Wee Rockets

by Gerard Brennan

  "It'll be expensive."

  "I can afford half your hourly rate for eight hours."

  "Most of which you intend to sleep through, yeah?"

  "Yeah."

  "All right, then, you silly bugger. You have a deal."

  "Great, we'll pick up a big pizza on the way home. That'll be dinner and breakfast sorted."

  "What's with you and food? Are you trying to fatten me up?"

  "Nope, just making sure you don't run out of energy."

  They zipped and buckled their way back to respectability and climbed into the front of the car. Paul's chest thudded and his groin tingled at the prospect of a whole night with Emily. They pulled out of the empty dockside car park and made their way to the city.

  "Do you need to stop anywhere for an overnight bag?" Paul asked.

  She patted the black leather handbag on her lap. "I travel light."

  They drove on in comfortable silence until Emily's handbag began playing a generic dance beat. She apologised, probably more so for the crappy ringtone than the interruption itself, and fished her phone out of the bag.

  "Hello? Yeah, I'm with a client... You what? Fuck... What about Joe?" Her mouth dropped open. "The little shit! What for...? Right, right, sorry. I'll see what I can do... Just off the Stranmillis Road... Okay... Calm down, all right? I'll phone you back in a bit."

  "That didn't sound like good news."

  "No, it wasn't, darling. My friend got himself into a bit of a mess. I'm going to have to help him out."

  His heart sank.

  "So our appointment is cancelled."

  "Postponed, yeah?"

  "Aye, okay."

  "Thing is..." She laid a hand on his arm. "I'm going to need a lift to the Stranmillis Road. Maybe we could help each other out."

  "I'm listening."

  "If you play chauffer tonight, I'll give you a better price for an all-nighter tomorrow night."

  "Give me two nights for the price of one and we have a deal."

  She smiled at him. "Well good for you, you little haggler. You went in for the kill there." She shook her head. "Yeah, I can do that."

  "Fucking sweet."

  Paul altered his course and they were on the Stranmillis Road in ten minutes. Emily phoned her friend.

  "We're on the road. Where are you? Okay. No, I don't see any cops about. Hold on." She turned to Paul. "Do you know where the Lyric Theatre is?"

  "Aye. We're about a minute away."

  "Great. Dermot? Yeah, we'll be there soon."

  Paul wedged the Clio into a tight space at the kerb outside the theatre. Emily slipped out of the car and a tall man emerged from the shadowy alley leading to the back of the building. Emily had called him Dermot. Though bruised and bloodied, Paul recognised the face but couldn't quite place it. Outside, they exchanged a few words before she led him to the car. Paul guessed he was her pimp. The thought registered itself in a matter-of-fact manner. No jealousy. Not even when she reached out and gingerly stroked his face. Paul sighed and switched his mind to a simpler puzzle. Where did he know Dermot the pimp from?

  Emily opened the passenger door and cranked the seat forward to climb into the back. "Hope you don't mind. His cribbage pegs will never fit in here."

  "His what?"

  "My legs." Dermot contorted his way into the seat. "She turns that Cockney shite on and off at random intervals. I keep telling her it makes her sound like a cheap Only Fools and Horses extra, but she insists that some of the punters lap it up."

  "Where do I know you from, mate?"

  Dermot rubbed his mouth then hissed in pain. He studied Paul's face. "Couldn't tell you."

  "I thought I recognised you when I first saw you, but as soon as you opened your broad Belfast beak..." Paul tilted his head. "You're from Beechmount, aren't you?"

  "I haven't lived there for a while now." His tone slipped from Jack-the-Lad to Jack Frost. "I've been away for a few years. Should have stayed away."

  "That's right. I have you pegged now. You're Dermot Kelly. I used to buy E off you, before you were sent packing." He didn't know why, but he enjoyed watching Dermot squirm. "And do you know what? My wee brother, Danny, is your son's best mate. Fucking small world, eh?"

  ###

  Liam curled up into the foetal position. He lay on the footpath by the traffic lights at the Beechmount Avenue and Falls Road junction. The Fegan twins loomed over him. A car screeched to a halt and Liam took one hand from his face to peek at it. The car's headlights silhouetted Matt Fegan, who stood with one leg raised over Liam's head. The car door opened and the driver started shouting.

