Wee Rockets

by Gerard Brennan

  "I've got to say, Paul, this is a lot cosier than the back of your Clio."

  "It's exactly how I imagined it."

  "You get what you pay for."

  Paul felt very comfortable too. He'd splashed out on some silk pyjama bottoms for himself, and matched them with a vest top that did justice to his toned arms. He'd considered going bare-chested, but figured that undressing added to the effect of a good shag. He glanced at his watch.

  "Pizza should be here soon. I'm going to stick on a movie to watch while we eat. Any preferences?"

  "You're the boss, darling."

  He loved the sound of that. And it wasn't just Emily's accent that tickled him. It was the content. The boss.

  "Scarface, it is, then."

  He'd just popped open the DVD case when the doorbell chimed.

  "Must be the pizza," he said.

  Lifting a twenty-pound note from the mantelpiece on the way, he went to the door and answered it to Stephen McVeigh.

  "Hiya, Paul."

  "I thought you were the pizza guy."

  "Nice to see you too. Can I come in?"

  Paul leant one shoulder against the doorframe. He inched the door closed a little, restricting McVeigh's view of the living room. "I'm a bit busy at the minute, mate. Can I phone you later?"

  "This is important."

  "Here, why are you not at training?"

  "I told you, this is important. I knew you'd given it a miss when you didn't call me to offer a lift to the pitch. Figured this would be a good time to catch you. Or am I interrupting a special occasion?"

  Paul jumped on the opportunity. "Yeah, special occasion. It's our, um... anniversary."

  "Paul?" Emily's cockney accent rang out from the living room. "Can I stick the kettle on?"

  He poked his head back inside. "Yeah, go ahead." Then he turned back to McVeigh. "So, can I call you later?"

  "I thought Sinead grew up in Twinbrook."

  "She did."

  "Then why does she sound like one of the birds off EastEnders? Whose anniversary are you celebrating?"

  Paul shrugged to buy time. "She's just messing about."

  McVeigh peeled back his lips in a shark-like grin. "You're full of shit. Who is she?"

  "Nobody." Paul glanced over his shoulder. Emily still tinkered in the kitchen. "I'll fill you in later."

  McVeigh looked him right in the eye. His lecherous expression melted into a serious frown. "I really need to talk to you about this. It's about your wee brother."

  Paul rolled his eyes and widened the door. He directed McVeigh to the armchair and left him there to speak to Emily in the kitchen.

  "Where's the pizza?"

  "It's not here yet. That was a mate."

  "Oh."

  "I had to let him in."

  "Oh?"

  "Do you mind?"

  "Mind what...? Oh, no, darling. You never said anything about a threesome. That'd have to be factored into our price."

  Paul threw his hands up. "Whoa there, babe! I am not angling for that. Jesus, I've seen enough of that ginger beast in the showers at the club. No fucking way is he getting into my bed."

  "Okay, okay. So what are you asking me?"

  "Just wondering if you can wait about for a minute. He says he won't be long."

  "What, out here?"

  "Wouldn't you be embarrassed to meet him wearing that?"

  "Um..." She stepped forward and offered her hand. "Hi, I'm Emily and I'm a prostitute. Have we met?"

  "Sorry. I keep forgetting about that. Doesn't seem so important in the moment."

  Emily tilted her head and the corners of her mouth twitched a little. "Ah, that's kind of sweet, I guess. Just don't forget when it's time to pay, all right?"

  "Aye. Of course."

  "Well, then. Introduce me to your friend."

  McVeigh's tongue could have rolled out of his mouth and slapped down on the floor and he still wouldn't have looked any more gobsmacked. Paul got a little embarrassed by his staring teammate. He cleared his throat dramatically. McVeigh blinked and closed his mouth.

  "Stephen, this is Emily. Emily, Stephen."

  "Pleased to meet you, darling."

  McVeigh shuffled his feet like a lust-struck teenager meeting a mate's hot older sister. "Hi."

  They settled into their seats, McVeigh on the armchair and Paul beside Emily on the sofa, and stared at each other for a moment. Paul broke the silence.

