“Sorry, it’s a bit old school, I suppose,” Wild added, showing off his best street language.
“OK man, I'd better get back on, this track’s almost over,” Ed said slowly fading out the track that was playing.
Wild grabbed Ed’s hand. “You’ll be fine Ed. I've done this a hundred times. I’ll get you thought this.”
Ed looked down at Wild’s hand on his, feeling totally uncomfortable, so much so he missed his cue in from the end of the track. Wild gave him a nod and mouthed: “You can do this Ed, just pretend I’m not here.”
Ed pulled his hand from Wild’s, shook his head and refocused. “Good morning listeners. You're tuned in to Get Rocked! And you’re with the Hardman’s breakfast show."
Ed tried to ignore Wild mouthing to him: “You’re doing fine, keep it up.”
“And this morning we have Ronny Wild with us; yeah that’s right he’s not dead!” Ed said, finding his rhythm again.
“Dead? Alive and kicking more like!” Wild said, butting in.
Ed scowled back at Wild for the interruption. “Sorry,” Wild mouthed.
Ed seemed annoyed by this? Ronny tried to not get annoyed himself. He was only trying to help the kid out. It was understandable the DJ would have nerves about sitting next to Ronny Wild; he was merely helping him out a bit.
“Good morning Ronny, thanks for coming on today,” Ed said.
“Anything for the fans Ed, you know. Good morning to all you Wild Riders out there!” Wild shouted into his mic.
Ed contorted with pain at the volume of Wild’s loud voice coming through his headphones.
“Do you want me to sing a quick number?” Wild asked. “You know a quick one for the fans?”
“No, I don’t think so Ronny,” Ed said.
“Of course you’ve got your own playlist that you need to get through,” Wild said, giving Ed a knowing grin. “Don’t worry kids, I’m sure he’s got a few Ronny Wild numbers for you.”
“I’m sure I don’t.” Ed snapped.
“What?” Wild said, suddenly hurt.
“We’re going to take a quick break for a word from our sponsors,” Ed said. Then, as he faded in the tape of ads, he turned to Wild. “Look Ronny, let’s start again, I’ve got a show to do here.”
“I just want you to feel comfortable Eddie,” Wild said, trying his most soothing tone.
Ed glared at Wild, as the ads faded back. What was this guy’s problem? It was Ronny who supposedly wasn’t used to being up at this time in the morning; anyone would think it was this guy who was the novice.
“Today I’m with the huge rock star; Ronny Wild,” Ed said.
If Ronny didn’t know better he might think the DJ’s words were laced with sarcasm; it was weird, it must be the nerves. This guy must be new to this? Wild winked at the DJ, giving him the thumbs up.
“So what have you been up to recently?" Ed asked.
“Apart from the last album?” Ronny smiled.
“Well, I imagined you’ve been trying to put that behind you now?”
“Hardly,” Wild said. “Who’d want to put a European number one behind them?”
“I heard HMV are still stocking it, so they can use it to hold their shelves up?” Ed replied.
Well that was borderline rude? Ronny thought, but decided roll with the young DJ’s strange idea of humour.
“If they were using them to hold up the shelves Ed, they’d struggle to keep them on the wall… the way they must be racing out the door,” Wild replied.
“Ronny seriously, I think the real question the listeners will be wondering is… How do you come back from a flop like that?” Ed said.
“Flop?”
Wild was completely lost for words
“Flop,” Ed nodded.
“European number one,” Ronny replied.
“Really, where?” Ed questioned.
Wild thought for a moment, before answering. For some reason this did not feel like it was going well.
“The continent,” he replied.
“But you have been released from your label now. So what’s next?” Ed continued to take the offensive.
Wild was taken aback by the question. “Released? Left? It’s always fifty, fifty these things…”
“And you’ve also been ditched by your manager?” Ed added, with an elfish type grin on his face. It sounded more like a statement than a question.
“It is true. I'm heading in a new direction right now…”
“But is there any way back for you?” Ed inquired.
