supplication; his whole demeanour was telling them that he had had a capture and he was willing to learn from his mistakes. But it was also a gesture that said he was biding his time, that he thought they were all dinosaurs, his brother included. He was under the mistaken apprehension that he was too clever to be caught, that no one really knew the score where he was concerned.

Spider laughed loudly and punched his brother with more might than he would normally.

'You let a fucking racist thug have credit?'

Cain shrugged arrogantly. 'Who cares what he thinks? He wanted to carry on playing and now he owes us more money.'

Patrick nodded at the cash he had thrown down on to the table. 'He owes you nothing. There is a two hundred for your trouble.'

'But he still owes me a grand.' It was said quickly, without thought for who he was addressing and with anger and disrespect.

Patrick looked at him with a cold and calculated contempt. 'You get what I give you, boy.'

The atmosphere was heavy with malice and Cain was surprised to find that his brother was obviously on the opposite side. For the first time ever, Cain was on his own and he didn't like it.

Spider was seriously angry. His dreadlocks were thick and wild and they seemed to take on a life of their own when he lost his temper.

Cain was quick to note that Patrick was not at all fazed, yet his brother was almost spitting feathers. He had never before experienced anything like this and he was not impressed. He was earning, that was supposed to be what they were all about, so why was he being singled out for it? He was being vilified for making a few quid off the skinheads he loathed? Taking the spend off the scum was what they were all about, surely?

'It won't happen again, Pat. I will guarantee it.' Spider spoke with respectful authority and this annoyed his younger brother even more. Spider was supposed to be someone; Spider and Patrick were supposed to be partners. Why was his brother acting like a fucking houseboy?

Patrick knew what was going through Cain's mind; he had expected it. The boy was young, eager and if what he had found out was true, which he suspected it was, then he was also in need of a swift kick up the jacksy.

'Oh have a day off will you!'

The laughter in the room hurt more than anything else.

Patrick was shaking his head in utter disbelief. The boy was a fucking brahma. He was off his tree if he thought they were cunt enough to think he was some kind of businessman. Who in their right mind allowed people like Parker to have credit? Parker was a strictly cash-only gambler. If he was asked to say what he had for breakfast he would lie, add a sausage and then accuse someone of stealing it. He was also a member of the ICF and they were not an organisation to meddle with. They were just out for the fight, nothing more and nothing less. Patrick had no intention of taking them out over a debt. He would have done if he had to; that went without saying. But he had no intention of bringing any kind of notice on himself or on anyone in his organisation because of something so trivial. If Cain thought he was going to make his mark by letting people like Parker scrounge a few bob then he was either a retard or in need of a serious talking-to.

Either way, it was now in Spider's domain and he was happy to let him sort it out. If Spider naused it up, he would step in without a second's thought. He saw Cain was still feeling the heat and he decided to put a block on him once and for all.

'You think this is out of order, don't you?'

Patrick and Spider could see that Cain was still annoyed and that he didn't see what the problem was. Like most youngsters, he had started a chain of events that could bring them all down and he couldn't see that fact. He was still too stupid to even ask why he was being singled out as he was. He was so fucking arrogant that he didn't even have the savvy to question his betters and learn something for the future.

Cain didn't answer him. His pride was hurt and his sensible head was finally telling him to keep his trap shut. The way Jimmy Brick was watching him was disconcerting, to say the least, and he decided he would be better off retreating on this occasion.

'You borrowed money to people who would see any kind of payment as anathema, especially to the likes of you. Tommy Williams ended up killing Colin Parker over a fucking grand. A grand. A fucking pittance and you were the cause of that death, boy. Parker's death could easily have led to us lot getting our fucking collars felt and for what, eh? A poxy grand? You lairy little cunt. We don't need anyone causing us that kind of aggro and the sooner you get your thick head around that, the better.'

Patrick looked at the handsome young man before him and wished he could have dealt with him in an easier manner, but he couldn't. Cain had to learn the hard way about their world and he had been cushioned by Spider for too long. Now they were all on tenterhooks over a fucking ice-cream like Parker. Parker was, after all was said and done, a fucking civilian and when they died people tended to ask questions.

Spider shook his head in desperation. Cain was going to get the rollicking of a lifetime and he was going to enjoy distributing it; the boy needed to understand about the boundaries and guidelines that made up their world. Now was as good a time as any for a lesson in reality.

