Ride On

by Stephen J. Martin

  ‘Yeah. I noticed you were talking to Aesop a lot all right. The girls seem to go for him.’

  ‘I can see why!’

  ‘Yeah …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Hmm? Nothing.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No. No.’

  ‘Oh God. It’s not Aesop, is it?’

  ‘What? No. Don’t be silly. What are you talking about?’

  ‘Norman, look at me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Where’s Aesop?’

  ‘Christ only knows.’

  ‘Right. And where are you?’

  ‘I’m here.’

  ‘Yeah. And where am I?’

  ‘You’re here.’

  She nodded and put her hand on his face, going up on her toes to kiss him.

  ‘And what does that tell you? Don’t be going and getting all peculiar now on me. I’ve had a brilliant night.’

  ‘Ah, I’m sorry Trish. I’ve just known him for a long time and … he’s a great bloke, but …’

  She shook her head at him, her eyes closed, and he stopped talking. Then she started to unbutton her top, letting it and her bra fall to the floor. Norman looked down at her, his breath catching.

  ‘Holy fuck,’ he said, unable to help himself.

  She started to unbutton his shirt then, and reached up to pull it from his shoulders. She ran her hands down his chest and around by his sides to pull him closer. Something under her fingers caught her attention. She lifted up his arm to look and found the beginning of the twenty-inch scar that ran in jagged angles from his ribs down and then around to the middle of his back. She frowned at him, but he just shrugged at her and sighed.

  ‘Collapsed lung. When I was younger. They had to operate.’

  She ran her finger along the raised flesh again and looked up at him, but his eyes were closed. Okay. If that’s the way he wanted it. But she wasn’t stupid. Plus, she knew a thing or two about scars. And collapsed lungs for that matter. No surgeon had done that to him.

  But that was fine; he didn’t want her to know.

  ‘You should have sued,’ she said.

  Chapter Five

  A few weeks later, Jimmy was heading into the studio with a guitar riff going through his head. It wasn’t really a Grove thing, but he knew that it would suit Leet for one of their songs. He wasn’t interested in getting a writing credit, or even one for performance on the Leet album, but he’d teach it to Eamonn the guitar player the next day. In the meantime he wanted to get the thing recorded with their click tracks before he bloody forgot it. He’d been fucking useless for months and didn’t trust himself to hang onto an actual decent piece of music in his head for more than one day at a time any more. He’d only been able to finish out their own album with ‘More Than Me’ because he’d started the song months before, when Marco had asked him to be his best man.

  He rounded the corner and started making his way up the street to the front door of Sin Bin, not even noticing the cop car that was parked on the kerb right outside.

  He opened up the door and stepped into the warmth of the studio with a big sigh of relief, taking off his coat and slapping his hands together to get some blood back into them. Another fucking cracking Irish winter so it was, the stinging wind outside whipping your nipples into points you could use to cut glass.

  ‘Jesus,’ he said, opening the control room door. ‘Poxy cold out there again …’

  He stopped. No one was there. He looked through the window into the main room and gasped, feeling something like a smack in his chest. Dónal, Sparky and Aesop were out there with two cops. Aesop. Jimmy hadn’t seen him all week. Oh … fuck, no. What was the gobshite after doing? Was he after getting snared with gange? The dopey bastard. I’ll fucking kill him. Hang on, Jimmy. Hang on. He’s never been caught before. They’ll only give him a bollocking. Right? They only gave you a bollocking the first time, didn’t they? But … why would they send two cops around to the studio just for that? Didn’t sound right. Something was up. Fuck, please let it only have been gange. Please, please, please. Jimmy was pretty sure that Aesop didn’t mess around with other stuff, but there were a lot of new people hanging around them these days after gigs and all. Sparky had already given them a pointed and carefully rehearsed speech about it. ‘Keep an eye out for cunts’, he’d said.

  Jimmy watched his hand go out to the handle of the door and push it open. He heart was hammering like it was about to give out on him.

  ‘Wh … wha …’ he stammered, stepping inside and looking at everyone.

  Garda Number One turned around to him. He was a big bloke. Big as Norman and made even bigger by the huge yellow shiny anoraks they have to wear.