“Back from a European number one, I hope not,” Wild snapped.
Wild’s temper was about to break. What the hell was going on with all this sarcastic crap and poisonous questions?
Ed reached for a switch. “OK, well it’s beginning to heat up in here, so I think we’ll take a quick break. Now for a tune from someone who is still happening this century; here’s a quick clip from Enter Shikari, with their new single!”
“What the fuck was all that about?” Wild said, ripping off his headset.
“Sorry, what do you mean?” Ed replied innocently.
“All this shit about; is there anyway back for me?” Wild said, more hurt than angry. “My fans will be listening to this; some of them will have gotten up especially early just to hear from me!”
Ed shrugged, “Ronny. You're on the Hardman’s breakfast show, everything’s fair game.”
“Is there any bloody way back? I haven’t gone anywhere,” Ronny said to himself. And he spent the next few moments staring into thin air, trying to understand what had just been said and how he could have replied in a better manner.
“Ronny, get your mic back on, we’re coming back online,” Ed instructed.
”Oh I’m coming back online alright, you arse wipe,” Wild muttered to himself.
Ed spoke into his mic. “Wow! Ronny’s just said to me—he was pleased to hear what rock music in the twenty-first century sounds like…”
“No I didn’t listeners. That's a blatant lie,” Wild countered quickly.
“He did listeners. I think poor old Ron here struggles to talk about his feelings—and maybe this old rock dog’s memory’s going a bit!” Ed continued.
“Well listeners, I don’t really know how I feel about the fact Ed here just told me he was gay,” Wild said making a viscous smile back at the DJ.
The DJ stared back at the rock star in disbelief. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay Ronny. But I am heterosexual.”
“Spoken like a true bum bandit with cum on their breath, I think you’d agree listeners,” Wild said. Now he had the wicked smile on face.
Ed looked shocked, “Excuse me.”
“I couldn’t excuse that breath mate!” Wild retorted, feeling proud of himself.
Ed seemed to take a large breath before speaking; the young DJ was on the ropes but Ronny had no pity for him. Don’t go toe to toe with your main attraction. God only knows how many listeners this station would have just lost due to the rude way in which the DJ had treated a rock legend.
There was an awkward silence; not really good for radio. Ronny wondered if he should break into an acapella version of his last single.
“Sorry listeners back to the show,” Ed said, still trying to find some composure. “As I said a moment ago, you were just listening to a sneak preview of a band that really is, of the moment, who just couldn’t be any more happening. But let’s flip that on its head for a moment and get back to Ronny Wild. Ronny, what do you say to people who might be listening to you right now and thinking? Oh no, not that Ronny Wild; he’s a right loser. He’s out of touch and a real bigot.”
“I think you’re just being a bit immature now Ed,” Wild replied calmly.
“Well I think, a lot of the kids listening right now will be saying; get that old man off the air,” Ed snapped.
“Firstly, I’d say; ageism is disgusting and it truly sickens me. And let me be the first to defend you Ed; you’re not too old for this show. Ugly, yes, b
ut hey this is radio!” Wild said, wrestling for control of the studio.
Ed glared at Wild. “Listeners, sadly not for the first time, we have to say goodbye to Ronny Wild. Thank you for coming on the show today; no hard feelings for getting the Hardman treatment.”
Wild jumped in. “No thank you listeners for tuning in today. I love you all, and it’s great to still know you’re out there.”
Ed rolled his eyes. “And thank you Ed, for inviting me on your show. I had no idea, until today, that your nickname relates to the erection that you have while talking to male guests.”
Ed stared back dumbfounded.
“You fucking try hard!” Wild said, pulling off his headphones.
He stormed out of the studio and headed for the exit. Cazza suddenly appeared out of a doorway holding her clipboard, looking angry. God, he couldn’t deal with a bloody groupie now.
“Look luv you’re too young for me, get over it,” Wild said, walking out of the door.
