Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

“Chauffeur duty?”

  “Yeah, and there was a god-awful goings-on. Larry was off his head. I walked in just in time to see him slap Erin across the face. Sandra was on the floor crying; she’d already taken one to the nose.”

  Jake looked incensed. “He hit them both?”

  “That’s what I just said,” Rory reiterated sharply, the anger in him rising again.

  Jake must have sensed the reason for Rory’s testy response, because he let it go.

  “I roughed Larry up a bit and told him to get the hell out. But Sandra won’t leave, the daft thing. And Erin won’t leave Sandra alone there with the kids. I’ve asked Old Jack to keep an eye out for him, but that’s not a permanent solution.”

  “Fuck, no.” Jake snorted. “Should we just kill him?”

  “Don’t be stupid. No, I thought we could have a nice chat with him, you know? Tell him how much we’d hate for the garda to find out about the little side business he and his brother are running.”

  “Well, if it’s just going to be a chat, I don’t know why you need me there.”

  “I need you there so he knows he can’t just wait things out until I go back to the States.”

  Jake mulled this over. “True. Right. Let’s do it.”

  “I knew you’d agree.”

  “I haven’t seen the bastard in ages.”

  “Oh, he’s a sight,” Rory said, unable to hide his revulsion. “He’s fat as Father Christmas and he still has that horrible rattling cough. He couldn’t even walk the small hill to his brother’s place without wheezin’ and sweatin’ like a man on death row. Death on two legs, that one is.”

  Jake turned circumspect, tapping his index finger against the tea saucer. “How’re San’s kids?”

  “They’re great, but their home life is shit, same as it’s always been.”

  Jake drained his tea. “I could never understand what she saw in him, anyway.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t give her the time of day.”

  Jake scowled. “What?”

  “Don’t play like you don’t know. She had it bad for you all through school. But you didn’t even see it, because you were too busy having a crush on Erin.”

  “You’re pulling this out of your ass, mate. Seriously.”

  “Guess Erin was making it up all that time.” The incredulous look on Jake’s face made Rory laugh. “Christ, I can’t believe what a thicko you are.”

  “Fuck off out of it, Rory. You’re pulling my tits on this one.”

  “Ask Erin.”

  Jake looked skeptical. “She goes from a crush on me to getting knocked up by Larry Joyce? Talk about doing a one-eighty.”

  “Yeah, well, sometimes people make bad choices. You know San. She’s never believed she deserves better, with that mother of hers—”

  “What a nutter,” Jake agreed.

  “You ask me, getting knocked up was her way to get out of that mad house. Eight kids, and her watching them half the time.”

  Jake narrowed his eyes. “You better not be blaming me for the path she took.”

  “Don’t be an arsehole. I’m just sayin’ things could have been different for her if you weren’t so busy staring at Erin’s tits.”

  “Fuck off, Rory.”

  Rory ignored him. “You wanna do this or not?”

  “’Course I do.”

  “Well, then, we’ll set a time to do it.” He paused. “There’s just one thing.”

  “There’s always just one thing with you, Rory.”

  “We don’t boast about it. Let everyone come up with their own reasons why that loser pulled a runner. There’s no need for people to know we had anything to do with it.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jake replied, beginning to chafe.

  “Boring you, am I?”

  “No, I have to get back to work. Some of us do have to do that, you know?”

  “As a matter of fact, I do know,” Rory fired back. “And so do you.”

  “You look like an arse in that baseball cap, you know.”

  “Ta, Jake.” Rory stood. “I’ll ring you when I know the lay of the land.”

  “And I’ll ring you when I’ve figured out the next competition.”

  Rory groaned. “Give it up, mate. It’s getting sad.”

  “You’re the one who couldn’t hold his drink.”

  “Right, fine, if it’ll stop you harping like a nagging old woman, one more contest. One.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why we’re even bothering with this. It’s clear she doesn’t want you.”