  ‘Who are you?’ he said. Culchie.

  ‘I’m Jimmy. What did he do?’ He looked at Aesop. ‘What are you after doing?’

  ‘Jaysis, Jimmy,’ said Aesop, laughing. ‘You’re some best friend, you know that? The boys in blue call around … “The man we’re holding says that you can attest to his whereabouts yesterday afternoon. Is this true?” “Yes Garda, he was out robbing the post office.”’

  ‘Jimmy,’ said Dónal. ‘I tried calling you earlier but you weren’t picking up.’

  ‘I was at Ma’s all morning. I left me phone at home and haven’t been back. What’s going on?’

  ‘I’m afraid we have a bit of a problem. The two Gardaí here are helping us out with it.’

  ‘What did he do?’

  ‘He didn’t do anything. It’s okay Jimmy. He’s not in trouble. Well, not like that …’

  ‘What? What’s happening then?’

  ‘Well, we’re just trying to find out.’

  ‘Garda Egan,’ said the big one, from behind a moustache he could have used to grow cabbage.

  ‘I’m Garda Ní Mhurchú,’ said his mate, who was a girl copper. Fairly short for a copper, and a bit pudgy. Very short hair and a not a whole lot of soft feminine vibes. A bit of a bulldog head on her. ‘We’re just asking Mr. Murray a few questions to help us in connection with an incident that’s been reported. You’re Jimmy Collins, right? I’ve seen you guys play. Last October it was, in the Town Hall in Galway. It was a great night.’

  ‘Oh. Eh … okay. Thanks. And … so … and … what’s wrong now?’

  Garda Ní Mhurchú turned to the others and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Oh, it’s grand, you can tell him,’ said Aesop, waving a hand at her. ‘He probably won’t even be surprised.’

  ‘It seems that Mr. Murray has offended someone to the point where they’ve been threatening him.’

  Jimmy just nodded at her slowly.

  ‘Told you,’ said Aesop, opening a Twix.

  ‘What kind of threats?’

  ‘Well … we don’t need to go into that just now. Do you mind if I take off this coat? It’s very warm in here.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Dónal. ‘Go mad. Do you want a cup of tea?’

  They both nodded.

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘Sparky, would you mind doing the honours?’

  When they were all settled around a low coffee table in the lounge area, Garda Ní Mhurchú took out her notebook and started writing in it. Jimmy was just sitting on the edge of his chair, his tea getting cold in front of him.

  ‘So, first of all, you don’t know who’s been doing this?’ said Garda Ní Mhurchú.

  ‘No clue,’ said Aesop.

  ‘But it would seem to be a woman, based on what we know?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Okay. And is there one particular woman in your life right now? A girlfriend or partner, or … ?’

  ‘No. Well, just Jennifer I s’pose.’

  ‘Jennifer?’

  ‘Me sister.’

  ‘And would you say your sister is … estranged at all?’

  ‘Ah she can be, yeah. Well, she’s always talking to her goldfish, y’know? Stuff like that. You’d swear they were … but, nah, not anything this bad. And anyway, I know he
r. When she’s annoyed with me she usually just tells me I’m a fu … fool.’

  Jimmy closed his eyes and sighed. He was used to jumping in when Aesop met new people, but he didn’t know if he was supposed to do it when he was being interviewed by the police.

  ‘Okay. And what about other women in your life, Mr. Murray? I mean in a social context. Do you … date for instance? Or are you seeing anyone regularly?’

  ‘This should be fucking good,’ muttered Jimmy under his breath, as he picked up his cup and sat back in his chair for the first time. Sparky suddenly cleared his throat and left to put the kettle on again. Dónal started to fidget on the sofa.

  Aesop was finishing the Twix and fingering the wrapper as he thought.

  ‘Mr. Murray?’

  ‘Well, Garda Ní Mhurchú … y’see … eh … sorry, would you mind calling me Aesop? I feel like me Da’s standing right behind me or something. It’s making me nervous.’

  ‘Of course. Aesop. So … do you see anyone regularly, Aesop?’

  ‘Well … no. Not any one girl in particular.’

  ‘But you’ve been with a number of women recently?’

  ‘What’s recently?’

