"Do you want a cup of tea, Emily?" she asked.
"No thanks, Louise. I'm all right."
His ma nodded, not bothering to double-check. She didn't offer one to his da.
"I'm all right too, love," his da said.
Louise looked at him blankly. "Where do you want to take Joe tonight?"
"Just thought he'd like to go for a spin. Keep his mind off things."
"Are you in the mood to go out, Joe?"
Joe nodded, afraid he'd squeak if he tried to talk.
"Well don't be filling him full of beer this time, Dermot. I could hear him bouncing off the walls on his way to bed last night. And the smell in his room was awful this morning."
"Ma!" Joe didn't want Emily thinking he was a smelly wee kid.
"Ach be quiet, you. You're lucky I let you off with it. Plenty of mothers wouldn't. Don't push your luck."
"It's all right, Louise," his da said. "We'll be good."
She pursed her lips and huffed air through her nose. "Just bring him back before twelve. And in one piece. It was nice to meet you, Emily."
"You too, Louise."
His ma stood first. She ushered them to the door in silence. Emily grabbed his da's hand and led him away from the doorstep, high heels clacking on the small concrete yard then putt-putting on the tar footpath. Joe watched the swish of her hips for a few seconds then turned to his ma as she was closing the door. He smiled at her, she winked at him and he knew she wouldn't be pissed off in the morning. The door closed gently and Joe jogged a couple of steps to catch up with Emily and his da; they were halfway to Beechmount Avenue.
"What are we doing tonight then, da?"
"Well, I told your ma we wouldn't go drinking, so let's do something even better."
"What's that?"
His da stopped in his tracks and stooped to look Joe in the face. "I'm going to teach you how to drive."
Emily giggled. "Aw, look at his face. Precious. He don't know what to say."
"You're going to let me drive the Laguna?"
"No, I dumped that after I left you home last night. I'll pick something else up tonight."
The penny dropped. "You didn't own the Laguna. You stole it."
"Yes, I did. Does that surprise you? I told you about my past last night."
"Aye, but I thought that was your past. I never met a joyrider your age before."
Emily cackled and patted Joe's chest playfully. Joe's heart juddered.
"I prefer to think of myself as a thief, Joe. Joyriding can be fun, but it achieves little and draws too much attention. No, I steal cars to sell them on, or to get from A to B. I'm not really a joyrider, as such."
"So where are we going to go?"
"Well, it's not a good idea to steal a car from someone's doorstep. You never know when they might look out the window and come at you with a baseball bat. Best thing to do is find a car park. It severely decreases the chance of getting caught, especially since most CCTV cameras aren't worth a shit. You get a better selection too. I thought we'd go to the Royal tonight. Pickings were always plentiful there if I remember right, and it's close."
At the car park, his da chuckled when he saw the yellow and black-striped rising barrier at the visitors' car park outside the maternity ward. "Do they charge for parking everywhere in this money-grabbing city nowadays?"
Joe shrugged.
"Maybe we should go somewhere else, Dermot," Emily said.
"You're probably right, babe. But could you really be arsed walking to another car park? I think the Park Centre might be the closest, but that's a good fifteen minutes uphill."
"So what's your plan, darling?"
"We'll ram the barrier."
"Fucking hell!" Joe said. He giggled with nerves.
"Are you serious, Dermot?"
"Yeah, sure why not? We'll give the kid a show. We'll need something fast and solid though. No Novas or Escorts."
Emily ran a tongue along her front teeth. She looked pretty and demonic in one sensuous moment. "Maybe Joe should pick."
"Great idea! Son?"
"Are you serious?" Joe asked.
His da nodded.
Joe saw the one he wanted, even before they'd ducked under the barrier. Big, mean and leaking gangster attitude, the Honda CR-V stood out from the rows of saloons and hatchbacks. The black four-wheel-drive drew Joe to it with gravitational force.
He pointed. "That one."
His da whistled a long breath. "Nice taste. Definitely big and fast. Looks like the 2001 model. Only one crossbar in the grille, see? That one's got the simple but noisy car alarm and immobiliser. Not as easy to crack as the Civic or the Accord. Bit of a challenge."