  Jake laughed loudly. “Oh, and she wants to be with you, does she? One stuffed animal won at the fair and she’s all for bearing your children? Watch you don’t trip over that ego of yours and break your neck, Rory.”

  “I’ll do that.” Rory went out the front door, Jake out the back. Him and Jake taking care of the Larry problem. It just might be the way to mend things.

  18

  Two nights later, Rory was buzzing with adrenaline as he and Jake went to “chat” with Larry.

  Rory knew from Erin that Larry was parking his fat arse in front of his brother Lance’s TV. Jake learned from Bettina that it was definitely true that the two brothers were dealing dope from the house. Larry was there most nights, since Lance held down an actual job as a night watchman at the mall in Moneygall.

  Rory and Jake parked at the head of the narrow street and then quietly strolled up to Lance’s two-up, two-down, identical to every other house on the road. They knew someone was there, the flickering kaleidoscope of colors from a TV lighting up the lace-curtained windows like a blaze. Rory peeked through the flimsy lace. “He’s there.”

  Jake rang the bell. No answer. Again. No answer. Again. But this time a nasty voice from inside boomed, “Feck off!” Rory and Jake looked at one another and kicked the door in.

  “What the fuck?”

  Presented with two large men looking angry, Larry put his hands up immediately. “Take whatever you want. Seriously. I’ll even show you where the shit is. Just don’t kill me.”

  “No one’s here to kill you,” said Rory in a voice meant to soothe a child. “Although I should have when I had the chance.”

  Larry started up out of his chair, but Rory shoved him down. “You’re sitting for this one.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I suggest you do what Rory says,” said Jake, nodding his head approvingly as he inspected the nasty cut on Larry’s forehead, a souvenir from when Rory had headbutted him.

  Larry muttered a few indistinct curses beneath his breath, but he stayed put on the chair.

  Rory stood directly in front of him, arms folded at his chest. He towered over the sickening coward, intimidating him, which was just the way he wanted it.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go: you’re going to get the hell out of Ballycraig.”

  “Mind your own feckin’—”

  Rory grabbed his face. “Shut up.” He released him with a shove.

  “As I was saying,” Rory continued congenially, “you’re outta here. Sandra is going to get a protection order. The school is going to get a protection order. If you ever go near her, the kids, or Erin again, they’re gonna find your body in the Dumpster behind the Oak, mate.”

  Larry gave a phlegmy laugh. “You threatenin’ me? The minute you leave here, I’m calling the garda.”

  “I thought you did that last time,” Rory taunted.

  “I know people in the garda,” Larry continued, trying to sound menacing.

  Rory laughed in his face. “I bet you do, arsehole. How many times have they nicked you for petty stealing? Drunk and disorderly conduct? Eh? We’re not fucking about here, Larry,” Rory said, stone-cold serious. “You disappear by morning or we drop a dime on you about your and Lance’s little sideline.”

  Larry stared up at them stupidly. “Drop a dime?”

  “We’ll tell the garda you’re dealing drugs out of this place,” Jake said with exasperation. “Got it?”

  Larry nodded, gl
aring.

  “No.” Rory grabbed him by the collar. “We want to hear you say you’ve got it.”

  “I’ve got it,” Larry muttered.

  Rory released him with a shove. “Good. Glad we’re clear.” He turned to Jake. “We done?”

  “One more thing. Think on this,” Jake said to Larry, his smile glittering with malice. “I’ve more brothers than you’ve got brain cells, so don’t even think of trying to pull something stupid. They’ll hunt you down like a dog. I’d leave Ballycraig as soon as possible if I were you.”

  Larry’s eyes were beady with hatred, but he kept his yap shut.

  Rory turned to Jake. “We ready?”

  “I think so.”

  “Have a nice life, you piece of shit,” Rory sneered, then spat on the floor. Jake did the same. No more words were needed. As they strolled out of there, Rory was confident about two things: one was that Larry was leaving and Sandra, her kids, and Erin were safe; the other was that he and Jake were solid. Two victories down, one to go. He was going to score a hat trick if it killed him.