  ‘Well, let’s say since Christmas.’

  ‘Yes. A number.’

  ‘A big number?’

  ‘Well … medium-sized. I had a bit of a cold there a few weeks ago.’

  ‘I see. Aesop, maybe if we started with the last woman you … em … wooed.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘When was that?’

  ‘Yesterday. No, no … the day before. Tuesday.’

  ‘You’re not sure?’

  ‘Well I was with a girl yesterday all right, but I wouldn’t say I wooed her exactly. But that’s grand as well sometimes, y’know?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Well, some young ones are just quiet, like. But I definitely wooed the one on Tuesday. We had an hour to kill before “Desperate Housewives” so I thought I might as well take her the scenic route. She wooed a fair bit. I remember it because I don’t have much furniture yet, so there’s a bit of an echo around the gaff and I was afraid that …’

  Everyone was looking at him.

  ‘What?’

  Jimmy looked around at Garda Ní Mhurchú. She had a nice big frosty head on her now. She glared at Aesop for a minute and then tapped her notepad.

  ‘You said you were with someone last night?’

  ‘Eh … yeah. Out in Drimnagh somewhere. Had to get a taxi back.’

  ‘Okay. But these threats started last week. Did you know this girl before last night? Had you met her before?’

  ‘Eh … not sure. But it’s fairly unlikely. I’m not really one for swapping numbers afterwards and being mates and all, y’know?’

  ‘Mr Murray … Aesop … if we were just to take the last few weeks, since the New Year, how many girls’ names would I be able to put in this notebook?’

  ‘Their names?’ Aesop scratched his head. ‘Jaysis … well, you won’t have to go looking for your pencil parer.’

  ‘So … a few, just?’

  ‘No. More than that.’

  ‘So then … what’s … is it that you can’t remember their names?’

  Aesop sighed.

  ‘I don’t really like to get attached, Garda. I tend to forget names. You know the way hoors don’t like kissing you on the lips? That’s me with names. Otherwise it gets all personal and you end up with a head full of women and you’re trying to match names with faces and what you said to who and what happened … ah, it makes things very complicated, y’know? If it’ll help I’d say there was probably about a dozen of them. God, that makes them all sound like slappers, doesn’t it? They weren’t though. They were lovely. And one of them was definitely Russian. Or she had that accent anyway. Russian … German … Norwegian … y’know that kind of way? Nice girl. She was wearing this blue yoke.’

  Garda Ní Mhurchú had stopped taking notes now. She was just staring at Aesop.

  ‘And, just out of interest, the last six months?’

  Aesop frowned off into the distance and started to try and count in his head, his lips and fingers moving for a couple of minutes.

  ‘Jimmy, when were we in Japan?’ he said eventually.

  ‘About six months ago Aesop.’

  Jimmy was mortified, his head hanging down. Dónal had already gone to help Sparky in the kitchen.

  ‘Will I include that?’ said Aesop to Garda Ní Mhurchú. ‘I was a teacher out there for a bit. It’s a deadly way to meet girls, y’know yourself …’

  ‘No I don’t,’ she said. She’d put down the pad again and was sitting back against the chair just looking at him.

  ‘Okay, well, sure I’ll add them in too. Right. Now where … ah shite. I’m after losing where I was. Will I use your pad?’

  ‘Just an estimate is fine. No need to be exact at this point. I’m just trying to get a feel for what we’re up against.’ She looked at her colleague. ‘I think I’m starting to get an idea.’

  ‘Okay. Eh … and it’s only riding now we’re talking about, right? Not birds I just got talking to down the shops or whatever …’

  Jimmy couldn’t take it any more. He stood up and started walking into the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll … just see if that kettle is boiled yet.’

  *

  Jimmy showed the Gardaí out. At the door, Garda Ní Mhurchú turned to him.

  ‘Mr. Collins, I take it you’re the … brains of the operation?’

  Jimmy shrugged and gave a little nod.

  ‘There’s no reason to panic or anything, but Mr. Murray needs to be vigilant until this is sorted out. I’m not sure he’s … on the same page as everyone else.’

  ‘He’s not even in the same library.’

