I’m like, ‘Whoa back, horsy. You’re going to be best man at the wedding of the woman you’re still actually married to?’
Trevion orders shots, including one for me, which I’ve no intention of drinking. I stare at the old man and realize I’ve never seen him so hammered.
Fionn says there’s still no word from Oisinn. JP tells him to keep trying his room.
‘Too late,’ I go. ‘He’s gone.’
‘Where?’ JP goes.
I’m like, ‘Presumably home. I put him in a taxi this afternoon. And you’re right, he has got a problem. One point three million of them.’
Their jaws just drop.
‘He says he’s probably going to have to sell one or two aportments.’
Fionn takes, like, a deep breath. ‘I tried to talk to him,’ he goes, ‘the night before we came away. But he’s like you, Ross – he can’t be told anything.’
The funny thing is, roysh, on some level, I realize that Fionn is right? Without trying to come across as all intellectual here, there are times in our lives when we’ve got, like, two roads in front of us. One of them is, like, the right road and one of them is, like, the wrong one.
Deep down, I probably know that the right road will take me back to the Star Wars Casino and up to my room to tell Ro and Big Juice that the scam tomorrow is off.
But then I hear Trevion telling some total randomer at the bor about his escape from Pyongyang and the road I actually take is suddenly decided for me.
I walk over to him. ‘Can I have a word?’ I go.
He looks at me sort of, like, half-eyed. Hammered, of course. ‘What is it, Bambi?’
I look at the dude he’s talking to. I’m there, ‘Believe me, you don’t want me saying this in front of actual people,’ and I flick my head in the direction of this, like, seating area.
He shrugs, then just follows me – obviously hasn’t a bog what’s coming. I can see Fionn, JP and the old man looking over, wondering what the fock. I’m straight out with it.
I’m just there, ‘I know, by the way.’
‘Know what?’ he goes.
‘Pretty much everything. I know your name’s not Trevion Warwick for storters – it’s Trevor. And I know you were never in Korea. Unless it was later, on your focking holidays. I know you’re, like, a deserter and a focking traitor to your country.’
He goes suddenly white. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him stuck for words. He doesn’t call me Eeyore or Pocahontas or any of that shit. He just goes, ‘What are you going to do?’
I’m there, ‘I’m going to ring, I don’t know, whoever it is you ring.’
‘Unless…’ he goes. ‘I can feel an unless coming.’
‘Oh, there is an unless – don’t you worry about that. Unless… you do another of your famous disappearing acts. We’re talking tomorrow morning, first thing…’
He nods. He looks sad, but at the same time totally, I don’t know, resigned? The only thing I could compare it to is looking into the eyes of the Newbridge players as they collected their losers’ medals in 1999.
‘Will you explain it to your mother?’ he goes and I’m there, ‘Probably not.’
He nods. He knows he’s in no position to ask for anything. He says he’s just going to go and finish his drink. Then he heads back over to Fionn, JP and the old man, walking with an air of something that I couldn’t put my finger on at the time, but which I would later come to recognize as dignity.
11. Bringing down the house
Two imperial stormtroopers walk by. Ronan tells me to relax – I’m making him nervous. It’s just, I don’t know, I could have sworn they looked at us. He turns around to Big Juice and says this is why he never works with amateurs. Then they go back to staring at the wheel, their eyes sort of, like, rolling around, following its spin. This is what they call the final recce.
Ro’s there, ‘It’s not fifteen seconds.’
‘You’re right,’ Big Juice goes. ‘It’s more like twelve.’
‘Which means,’ Ro goes, ‘that Chelsy’s really going to have to be on her game.’
We all look up. There’s, like, a middle-aged woman behind the bor, maybe twenty, thirty yords away. She’s focking cat, in case you’re wondering. A real Minger the Merciless.
She’s putting up various drinks on the bor. ‘Cocktail glass, clear drink, one straw,’ Big Juice goes, then quick as a flash, ‘number eight…’
It’s funny, roysh, I always presumed that if I was ever going to make a fortune off my son’s back, it would be by selling him to one of these soccer clubs. As in, Alex Ferguson or one of that crowd would roll into the estate one day – in a limo obviously – watch him do a few, I don’t know, keepie-uppies, then go, ‘Okay – we’ll take him,’ and throw Tina and me enough money so that neither of us would ever have to worry about working again.
