Wee Rockets

by Gerard Brennan

  "What? No, I told you everything you need to know. Fat Liam Greene is in charge. The other six just follow his lead."

  "What then? Spit it out for fuck's sake."

  "You're mates with Paul Gibson, aren't you?"

  "Aye, I suppose. We both play for Davitts, like."

  "Will you get in touch with him and let him know his wee brother's in the hospital. Not sure which one, but last time I saw him he was bundled into an ambulance."

  "Shit. What happened to him?"

  "He got clunked on the head with a baseball bat."

  Stephen scrunched his face up. "Nasty. What did he do to deserve that?"

  Joe took off his hat and rubbed the crown of his head. Scalp flakes hopped like fleas. "We did something well fucking stupid tonight."

  Stephen sat with his jaw hanging as Joe told him about the quality time he'd been spending with his father. He'd figured Dermot for a complete scumbag, but Joe's story put him into a whole new league.

  "Jesus Christ. I can't believe your da took you and your fourteen-year-old mate on an armed robbery. And I thought your ma letting you smoke was bad. Fuck me. What chance did you ever have in life?"

  "Look, I didn't come here so you could take the piss out of me."

  "What did you come here for?"

  "I thought we could help each other."

  "Oh, I see. You want me to deal with daddy Dermot." Stephen snorted. "Why the fuck would I want to do that?"

  "Don't you want to clean up the streets? Isn't that what your hard-on for the Rockets was all about? Playing vigilante? I thought you'd have jumped at the chance to take out someone like my da."

  "I wanted to help out my community in a time of crisis. If Dermot is doing over shops in student land, why should I care? It doesn't impact on me or mine."

  "Does it not? Armed robbery is only the tip of the iceberg, mate. He's been working more than one angle since he got back. You've plenty of reason to care."

  "What are you talking about?"

  "He's been in your house, McVeigh. Poking through your personal shit. He even photographed some of your bank statements. Ever hear of identity theft?"

  Stephen launched himself out off the sofa and grabbed the front of Joe's hoodie. He hoisted him off the armchair and shook him.

  "How do you know that? Were you with him, you wee fucker?"

  Joe smirked. "It was me who wrote on Bruce."

  Stephen dumped Joe to the floor. "You sneaky wee bastard. I should dance on your face."

  "I'll tell my ma!"

  "Not if I do a good enough job."

  Joe rolled away, but Stephen made no move to follow him. He couldn't risk his relationship with Louise over Joe.

  "Get off the floor, dickhead."

  Joe stood and held his palms up to Stephen. "Look, I'm sorry for breaking in, okay? But now that you know about it, you can do something to stop your personal info being used, can't you?"

  "Like kicking the shite out of your da? How convenient."

  "I'm not asking you to give him a punishment beating."

  "What then?"

  "I need your protection. Do you think he'll just forget about the fact I left him for the cops? If he hasn't been arrested, I'm fucked." Joe blinked back tears as he waited for Stephen to react.

  "You want me to protect you?"

  "Well, I can't do it. He'd pick me up and break me in half. But you're built like a shithouse. So long as you don't turn your back on him, it'll be a piece of piss for you."

  "Wait there."

  Stephen went to the kitchen to fetch a fresh beer. He stood at the fridge thinking about Dermot Kelly. The bastard had violated his home. And that wasn't his first offence. Stephen's kidney still throbbed a little from their first meeting. And he'd stooped low enough to use kids, one of them his own flesh and blood, in an armed robbery. But even knowing all of this, Stephen couldn't see himself becoming a teenaged hood's bodyguard. But Joe didn't need to know that.

  He popped the lid off his beer bottle and returned to the living room. Joe stood in the spot he'd left him.

  "Joe, if your da is determined enough, the only way to stop him from hurting you will probably be to hurt him worse. Maybe even kill him."

  Joe nodded. His face hardened. "I know. I've thought about that."

  "If I were to do something to your da you'd be able to hold it over my head for the rest of my life. Let's face it; you'll never be a doctor or a barrister. What's to say you won't blackmail me when you're struggling to make ends meet on the dole?"

