Wee Rockets

by Gerard Brennan

  Joe's ma smiled at him, brimming with obvious pride. He felt like a piece of shit, but he managed a modest nod.

  "I heard you on the phone to Dermot. Is he not coming?"

  "He is, but he's running late. I didn't give him much of a chance to explain. Maybe you should phone him and ask him when he'll be here."

  A two-tone car horn sounded in the street. He looked out the window and saw Dermot behind the wheel of a sporty Renault Laguna.

  "I guess I won't need to phone him," Joe said. He grabbed his hooded top and took a deep breath at the front door before stepping out onto the street.

  ###

  Liam swung the mop handle like a baseball bat. He turned his face away as the stick made contact with the window. The glass clattered into the Corpus Christi classroom. The others cheered. Liam turned and bowed to his rowdy audience, then returned to the circle of drinking Rockets and a diminishing bottle of cider. The mood buzzed on the school's car park. Liam twirled the mop handle like an Orangeman's baton before tossing it to Matt Fegan, the next batter. He motioned for the non-identical twin to stall for a minute. He had something to say.

  "It turned out all right in the end, didn't it?"

  They smiled at their fearless leader and raised their plastic chalices. The second job at Milltown Cemetery had gotten a little messy, but at least she'd a decent amount in her purse and a bit of gold around her neck. He'd hit her too hard and too many times, still pissed off about the old man with the dog, but made sure she was still breathing before they split. They picked a teenaged girl at the City Cemetery. That one turned up even more. Mobile phone, iPod, cash and jewellery. Fuck the oldies. They'd just upgraded. And he wouldn't let them stop there.

  "Lads, today was the start of our very first spree. Tomorrow we hunt again. There is money out there for the taking. Let's get it."

  Even Tommy Four-Eyes smiled at that. A little liquid confidence really made a difference. Liam thought he might suggest that Tommy have a few tins before the next job. See if it would make him a little more useful.

  "Where do you think we should go in the morning?" Eddie Fegan asked.

  "Where the real money is, mate. Tomorrow we're going into the city. I have an idea and Royal Avenue is the best place to test it out."

  Chapter 8

  Stephen chugged the first quarter of his beer. It went down so easy; frothy, bubbly, and chilled to perfection. His throat seemed to widen, inviting more. Few things in life came close to the first gulp from a perfect pint. Good sex held a steady second, but beer asked for a lot less in return. Thoughts of Louise surfaced to refute this old belief. Her dirty laugh and skilled hands hadn't cost him a thing yet. So far she'd been extremely low maintenance. He saluted her spirit with another sip from the cold, tall glass.

  Freshly showered, in crisp clothes and feeling the physical effects of a good night's football training, he sat happy and comfortable on his barstool at the Manchester United pub. Wee Paul Gibson drank with him, complaining about his home life, as usual. But even the familiarity of the classic pub rant added an important element to the night. Life the way it should be.

  "And I keep telling her," Paul said, "it's not natural for a five-year-old boy to be sleeping in his parents' bed. He needs his own space. I mean, he's at school now. Pretty soon his mates will be inviting him for sleepovers and all that craic. What's he going to do then? Take Sinead with him? It's not right."

  "Aye, it's a sticky situation all right." Stephen felt like stirring it up a bit. He put on an innocent face. "So, I suppose the sleeping arrangement must put a bit of a strain on your... connubial activities."

  "Our what?"

  "You know. When a man loves a woman? What goes on behind closed doors? The old horizontal hokey pokey?"

  "Oh, shagging?" Wee Paul shook his head. "Not a fucking mission. Some folks go through a bit of a dry spell after they have kids. I'm living in the Sahara fucking Desert. I've probably forgotten how to do it."

  "Sure it's like riding a bike."

  "Fuck off. I'm not desperate enough to ride a bike. Not yet, anyway."

  "Well, if all else fails, you can always get a quick service down on Linenhall Street."

  "Don't think I haven't thought about that, Stephen. Problem is I don't have a car. I'd borrow your Escort, but even whores have standards."

