Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Five Beautiful Boys
It seemed to take an age to drive back to the gate and all the while the silence in the car hung thick and heavy. Each of the men had their own reason to be nervous. Clarke was desperate for his freedom, and silently prayed they would get away with no problems. Frank was worried about Ray. He still had to convince the guard that Clarke had attacked him and forced the others to get him off the base. That would be no mean task and Ray would have to use all his skills to make them believe the idea; assuming of course, that they could get away before he was discovered.
Mikey’s breathing was laboured and shallow as he tried to keep a panic attack at bay; now was not the time to bring out an inhaler. The consequences of being stopped and arrested were too dire for him to consider. He thought back to Frank’s tale about being imprisoned for merely being known by the gang who tried to rob the store where he worked. He had been trying to prevent the robbery and had suffered terrible a terrible and unjust penalty. However unwillingly he had acted, Mikey had been instrumental in helping a criminal escape justice. He had done far more that Frank had to warrant his first prison stay and somehow, he doubted that many people would believe that he had been forced into it.
Glancing to his right, Mikey eyed the man they were helping escape and no matter how many times he mulled it over in his mind, he could not understand why they were helping him. He clearly didn’t know them, he only knew Bob. He didn’t ask after him, so Mikey presumed he wasn’t family or even a real friend. The only possibility that made any sense to him was that this man’s arrest could somehow lead the police back to Frank and his gang. One last observation he made was that he did not like Gary Clarke one iota. The man appeared selfish and arrogant and certainly the type who would only look out for himself.
Mikey had been a lawyer now for several years. His knowledge of the law, his attention to detail and his calm easy-going manner had made him very successful. But now he was beginning to observe things on a different level and he was truly surprised by what he saw. He would be the first to admit that the working of the criminal mind was something that he had never fully understood. Yes, he understood that they broke the law and he understood motive, but there was something beneath it all that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It was like a shadow – recognisable, predictable, yet intangible. Frank had given him some insight into his world and in smaller ways so had Bob and Ray. There was a camaraderie and an honesty he had not expected and, despite his expectations, found himself admiring. But this man, Clarke, he apparently had none of their redeeming qualities. He was the type of man he had expected all criminals to be like, the reason he did the job he did. He wondered how wrong he had been about others and if Frank had made assumptions about him too.
At the final approach to the gatehouse, Clarke picked up the mock up of a case file that Frank had brought with him and, lowering his head, pretended to study the notes. To the casual observer, it was a lawyer familiarising himself and carefully checking the finer points of the case, but if anyone were to look close at the file, they would see immediately that none of the notes made any real sense and were merely sections of text copied from various legal sites found on the Internet. Naturally they all hoped that no one would care to even look inside the care.
Frank lowered the driver’s side window and leaned out as the guard approached.
“Name?” the gate guard asked in a tone that suggested that his job had taken that final step beyond routine and into full-blown boredom.
“John Brooke,” Frank replied, his voice remarkably relaxed and calm.
The guard frowned slightly. “Just a minute.”
Frank and Mikey watched as the guard returned to the gatehouse and appeared to be consulting something on the table. Frank tapped the steering wheel; his nerves on edge.
“What’s going on?” Clarke muttered, unwilling to look up for fear of being recognised.
“He’s back in the gate house looking at something,” Mikey replied before gasping with surprise at the next thing he saw. “He’s on the phone.”
“They know!” Clarke hissed from the back seat. “Put your foot down!”
“I’m not leaving Ray if it’s gone wrong,” Frank whispered, briefly glancing over his shoulder.
The ends of Mikey’s lips turned up slightly. Once again, Frank had displayed a level of integrity and honour that was simply beyond his sphere of experience. But of course, he realised, that his experience was actually very limited. The half smile faded as the contradiction of Frank’s readiness to kill re-entered his mind. The lost smile turned swiftly into a frown as Clarke spoke again.
“Listen,” he growled, “I’m not risking going back there because you have some stupid loyalty to that loser.”
Frank turned back, a deep scowl fixed upon his face, but before he had the chance to utter a single word and much to his surprise, Mikey turned on the man at his side.
“That loser, as you call him,” Mikey snapped while still keeping his voice low, “just risked everything to save your sorry ass. We all have. So I suggest you keep your head down and your mouth shut.”
“Or what?” Clarke scowled.
Mikey returned with an intense sneer plastered across his face.
“Or I’ll pretend to wrestle a gun from your grip and turn you in. Who’s going to believe that we rescued you only to turn you in moments later? And David?” Mikey added referring to Ray’s assumed name. “Do you think they’ll believe you when you say he volunteered to be attacked by you?”
“When they find out you’re not a lawyer, then they’ll believe me!”
Mikey’s grin widened. “Ah, but I am a lawyer and I deal with low-lifes like you every day, so don’t think you can get one over on me. You don’t stand a chance.”
Frank turned back as the guard approached. So taken aback was he that he had even forgotten to be concerned about the guard’s absence.