  "I swear to fuck, McVeigh. I wouldn't do that. Getting rid of the bastard who fucked my best mate over would be enough for me. I'd be in your debt."

  "But I've only got your word on that. I need something else. Some insurance."

  Joe shook his head. Lost.

  "Before I agree to something so serious, I need you on the same boat. I need you to deal with someone for me. Then you'll be in no position to blackmail me. We'll be evens."

  Joe frowned. "Who?"

  "Liam Greene."

  Chapter 16

  Dermot grabbed Emily's upper arm and spun her to face him. Her blonde waves billowed like a flamenco skirt. She caught his bruised face with a slap on her way around, the force multiplied by his own aggression.

  "Don't you put a finger on me, Dermot Kelly. I'll bite your Niagaras off."

  He rubbed his hot cheek. "I asked you a question."

  "And I told you. It's business."

  "You've never needed to stay out all night before. And it's only gone past six. Why do you need to leave so early in the evening? What's really going on?"

  "Exactly what I told you. Business. My business. That's all you've ever needed to know before now. So sort yourself out, darling. You're losing grip."

  "I think you have a boyfriend. Or someone who wants you to believe he's your boyfriend to get a few freebies."

  "Sounds a bit like you."

  "What's your point?"

  "Are you jealous, Dermot?"

  He curled his lip and instantly regretted it as it began to bleed again. "Aye, yeah. That must be it. I just don't want to share my common-law whore."

  Emily gave him a sweet smile. "You know, we can fix that situation quite quickly. I'm beginning to think I'd be better off without you. I'm certainly making more money than you."

  "Sure didn't I know it'd come back to cash? Never mind that I've been lifting and laying you. Making sure some sick fuck hasn't dumped you in the Lagan. Thought beyond making a quick score to try and build something we could both enjoy. Aye, go ahead. Fuck away off to your new boy and let him look after you like I have. I can do without the stress."

  "Goodbye, Dermot. Come find me when you've gotten over your personal crisis, won't you?"

  She shouldered her overnight bag, blew him a kiss and gave her ass a deliberate wiggle as she left the squat. A growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he punched the wall, cracking plaster and cheap chipboard.

  He screamed at the closed door. "Fuck you then, you dirty wee scrubber!"

  The bottle of Smirnoff whispered to him from the kitchen cupboard. He submitted to the silent seduction and poured himself a glass. It scorched a path to his belly and kicked the shit out of his stomach lining. He coughed and lit a cigarette to smooth out his riled throat. Then he poured another glass. This one went down a little easier.

  After his third glass he decided to get up and out. The heartbroken drunk thing got boring when you'd no TV or tunes. He needed to find something to do. Or someone.

  He gave himself a quick crotch and armpit wash before he threw on a fresh shirt. Feeling like a handsome bastard, he flagged a private taxi on Botanic Avenue and told the driver to take him to Beechmount. He figured Joe wouldn't have been stupid enough to tell Louise about the previous night's disaster. Aside from that he'd been a model father to the boy, and his ma was bound to have thawed out a little as a result. With a bit of charm he might be able to snake his way into the house for a bit of adult company. If
McVeigh happened to be there, Dermot could act innocent and ask for Joe. But if Louise was on her own... Well, he'd just have to play it by ear.

  He rapped the letterbox. Louise answered the door in button up, cotton pyjamas. She frowned at him and he remembered the bruised face his vodka had numbed.

  "Joe's not here. I don't think he was expecting you."

  "It's not even seven yet. What are you doing in pyjamas?"

  "I worked hard today. I fancied a wee bit of comfort. But more to the point; why do you reek of vodka? And what's up with your face? Have you been fighting?"

  "Long story. Can I come in?"

  "I don't know when Joe's coming home. He'd left before I came home from work."

  "So how about me and you catch up? It's been a while."

  "I'm well aware of how long it's been, Dermot. It's part of the reason I can't stand the sight of you. Remember?"

  "And yet, you haven't slammed the door in my face."

  Louise bit her lip and looked up and down her street. "Okay, you can come in for a cuppa, but only because you've really put in an effort to get to know Joe. I've noticed a real change in him since you started doing what you should have done all his life."

  "Jesus! That was nearly a compliment."