  They laughed and took a short recess from the banter to pay their pints a little attention and order two fresh ones. The first round had gone down pretty fast, and Stephen had a feeling it'd be one of those nights. And why not? He'd no work in the morning.

  "So what about you, Stephen? Getting any this weather?"

  Stephen grinned. "You know, it just so happens I am. I met her here the other night. After the Celtic match."

  "You landed a Hoops fan? Fucking sweet. I don't care if she's a boot, hold on to that one. I had to listen to Sinead moaning the whole way through that match. Last time I try and watch one at home." Wee Paul tilted his head. "So, is she a boot?"

  "No. She's a bit of a Millie, but everything's in the right place and she's got more than a handful." He squeezed the air in front of Wee Paul's chest. "Nice arse on her too."

  "Bossy?"

  "Not at all. Kind of rare around here, so I think I will hang on to this one for a while."

  Wee Paul raised his pint. "Fair fucks to you."

  "There's just one flaw."

  "What's that?"

  "She's got a kid. And not a nice one."

  "How old?"

  "Same age as your Danny. Friend of his, in fact."

  Wee Paul furrowed his expanding forehead. "Joe Philips?"

  Stephen nodded.

  "So you're seeing Louise Philips?"

  "Aye."

  "I was talking to her just the other day. Picked our Danny up from her house. She had a bit of a scuffle with Joe. Well, to be honest, she knocked his bollocks in."

  "She told me about it. He's had it coming for a long time, as far as I can make out."

  "If I were you, I'd be careful to never call her a cunt."

  "Duly noted, mate."

  "You're right though."

  "About what?"

  "She has a lovely arse."

  Stephen's phone bleated. He lifted it off the bar and thumbed it to life. A text message from Louise.

  "mad nite. mates mummy in hsptl. mugged @ cemetery. awful."

  "Fuck's sake," Stephen said.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Another aul doll's been mugged. Louise's friend's ma."

  "Jesus. It seems to be happening all the time now. Where are you going?"

  "To see Louise. Maybe she'll have some information I can use."

  "But you've half a pint here."

  "This is important. Somebody has to do something about it."

  "Don't forget we're playing on Thursday night. Try not to get beat up by a bunch of kids."

  "Aye, right."

  He shoved open the door and fresh air bit into his beer buzz. It pissed him off to lose out on a good session, but he had to take his leads where he could get them. If he was lucky he would catch Louise's mate and find out what they knew. At worst, he could wait around for Joe to come home and see if he could freak the scumbag out.

  Louise answered the door with wide eyes and an open smile; surprised but happy to see him. Stephen pecked her on the cheek as he stepped past her, into the living room. A tired looking woman balanced a cup of tea on a saucer. It rattled in the saucer's indent as she bit into a biscuit. She scrunched up her face at him, as if trying for a smile and missing by a mile. Stephen nodded to her and sat in the armchair by the window.

  "Do you want a cuppa?" Louise asked. She sat next to her mate.

  "No, thanks."

  "Karen, this is Stephen. Stephen, Karen. I wasn't expecting you to call over."

  "Sorry to drop in like this. Just didn't know how to reply to the text you sent me. Thought I might think of something on the walk over." He shrugged slowly. "Still nothing."

  "It's awful
, isn't it?" Louise said.

  Stephen nodded then turned to Karen. "Any witnesses?"

  Karen looked up from her tea and sighed. She spoke mechanically and concisely, as if for a police interview. "Just before they attacked my mummy, they'd robbed another wee man. He struggled with them and got knocked out. When he came to he found mummy just inside the gate on his way out. He waved down a taxi and got her to the hospital. His descriptions could match any of the wee hoods around here. Except that they were younger than usual. The PSNI interviewed him, but you know what it's like. They don't have enough information to go on."

  "Will your mummy be okay?"

  Karen shook her head and sniffled. "She's in the ICU. We just have to wait and see."

  Louise leaned into her friend and gave her a one-armed hug. "Your mummy's as strong as an ox. She'll be okay."

  "Please, God," Karen said. "Look, Louise, I better get back to the hospital. I'm so sorry about my behaviour earlier. You've been very good to me. Will you tell Joe I'm sorry again when he gets back?"