  19

  Erin had finished tidying up the dining room at the B and B when someone leaned hard on the front door buzzer. Maybe Mr. Russell had locked himself out again. It had been happening with alarming frequency. Erin put down the dust rag in her hand and opened the door. There was Sandra, looking like a wild-eyed thing.

  Erin pulled her inside. “What’s the matter! Did that bastard come back? Is it one of the kids?”

  Sandra looked around, agitated. “Can we talk?”

  “You even have to ask?” Erin could feel her stomach begin to shrink into a cold, hard stone as she led Sandra into the kitchen. Bloody Larry. She knew he’d weasel his way back into the house. That jerk could talk the Queen into giving him the crown jewels.

  “Sit, honey.”

  Sandra sank into her chair like a sandbag, limply holding out a crumpled piece of paper to Erin. In childish scrawl, it read:

  Sandra,

  I’m sorry for what happened.

  I think it’s best I go.

  I love you and always will.

  Your Larry

  Erin folded it neatly and handed it back to her friend. Finally, she thought.

  “You’ve got to talk to Rory,” Sandra said frantically.

  “Whatever for?”

  “I’m sure this has to do with him giving Larry what for in the living room. He’s chased him off.”

  “Good.” Erin moved to put the kettle on, but the sound of Sandra’s wail put a stop to that.

  “Ssh,” Erin hushed, closing the kitchen door. “There are guests here, remember? All we need is tourists thinking a banshee lives here, and my folks will lose a boatload of business.”

  “I’m sorry.” Sandra’s lower lip was quivering.

  “It’s okay. You can cry. Just keep it down a bit.”

  “This is all Rory’s doing,” she accused.

  “I doubt that,” Erin said tersely, even though her gut told her otherwise. “Rory might have been the one to set the wheels in motion by defending us, but you and I both know Larry was going to pull a runner sooner or later. I just wish it had been sooner.”

  Sandra was staring vacantly out the back window. She thinks her life is over, Erin thought. But really, it was just beginning. She’d realize that eventually.

  Erin poured the tea and grabbed a box of Jacob’s Cream Crackers from the cabinet. It was just San, no need to put them on the plate.

  “Right,” Erin said, tearing open the cellophane with her teeth. “Tell me what happened.”

  “I woke up before the kids the way I usually do, right, to make their breakfast. And I’m coming down the stairs, and this white envelope was on the floor that someone had pushed through the letter box. My first thought was, ‘Oh crap, don’t let it be from the council saying they’re gonna turn the water off.’ My heart was in my throat, Erin. I swear to God.

  “So I picked it up, thinking, ‘What the—’ And I opened it”—her eyes started brimming again—“and there it was, the note from Larry.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

  “And there’s no part of you that’s glad he’s not going to come round anymore and terrorize you and your kids?”

  Sandra wasn’t hearing her. “You have to find out what Rory said to him when we were upstairs,” she pleaded.

  “What does it matter?” Erin was about to tear her own hair out by the roots. “We don’t know where he’s gone, and even if we did, I would never speak to you again if you went chasing after him. I mean that. You should be thanking Rory! I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if Rory hadn’t walked in.”

  Sandra looked distraught. “What am I gonna tell the kids?”

  “Sandra, they know he hit you. They’re not idiots.”

  “He’s still their father.”

  Erin grit her teeth. “Fine. Tell them he’s found work somewhere.”

  “Work? Not bloody likely.”

  “You know, there are some positives to this,” Erin said cautiously.

  Sandra scowled at her. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

  “Well, for one thing, you were thinking about getting away from him anyway, taking classes and all that. But he’s gone and done it for you. And you don’t have to worry anymore about him coming home drunk, or not coming home at all. Or hitting you. Or belittling you in front of the kids and chucking furniture about. Or trying to win the kids’ affection with iPhones.”

  “Wonder how he managed to afford those,” Sandra muttered.

  “You know how: either he stole them like we thought, or he bought them with drug money. Things can only go up from here, love.”