  "So, what's the mad panic?"

  McVeigh glanced at Emily then to Paul.

  "It's okay, mate. You can say what you want in front of Emily."

  The big man shrugged. "Okay, then. I'm here to pass on some information you'll appreciate."

  "Okay. Spit it out then."

  "I know who's to blame for your Danny's... condition?"

  "Condition? What are you talking about?"

  "Well, you can't really call it an accident, can you?"

  Paul's heart raced. He swallowed the sudden surplus of saliva filling his mouth. "What happened to Danny?"

  "Haven't you heard?"

  "Would I be fucking asking...?"

  "Shit, calm down. I assumed your parents would have been on the blower to you by now."

  Paul glanced at his house phone. The jack hadn't been replaced since Sinead's early morning wake up call. And he hadn't turned on his mobile for days to avoid her. Nobody could have reached him at his house. He'd been in the city since early morning, buying crap for his fantasy night and chilling out in coffee shops.

  "Hold on a minute."

  He bolted up the stairs and scooped his jeans off the bedroom floor. He fished his mobile out of the pocket and switched it on. Almost immediately, a series of text messages came through. The phone vibrated in his hand like a short-circuiting dildo. The messages all centred around one subject – Wee Danny in the hospital. Fractured skull. Get your arse to the Royal to visit your brother.

  Almost breaking his neck in the process, he thundered back down the stairs and skidded to a halt at the bottom. McVeigh stood up, big hands open and palms out, face calm.

  "Take it easy, Paul. You need to concentrate on my info."

  "A fucking fractured skull!"

  "Yes, I know. And there's a culprit. Just try to relax and I'll fill you in."

  Paul sat down and held Emily's hand as McVeigh told Joe Philips's version of a fucked up night. At the mention of Joe's da, Paul shot Emily a glance and she looked back, ashen-faced. He held his tongue, not wanting to give away too much in front of McVeigh.

  When the big man finished his recount, he stood up, eager to leave. "I'll not keep you from visiting Wee Danny. But give what I've told you some thought, okay? And come and see me when you decide what you want to do about it. I'll help you out if I can."

  Paul nodded and brought him to the door. Then he wheeled on Emily. He said nothing. Just stared.

  Emily nodded. "I can help you with this, darling. Go see your brother. I'll wait here for you, and we'll talk when you get back."

  "Can I trust you? Will you not just fly out of here and warn your friend he's in trouble?"

  She bent over the sofa's armrest, and even in a state of agitation, the sight of her ass, as the hem of her nightdress raised, formed a tent in his new pyjamas. She sat back down with her handbag in her hands and pulled out a wad of notes.

  "This is all my money. I always take it with me because I wouldn't trust that shifty Irish cunt with a jam donut. But you can take it with you as security. I'll go nowhere without it."

  Paul felt his resolve soften. She was on his side. Truly a friend in a time of need.

  But he took the money. Just in case.

  Chapter 17

  Liam pumped up the volume on his stolen iPod. Hip hop beats and rhymes about dealing crack and pimping in the ghetto filled his ears. He bobbed his head while he cut open the large plastic baggy of cocaine with a penknife. The white powder puffed up as the cellophane split and dusted a small circle of desktop around the bag. Liam sat in his
swivel chair and scooped some more powder out with the flat of his blade. He chopped the coke with the penknife, not sure if he needed to or not, then shaped it into lines. With a straw from McDonalds cut down to size and jammed up his left nostril, he hoovered up one of the white rails, gasping as it assaulted his sinuses. His eyes snapped wide open. He smiled.

  "Not bad."

  He snorted another line up his right nostril.

  After a couple of songs he noticed his knees jittering. He needed to get out into the world. See people, do stuff, enjoy life. He'd come to terms with the Tommy thing. And the homeless guy thing. And the security guard thing. Sort of. The nightmares faded from his memory before the post-shower chill raised goose flesh as he towelled himself dry. The key was to spend less time in the shower; his thought tank. He'd become the king of speed showering. One minute flat, he got in, got washed and got the fuck out.