  "Don't you worry one bit. Joe knows you weren't yourself earlier, and you've been there for me often enough. Just let me know if you need anything. And call me in the morning to let me know how your mummy's getting on."

  Karen nodded, passed her teacup and saucer to Louise and stood up. She turned to Stephen. "It was nice to meet you. Maybe next time I'll be in a better state to get to know you."

  Stephen gave her a tight-lipped smile. "You too. Hope someone catches up with the wee bastards that did this."

  "And breaks their knees," Louise said.

  Karen, shoulders hunched and eyes to the floor, grunted a goodbye and left. Louise rolled her eyes and blew a long breath through pursed lips.

  "What a mad night."

  "Why did she need to apologise to Joe?"

  "I'm dying for a drink. Come on through to the kitchen with me and I'll tell you. I can smell the pub off you. I suppose you wouldn't turn down a beer."

  Stephen drank his beer from the can and tried not to act too surprised when Louise told him about Joe's alibi. His mind motored as she related the rest of the story right up to Dermot showing up almost an hour late to pick up Joe. He'd been so sure he'd nailed it. That it would be only a matter of time before Joe slipped up and got caught. That the community was only days away from getting rid of the Wee Rockets. Now he was back to square one.

  "And you know," Louise continued, "I hate to admit it, but I'm so relieved. It's awful that this happened to Missus Magee, but at least something good has come of it. A couple of days ago I thought Joe was in that gang. Now I know he couldn't be. It's like the weight of the world has just dropped off my shoulders."

  Stephen hugged her hard and wished he shared her enthusiasm.

  ###

  Dermot watched Joe suck up the last of his chocolate milkshake, slurping and gurgling to his heart's content. Behold, the fruit of your loins, he thought and smiled to himself. On reflection, it seemed a slightly uncharitable thought; especially in light of the other clientele at McDonalds. The harsh fluorescent lighting did little for the pasty-skinned specimens stuffing French Fries and Big Macs into their pimple-dotted faces. Joe's clear, swarthy complexion and strong bone structure knocked him a few notches up on the evolutionary scale. The tatty moustache took away a little from the effect, as did the awkward angles his long limbs naturally fell into, but overall his physical appearance was a credit to Dermot's genes. They hadn't talked enough for Dermot to get an accurate idea of the boy's intelligence, but there seemed to be some activity going on behind his darting eyes. Certainly, he was no slack-jawed moron.

  At last, the slurping stopped.

  "Did you enjoy that, then?" Dermot asked.

  Joe popped off the plastic lid and held the empty cup upside down. Not one drop hit the table. "No, it was stinking," he said and laughed.

  "Yeah, I suppose it was a pretty unnecessary question."

  Joe flattened then folded his cardboard burger carton and balled up the greasy paper bag his fries had come in. He put them into the milkshake cup and stuck the plastic lid back on. Dermot chuckled.

  "You're a tidy guy, Joe."

  "Hmmm? Oh, right. Not really tidy. I just don't like sitting at a table I can't put my elbows on. Makes me a bit fidgety."

  Dermot glanced at the boy's jerking knee and tapping foot but said nothing. He didn't want to be pointing out all of his flaws during their first real conversation. "Was your ma okay about this? Us meeting, I mean."

  Joe nodded. "She said she didn't want to stop me from getting to know you just because she hated your guts. I'm old enough to decide for myself whether you're worth knowing."

  It stung Dermot a little more than he'd admit, even to himself, that Louise hated him. Anger he could understand, but hatred? Harsh. Still, he could play the emotional martyr. "You're ma's a great woman; putting your feelings ahead of hers. Not many around here would do that for their kids. You be good to her, okay?"

  "Okay." Joe sounded a little reproachful. Like he was thinking, who the fuck are you telling? I didn't leave her.

  Dermot didn't want to try too hard to impress this kid, but maybe he'd ease off on the moral stuff. "So do I have to get you back by a certain time?"

  "My ma didn't say."

  Dermot looked at his watch; a little after nine. "That's good. The night is still young. We could go to the pictures or maybe just go for a drive and chat some more."

  "Or we could go for a pint."

  "You would need some very convincing ID."