Things had really not been going to plan lately. There was nothing else for it but to go home get his friend Jack Daniels out and think about the future, how he could get Ronny Wild back on top again.
Chapter Eighteen - Charlie O’Neil
Charlie O’Neil woke up suddenly, looked around, briefly unaware of where he was, until reminded by the familiar bleeping and whirling sounds of the machines positioned next to Jackie’s bed.
O’Neil was concerned. Concern was a feeling. He had lived with concern for his wife for months now and now he had a new worry—Robert. He wasn’t used to a loss of contact with Robert Payne; they had been close friends for over thirty-five years now and, in that time, there had barely been a day with no contact between them. There were always countless business ideas and challenges to bounce off each other. And in later years personal problems too, ones that Charlie would only truly take Robert’s counsel on.
If there was a reason why Robert was going to drop off the radar for a while, he would have made sure to let Charlie know. Robert was always calm and calculating; everything he did had a reason. Charlie needed his friend right now—whether if for a quick chat or a long heavy one—Robert knew he had to be there. Charlie depended off his friend’s intuition for this, there was no conversation needed at times, Robert just understood to start a chat. This made the last few hours more concerning; no sign of Robert at home, and not answering his phone. Charlie couldn’t get it out of his head that there was a serious problem here.
Charlie grimaced at the thought of life without Robert; he remembered when they first met in the schoolyard, back in the mid-seventies. Charlie would have been best described back then as the most popular kid at school, largely because of his big build and his effortless skill at whatever sport he tried his hand at. He also had a reputation as a bully, this being mainly built through events out of his control, not down on his part to any deliberate power lust. Probably due to his size, other boys deliberately went up against him, to prove their worth to their friends; and he had without fail knocked them all to the floor. There was only so many times that this could happen without infecting his mind with the feeling of dominance and control. He had started with no ambition for it, but after a while he’d come to like the feeling of running the schoolyard. And with it, started to like the feeling of putting someone on the ground with his fists.
By the time Robert had come to fight Charlie, Charlie was the undisputed boss of the schoolyard; everyone knew his name and no one crossed him. He remembered the day, like it was yesterday. He had been approached by a then close friend of his, called Felix, who had asked for his help in teaching a lesson to a scroat who had treated his sister badly.
Though the scroat in question was three years younger than them, he was still more than a match for Felix, who was a small kid with a skinny build, and Felix felt desperate to let this boy know exactly whom he had messed with. Even back then, Charlie knew the power of a favour, so he agreed. And he and Felix caught up with the younger boy at the bike sheds.
O’Neil folded his arms and leant on the side of the bike shed, watching the younger boy unlock his bike. A crowd had started to build around the scene; the talk of the school was that Charlie O’Neil was about to knock someone else out.
“Oi kid.”
The scroat turned around, “What?”
“You shouldn’t have made Ellie Felix cry. She's my friend’s sister.”
“So? What difference does that make?” Robert said, returning his gaze to his bike’s lock.
Charlie was taken aback by this; he was twice the size of this kid. But, even if you overlooked this, his reputation spoke for itself; most kids would be in tears by now from his presence alone. Who the hell did this boy think he was?
Charlie moved away from the bike shed and stood straight up, proudly displaying his whole height and build. “I’m Charlie O'Neil. You may have heard of me?”
The boy turned and looked O’Neil up and down, then slowly walked towards him, stopping just inches away. “My name’s Robert Payne, but you won’t have heard of me. People who have heard are too scared to say my name.”
There was almost a hush from the watching crowd, due to the Payne’s pure confidence and defiance in the words spoken to O’Neil. Even Charlie felt himself take a subconscious step back, which was something new to him. Sure he was used to kids stepping up against him; but those kids were big and in most cases older than Charlie, not three years younger.
“Look, kid, all I want you to do is apologise to my friend’s sister; simple as that. You don’t need to get hurt today,” Charlie said, very conscious of the crowd, who were still admiring his power.