"Oh, right. Well I can pick a different one if you don't want to risk it."
"I never said that, Joe. I said it'd be a challenge. Which means, an opportunity to show off. All I need is my trusty flathead screwdriver, wire clippers and a good-sized stone. Watch and learn."
His da drew his tools from different pockets in his combat-style trousers. Joe missed most of the magic. The window crimped and fell into the passenger seat. The alarm blared twice and the hazard lights flashed. Joe felt his heart jump into his throat. His da bent in under the steering column and the alarm ceased. A few seconds later, he climbed into the passenger seat and leant over the steering wheel. Then the big engine rumbled to life. Joe looked at Emily and she gave him the thumbs up. He gestured with a sweep of his arm that she should climb into the Honda first.
"Oh, right little gent, eh?"
Joe felt his cheeks redden and thanked God for the fading light. He followed her around to the passenger side so he could watch her step up into her seat. The denim skirt skimmed the bottom of her ass as she lifted her leg. Joe prayed for a strong summer breeze. No joy. Still, he'd an image to fall asleep to for the next week tucked away in his memory. He clambered into the backseat and sat in the middle.
"Buckle up, Joe," his da said. "This might get a little bumpy."
His da reversed the Honda out of its space and braked hard.
"Shite, I forgot about the steering lock. Must be getting sloppy in my old age."
He slipped the flathead screwdriver into the seam between the steering wheel and the steering column. Something clunked and Joe's da removed the screwdriver. He rotated the wheel with the palm of his open hand, lined the Honda up with the exit barrier and sank the toe. Joe felt like he'd been shoved in the chest. Emily's laughter morphed into a scream as they hurtled towards impact. Joe double-checked the seatbelt was secured in its buckle. And then they hit it. The CR-V barely rocked on its suspension. The steel bar tore out of its joint. Joe whooped as they bunny-hopped over the speed ramps on the way to Broadway Roundabout. Then they were cruising up the Donegal Road and from there up the Falls Road and onto the Andersonstown Road. They pulled into the car park of the Kennedy Shopping Centre. Most of the spaces lay empty as only Xtra Vision and the Curley's off licence opened past ten at night. His da stopped in the corner of the car park furthest from the shopping centre's main doors.
"Your turn now, wee man."
Joe didn't hesitate for a second. He was standing by the driver's door before his da slipped out of his seatbelt.
"Christ," Emily said. "You're keen."
He didn't need to adjust the driving position, his long legs fit perfectly, but he fiddled with the mirror a little to stretch out the anticipation. Then he turned to talk to his da in the backseat.
"So what do I do?"
"Well, this is an automatic, so it'll be wee buns to get going. Just keep your left foot on the floor, slot the wee gearstick into drive and push down on the long pedal on your right."
"And how do I stop?"
"Worry about that when you get going, son. There'll be time to figure it out. Look how much space there is."
Emily patted his thigh and his heart threatened to explode. "And so what if you don't figure it out, Joe? It's not your car."
Dermot chuckled. "Good point, sweetheart. Now let
's get this fucking beast rolling."
Joe took a deep breath and stomped down on the accelerator. The four-wheel-drive SUV lurched, but didn't stall. Joe's teeth clacked together as he bounced in his seat. He eased off the gas and the forward motion smoothed out a little. They trundled on at about ten miles-per-hour. He felt insanely powerful.
"Don't forget to steer, darling."
Emily's calm voice reeled him in. He jerked the wheel to the left, narrowly missing an abandoned shopping trolley.
"Ach, you would have got ten points for that," his da said.
Joe looked over his shoulder to smirk at him.
"You should maybe face front until you get a little more experience behind the wheel, son."
He turned back and adjusted his course to avoid a parked Nissan Micra. Then he upped the speed a little. He took the car up and down the car park ten times and his confidence grew with each length.
"Can I take it out on the road, da?"
"Sure, why not? You're doing great. Take her on out the gates and swing left. We'll go on out the Airport Road and see if we can find an open field. See how she goes off road."
"Fucking sweet."