Jimmy Brick was sorry he was not going to be called on to distribute his special brand of justice. He didn't like Cain, he never had, but Spider had been a personal hero of his since childhood. A diamond geezer, a legend in his own lunch-time. The man who had given him his first real job.

Now he saw Spider as nothing more than a man, someone who was frightened for his younger brother. Family was a fucking bind in their game, it was something to be used as a weapon. If a man stood alone, he was safe and he could be brave and honourable. As long as there was no one you cared for more than you cared for yourself, you had an edge. But families were a danger, families and children were the downfall of many a great man. Once you cared for someone, you had a chink in your armour; you had a fucking gaping big hole in your defences that would be used against you without a second's thought. Jimmy knew that because he would do the same tiling himself if it gained him what he wanted.

Spider was a touch, a fucking dynamo in Jimmy's eyes, but he would never be the same man again now that he had swallowed for his little brother. Mainly because his little brother was not worth his loyalty, was not worth Spider's deliberate disregard for the friendship that he and Brodie had enjoyed for so long. Cain was not going to let this go, he was too worried about how he was perceived by the people in his world.

That alone was always a cause for concern but Jimmy would sit it out, watch the main players and, when the time was right, he would decide what side he was on.

Until then, he would keep his own counsel.

But he knew one thing. This was not over, not by a long chalk.

'Is she still here?' Patrick's voice was loud and Lil, despite her anger at her husband's usual greeting to her mother, desperately wanted to laugh. Her mother had decided to take it in good spirit even though no one would believe he meant anything other than malice.

Annie sighed theatrically, her eyes rolling upwards and her bosom heaving, but she was masking a smile that was evident to anyone watching her.

The boys were amazed, as was their father. 'You feeling all the ticket, girl?'

Annie giggled like a schoolgirl and Patrick didn't know whether to laugh at the old bird's antics or be afraid. She had changed so dramatically over the last few months that he wondered if his old granny's tales of changelings did actually have some credence.

Pushing Lil into the kitchen, he whispered, 'She on fucking drugs, or what? I had just got used to her as an aggro merchant and now it's like she's a born-again Doris Day.'

Lil was laughing out loud now and Patrick was glad. It had been a while since she had been this happy, this carefree, and he sometimes felt guilty because he knew she worried about him.

'How you feeling, girl?'

She shrugged. 'Like shit. I tell you now, mate, I will be glad when I deliver this one. It's the hardest yet, and I ain't the type of person to make a drama out of nothing, as you know.'

Patrick hugged her to him, acknowledging the truth of her words.

She did look ill. She looked so pale and wan that he was worried about her. He would rather have her than another child, not that he would voice that opinion out loud. But his Lil looked rough and she knew it. 'Sit down and take the weight off, I'll get you something to eat.'

Annie did not come out to the kitchen and he was grateful for that. Normally, she would have been bustling about like a demented cow and making him feel like a spare part in his own home. He was well able for her and they both knew that, but she still enjoyed giving him a hard time.

The new, improved Annie was like a thorn in his side; he'd actually preferred her when she was a vindictive old bitch, but he had a feeling this was not the time to mention that.

Instead, he helped his wife make a few sandwiches and a pot of tea. That it was after midnight didn't really register. Patrick was a man who expected his woman to do his bidding whenever it suited him and wherever he wanted it. He had arrived home as if it was the norm for her to be making him a snack and listening to his day's events when everyone else was tucked up in bed. But that suited Lil. As tired and as heavy as she felt, Patrick was still her priority and this was what her life was all about; this selfish man and the children they had created between them. Lil was grateful to him every day of her life for making her feel wanted, valued and needed. He had given her a life she could only have dreamt of and she would repay him for her happiness in any way she could.

Lil loved these times, when they were together and the world was asleep and she could have her husband to herself for a few moments. She felt the love coming from him, and knew that, no matter what, she was his real priority, as were the children.

As she buttered bread and washed the salad, Lil felt the child kick. It was a strong kick and it made her double over. Patrick grabbed her and laughed loudly.

As he held her in his arms, she looked up into his handsome face and he said happily, 'Whoa, Lil. I felt that one meself, girl. Another Brodie for the pile, another one cooking and waiting to arrive into the world and take it by storm. We make good babies, Lil, the best. All our kids will be someone and will do something. We are truly blessed.'

