Josh shrugged and turned to leave. “Well you’d better go and explain it to him then, hadn’t you?”
Pete’s heart sank. “I’m coming with you.” He leapt out of bed and grabbed a hoodie from the floor.
“What, so you can try and change my mind? Don’t waste your time.”
“No,” he muttered. “I’ll help. For Mum.”
That wasn’t the only reason. Josh was never going to change his mind. The only thing he could do now was stay with his brother, because he didn’t want Josh bumping into Harry’s lads alone.
It was chaos outside the supermarket beside the Home Warehouse. Pete only noticed when they were right outside—for the whole twenty-minute walk there he’d been watching all around them, praying that Harry or some of his lads weren’t going to appear. They hadn’t.
“Pete! I said it’s closed.”
He turned around. Josh was watching him impatiently. “What?”
“What’re you playing at? You’re the one who wanted to come with me. At least pay attention. I said it’s closed.”
Pete turned and looked at the vast shop. It was dark inside—no surprise, really. “But the supermarket’s open?”
Josh shrugged. “I suppose they have to get rid of stuff before it goes off and people are queuing out the door. There’s not so much demand for DIY stuff.” He lowered his voice. “Yet. It won’t be long before people realise there are torches and barbecues in there. Not that it matters, seeing as it’s closed…”
Pete nodded. It was the second time Josh had said that now. Suddenly it dawned on him. “You’re hinting. You want me to break in.”
Josh's scowl didn’t change. “Why not? If you’d do it for scum like Harry, why wouldn’t you do it for your own family?”
“I’m not a thief,” Pete said, flushing. Sure, he’d robbed stuff from time to time, but that was when he was a kid.
“Well, you’re not a saint.”
“No, I’m not.” He looked around to see if there was anyone nearby listening. “I sell things for them, alright? And run the money back to Zane. That’s not the same. It’s not like I’m out everyday robbing places.”
Josh rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You think that makes you better? You’re still a criminal.”
“I’m not. It’s… look, if they just made it legal then people would be able to buy it. They’re always going to buy it.”
“I don’t want to get into this debate with you,” Josh hissed. “How could you work for someone like that? He runs brothels and sells drugs. He sells his shit to desperate people and people like you enable him. It’s sick. How do you think Mum feels? Do you think it’s easy for her to look the neighbours in the eye knowing her son’s out there selling that shit?”
“They don’t… I don’t…” He drew back his fist and punched the shutter in frustration. “I don’t sell around our street, okay? And they’re all junkies anyway. It’s not like I was the one who got them hooked.”
“We’re never going to agree on this.”
“Why bring it up then?”
“To show you…” Josh sighed. “Oh look, just find a way in, okay? Stop pretending you’re above it.”
Pete shook his head. He’d always suspected Josh was ashamed of him, but it was surprisingly hurtful to have it confirmed. He closed his eyes. But wasn’t it understandable? After all, he’d just put Josh on Harry’s radar. “There are too many people here. Let’s go around the back.”
He didn’t mention it again until after they’d nailed the first piece of board to their mother’s bedroom window. They nailed it on the inside, not wanting to draw attention to what they were doing. Pete hadn’t mentioned the fact that the two of them pushing packed trolleys full of plywood sheets up the road was probably enough of a giveaway. He’d stayed quiet, not wanting to piss his brother off even more.
“Right, that’s that done,” Josh said, dropping his hammer and shaking out his arm. “Let’s do downstairs next. Then we can do our rooms.”
“Josh, wait,” he called to his brother’s departing back.
“What?”
“You should think about it. Just humour him, you know?”
“What, like yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir? Is that what you want me to do? Bend the knee to Harry?”
“No! For fuck’s sake. Just tell him what you told me and that’s the end of it.”
Josh shook his head and continued on down the stairs. “No. I’m not doing it.”
“What are you boys arguing about?” their mother shouted from the bottom of the stairs. “Can you not just get along with each other like brothers are supposed to?”
“Nothing, Mum,” Josh said, shooting Pete a filthy look. “Just debating how many nails we should be using per board, that’s all.”
“Really? Because it sounded like—”
“It’s nothing, really,” Pete said, hurrying down the stairs after Josh. “Just a disagreement. Josh was being a bit stingy with the nails and I was trying to warn him, that’s all. His way isn’t safe.”
Josh spun around and the next thing Pete knew he was being held against the wall by his throat. He coughed and gasped for air, flailing at his brother. Josh stayed out of reach. Only when Pete managed to kick him in the knee did he loosen his grip.
“Boys!” their mother cried, rushing at them. “Stop it! Stop it, Josh! He’s your brother!”
When she collapsed down onto the bottom step, Josh let go and turned away. “I’m sorry, Mum. He was—”
“He’s your little brother, Josh,” she hissed in a strangled voice. “Why do the two of you have to hate each other? There’s enough people who’ll do that.”
“I know,” Pete said, clutching at his neck. For a second there, he’d been worried. Josh's eyes had been so full of hate he’d wondered if he’d ever let go. “I know.” He fell silent when his brother turned and caught his eye. It wasn’t fair to drag her into this.
“Come on. Let’s get the front windows done.”
“I’ll go get the tools.”
Pete rolled his shoulders. They were aching from holding up the sheet of plywood. Josh was so particular about everything. Pete had wanted to just hammer the nails in as quickly as possible and get it done, but Josh was taking the time to line them up and make sure they were evenly spaced.
Any other time he would have called him out on it and taken over, but he didn’t now. Josh would never listen to him if he started throwing his weight around.
He sighed. He couldn’t help himself. This was taking so long. “Listen, what if you just…”
Josh spun around so suddenly that Pete didn’t have a chance to change his grip on the plywood sheet, which was only attached to the window frame by one nail. It came off with a horrible creaking sound.
“Where do you get off?!” Josh raged.
“I’m just trying—”
“No! Stop! I told you my answer. Do you really think you’re going to change my mind? You can’t, you know. So just stop.”
They got back to work in sullen silence. It was trickier to reattach the board where the nails had torn through it.
“My arms are killing me,” Pete muttered after they’d spend several more minutes in silence and he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Swap?”
Josh stood aside, holding the board with one hand and extending the hammer with the other. “Nails are on the chair there.”
“I know.”
They carried on. Pete got into a routine of hammering and reaching for the next nail. There was something calming about it. After a few minutes, he noticed a change in atmosphere. He looked over and found Josh staring at him.