“You the lawyers?” the guard asked as he returned to the car.
“That’s right,” Frank nodded.
“Sorry about the delay, the entry was listed under your firm’s name.”
Frank sighed. “Yes, sorry, I forgot. My assistant did mention that.”
“It’s not a problem, Sir,” the guard almost smiled as he raised the barrier. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Frank replied politely as he raised the window and tried his hardest not to drive off too fast and draw attention. Once out of sight of the gate, Frank wasted no time in putting distance between them and the base.
Pulling up in a quiet street, Frank opened the door, releasing the seatbelt and climbing out in what seemed like a seamless fluid movement. Heading to the passenger side back door, he pulled it open and looked down at Clarke.
“Get out,” he ordered angrily.
Clarke slid from the seat and stood next to Frank. Even though he was taller, it was obvious that Frank refused to be intimidated by him.
“You didn’t see us, you don’t know us. You’ll never contact Bob again and if you so much as hint that you had any dealings with him, we’ll find you and next time we’ll kill you. Got it?”
Clarke merely scowled in reply and turned to leave only to be grabbed by Frank and pulled back to face him.
“Got it!” he repeated. It was a statement, not a question; Clarke was left in no doubt of what was expected of him.
“I got it.”
“One more thing,” Frank began before releasing his grip, “anything happens to our friend back at the base, you’re dead.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that!” he protested.
“Then you better start praying, hadn’t you!” Frank snapped in reply as he pushed the man away from the car and watched as he headed off.
Frank turned back to see Mikey standing on the opposite side of the car.
“You’re going nowhere!” he snapped, “Don’t forget about the trigger device.”
“You seem to think my memory is really poor,” Mikey replied cocking his head to the side. Walking around the front of the car, he slid into the front passenger seat, much to Frank’s astonishment. “Shouldn’t we be heading for the rendezvous point?”
Frank’s astounded expression soon melted into an appreciative smile.
“New Mikey, I like him,” he commented as he slid in behind the wheel.
“No, same old Mikey, new perspective.”
“Either way, I like him.”
“You liked him before,” Mikey taunted Frank.
“Where did that speech come from before?”
“Like I said, new perspective.”
Frank nodded. “Okay, but one thing though, I don’t appreciate being called a low-life.”
Mikey turned his head slowly to stare at Frank.
“I called him a low-life, not you.”
“You’re saying there’s a difference between him and me?” Frank asked, surprised by the sudden turn of events.
“There was a time when I would have been blinkered and not see past the charge or the rap sheet. Now, I see the people and yes, there’s a big difference.”
Frank sat in silence for a few moments as he considered Mikey’s words before turning the key in the ignition. Mikey was proving to be intriguing.
Mikey’s breathing was laboured and shallow as he tried to keep a panic attack at bay; now was not the time to bring out an inhaler. The consequences of being stopped and arrested were too dire for him to consider. He thought back to Frank’s tale about being imprisoned for merely being known by the gang who tried to rob the store where he worked. He had been trying to prevent the robbery and had suffered terrible a terrible and unjust penalty. However unwillingly he had acted, Mikey had been instrumental in helping a criminal escape justice. He had done far more that Frank had to warrant his first prison stay and somehow, he doubted that many people would believe that he had been forced into it.
Glancing to his right, Mikey eyed the man they were helping escape and no matter how many times he mulled it over in his mind, he could not understand why they were helping him. He clearly didn’t know them, he only knew Bob. He didn’t ask after him, so Mikey presumed he wasn’t family or even a real friend. The only possibility that made any sense to him was that this man’s arrest could somehow lead the police back to Frank and his gang. One last observation he made was that he did not like Gary Clarke one iota. The man appeared selfish and arrogant and certainly the type who would only look out for himself.
Mikey had been a lawyer now for several years. His knowledge of the law, his attention to detail and his calm easy-going manner had made him very successful. But now he was beginning to observe things on a different level and he was truly surprised by what he saw. He would be the first to admit that the working of the criminal mind was something that he had never fully understood. Yes, he understood that they broke the law and he understood motive, but there was something beneath it all that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It was like a shadow – recognisable, predictable, yet intangible. Frank had given him some insight into his world and in smaller ways so had Bob and Ray. There was a camaraderie and an honesty he had not expected and, despite his expectations, found himself admiring. But this man, Clarke, he apparently had none of their redeeming qualities. He was the type of man he had expected all criminals to be like, the reason he did the job he did. He wondered how wrong he had been about others and if Frank had made assumptions about him too.
At the final approach to the gatehouse, Clarke picked up the mock up of a case file that Frank had brought with him and, lowering his head, pretended to study the notes. To the casual observer, it was a lawyer familiarising himself and carefully checking the finer points of the case, but if anyone were to look close at the file, they would see immediately that none of the notes made any real sense and were merely sections of text copied from various legal sites found on the Internet. Naturally they all hoped that no one would care to even look inside the care.