  And now he had snow.

  More than he could shove up his own nose. E Man had come through big style. The Poleglass dealer had phoned him that morning and they'd done an exchange in the Westwood Shopping Centre car park. Neutral territory. Liam figured that he could sell small baggies to the kids around his age. They wouldn't know if the deals were a little light or a tad overcharged. He'd probably make back double what he'd paid, so long as he was patient and careful. A couple of traits he now knew he needed to work on.

  He left the house with the big bag of coke and a shitload of ecstasy in his schoolbag. If his ma broke a habit of a lifetime and decided to tidy his room, he could kiss the stash goodbye. It was safest on his person at all times. Before he could begin distributing he needed to do some shopping. Small cellophane bags, scales, baking powder and a calculator. Everything he needed to know could be found in his CD and DVD collection.

  In keeping with his new decision to be careful, he decided to buy each item from a different shop. There were plenty to choose from on the Falls Road, all within walking distance. With the iPod still spewing super-bass beats and bad language direct to his brain, he added a swagger to his stride.

  And almost jumped out of his skin when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

  He turned with his fists raised. Joe Philips stared down at him. The lanky bastard took one step back, out of Liam's punching range. Liam tugged the earphones out of his ears and let them hang from the neck of his hoodie. Though he regretted freezing him out the week before, he couldn't show it.

  "What the fuck are you at? Don't sneak up on me."

  "I called your name, but you couldn't hear me."

  Liam forced his shoulders to relax and took a deep breath. Joe stared.

  "So, what the fuck do you want?"

  "To give you a fair chance."

  "At what?"

  "Staying alive."

  Liam's lips flapped as he blew out an exasperated breath. "Aye, dead on, Joe. Wee bit dramatic, maybe?"

  "I'm serious, Liam. Someone wants to take you off the street. If that means hospitalising or killing you, they'll make it happen."

  "How do you know this?"

  "They came to me asking where they could find you."

  "Did you tout?"

  "No! Course not! But it'll only be a matter of time before they start threatening me. And let's be honest, the way you disrespected me after Tommy's wake, you could hardly expect me to go through too much to keep you safe."

  Liam stared at Joe, waiting for more information. Joe was in no rush to give it up. He needed things to speed up. Slow Joe. Never in a rush.

  "So, who's after me?"

  "Stephen McVeigh."

  Liam sniggered. "That prick? Sure he's nobody. I bet he doesn't even own a gun."

  "He could pick you up and squish you like a grape."

  "We'll see about that." He looked Joe up and down. "Thanks for the warning though."

  "Aye, whatever."

  Liam shifted his schoolbag from one shoulder to the other. Its weight reminded him of his new business venture. "Here. Do you want to buy some good shit?"

  "What have you got?"

  "E and Charlie."

  "Charlie?"

  Liam rolled his eyes. "Cocaine. I'll do you a cracker deal. For old time's sake."

  "You're dealing now? What about the gang?"

  "I'm an entrepreneur."

  "A what?"

  Liam sighed. "A business man, Joe. Jesus, you'd need some of this coke to shock your brain back into action. I'm expanding my horizons. I'll run the gang and sell a bit of chemical joy. No point standing still, you know?"

  "You're going to get yourself killed, mate. That's some serious shite to be getting mixed up in."

  "That was always your problem, Joe. You never wanted to take a chance. Since you and Wee Danny fucked off, we've been coining it in."

  "Nobody ever got killed when I was the leader, though."

  Liam bared his teeth. "Fuck you."

  "Fuck yourself, fatso. I hope McVeigh takes you home with him and sticks his dick up your hole."

  "Well, you may stop worrying about my back, you string of piss. Better start watching your own instead. Soon as I can get away with it..." Liam drew his thumb across his throat.

  "Yeah, I'm real scared, Liam. You couldn't beat an egg."

  Liam drew his fist back. But Joe moved like lightning. He shoved Liam with both hands. Liam just about kept his footing. Then Joe was right in his face. His breath warmed Liam's skin.