  "No it wasn't. But if you're going to continue seeing as much of Joe, we should be able to spend a little time in the same room together. Now's as good a time as any to start."

  "And what about the big ginger fellah you've been seeing? Do you think he'd approve?"

  "I don't need any man's permission to do anything. I'm not the stupid wee bitch you left holding the baby any more."

  "But if he's due around here tonight he might get upset to find you entertaining."

  "He's training, and more than likely heading for a pint after. You can stop wetting yourself. Though, I wouldn't relax too much. I'm sure he won't forget that sucker punch in a hurry."

  "That was self defence!"

  "Aye. Dead on. Look, just come in, will you? The neighbours' curtains are starting to twitch."

  She brought a pot of tea into the living room on a plastic Carlsberg tray he'd stolen from The Beehive the night they first moved in together. He took it as a subtle signal that she still thought about him. Of course, that night had also been the cause of a massive row. He'd decided to stay on and drink the bar dry after last orders; even though he knew she wanted him to go with her and spend the first night in their new home together. The tray had been a peace offering. One that had nearly taken his head off, Oddjob style.

  "This is weird," he said.

  "What?"

  "Sitting here as a guest. I used to live here, like."

  Louise shrugged. "Things change."

  "You haven't. You still look as good as you did back then."

  "Well, you've gotten a bit fatter. You're still a good liar though."

  "And you're still brutally honest." He rubbed his stomach self-consciously.

  She sighed. "You do look better without the moustache though. Less sneaky. Wish I could talk Joe into getting rid of his."

  "Ach, any kid who can grow one will. It impresses the other kids."

  "I suppose. So where's what's-her-name tonight?"

  "Emily? I think we've broke up. Pretty sure she's seeing other men."

  "Really? And she seemed so prim when I met her. Goes to show -- you can never judge a slut by her miniskirt."

  "Hey! That was uncalled for."

  "I owe you more than a few bitchy comments. Dry your eyes." And she smiled a little.

  "Fair enough." He returned her smile. "I suppose you're wondering why I left you, eh? I could fill you in. Kill your curiosity."

  "Don't bother. I used to wonder, but after twelve years I'm not interested in your excuses. You did what you did. I'm sure it could have been avoided, and I'm sure you'd deny that. But I don't care any more. So why relive it?"

  He sensed the light mood shifting to a darker place. He needed to rein in the bad vibes. "Yeah, you're right. That's what everyone seems to be doing here these days. Moving on. I can't believe how much the city has changed."

  Louise shrugged. "It's not something you think about on a day to day basis, but aye, I suppose it'd be weird for you. Last time you were here it was all security gates, bombscares and Brits patrolling the streets."

  "Long may it continue."

  "Fuck." Louise sighed. "This is all getting very deep. Maybe we need to have something stronger than tea. Lighten things up a bit."

  "Now you're talking, sweetheart."

  And when she didn't scowl at the old familiar pet name, he cheered himself on inside.

  ###

  Joe took a deep breath of chemical-scented hospital air and then strode down the ward before he could chicken out. Wee Danny lay under a white sheet, drawn up to his chin. He wore a turban-like bandage around his head. His small face looked young and innocent.

  "You awake, mate?"

  Wee Danny opened one eye and looked Joe up and down. The other eye popped open and his devilish grin banished all innocence. "All right, Joe?"

  Joe hesitated, a little relieved, but still expecting accusations of betrayal. "Aren't you pissed off at me?"

  Danny's grin faltered. "Why, what happened? Nobody's really told me yet."

  "What do you remember?"

  "I got out of the car with your da, ready to do that job."

  "And?"

  "Well, that's it. I feel a bit like I've been drinking like a bastard. My head's banging and I've no idea how I got here."

  "Fucking hell."

  "Will you pass me a glass of water? I've been dropping some serious pain killers and feel a bit lazy."

  "Yeah, yeah, of course."

  Joe rushed to the bedside cabinet, almost tripping over a small wooden visitors' bench, and sloshed a measure of iced water into a plastic glass. He held it to Wee Danny's lips and tilted it, pouring a little into his mouth. Most of the water spilled onto his chin and ran down onto his neck.