Patrick looked into her eyes and saw the dark circles beneath them, the hollowness of her cheeks and realised that she really was ill this time. That this child was taking it out of her and making her ill and he had not even noticed until now. She waited for him to arrive back most nights and he accepted her getting up and cooking, talking or scheming with him and suddenly he felt the guilt of a man who had no real understanding of the pressure he put on the people around him. As he held Lil, he was ashamed that he had only just noticed how thin she was, she was all baby this time. His life outside the house was more real to him at times than the petty dramas his wife was left to deal with on a daily basis. He finally appreciated just how much she actually did for him, making sure that any worries he encountered were in no way the result of anything that might have happened in his home. As he heard the front door close, he knew his mother-in-law had left quietly and he knew even that was down to his Lil. She knew how much the woman aggravated him just by breathing the same air as he did. He also understood that the woman he hated and vilified made his wife's life much easier by her presence and by the little things she did. Even though there was always a price to be paid.

As he hugged his wife again he felt the full force of her sex and her goodness: a combination he knew he was terrified of. Like most men of his generation he knew he had not really given her the respect she was due as the mother of his children or as the love of his life. She had run his clubs at one time and she had done it well, had been respected for her acumen and her shrewdness. Now, thanks to him, she was back to square one, just a housewife, the receptacle for his children and she had accepted that as she had accepted everything else in her life. With dignity and without any kind of argument. In fact, Patrick was now feeling like a Class A bastard; he had practically forgotten about her and about everything that was important while he was sorting out his problems. He was finally feeling a serious guilt and, worse than that, he was looking at a woman who was at the end of her tether but who was still trying to hide her real condition from him so he would not feel that he should be supporting her in any way.

He kissed Lil gently on her lips, her eyes and all over her face as she stood patiently, allowing him access to her as she always had in the past.

His Lil was a brahma, she was a fighter and unless he looked closely, as he was now doing, she would tell him nothing of import about her, or his kids; she was always more interested in making sure he was without worries and that he was happy and content. But she looked terrible, and it was worrying him, because he couldn't say that without hurting her. All the times she had been pregnant before, she had been happy and healthy, and she had never once asked him for anything other than what he had been willing to offer her. And then he made sure he felt good about himself while he was doing it.

And the worst thing of all was, he had needed her tonight, more than ever, and it was only because of that he had seen just how much his chosen lifestyle had affected her and all those around her.

For the first time in years, he was seeing her life from her perspective, and it was not something he was proud of, or indeed something he wanted to dwell on. Instead, he sat her down on the nearest chair and made her relax while he waited on her for a change. But it was a double-edged sword; she knew it was an act on his part, and she pretended that he was doing it all for her.

To see Patrick looking at her with such sadness and such care was enough to make Lil want to smack him in the face. She hated that the fact that she was pregnant made Patrick see her as weak and needy, and it made her feel useless because he didn't see women as anything of value. Every time she was pregnant, Lil felt the enormity of what she could do, what she was capable of.

Yet this miracle of life was still treated by men as if it was nothing, even though they could never do it; they relied on the female of the species to produce for them. And they had to trust the person who was having the child for them because only the woman could be one hundred per cent sure the child inside them was actually their man's. The man had to take their word for it and if the man in question had chosen someone they didn't entirely trust, then that was a poor lookout for them all. Men who had chosen unwisely often had to puff and pant and threaten, to convince themselves that the child they were giving their name to, and paying for, was actually a blood relative. Patrick Brodie, she knew, had never had to worry about that, ever. And so, even as her husband felt sorry for her, Lil knew that she would always have the upper hand because she had put him first and she had always respected his work and looked after his offspring.

Lil was always aware of her husband's thoughts and feelings but she was not going to let on about that now. Like any woman worth her salt, she would milk this for all it was worth. Loving him was one thing but accepting this kind of treatment was something else. She was annoyed with him and the way he had suddenly decided to make out that he understood her life and the way she was feeling. It was an insult, on the one hand, and something she treasured, on the other. Anyway, she was determined to keep her trap shut in case she caused a row, but at times like this she wished he wouldn't act the big I Am.

That Patrick had only just noticed how she was feeling annoyed her but she smiled and allowed him to pet her and love her. After all, he was only a man and, as her mother pointed out at every available opportunity, they couldn't feel their way out of the womb unless a woman was pushing for them. Everything they did from then on was either to get a woman or to keep a woman. In some cases, they tried to do both things at once. When all was said and done, women ruled the fucking world.

As Patrick smiled at her with his smug face and enveloped her once more in his strong arms, she was more convinced of that fact than ever before.