Joe made short work of his first public road outing, quickly learning the joys of velocity on the almost empty road. Only a handful of cars passed them in the opposite direction and at one point Emily calmly told him to inch to the left a little when a van approached them, riding a little too close to the dividing line. After passing a couple of locked gates, Joe suggested they ram their way into a field. His da laughed at the ballsy suggestion then told him to go for it.
"But pick one with a wooden gate, okay?"
As soon as Joe spotted a wooden gate, he veered off the road and crunched into it at an angle. Emily screamed. The steering wheel bucked in Joe's hands and slipped out of his grip. The passenger side headlight went out and the gate shuddered and cracked but didn't come off its posts. The powerful two litre engine grumbled on.
"So much for airbags," his da said. "Not one of them activated."
"So what'll I do now, da?"
"Reverse and charge again. If at first you don't succeed... you know the rest."
"I haven't learned how to reverse yet."
"Now's as good a time as any. Move the gearstick back to the R slot. That's you. Now apply a wee bit of pressure to the accelerator."
They bounced in their seats. The Honda had hit the grassy ditch opposite the gate.
"Jesus, you've a heavy foot, son. No worries though. Just stick her in neutral and rev up the engine a few times. Yeah, that's it, lovely. Listen to that big monster roar. Now, pop her back in drive, and floor it."
The weakened gate splintered and Joe rolled over the remains. The Honda's body rocked and jolted on the uneven terrain. He noticed Emily sink her fingers into her armrest and chuckled.
"Jesus, Dermot. This field's full of cows!"
"They're not dangerous."
"Says you."
"Ach, Emily. Look at the bloody things. They're practically hugging the ditches."
"Yuck! That one's shitting all over the place."
"Yeah, they do that. Joe, take us into the middle of the field. I'll talk you through a reverse doughnut. I'm pretty sure these things revert to front-wheel-drive automatically when you reverse. Pretty swanky, eh?"
"Can you show me how to do a handbraker too?"
"This isn't the best car for that, son. Too high and heavy. But we'll start with the doughnuts. Then we'll see."
The Honda tore up the field as the cattle cowered around the field's perimeter. A single beam of light from the intact headlight swept over the green grass. Joe took to the destructive driving like a duck to water. His da instructed and cheered him on from the back. Emily alternated between cackling and screaming. Every so often she'd egg him on by patting his forearm, and once by squeezing his thigh. The E tab he'd dropped with Wee Danny hadn't even felt this good. He only stopped because the orange reserve light blinked on. They were almost out of fuel.
"Sorry, Joe," his da said. "We'll need what's left to get back to civilisation."
Joe read the time off the dashboard. "But it's only after eleven. Do we have to leave now?"
"No, not yet. But we can't go on burning diesel. Just let her idle and we'll have a wee chat. Do you know this model has a foldout picnic table in the back?"
"I am not getting out of this car, Dermot," Emily said. "Not with all those bloody cows running about."
"That's okay, love. You stay here and work the radio. Me and Joe can sit out on our own. Have a little father and son time."
While his da figured out how to work the picnic table, Joe realised that he hadn't thought about Tommy Four-Eyes since he'd left the house. Guilt flushed his face. Tommy was dead and he'd been having the time of his life in a Honda CR-V, with the prettiest woman he'd ever met in real life beside him and his da singing his praises in the back. But not only that, Joe was painfully conscious of the relief he'd felt after Liam phoned him with the news. Relief that he'd decided to pack it in before the Wee Rockets suffered such a misfortune and, ultimately, relief that Liam carried the burden of guilt for the accident and not him. Grief for the loss of a friend seemed to play a smaller part than it deserved in his mixed bag of emotions.
His da snapped him out of his introspection.
"Hah. Got the bastard. Now for a wee nightcap." He pulled a half bottle of whiskey from one of the big pockets stitched to the leg of his combats then waggled it in Joe's face. "Want a shot?"
"Ma told us not to drink."
"No, your ma told me not to fill you with beer again. I'm only offering you one shot of whiskey while we chat. Totally different kettle of fish."
"Oh, right. Okay then."