  "Hey, you. What the fuck are you doing? Get away from him you dirty wee knacker."

  Matt lowered his leg and turned to face the hero. "Fuck off. This is none of your business."

  "Maybe not, but two on one isn't right. And kicking him when he's down? You're scum. Why don't you try it with me?"

  Matt hopped back over Liam and stood with his brother. They retreated a little every time the hero stepped forward. Liam covered his face with his arms, leaving just enough space between his forearms to see through. The hero knelt down next to Liam. A strong waft of aftershave emanated from his every movement. This was a man who spent a lot of time in front of the mirror. He placed a hand, heavy with white gold jewellery, on Liam's shoulder.

  "You all right, big lad?"

  Liam looked at his saviour's face. The guy watched the twins carefully, a hard expression on his face. Liam drew back his fist and punched the hero square in his balls. Eyes bulged, brilliant white against the heavily tanned skin. With a little squeak, he bent at the waist and cupped his assaulted nuts with both hands. Liam and the twins went to work. They left him lying in Liam's spot and jumped into the hero's sexy red sports car.

  Liam whooped as he took control of the Mazda RX8 and punished the engine with his lead foot. The Falls Road became his midnight runway. Eddie shouldered open one of the rear suicide-doors and hung the top half of his body out into the night. Matt bounced up and down on the passenger seat like a kid about to piss in his knickers.

  "Change gears, Liam," Matt said. "You're raking the fuck out of her."

  "So?"

  Liam jinked the car from side to side and Eddie scrambled back into a sitting position.

  "The fuck are you at, Liam? I near fell out."

  "Dry your eyes. What were you trying to do, anyway?"

  "I wanted to see if your man was going to get up."

  "You what?"

  Eddie said nothing.

  "Want me to go back and check?"

  Before Eddie could protest, Liam attempted a 180 turn. He'd seen them do it in the movies. Heard the joyriders boast about their handbraking skills on street corners. Done it himself a million times on his Playstation. How hard could it be?

  The car made a quarter turn then conked out.

  "You're supposed to use the clutch," Matt said.

  "You can drive the next one. Shut the fuck up and let me practice."

  Liam turned the key and the car jumped. The twins sniggered, but knew better than to offer any tips. He pulled the gearstick into neutral and tried again. The Mazda purred. He jammed his right foot to the floor and the chrome-ringed tachometer's needle sprang right up into the red. The engine screamed and the car mounted the kerb as it completed the turn. Liam guided it out onto the oncoming lane, the coast clear for the time being. He eased off the gas, dropped the clutch and wrestled with second gear. It caught and they juddered forward.

  He turned in his seat to smirk at Eddie. "See? Piece of piss."

  "It wasn't me acting the driving instructor. Talk to Matt."

  "Are we really going to see if this fellah's all right?" Matt asked.

  "Well, if your Eddie is so concerned, I think we should."

  "I wasn't concerned. I just wanted to know."

  "Curious then. Let's find out."

  Liam accelerated in second and the car jumped to fifty miles per hour. He inched towards the footpath. Tow
ards the RX8's owner, lying still where they'd left him, on the lip of the kerb. One of his designer jean-clad legs had flopped onto the road. Matt fumbled with his seatbelt. Eddie hissed air through his teeth.

  "Liam, don't." Matt raised his voice to be heard over the high-pitched revs. "You'll lose control if you hit the kerb."

  "The sooner you learn how much control I have the better."

  Mere feet away, Liam blasted the horn. The hero raised his head and peeped over his chest. The headlights picked out the tears in his brilliant white eyes. Then the shock. Then they were gone. Matt screamed and Eddie pounded on the back of Liam's seat, irritating rather than hurting him.

  "Would you two buck-eejits calm the fuck down?"

  Eddie popped his head through the gap between the front seats. He shushed his twin brother then turned to Liam. "Oh, fuck, Liam. That's fucked up. Your boy's at least lost his leg. It's a cert. The cops aren't going to write this off. Especially not so soon after you stabbed the security guard. They'll know they're linked."