But while O’Neil was watching the crowd, Payne had seen his chance and let fly a right hook that hit him squarely on the jaw. Charlie rocked backwards, momentarily feeling tears welling up in his eyes. A feeling of shock spread across the crowd, at the sight. The kid knew how to punch; there was no way someone his size should have been able to punch that hard.
A sea of anger flooded Charlie O’Neil’s mind; the anger came from the embarrassment, all these kids had just seen him almost knocked out by this little scroat. O’Neil leapt forward with a barrage of right hooks and upper cuts. Payne seemed to absorb an incredible number of them before going down.
O’Neil looked down at the crushed form of Robert Payne and gave a knowing smile to his audience. “All I wanted was an apology,” he said, turning to the boys and girls that surrounded him with a shrug, and started to walk away. A sense of pride started to return to him; no question who was the boss around here.
“Well you’re not getting that.”
O’Neil turned to see a battered looking Robert Payne gradually getting up off the floor; he shook his head in disbelief.
Payne brought his fists up to his chest, in a boxer’s stance. “C’mon on then,” he shouted back at O’Neil. “You slap like a girl.”
Now why did he have to go and say that? It was clear by the bruises his face was covered in, that he’d taken the beating of his life. Charlie easily could have walked away, job done. But why did he have to say that? There was no way he could let that comment slide, without some from of retribution. O’Neil felt the look from the crowd, who were feverishly waiting for his response, as he pondered what to do. He turned to Payne, whose eyes had settled into steely glare.
O’Neil slowly moved back towards Payne. As he got closer, he feigned a right hook towards the smaller boy, and then slipped straight into an upper cut with his left fist. This all but took Payne straight off his feet and back to the ground.
This time, O’Neil didn’t walk away. He looked down at his defeated foe waiting for him to get up again. Despite this, he couldn’t hide his surprise as the younger boy gingerly started to get to his feet. O’Neil swiftly countered—with a sickening kick to Payne’s stomach. The watching crowd winced.
Finally, O’Neil did start to walk away, confident that the beating he had delivered was enough to require medical attention, let alone plent
y to stop the kid from wanting more. The crowd seemed to be sharing this view as they started to scatter.
“Where the fuck are you going!” Payne said in a raspy voice.
O’Neil turned to see Robert Payne once again standing. Who the fuck did this kid think he was, Rocky fucking Balboa? Payne was now partly bent over with pain from a probable set of broken ribs. His face was a swollen mess and even his hands could no longer be as tightly fisted as before.
O’Neil looked Payne up and down. “You are the fucking hardest bastard I have ever met.”
“That’s exactly what your mum says,” Payne snapped back through a bloodied mouth.
O’Neil’s look hardened at the words said against his mother. His body stiffened and assumed a predatory pose once again; there was no way he took any bad mouth about his Mum…
But today was going to be an exception; his face broke into a broad grin—and he laughed.
Payne’ stance remained unchanged, still not sure if he was going to get a further beating.
“You’re not going to let him get away with that are you Charlie!” Felix said, practically jumping off his feet in animation.
“You’re joking Felix. This boy deserves some respect,” O’Neil replied firmly.
Felix started to roll up his sleeves, “Well if you don’t, I’ll bloody finish him off.”
“I reckon that even in this state that kid would kick the shit out of you Felix”, O’Neil said, putting his hand on Felix’s chest.
“And anyway, Robert Payne’s now under my protection.”
Felix looked back at O’Neil, wanting to argue but understanding the futility of it. O’Neil turned to look at Payne, who didn’t even give him a nod of thanks.
From that day, there started a fearsome partnership between Charlie O’Neil and Robert Payne. O’Neil identified with Payne’s infectious spirit; he was both the most intelligent and hardest bastard he knew. It seemed that anything was possible when they were stood shoulder to shoulder. Even a day ago, when they were stood in the hospital together, just them both being there, made Charlie feel they could beat this illness, that they had Jackie covered.
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