Not that either of us ever has worked – it’s just the worry alone would actually wear you out.
But never in a million years did I think that it would be Ronan’s mind that would be my basically meal ticket.
The casino is focking rammers, which allows us to sort of, like, blend in, in as much as you can standing beside someone like Big Juice. There’s, like, TV cameras everywhere, reporting on the newest addition to The Strip, which, just three years ago, I hear one reporter go, was just a vacant dirt lot.
If I wasn’t so pissed off with Christian, I’d actually be proud of him.
‘Would Sir care for a drink?’ I hear someone go.
I’m thinking, I’d know that voice anywhere. I whip around and it’s, like, C-3PO. And R2-D2, of course. I suppose you never see one without the other.
It’s, like, two o’clock in the afternoon, roysh, but then it’s never too early for champagne.
‘Can I get, like, a glass of Cristal?’ I go.
I look at Ronan and Big Juice and they’re just, like, shaking their heads – disappointed would probably be the best word?
‘I’m terribly sorry to inform you,’ C-3PO goes, you know the way he talks, ‘that your nose appears to be bleeding.’
I touch it with my middle finger. He’s right. It’s, like, a heavy one this time? I tip my head back.
R2’s carrying, like, a tray which has, like, napkins on it and 3PO hands me one, in fairness to him, and I hold it hord against my nostril, trying to, I think the word is, like, staunch the flow?
Then he goes off to get my champers.
I’m there, ‘The first thing I’m going to do with my winnings is get this thing fixed. Find a proper plastic surgeon this time – one at home, not even here – and just get it put back the way it was.’
Big Juice loses it with me then. ‘You’re talking about winnings?’ he goes to me, through – it has to be said – gritted teeth. ‘You’re drinking champagne. What are you, looking to be busted?’
Of course, Ronan takes his side as well. He’s there, ‘Tone it the fook down, Rosser.’
The next thing, roysh, I look up and who do I spot on the far side of the gaming floor – only focking Christian. He’s giving instructions to a bunch of Jawas. I try to subtly hide behind, like, a Wookie, but he sees me and I have to suddenly tell Ro and Big Juice that he’s on his way over. Ro tells me to stall him.
I’m there, ‘How?’
He’s like, ‘Just fooken stall him, Rosser!’
‘So, Christian,’ I go, walking straight up to him, ‘what’s the story – are those Jawas slacking?’
‘Hey, Ross,’ he goes. ‘You’re in early. I didn’t expect to see you until tonight.’
‘Ah, it’s just the excitement,’ I go. ‘I don’t know if I actually mentioned it the other day, but I’m actually proud of you, Dude.’
He just nods, roysh, and doesn’t say the same thing back to me. Then, totally out of the blue, he’s there, ‘Hey, do you want to come up and see the little guy?’
Of course, I’m caught on the hop.
‘Lauren wants to talk to you as well,’ he goes.
I’m, like, humming and hawing and I’m just about to tell him that I have to shoot off when C-3PO and R2-D2 arrive over with my champagne. ‘Er, cool,’ I end up having to go, then the next thing I know, we’re in the focking elevator, on the way up to their suite.
There’s, like, an atmosphere between me and Christian – there’s no doubt about that.
One thing I can definitely say for me is that at least fame, success, whatever you want to call it, didn’t change me?
‘Hey, what time is the wedding?’ he goes.
‘So-called,’ I go. ‘It’s supposed to be, like, six o’clock?’
He’s there, ‘Oh. Will you all make it back here for the official opening – it’s at, like, half-eight?’
‘Don’t you worry,’ I go. ‘I’ve, er, a funny feeling that the wedding’s not even going to happen.’
He doesn’t get a chance to ask me why, roysh, because the next thing the elevator doors open, then we’re suddenly walking into the aportment?