  Sandra burst into tears again. “But I love him! What am I going to do without him?”

  Erin lost her temper. “San, I’m trying to be as supportive as I can, but you seem to have forgotten that Larry hit me, too! Who would he be hitting next if he stuck around? Your kids?”

  Sandra’s voice trembled. “I’m so sorry he did that, Erin.”

  “It’s not your fault. But if you really give a damn about your family and friends, you’ll set your sights on building a good life for you and your kids without that prick.”

  “I’m just scared,” Sandra whispered.

  Erin brushed a tear from her friend’s cheek. “Scared of what, love?”

  “Scared of happiness. I don’t know how to be happy.”

  “Yes, you do. You’ve just forgotten how. I’ll help you figure it out, okay?”

  Sandra looked at her pitifully. “Promise?”

  “Promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

  “Stick a needle in my eye.”

  “If I die before I wake.”

  “Ask the Lord my soul to take.”

  They’d been saying this to each other since they were kids, and saying it now helped lighten the mood.

  “See, it’s a little better already, isn’t it?”

  Sandra nodded wearily. “It always is, girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  * * *

  A few days after Larry Joyce disappeared, Jake rang Rory up, asking if he could stop by after supper. Rory was surprised, but happy. He’d had the feeling that handling the Larry situation together wasn’t just about the two of them making sure the wanker never terrorized his family again; it was a way for them to bond, despite their competition for Erin’s attention.

  His gran was bustling around the kitchen as if Leonardo DiCaprio, her favorite actor, were coming over.

  “Gran, it’s just Jake, all right? You don’t have to make sure there are three types of biscuits on the table. Jake’ll eat whatever you put in front of him.”

  “It’s my house and I’ll do what I feel is proper.”

  “All right, all right.”

  Rory joined her at the kitchen counter, tearing open a pack of McVitie’s Dark Chocolate Digestives. “I suppose you want these on a plate.”

  “Take a wild stab at the answer,
son.”

  There was a knock at the back kitchen door and then Jake came in. “Hiya, Gran.”

  “Jake! If it’s not the man himself. What’re you doing, knocking on the door? You’re family; you can come and go as you please.”

  Jake smiled and gave her a big hug. “It’s good to see you.” He looked sheepish. “I mean, visiting and all.”

  “I’m glad you’re here,” said Gran. Rory waited for her to get a little dig in at him, but none came.

  “Now,” she said, face glowing. “We’ve got digestives, shortbread, scones, and cream crackers, so don’t be shy.”

  Jake looked over her head at Rory in amusement. “I guarantee that a good lot will disappear, believe me.”

  “I’ve got Barry’s or Lyons for tea.”

  “Barry’s.”

  “There’s a good lad.”

  Jake had always been good at chatting with Rory’s gran, which was no surprise: she’d known him since he was five. When the tea was ready to be served, his gran poured three cups and Rory brought the big plate of biscuits to the table.

  “There you are.” She looked at Rory, the tiny tea cup in her hand trembling a little from age. “If you need me to break ya apart before you crack each other’s heads open and sawdust goes tumbling to the floor, just give me a shout. I’ll be in the other room watching the telly.”

  Rory gave her the thumbs-up. “Got it.”

  His gran shot him a look of warning. Rory knew that look: act like a jackass and you’ll be getting an earful from me, mister. His ears should have been elephant-sized by now, that’s how many earfuls she’d subjected him to over the years.

  He sat down opposite Jake. It didn’t feel weird so much as formal.

  “I feel like we’re two mafia dons at a sit-down.”

  Jake smiled at that as he reached for a digestive biscuit. “I suppose it is a sit-down, in a way.”

  “Is it? You’ve got your brothers stationed outside the door to burst in at any moment?”

  “If I asked them to, they would.”

  “I know.” Rory took a big gulp of tea. “C’mon, mate. What’s eatin’ at you?”

  Jake let out a groan. “Threatenin’ Larry like that.”