  "Don't embarrass yourself, fatso."

  Liam stepped back. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

  "Why don't you show me, then? Right now."

  "Suck my dick."

  He turned on his heel and stormed away from Joe.

  "You brought this on yourself, Liam. Don't say I didn't warn you."

  Liam jammed the earphones back in, cutting Joe's tough guy act out. He added a knife to his shopping list. A big, sharp, dangerous fucker of a knife.

  ###

  Stephen waved at the waiter and then shook a fist when the bastard walked in the opposite direction. Louise chuckled.

  "Take it easy, Stephen. There's no rush."

  "Sorry, I just like to order and then sit back and wait."

  "But it's so lovely in here. The longer it takes them to serve us, the longer we get to sit here and people-watch."

  "People-watch?"

  "Yeah! God, have you never done that? Try watching people as they move, talk and don't talk. It's really interesting."

  "I see. You might call that people-watching. I call it nosiness."

  "Ach, you're no fun. It is gorgeous in here though, isn't it? I love all these beautiful Chinese statues and all the red curtains, carpet, tablecloth. It's just so rich and vibrant."

  "Aye, red's a very powerful colour in Chinese culture. And the guys that own this place? They're some of the most rich and powerful restaurant owners in the industry. It's the best restaurant in the city. The original, before they expanded into a chain. I've always loved it here."

  "I've never been anywhere as nice as this. Thanks so much for taking me."

  Stephen beamed at Louise. He loved that she was so taken with The Red Panda, the busiest and most expensive Chinese restaurant in Belfast. A lot of its trade came before and after the shows playing at The Grand Opera House across the street, so the clientele was mostly dressed to the nines, even on a Thursday night. Stephen was of the mindset that if you were going to go out, you should make the effort and go out in style. And Louise had certainly made the effort.

  She wore a classy black and white print dress. Cut high and long to leave it all to the imagination, but hugging her hips to guide it along just a little. It looked new, or unworn. She'd been to the hairdressers and her black roots had been taken care of. The hair itself was scooped and twirled into a stylish shape. Almost formal, but not quite. But the makeup had been self-applied, and the only thing that let the image down a jot. She'd been a mite stingy with the red lipstick and it made her lips look thinner than they really were. Stephen had a thing for good, full lips
. She had them, but didn't know how to make the most of them. Maybe he'd pay to get her a makeup lesson for her birthday or Christmas. He still didn't know which would come first.

  Finally, a stunning Chinese girl in a black skirt and red blouse, sporting a little red streak in her jet black hair, arrived at their table with a notepad.

  "Are you ready to order?"

  Louise looked at Stephen and nodded, signalling he should order for both of them. He loved those little old fashioned values that she allowed to surface from time to time.

  "The first thing I'd like you to get for us is a couple more drinks. I'm on the Tiger beer and she'll have another glass of Chardonnay. You not going to write that down?"

  "I have a good memory, sir."

  "Okay, good. We'll have a mixed platter for starters and a chicken curry for my... um... date. And I'll have Peking duck."

  "Very good. Rice or chips?"

  "One of each, please."

  Stephen thought he might have caught a little sneer at that, but he gave the pretty face the benefit of the doubt.

  "I'll be back shortly with your drinks."

  "Thank you."

  Louise sighed. "Wasn't she just so beautiful?"

  "Never really noticed."

  "Aye, dead on. God, so elegant and pretty and doll-like. Fucking bitch." She laughed at that, but not very sincerely.

  "Well, tonight I've all I want to look at in you. You look fantastic, babe."

  "Ach, thanks love. You're not so bad yourself, in that shirt and tie. Don't be drinking too much. I want to take my time undressing you tonight."

  He reached under the table and stroked her calf. "That's an invitation I won't pass up."

  "Yeah, you'd be wise not to. I'm going to make your toes curl."

  His pulse sped up and he got a little hot under the collar. She always knew exactly what to say and when to say it.

  The waitress plonked their drinks on the table and interrupted his hungry stare. Stephen raised his beer bottle and Louise tapped it with her wine glass.