  ‘Right. Well, here’s my number in case he does manage to piece together any of his … encounters. Maybe he’ll be able to give us a bit more information.’

  ‘Thanks Garda.’

  ‘He mentioned that he used to give your name out to girls? I’m afraid I had to stop listening when he was explaining why.’

  ‘Yeah. Well he doesn’t do it any more. I told him to stop. Anyway, we’re both kind of well-known now, so there wouldn’t be much point.’

  ‘Right. Well, just in case, you be a little careful yourself. It’s possible that the …’ She paused to get the right words. ‘ … utterly demented … girl that has a fixation on him might find her way to you by accident.’

  ‘Jesus, I never thought of that. I still don’t even know what happened.’

  ‘They can tell you upstairs. But, again, no need to panic. I’m sure we’ll be able to deal with this quickly and quietly.’

  ‘I really appreciate this Garda. Thanks for coming out today.’

  ‘No problem at all. And best of luck with the new album. I hear it’s coming out soon?’

  ‘Oh yeah. Thanks. Couple of weeks.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to pick up a copy.’

  ‘Great.’

  Jimmy came back up the stairs to find the others all sitting around the coffee table looking at him.

  ‘So, will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?’ said Jimmy.

  Dónal picked up the empty cups and started bringing them into the kitchen.

  ‘It seems that one of the girls this dirty little bastard has been sniffing around didn’t appreciate the way she was treated either during or after the liason,’ he said.

  ‘A tenner says it was after,’ said Aesop.

  ‘Aesop, there were two Gardaí in here a minute ago,’ said Jimmy. ‘This is not the best time for you to be fucking about.’

  ‘Yeah. I don’t think Garda Ní Mhurchú liked me. The head on him.’

  Jimmy frowned at him.

  ‘What?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Aesop, you do know that Garda Ní Mhurchú was a woman, don’t you?’

  ‘What? Get fucked.’

  ‘Aesop, she was a girl!’

 
; ‘She was not. Why do you think that?’

  ‘Well, her fucking name for starters.’

  ‘What are you on about? It’s just Mhurchú. Murphy, right?’

  ‘It’s Ní Mhurchú! Ní is what women use in Irish.’

  ‘Me bollocks! And anyway, why didn’t she call herself Ban Garda Ní Mhurchú then, if she’s a woman?’

  ‘Because they don’t do that any more. They’re all just Garda.’

  ‘But … Jimmy, did you not see the fucking awful-looking mess of a face on it … it couldn’t have been …’

  ‘Okay. It doesn’t matter. Whatever. Will you tell me …’

  ‘She was a bit short for a bloke copper all right, but I thought that was just because she was standing next to that big long lanky streak of piss she came in with. But she’d no make-up on or anything.’

  ‘She’s a fuckin’ copper, Aesop, not a bleedin’ Avon lady. And anyway, I think she might have been … eh …’

  ‘Been what?’

  ‘Y’know …’

  ‘A short fat bloke?’

  ‘No. A lesbian.’

  Aesop roared laughing.

  ‘No fucking way, Jimmy. I’ve seen hundreds of lesbians, and they don’t look like that.’

  ‘What? That’s exactly the way they look. For fuck sake, sorry for ruining your favourite fantasy, Aesop, but lesbians aren’t all six foot tall with long blonde hair, big tits and red lipstick.’

  ‘Of course they are! Jimmy, come around to the flat afterwards and I’ll stick on some …’

  ‘Aesop. First of all, fuck off. I just want to know why two cops were here today and no fucker’s told me yet. What the fuck is going on? And second of all, I promise you the girls in your videos are doing it for money, not for love. Real lesbians probably laugh their bollocks off at that stuff. So to speak.’

  ‘But Jimmy, I can prove that you’re wrong.’

  ‘Aesop, I don’t care.’

  ‘You like girls, right? So would you prefer a six-foot blonde with big tits and red lipstick, or would you prefer Garda Ní Mhurchú with that train-wreck of a boxer’s face she lugs around with her?’

  ‘Aesop …’

  ‘You’d go for the peach, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Listen to me …’

  ‘And the only difference between lesbians and other women is that lesbians like women. So if they like women, why would they all go for women that look like blokes?’