  Liam slammed on the brakes. Eddie saved himself from going through the windscreen by hugging the headrests on either side of him. Matt's seatbelt kept him right.

  "First of all, look." Liam twisted in his seat and jabbed his finger at the back window.

  The man knelt on the footpath, hands on his knees and his head hanging.

  "Fuck me," Eddie said. "He must have rolled out of the way. Guess he was all right."

  "Second of all..." Liam caught Eddie with a right cross as he turned to face him. The twin rocked back onto the tiny backseat. He wiped blood from his split lip. Matt grabbed Liam's arm.

  "Out of order, Liam."

  Liam headbutted Matt, catching his chin. It caused more shock than damage. "Keep your hands off me!" Liam peeled back his lips and glared.

  Matt looked away. His chest hitched.

  Liam turned back to Eddie. "What did we agree about the security guard?"

  "Not to talk about him."

  "Ever?"

  "Never."

  "So why did you?"

  "I was freaking out. Liam. I wasn't thinking. Sorry, okay?"

  "No, it's not fucking okay! Are you going to freak out if a peeler comes sniffing around your door? Are you going to freak out if one of us is scooped? Are you going to freak out if you have a nightmare? You wee shite-bag!"

  Eddie's eyes burned into Liam. "After what happened to Tommy Four-Eyes? I better not."

  "Shut up, Eddie," Matt said.

  Liam said nothing. He settled back into his driving position and adjusted the rear view mirror. The kneeling man was now the standing man. Probably gearing up to becoming the running man. He threw the RX8 into reverse.

  "Matt, I think I'll show your brother what I saw happen to Tommy. Though it won't be quite the same, because the wanker we just car-jacked is a stranger. But maybe he'll get a small taste of one of the things keeping me awake every night."

  "Liam, please." Matt leant towards Liam, hands outstretched.

  "I told you. No touching."

  Matt snatched back his hands. "Okay, but we all need to chill. Your man's probably called the cops on his mobile already. If they arrive to find him splattered all over the road this place will be crawling with white land rovers. We'll get caught and hole-fucked. If we go now, one cop car will do the West Belfast Tour. That gives us more time to get the fuck away. You don't want to be caught, do you?"

  Liam filled his lungs through his nose and emptied them through his mouth. Maybe he did want to be caught, but he refused to even nudge that can of worms. He kept his head in the situation.

  "I better not get caught with a car full of loose-lipped bitches, I suppose. I'll end up getting three hundred years."

  Liam clunked into first gear. They drove up the Falls Road and through Andersonstown, suffering bone-jarring gear changes until they got to the Poleglass Roundabout.

  Liam broke the silence. "Twinbrook or Poleglass?"

  "Poleglass is mad as fuck," Matt said. "We'll be lucky to get out alive."

  "Sounds perfect."

  "Seriously, Liam. They're all psychos around there."

  "They probably say the same thing about Beechmount, Matt."

  Matt shook his head and smiled.

  "What?"

  "In our case, they'd be right, wouldn't they?"

  Eddie piped in. "Apparently one in every three of us has killed someone."

  Liam grinned. "All right, all right. We've work to do. Poleglass it is. If we stick together we'll be okay."

  He enjoyed concentrating on the driving. By the time they were deep into the unknown he'd perfected his gear changes. He'd have to work on the parking another day.

  It seemed like all of the houses were lit up from the inside. Liam wondered if any of the residents slept at all. As he looked at the clusters of teenagers on the streets he thought maybe Beechmount was a safer place. Or maybe he'd just gotten so used to the same faces in his own area that they barely registered as threats anymore. Either way, he didn't want to stop too close to anyone. He didn't like the way they all stared at his car.

  "There's a chapel ahead, Liam. We could use the car park."

  "Aye, that'll do all right, Matt."

  They pulled into a space and got to work. Liam emptied a can of lighter fluid onto the seats and floor mats. Matt and Eddie stood behind him and twisted pages of the Andersonstown News into tapers. They lit a bunch of them, dropped them onto the seats and stood well back, waiting for the fire to catch. Black smoke belched from the open doors, swiftly followed by slender fingers of flame.

  "Seems a real waste, that."

