21 Guns ~ a Phanfiction

{One}

"What do you mean, the deal's off?" David yelled down the phone, pacing around the living room as Phil did his best to ignore it, "I don't have time for this."

Phil could hear more yelling from the other end of the phone; he'd always expected Sam of all people to know better than to get on dad's bad side.

"You've just made yourself a powerful enemy." David hung up angrily, shoving his phone back into his jacket pocket. Phil didn't dare meet his eyes, feigning interest in the news, which was ironically reporting on increasing gang activity in London.

"Well that's a load of shit," David sneered at the television, which was now displaying gang statistics; according to them, there were hundreds of gangs in the city. Little did they know, there were only four or five, David just happened to have thousands of men working for him, "what do they know, eh, son?"

Phil barely had time to respond before David left the room, slamming the door behind him, whether he meant to or not, probably on his way to send one of his hitmen after Sam.

"Oh fuck." Phil relaxed in his seat. He knew David would never lash out at his only son but he could be unpredictable when he got in a bad mood; god knows what he'd do, and honestly, he'd get away with it, too.

One day, he'd be in charge of the gang, and he didn't know if he'd ever be ready for that kind of responsibility; it wasn't the violence of it that was off-putting, he'd grown up with it so had become almost immune to it, no, it was the constant threat of being caught. He'd always have bodyguards with him, he supposed but what if they were killed? Being in this industry left no room for people with anxiety like him; if you were in, there was no getting out. David had always told him he'd have to "get over it eventually" if he was to be the boss one day. He saw his point; it would be nice to not be constantly worrying but for the time being, he'd just carry on as he was.

*

"I think it's time for you to go on your first drug deal," David said later that day; he was sat in his office, having just finished a phone call with who he assumed to be the buyer, "You're nearly eighteen. I don't know why I haven't sent you on one sooner."

"Will you be there?"

"Of course not!" David laughed darkly, "we have no idea what could go down tonight. I don't want to leave the gang without a leader just yet."

Of course. Getting others to do his dirty work.

"What's the plan?"

"Emma, Sean, Felix and a new kid are gonna come here to pick you up then head to the alley behind Ian's chippy. He'll be inside with a few more men just in case things get hairy."

"Who's the new kid?"

"I don't know, some kid," he said dismissively, "around your age, bought too many drugs and couldn't pay it off and he didn't want to be killed so joined us, you know, the usual. It's probably not wise putting two inexperienced men on the front line in one trip but you have a lot of backup."

It always hurt a little hearing about these cases; he knew firsthand how ruthless gang life could be. There had been a few occasions when the newbie couldn't take it and left after a week; their name would turn up on the news the next day as a murder victim.

"When are we leaving?"

"The deal is at nine tonight but the others are meeting you at eight just in case."

Phil didn't bother asking what it was "just in case" for, he just nodded, turning to leave and just as he opened the grand office door, David coughed:

"I know you can do this Phil. If I didn't, I'd have kept you at home."

Phil turned back to look at him, but David was looking intently at his computer again; his eyes were glazed over, like he was deep in thought.