It has to be said, roysh, that I’m expecting Lauren to be pretty frosty to me. So you can imagine my surprise, roysh, when she steps out into the hall and ends up giving me one of the biggest hugs and warmest smiles anyone’s given me in my pretty much life. She’s there, ‘Hi, Ross,’ and you can im agine me – I’m like, ‘Er, hey, Lauren.’
Christian tells me to come in. It’s some penthouse, I can tell you that – modelled, he makes sure to mention, on Senator Amidala’s aportment on Coruscant.
Lauren tells me to sit down, which I do, on this huge cream leather couch. There’s still a port of me expecting her to, like, flare up at me any minute. I somehow get it into my head all of a sudden that she knows what Ronan and Big Juice are up to downstairs.
She’s there, ‘Will you have something? Tea? Coffee?’
I sort of, like, hold up my glass and tell her I’ll stick with the champagne.
Christian goes, ‘I’ll leave you two alone, then,’ and he disappears – the focker – into one of the other rooms. I’m suddenly telling myself to keep calm and play it cool. And remember the old rule – never admit or deny anything until you’ve been actually accused. And even then, deny, deny, deny.
‘I owe you an apology,’ she all of a sudden goes. You can imagine, that totally wrongfoots me.
I’m there, ‘Em, okay – apology accepted.’
She’s there, ‘You don’t want to know what I’m apologizing for?’
‘Not necessarily, no.’
‘You know I’ve never been a fan of yours?’
I’m there, ‘Well, I know you’ve never been a rugby fan in general.’
She closes her eyes, roysh, like she’s counting to ten in her head. ‘But I’ve been especially hard on you recently,’ she goes. ‘The way I treated you, when you came up to visit us that time. I could blame hormones…’
I told Christian it was hormones.
‘But that wouldn’t be completely true. But when you’re pregnant, there are all sorts of changes that happen…’
My eyes automatically go to her belly. I can’t actually help it?
‘Yes, physical,’ she goes. ‘But also psychological. I suppose I was looking at Sorcha bringing up her daughter with a man who wasn’t her father and, being pregnant myself, it really got to me. I blamed you for the fact that you weren’t all together as a family. Bringing a child into this world is the most terrifying thing you can do. I think you became the focus of all my worst fears. I was looking at you thinking, what if Christian turns out like him…’
This has for some reason stopped sounding like an apology?
‘What if he’s a bad husband? What if he plays around? What if he leaves me to bring up this child on my own?’
I’m gagging to say something back to her, but then I think, no, leave it. I knock back a mouthful of champagne.
‘Because I never thought much of you, Ross, despite all the lovely things that Christian says about you…’
I get this sudden stabbing pain in my stomach. It could well be guilt.
‘I wouldn’t listen to him. I thought you were a bad father, a bad husband… And the person who finally helped me see the light was Sorcha.’
I’m there, ‘Sorcha?’
‘She and Erika came to see me the other night.’
‘I heard.’
‘She said you’ve been very upset. She said you felt I’d driven a wedge between you and Christian.’
‘I, er, might have mentioned it to her, yeah.’
‘She said I’d been unfair to you, Ross.’
‘Sorcha said that?’
‘Yeah. She told me how supportive you’d been during her break-up with Cillian. She reminded me of all the times you’ve been there for Christian as well. And she made me see that you are a good person, deep down…’
I suddenly think about Sorcha and Erika, putting on their bridesmaid dresses for a wedding that’s never going to happen.
‘Then I saw you yesterday, the way you were around Ronan and Honor, and I thought, Lauren, you’re wrong about this guy. How could someone who loves his children so much be all bad?’
I think about the old dear, standing around in the Chapel of the Clouds, waiting for Trevion to arrive.
‘And I know that my husband loves you like a brother – and that, Ross, is good enough for me.’
I think about Ronan and Big Juice and how we’re about to ruin one of the happiest days of his life.
‘Christian!’ Lauren shouts.
Suddenly he walks in carrying a little bundle. He smiles at me, like he knows something that I don’t. He’s there, ‘You two still haven’t been properly introduced.’
‘Ross,’ Lauren goes, ‘we’d like you to meet… Ross.’
