Wee Rockets (16 page)

Tommy took a reddener from his neck to his hairline. "Fucking fine, then. Who?"

Liam pointed to the big stone arch. "The next person to walk through that gate alone. Man, woman or child. We'll hide behind the big skip there and at least we'll be close to the gate if things get sticky. A surprise attack from behind, quick and brutal. No struggling like the Mister Fiver-in-my-Wallet fiasco. And if they don't have something decent on them, I'm going to fucking lose it. I swear to fuck, I'll go fucking apeshit."

###

Joe looked at his watch again. Half past eight. No Dermot.

McVeigh's shitty horror movie had ended ages ago and he still sat on the couch with his ma. She scrolled through the Sky Digital TV guide with infuriating ineptness, pushing the yellow button when she wanted the green one and then trying to watch shows that wouldn't start for another twenty-four hours. He tutted as she hit the backup button again and started from scratch.

"I'm sure he's just been held up," his ma said. "He'll be here."

"Aye, right."

"Why don't you give him ten more minutes? If he doesn't show then go out and have a laugh with your mates." She squeezed his shoulder. "At least you can say you did your part. Then it'll be his responsibility to make it up to you." She paused. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

Joe nodded, mostly because she'd have to get up and leave the room to make his tea. If she kept going on and on about it he'd say something and cause another hassle. After the fun he'd had earlier with Wee Danny and the E, the crappiness of reality stung worse than usual. He'd still been a little chemically enhanced when his ma suggested they watch the film, but his come down had hit rock bottom halfway through. He'd heard about the depression after taking ecstasy at school; everybody at Corpus Christi got the anti-drugs propaganda in first year form class. But he hadn't expected his mood to plummet so soon after soaring high as a kite. It had to be the pill though. It's not as if he'd expected that much from Dermot. And what good was he anyway? Hadn't he done just fine without the big prick?

His ma set the steaming Manchester United mug on the arm of the sofa for him. She'd put in too much milk, but he didn't mention it. If she hadn't forgotten the sugar he'd be able to stomach it all right.

"We need sugar," she said. "I'll just run down to the shop. I'll be back before the tea cools." She grabbed her denim jacket from the balustrade and threw it on. Then she ran her hand along the nape of her neck and flicked her hair out of the collar. "I'll get you a Crunchie bar too, okay?"

Joe swallowed a sudden lump in his throat and nodded. "Thanks, ma. I... um... thanks."

She smiled on one side of her mouth and winked. It'd been a long time since she'd looked at him like that. She'd dug up the old expression at a good time. He managed a small smile in return.

Then they both jolted at the drum roll thudding on the front door.

Louise's look of surprise morphed into a scowl. "That must be Dermot."

"He said he'd toot the horn."

"He'll wish he had after I've finished with him."

The door rattled in its frame as it was attacked by the heavy-fisted knocking again.

"Take it easy!" Louise yelled through the door. She turned the night latch and took three stumbling steps back. "Karen?"

"Where the fuck is he?"

"Who?"

"Your Joe."

Joe felt an instant surge of guilt. His skin burned all over and his stomach drew his balls upwards. He'd never heard his ma's posh friend curse in all the time he'd known her. She didn't even sound like herself. More like a demon hijacking a woman's vocal cords. He tried to figure out what he'd done to her and came up blank.

His ma turned to him. "What have you done?"

Joe shrugged. He didn't know what to say.

Karen Magee's voice rasped again. "He's here?"

She almost knocked his ma over as she stormed into the living room. Joe stood up and raised his hands, palms out, to ward her off. She had panda eyes from crying. Joe wanted to tell her to calm down, that he hadn't done anything, but her messy makeup and gunslinger stance scared him into silence. He looked to his ma for support.

"What do you think he's done, Karen?" She spoke in a calm voice and approached her friend with bomb squad caution.

Karen spun on her heel. Her jerky movement almost emitted sparks. "My mummy's in the Royal. She got mugged at Milltown Cemetery. The animals broke her arm, her hip and fractured her skull. Looks like the doing of that fucking Wee Rocket gang." She shot the last two words out through a fine mist of spittle.

"You think my Joe hurt your mummy? Karen, when did this happen?"

"At about half six this evening. I couldn't go with her. I had to work late. But I thought she'd be all right. It's daddy's anniversary. She couldn't wait any longer to visit him. And those fucks robbed her." She turned to Joe. "She's in a coma!"

"Stop it, Karen." Joe's ma grabbed her friend's upper arm and turned her. She was not gentle. "Joe's been with me since I got home from work. We've been watching the telly since quarter past five. He couldn't have been there."

"Let go of me."

"Calm down."

"My mummy's at death's door! Don't you tell me to calm down."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I love your mummy, I really do. But if you don't settle yourself and stop accusing my son of something he couldn't have done, I am going to give you such a kick up the arse. You should be at your mummy's side, not acting like a crazy bitch in my living room."

Karen burst into tears and collapsed against Joe's ma. Joe shook on the spot. His ma looked over Karen's shoulder at him. She made eye contact and frowned. Joe rubbed the crown of his head with both hands. He didn't know if he should leave them to it or wait for Karen to apologise to him. Karen's tortured sobs set his skin crawling. He needed a smoke or a drink or a pill or something. Anything.

His heart rate slowed as Karen's sobs finally faded to a kitten-like mewling. She mumbled watery apologies into the crook of his ma's shoulder.

"Shush, now. Sit down there. Joe, will you stick on the kettle please?"