  Liam spun on his heel as the first melting tyre popped. The comment had come from an older kid on a BMX. His white Carbrini hoodie glowed orange. Four others stood behind him. They cheered as another tyre exploded.

  "We could have had a go before you wrecked it," BMX Boy said.

  "All right, mate?" Liam said.

  "Who you calling mate?"

  Liam sighed. "Is there going to be a problem here? Because I couldn't be fucked breaking your legs."

  BMX Boy turned to the four youths behind him. "You hear that? Couldn't be fucked breaking my legs." He turned back to Liam. "You've some balls on you."

  He stepped off his bike and it clattered to the ground. Liam glanced at the four hoods behind him. They watched with hungry eyes, anticipating a satisfying show.

  "Where you from, Legbreaker?"

  Your ma, he thought. But even with the twins behind him, he'd have no chance of getting away without a serious kicking. He did his best to keep his smart mouth in check.

  "Down the road a bit. We came up because we heard you can buy the best drugs in Poleglass."

  "And do you have enough money for the best?"

  Liam nodded. "Aye, but I'm not stupid enough to carry it on me. Awful lot of people getting mugged these days. I thought I could place an order first."

  "Well... I might be able to help you. But I don't do shitty wee ten-deals. You're not going to waste my time over a bit of hash, are you?"

  Liam had to swallow the insults on the tip of his tongue. BMX Boy wanted a good kick in the scones, but Liam knew they'd be safe if they had something to offer the prick. Different street, same rules.

  "No, I'm not talking about a ten-deal, or even about hash. We're after some class A shit for a major party. It'll be well worth your while."

  "How much you got to spend?"

  "Three hundred."

  BMX Boy had a shit poker face. His eyes almost rolled out of his head. Liam and the twins would live to fight another day.

  "Right, give me your mobile number. I'll have anything you need in two days."

  "Great. What's your name then, big lad?"

  "Eamon, but most of the headers around here call me E Man."

  "Dead on, E Man. Listen, would you and your mates walk us to the taxi depot? We don't want to get into any trouble on our way home."

  "No sweat, mate. You'll be safe with us." />
  The rear tyres on the RX8 popped in unison. E Man offered his hand to Liam.

  ###

  Stephen stretched out on the sofa. He set his beer bottle on the cork coaster on the wooden floor and aimed the remote control at the DVD player, skipping forward to the next fight scene. On screen, Jet Li opened a can of whup-ass on a gang of Chinese-American triads. One man against an entire crime organisation. If only life were so simple.

  His doorbell chimed and he rolled off the sofa, sleek as a kung fu master. He hadn't been expecting company, so he readied himself to open his door to kids looking for a party to crash. The wee bastards tried it on every so often, thinking they'd get in by sending the prettiest girl first, then crowding in after her. He geared himself up to unleash a mouthful of abuse, and opened the door to Joe. The teenaged beanpole stood on the doorstep, shaking like a junkie. He cupped a cigarette in his hand. You can take the kid off the schoolyard...

  "What the fuck, Joe? It's almost one in the morning. Why are you not at home?"

  "Everything's fucked and I've nobody else to talk to. My ma keeps saying you want to get to know me. I'm desperate enough to test that."

  "You're a real charmer, Joe. Come in. But lose the fag. This is a no smoking zone."

  Joe flicked the butt into the street and stepped past Stephen. He stood in the middle of the living room until Stephen waved a hand at the armchair. Joe sat on the edge of the seat and Stephen sat on the sofa, placing one foot on either side of his beer. He wrapped a fist around the bottle neck and lifted it to his mouth. After a slow, satisfying swallow, he set his beer directly on top of the little wet circle in the centre of the coaster. Then he leant forward, resting his elbows on his knees and looked at Joe.

  "So what is it?"

  Joe licked his lips and glanced at Stephen's bottle. "Any chance of a beer?"

  "When you're eighteen, maybe."

  Joe sighed, but didn't complain. He took a plastic lighter from his pocket and fiddled with the flint. Little bursts of spark jumped.

  "Joe, did you just come here for somewhere soft to sit or did you want to ask me something?" Then a thought occurred. "Or have you more info on them Wee Rockets for me?"