  Wee Danny spluttered. "Fuck's sake, Joe. You're soaking me, you eejit. Use that button to raise the bed and just hand me the water. I've a sore head, not a broken neck."

  Joe stepped back and squinted at the button pad. "What if I hit the wrong one and fold you in half?"

  "You're a stupid bastard sometimes. What kind of hospital would buy a bed like that? It's the top button."

  Joe hit the button and Wee Danny screamed.

  Joe whipped his hand away from the button pad. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sorry, mate."

  Danny winked at him. "Just messing with you. Why are you making it so easy?"

  "I'm a bit distracted, like. My best mate's got a broken skull."

  "Fuck off! Have I?"

  "Well, fractured. That's what they said when I phoned. I pretended to be your Paul when I was tracking you down. Do you really not remember what happened?"

  "No."

  Joe sighed and took off his cap. He sat on the wee bench and told the story for the second time.

  "And you wrecked the getaway car for me? Fucking hell. Did your da get scooped?"

  "Probably not, knowing my luck."

  "You're in some deep shit, then."

  "You're a real comfort."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "I went to see McVeigh last night. Asked him to protect me."

  "Jesus, you must be desperate. What did he say?"

  "That I have to get Liam Greene off the scene. Stop the Rockets from terrorising the streets. Then he'll look out for me."

  "He might be asking a lot there. How are you supposed to do that?"

  "I'm pretty sure I'd have to kill him."

  The idea hung in the air between them.

  Danny broke the silence. "Well, if it's a choice between you or him, you have to get rid of the fat fucker."

  "I know, but how the fuck am I meant to do it?"

  "I don't know. Offer him a Slim Fast milkshake or something? He might have a heart attack."

  "Try and be seriou
s, mate."

  "Right, sorry. Must be the drugs."

  "No worries. Maybe I shouldn't be putting this on you. You've enough to worry about."

  "Ach, it's only a wee bump on the head."

  "Not just that. Has the cop been in to see you?"

  "What cop?"

  "There's a uniform sitting outside the ward. Not exactly a genius though. I snuck in when he was trying it on with one of the nurses. I think they're going to take you in when you're well enough."

  "Fuck."

  "Sorry, mate."

  "Your da's a real prick, you know?"

  "Aye."

  "I wonder what'll happen to me now?"

  "Don't know, mate. But you're too young to go to the young offenders. Maybe the Juvenile Justice Centre in Bangor? Probably won't be as bad as a real jail."

  "Ach, fuck it. Nothing I can do about it now. Tell you what though, if that fucker from the shop presses charges, I'm going to counter sue him for assault. How's using a baseball bat on a kid reasonable force?"

  "You're a genius, mate. I'd never have thought of that."

  "Of course I am. I guess the bastard didn't cause too much damage, then."

  Joe stood up suddenly and reached into the pocket on the front of his hoodie. "Almost forgot. I have something for you."

  He handed Wee Danny a Sony PSP. His friend's hands shook as he turned the portable games console this way and that in examination.

  "Sweet. Where'd you nick this?"

  "I bought it. I still had some savings from the Rocket days."

  Wee Danny looked at Joe with huge round eyes. "Seriously? Wow."

  "It was the least I could do."

  "Look, Joe, I don't blame you for any of this. You'd already done enough when you abandoned the fucker on the road. We're cool, okay?"

  Joe nodded.

  "And when I'm not playing with this, I'll be using my superior brain to help you out, you slow fucker. I'll think of a way to handle Liam. Come and see me again, right?"

  Joe had an insane urge to bend down and kiss Wee Danny's forehead. But he didn't fancy a punch in the eye. "No worries, mate. I'll be here tomorrow."

  ###

  Paul raised his goblet of white zinfandel and clinked glass with Emily. At his request, she'd changed into a midnight blue satin nightdress he'd bought in Debenhams that day. The hem fell an inch below the perfect curve of her ass. As she crossed her legs and shifted position on the leather sofa, he caught a glimpse of black lace underwear. He'd flipped on the heating earlier, to keep her comfortable in her scant outfit, but after a sip of the ice-cold wine her nipples pushed against the low cut bodice. In the dimmed light her hair was burnished gold.