He practically ran out into the kitchen. Only for the fact it would have prolonged his stay in the uncomfortable scene, he'd have kissed his ma for giving him an excuse to leave the room. As he reached for the kettle he heard his phone play Eminem's
The Real Slim Shady
. He'd left the mobile on the sofa. There was no way he was going to go back in there to answer it. He waited for it to ring off.

The music cut out as his ma answered the phone. "Dermot? Is that you? Where the fuck are you?"

There was a pause and some whispering from Karen.

His ma's voice again, "Car trouble? You're a... you know what? Never mind what I think. You can tell all of this to Joe. Have you enough credit on your phone to wait for him?" A pause. "Aye, big shocker. I'll tell him you phoned."

Joe didn't move from his spot by the kitchen sink. He expected a huge rant from his ma. She surprised him with silence. Karen spoke instead.

"Dermot? Dermot Kelly?" Her tone sounded a little more human.

His ma sighed. "Yeah. He arrived here last night. Caused a ruckus and left his number. Typical Dermot. Joe decided he wanted to get to know him. I couldn't stand in his way."

"And he's let Joe down already? Ouch."

Joe filled the kettle and switched it on. He considered slipping out the backdoor to avoid an awkward moment with Karen, but curiosity over Dermot's phone call pulled him to the living room. Karen fumbled her way through an apology and Joe blushed. He couldn't deal with it. Especially since he could have easily been guilty if the Rockets had come across Missus Magee before his recent departure. He shushed her as politely as he could.

"Forget about it, Karen. I'd have gone mad too. I understand."

"Thanks, Joe." She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a handful of tissues. She wiped her mascara-smeared eyes and blew her nose. The horn-like blast cut through the sombre atmosphere.

Joe's ma smiled at him, brimming with obvious pride. He felt like a piece of shit, but he managed a modest nod.

"I heard you on the phone to Dermot. Is he not coming?"

"He is, but he's running late. I didn't give him much of a chance to explain. Maybe you should phone him and ask him when he'll be here."

A two-tone car horn sounded in the street. He looked out the window and saw Dermot behind the wheel of a sporty Renault Laguna.

"I guess I won't need to phone him," Joe said. He grabbed his hooded top and took a deep breath at the front door before stepping out onto the street.

###

Liam swung the mop handle like a baseball bat. He turned his face away as the stick made contact with the window. The glass clattered into the Corpus Christi classroom. The others cheered. Liam turned and bowed to his rowdy audience, then returned to the circle of drinking Rockets and a diminishing bottle of cider. The mood buzzed on the school's car park. Liam twirled the mop handle like an Orangeman's baton before tossing it to Matt Fegan, the next batter. He motioned for the non-identical twin to stall for a minute. He had something to say.

"It turned out all right in the end, didn't it?"

They smiled at their fearless leader and raised their plastic chalices. The second job at Milltown Cemetery had gotten a little messy, but at least she'd a decent amount in her purse and a bit of gold around her neck. He'd hit her too hard and too many times, still pissed off about the old man with the dog, but made sure she was still breathing before they split. They picked a teenaged girl at the City Cemetery. That one turned up even more. Mobile phone, iPod, cash and jewellery. Fuck the oldies. They'd just upgraded. And he wouldn't let them stop there.

"Lads, today was the start of our very first spree. Tomorrow we hunt again. There is money out there for the taking. Let's get it."

Even Tommy Four-Eyes smiled at that. A little liquid confidence really made a difference. Liam thought he might suggest that Tommy have a few tins before the next job. See if it would make him a little more useful.

"Where do you think we should go in the morning?" Eddie Fegan asked.

"Where the real money is, mate. Tomorrow we're going into the city. I have an idea and Royal Avenue is the best place to test it out."

Stephen chugged the first quarter of his beer. It went down so easy; frothy, bubbly, and chilled to perfection. His throat seemed to widen, inviting more. Few things in life came close to the first gulp from a perfect pint. Good sex held a steady second, but beer asked for a lot less in return. Thoughts of Louise surfaced to refute this old belief. Her dirty laugh and skilled hands hadn't cost him a thing yet. So far she'd been extremely low maintenance. He saluted her spirit with another sip from the cold, tall glass.

Freshly showered, in crisp clothes and feeling the physical effects of a good night's football training, he sat happy and comfortable on his barstool at the Manchester United pub. Wee Paul Gibson drank with him, complaining about his home life, as usual. But even the familiarity of the classic pub rant added an important element to the night. Life the way it should be.

"And I keep telling her," Paul said, "it's not natural for a five-year-old boy to be sleeping in his parents' bed. He needs his own space. I mean, he's at school now. Pretty soon his mates will be inviting him for sleepovers and all that craic. What's he going to do then? Take Sinead with him? It's not right."

"Aye, it's a sticky situation all right." Stephen felt like stirring it up a bit. He put on an innocent face. "So, I suppose the sleeping arrangement must put a bit of a strain on your... connubial activities."

"Our what?"

"You know. When a man loves a woman? What goes on behind closed doors? The old horizontal hokey pokey?"

"Oh, shagging?" Wee Paul shook his head. "Not a fucking mission. Some folks go through a bit of a dry spell after they have kids. I'm living in the Sahara fucking Desert. I've probably forgotten how to do it."

"Sure it's like riding a bike."

"Fuck off. I'm not desperate enough to ride a bike. Not yet, anyway."

"Well, if all else fails, you can always get a quick service down on Linenhall Street."