  "Sure I'd be with you."

  "As far as I remember, that doesn't count at this time of night. No, I don't think that's a good idea. What about a carryout?"

  At the mention of a carryout, Joe's shoulders halted in their descent to Slump City. He grinned and winked. "Now you're talking. Where'll we drink it?"

  "We can take the car to Clarendon Dock. I noticed they've cleaned it up and built some fancy new office buildings there. Plenty of benches by the water. Seems like a nice place to have a beer." It'd be safe enough to drive the Laguna about for the rest of the night. He'd stolen a set of registration plates from another parked up Laguna in an apartment complex car park in the city. A temporary fix, but they probably wouldn't be missed until the morning.

  "Clarendon Dock? Never drank there before."

  "Sure it'll make a change. You must be sick of Dunville Park by now."

  "How did you...?"

  "I was your age once before. Never went further down the Falls Road than Divis Flats until I turned seventeen. Thought it might be nice to show you the wider world a little sooner than I discovered it."

  "I've been into the city before, like."

  "I bet you have. But I'd also bet that you've never been there after dark. I'd say you've gone with your ma to get trainers or leather shoes for school then headed straight back up the road in a black taxi."

  Joe blushed a little. "So?"

  Dermot reminded himself to take it easy on the smart-arse comments. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Don't take it like that. I just want to bring you somewhere different. Make our first beer together a memorable one. It's a pretty big thing, to me anyway. I'd have killed to sit and have a beer with my dad when I was your age."

  "Oh, right. Okay."

  "Good man. Let's hit the road."

  Joe fiddled with the radio on the way down the Falls Road, experimenting with the bass and treble levels and the speaker balance. Dermot let him play, happy to take a break from conversing until he could loosen his lips a little with a cold one. The boom-boom bass kept the atmosphere in the car young and fun. They stopped off at the off licence in the Twin Spires complex and Dermot forked out for a tray of Carlsberg. Condensation ran down the side of the green tins while they sat on the counter and Dermot paid with a fistful of pound coins.

  They parked the car on Corporation Square, outside the Greek Embassy, and ducked under the moving barrier at the side entrance to the prestigious business park. Dermot l
ed them to a bench that looked out on the moored Seacat Ferry, and beyond that, the Odyssey Arena where the Belfast Giants played Ice Hockey matches, boy bands performed sell out gigs and you could eat, catch a movie, go clubbing and get pissed all under one roof. Reflected light from the building and its wide grounds ebbed on the murky body of seawater between the two large sites. A multi-coloured Ferris wheel spun a lazy circle in the centre of the summer funfair in one of the Odyssey car parks. Laughing, screaming and generic dance music carried on the wind to provide a pleasant low-volume soundtrack. Joe made appreciative noises and Dermot acted cool. Secretly he still felt overwhelmed by the massive growth in the area's private enterprise. Money, money, money.

  He handed Joe a can of beer and cracked one open for himself. They drank silently for a few minutes before Dermot got things rolling. "You know, I don't think there's a better way to get to know someone than to drink a shitload of beer with them."

  "Sounds good to me."

  "Of course it does. You're getting free beer."

  Joe stretched his legs out in front of him. "It's not just that. It's good to spend time with someone and not feel like you have to be the boss. I'm just along for the ride tonight."

  The world-weary comment surprised Dermot. Especially after only a few sips of beer. "The boss? Are you a natural born leader then?"

  Joe took a long draught from his can and belched. "I don't know. It's like... when I decide to do something, everyone else does it too. I don't even try to make them. It just kind of happens."

  "That's a good thing though."

  "Aye, right." He waggled his can, sloshing the beer inside, as he tried to express himself. "I end up double thinking everything, you know? Like I can't just worry about myself. I have to worry about my mates and all. I can't be arsed with it." He slurped down another heroic swallow of beer.

  "Too much responsibility, eh? I can understand that. But I'm intrigued now. What kind of activities have you led your mates in? Have you been a bit anti-social in your young age?"

  "That'd be telling."

  Dermot laughed. "Fair enough." He pointed at Joe's can. "No rush. A few more of those and I'll not be able to shut you up."