Frank lowered the driver’s side window and leaned out as the guard approached.
“Name?” the gate guard asked in a tone that suggested that his job had taken that final step beyond routine and into full-blown boredom.
“John Brooke,” Frank replied, his voice remarkably relaxed and calm.
The guard frowned slightly. “Just a minute.”
Frank and Mikey watched as the guard returned to the gatehouse and appeared to be consulting something on the table. Frank tapped the steering wheel; his nerves on edge.
“What’s going on?” Clarke muttered, unwilling to look up for fear of being recognised.
“He’s back in the gate house looking at something,” Mikey replied before gasping with surprise at the next thing he saw. “He’s on the phone.”
“They know!” Clarke hissed from the back seat. “Put your foot down!”
“I’m not leaving Ray if it’s gone wrong,” Frank whispered, briefly glancing over his shoulder.
The ends of Mikey’s lips turned up slightly. Once again, Frank had displayed a level of integrity and honour that was simply beyond his sphere of experience. But of course, he realised, that his experience was actually very limited. The half smile faded as the contradiction of Frank’s readiness to kill re-entered his mind. The lost smile turned swiftly into a frown as Clarke spoke again.
“Listen,” he growled, “I’m not risking going back there because you have some stupid loyalty to that loser.”
Frank turned back, a deep scowl fixed upon his face, but before he had the chance to utter a single word and much to his surprise, Mikey turned on the man at his side.
“That loser, as you call him,” Mikey snapped while still keeping his voice low, “just risked everything to save your sorry ass. We all have. So I suggest you keep your head down and your mouth shut.”
“Or what?” Clarke scowled.
Mikey returned with an intense sneer plastered across his face.
“Or I’ll pretend to wrestle a gun from your grip and turn you in. Who’s going to believe that we rescued you only to turn you in moments later? And David?” Mikey added referring to Ray’s assumed name. “Do you think they’ll believe you when you say he volunteered to be attacked by you?”
“When they find out you’re not a lawyer, then they’ll believe me!”
Mikey’s grin widened. “Ah, but I am a lawyer and I deal with low-lifes like you every day, so don’t think you can get one over on me. You don’t stand a chance.”
Frank turned back as the guard approached. So taken aback was he that he had even forgotten to be concerned about the guard’s absence.
“You the lawyers?” the guard asked as he returned to the car.
“That’s right,” Frank nodded.
“Sorry about the delay, the entry was listed under your firm’s name.”
Frank sighed. “Yes, sorry, I forgot. My assistant did mention that.”
“It’s not a problem, Sir,” the guard almost smiled as he raised the barrier. “Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Frank replied politely as he raised the window and tried his hardest not to drive off too fast and draw attention. Once out of sight of the gate, Frank wasted no time in putting distance between them and the base.
Pulling up in a quiet street, Frank opened the door, releasing the seatbelt and climbing out in what seemed like a seamless fluid movement. Heading to the passenger side back door, he pulled it open and looked down at Clarke.
“Get out,” he ordered angrily.
Clarke slid from the seat and stood next to Frank. Even though he was taller, it was obvious that Frank refused to be intimidated by him.
“You didn’t see us, you don’t know us. You’ll never contact Bob again and if you so much as hint that you had any dealings with him, we’ll find you and next time we’ll kill you. Got it?”
Clarke merely scowled in reply and turned to leave only to be grabbed by Frank and pulled back to face him.
“Got it!” he repeated. It was a statement, not a question; Clarke was left in no doubt of what was expected of him.
“I got it.”
“One more thing,” Frank began before releasing his grip, “anything happens to our friend back at the base, you’re dead.”
“There’s nothing I can do about that!” he protested.
“Then you better start praying, hadn’t you!” Frank snapped in reply as he pushed the man away from the car and watched as he headed off.
Frank turned back to see Mikey standing on the opposite side of the car.
“You’re going nowhere!” he snapped, “Don’t forget about the trigger device.”
“You seem to think my memory is really poor,” Mikey replied cocking his head to the side. Walking around the front of the car, he slid into the front passenger seat, much to Frank’s astonishment. “Shouldn’t we be heading for the rendezvous point?”
Frank’s astounded expression soon melted into an appreciative smile.
“New Mikey, I like him,” he commented as he slid in behind the wheel.
“No, same old Mikey, new perspective.”
“Either way, I like him.”
“You liked him before,” Mikey taunted Frank.
“Where did that speech come from before?”
“Like I said, new perspective.”
Frank nodded. “Okay, but one thing though, I don’t appreciate being called a low-life.”
Mikey turned his head slowly to stare at Frank.
“I called him a low-life, not you.”
“You’re saying there’s a difference between him and me?” Frank asked, surprised by the sudden turn of events.
“There was a time when I would have been blinkered and not see past the charge or the rap sheet. Now, I see the people and yes, there’s a big difference.”
Frank sat in silence for a few moments as he considered Mikey’s words before turning the key in the ignition. Mikey was proving to be intriguing.
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