It’s like I’ve suddenly been punched in the chest. I try to say something, but I can’t actually speak. Christian puts the little goy in my orms and I sit there just staring at him while he looks up at me. He even smiles.
‘Hey,’ Christian goes, ‘he likes you.’
I have that feeling you get sometimes, that if I open my mouth to speak, I’m just going to, like, break down?
I have to just hand the little goy back to Lauren, jump up off the sofa and literally run for the door. ‘Where are you going?’ Christian goes, but I don’t even answer.
The next thing I know, roysh, I’m pegging it past Sand-people and Bounty Hunters, past tables full of Jedis and Sith playing Texas Hold ’Em and a Biker Scout giving out shit to a croupier and I’m thinking how I have to find him before he makes this terrible, terrible mistake. A bird in a Princess Leia slave-girl outfit asks me if I want my champagne topped up, but I don’t even answer. I keep running towards the West Tower and the elevator that will take me to his room, hoping against hope that I’m not too late.
I am too late. The door’s open and I can hear voices inside the room, even from down the corridor. Sorcha and the old man – one saying that the chap must be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, capitals P through D, the other saying that the whole thing is like, Oh my God!
‘What’s going on?’ I go, standing in the doorway, cracking on not to know.
They all look at me at exactly the same time. The old man is pacing the floor. Sorcha and Helen are sitting on the edge of the bed, either side of the old dear, who’s already in her wedding dress – even though the ceremony’s, like, hours away – and she’s got, like, tears streaming out of her eyes, making shit of her make-up.
Erika’s there as well. It’s actually Erika who goes, ‘Trevion’s gone, Ross.’
Her and Sorcha’s dresses are nice actually. They must have all been having a final dress rehearsal when they found out.
I’m there, ‘Gone? What do you mean, gone?’
The old man’s there, ‘Decided he couldn’t go through with it and had it away, like the proverbial thief in the night.’
He really does love the sound of his own voice.
‘I’m sorry,’ I go, actually being sincere. ‘As in, sorry to he
ar?’
The old dear just looks up at me – an Emo gone wrong – but she doesn’t say shit? She just, like, stares me out of it.
The old man’s there, ‘You didn’t say something to him, did you, Ross?’
I’m like, ‘Meaning?’
‘Well, it’s just I saw the pair of you having a tête-à-tête, pardon the French, last night. Well, I was just telling your mother. It was immediately after – Trevion walked over to bar, knocked back his bourbon – as they say in the movies – and said that’s it, he was gone. I said, “Well, this is a fine how-do-you-do – you bowing out of your stag at, what, half-eleven?” He gave me a good old hug and he said, “Goodbye, Charlie.” At the time, I thought he meant goodnight – the whiskey talking and so forth. But no. Came to check on him about an hour ago and he was gone…’
‘Fock!’
‘Leaving nothing but a note.’
‘A note?’ I look at the old dear and I’m like, ‘Er, what did it actually say?’ trying not to sound worried? ‘As in, were there any clues in it, as to why he, you know, whatever…’
Sorcha answers for her. ‘Ross, I think that’s between your mum and Trevion, don’t you?’
The old dear hasn’t taken her eyes off me for the last thirty seconds and the way she’s looking at me, roysh, it’s as if she’s trying to read my face? And what I’d imagine she’s thinking is, what did I ever do to make him hate me like that?
Sorcha says that Johnny Sarno’s on his way up. He wants to shoot the scene where Charles discovers that Trevion’s gone, then when he breaks the news to the old dear. She’s there, ‘We better get you in the bathroom, Fionnuala. Fix up your make-up.’
I turn to go. Erika says that I need to be here for this. I tell her I don’t. I really don’t. What I need to do is find Ronan and stop myself from focking up Christian’s life and probably Ro’s as well. I step out into the corridor and try his phone. It’s off.
I go back downstairs and make my way back to the roulette table. There’s, like, no sign of Ro or Big Juice anywhere. I ring both their rooms, then try Ro’s mobile a second time – again, nothing.
Rhino What You Did Last Summer Page 36