Joe took the offered bottle and gulped down a shot from the neck. His eyes watered as the whiskey-burn edged down his throat and into his chest. "Gah! That's fucking stinking!"
"It's an acquired taste, son. Have another sip in a few minutes. It'll go down a lot easier."
"I might not take you up on that."
"We'll see."
They sat on the sill of the Honda's boot, and Joe rested his elbows on the foldout table. His da gulped down a huge mouthful and blew a short blast of air through his lips. Joe wrinkled his nose as the smell on his da's breath rejuvenated the taste clinging to the back of his throat. The big man took another shot before spinning the lid back on.
"So, Joe. What do you know?"
Joe looked at him blankly.
"What I mean to say is; how are you? You know? What with your mate...um?"
"Tommy."
"Yeah, Tommy. What with Tommy dying, are you going to be okay?"
"Aye. I'll be fine."
"Good. That's good."
They sat in silence for a moment. The cows had gotten used to them and were moving about, though still keeping their distance. Joe thought they were the most useless animals in the world. Slow and dumb. No redeeming physical features. Just waiting for that sledgehammer to the head and mutilation on the butcher's cutting block. Probably nice to have no worries though. Eat and shite and sleep. All day long. Lucky fuckers.
"So, me and my ma were in McVeigh's house earlier."
"Oh, aye?"
"Yeah. He's weird. Big poster of Bruce Lee, half naked, over the fireplace. Fuck all furniture. And everything looks too clean and tidy."
"Ah, a neat freak. All the better for us. It'll make things much easier to find. So when do you want to do it?"
"Well, I know he's got a Gaelic match on tomorrow night. He'll be running around in shorts on the Beechmount Leisure Centre pitch for seventy minutes. Kick-off's at seven."
"So I'll meet you at seven. Outside the video shop on Beechmount Avenue, okay?"
"Dead on." Joe drummed his fingers on the thick plastic tabletop. "Can I get another shot of that whiskey, then?"
###
Liam lay in his bed, wide awake, quilt kicked to the floor and shivering in his boxer shorts. He didn't w
ant to sleep. He couldn't face the nightmare lying in wait. Every time he closed his eyes he could see Tommy Four-Eyes; his ashen face scrunched. His squinting eyes peering at him over the top of the thick-rimmed glasses on the end of his sweat-slicked nose. Liam's final image of his dead friend perfectly preserved in his mind. While he lay awake it was a silent image. But the dreams would come and give Tommy the power of speech, and Liam knew he couldn't handle the asthma-strained voice of accusation. Not yet.
He rolled onto his side and watched the passing glow of headlights on the closed vertical blinds. Outside, life moved on. According to his digital alarm clock it was still Wednesday night, but only just. Tommy had died almost seven hours ago. Another car rumbled down Liam's street, oblivious to the tragedy. He tried to imagine dying on a Wednesday evening in the middle of the summer and cringed. There'd be a remembrance mass in September at St Paul's chapel on Cavendish Street. The teachers and priests would pretend they'd suffered a loss to their school and parish. Tommy's memory would be dragged through roses and still come up smelling of shite. You didn't have to tell the truth about dead kids, but plenty of people would remember it in silence. He'd died running from a cop after kicking the shit out of a yuppie and stealing from him. It'd be left out of the service, but not the local paper.
And of course, there'd be questions. Who were the other kids? Why had they not given themselves up? What were the cops going to do? Where were the witnesses? When would the others be caught? How could they let a friend die?
Just after the accident he'd phoned Joe in a panicky blur and stupidly admitted his fault in Tommy's accident. He'd panicked and hung up while Joe stammered. Then he'd gotten a wave of missed calls and text messages from the other Rockets asking if he and Tommy had made it. Rather than tell the truth or attempt to come up with a story, he'd turned off the phone. Then he'd slinked around the City, blending in as best as he could, for two hours to avoid meeting the others on his way up the road. Apparently they hadn't been stupid enough to phone his ma's house and rouse suspicion. He found her on the armchair by the TV, drinking vodka and orange juice and watching Big Brother. His da had gone to the pigeon club.
Wee Rockets Page 14