‘Cos I love you too much.’
Like that.
Then, ‘Something smells good.’
‘It’s your favourite.’
‘Meatloaf?’
‘You betcha.’
When he’d first asked for it, she thought he meant ‘Bat Out Of Hell’. She was still English then. Now she had to work at it. It wasn’t that she ever felt American, but she had the moves.
Then he hugged her and she got a blast of Tommy Hilfiger. For one fleeting moment she remembered Brut and Fenton, but let it slide, not even linger … just keep on moving, like a song you can’t recall.
So that was how it was when Jack got home. After the meatloaf, the doorbell went and Jack moved to answer.
A voice said, ‘Package for Stella.’
As he opened the door, he was still half turned to her, a huge smile making him look boyish. Fenton said, ‘One!’
And slammed the bat into Jack’s stomach.
‘Two!’
Upended it and drove the top against Jack’s chin, the bone splintering into his brain.
‘Chun!’
And he beamed at Stella, asked, ‘Howzat, darlin’?’
She was holding the dinner plates, too frozen to drop them.
Fenton kicked the door shut.
‘Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner …? And blacker than you can begin to imagine.’
‘We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold.’
(Opening lines of ‘Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas’)
‘You’re a cute hoor,’ said Pat.
‘What?’
‘The way you handled them cops at the station. Jaysus, they were eating outta yer hand. When did a policeman ever offer a cup o’ tea? I’ll never get over the bate of that … As I said, glic.’
‘Click?’
‘It’s the same as cute hoor, but slyer.’
‘But it’s a compliment?’
‘Is it?’
They were in The Quays pub on Quay Street. Lest you forgot, it said so above the door. Pat had told Brant that Brad Pitt had been in and that, ‘No more than Geldof, he was a bit shy of the soap ’n’ water.’
Brant exclaimed, ‘You can be one vicious bastard, you know!’
‘Ary, I’m only coddin’.’
Brant had come to Ireland for all sorts of reasons and curiosity was probably the best he’d articulated. Getting laid never came into it, but lo and behold, he was about to. They were drinking slow bottles of Guinness and Pat said, ‘There’s a wan over there has an eye for you.’
‘What?’
‘She has a mighty chest on her and a bit o’ mileage, but for all that …
‘What are you on about?’
Pat moved back from the bar, gave Brant the full Irish appraisal, then said, ‘I’d say you’re a holy terror for the women.’ And then he stepped over to the woman, had a few words and returned. ‘She thanks you kindly and a glass of sweet sherry would be grand.’
Brant took a look, not bad at all. A touch of the Margo Kidders … well, OK — Margo’s mother, but in prime shape. Course, the fact that she fancied Brant gave her bonus points all over the shop.
As Brant ordered, Pat said, ‘Tis what Connemara men do for penance.’
Yet again, Brant had no idea what he meant and dreaded trotting out, ‘What?’ yet again. What he’d do, he’d get two small cards printed,
1. Yellow
2. Red
Write in small letters ‘What?’ on the first, then ‘WOT?’ on the second. Jaysus, they’d think he was deaf. Scratch that. So he said, ‘What?’ And threw in, ‘Excuse me?’ for colour.
‘Connamara men, they drink sherry as penance.’ The sherry was placed on the counter and Pat said, ‘Well, go on, man, she can hardly whistle for it.’
He brought it over, said wittily, ‘Hi.’
She laughed and said, ‘I can see I’m not going to get a word in edgeways.’
‘What?’
‘Sit down there, you big lump — I’m Sheila.’
A while later, Pat came over, said, ‘I’ve lost me friggin’ lighter.’
‘The Zippo?’
‘Aye, blast it to hell, it had “1968” on the front.’
Sheila said, ‘Ask St Anthony.’
And Brant said, ‘Ask him what?’
Pat and Sheila loved that.
‘I have long known that it is part of God’s plan for me to spend a little time with each of the most stupid people on earth.’
(Bill Bryson)
When Falls met the snitch in the place he’d selected, she remembered a description from Karon Hall’s ‘Dark Debts’.
‘If you didn’t have a gun going in,
they’d provide one at the door.’
At the rear of the Cricketers, near The Oval, it was a dive. Falls arrived first and nodded to the barman. A big guy with
red shirt
red jeans
red face
She resisted the impulse to say, ‘Hi, Red.’
He said, ‘You sure you got the right place?’
‘I’m sure.’
‘We don’t get many chicks, is all.’
Chicks!
‘Well I’m sure once the word on the ambiance gets out, you’ll be stampeded.’
Leigh came in, immediately looked angry and pushed her to a back table demanding, ‘Why were you talking to him?’
‘It’s against the rules?’
‘You’re not supposed to draw attention.’
‘Well, there was me ’n’ him — did you expect me to hide?’
‘People talk, you know.’
He then jumped up, had a word with Red and came back with two glasses of a greenish tint, pushed one at her, said, ‘It’s lime cordial.’
‘And I’m supposed to do what with it exactly?’
Leigh was getting seriously upset. ‘It’s for cover.’
‘Oh I see, we lurk behind them.’
‘Mr Brant was never like this.’
Falls felt they’d done enough pleasantries, time to jerk the leash. ‘You’re a stupid person, but that’s OK. What I need is fairly simple. You tell me and I’m outta here. There’s an arsonist, recent of Croydon, and I need to know where he hangs.’
Leigh began moving his glass, the colour didn’t improve. ‘You don’t want to be messing with that piece of work.’
Falls sighed then clamped her hand on his knee. ‘Where?’
‘You’re not playing by the rules, it has to be drawn out.’
She pinched hard and he jumped. She hissed, ‘Leigh, there are no rules … where?’
‘The snooker hall at The Elephant. Thinks he’s Paul Newman in The Hustler … He’s there all day.’
She released her grip, rooted in her bag and then palmed him a twenty. He was indignant. ‘This is supposed to buy me what? It wouldn’t pay me light bill for a week!’
Now she smiled, said, ‘I dunno, you could always hop up there, get us a few more of these drinks … oh, sorry — disguises.’
On her way out, she ignored Red and it seemed to be what he expected.
‘The best the white world offered was not enough ecstasy for me. Not enough life, joy, kicks, darkness, music; not enough night.’
(Jack Kerouac)
As Fenton tried not to run, he felt the adrenalin build to a point beyond mere rush. His mind roared: You did it, you did it, you bloody did it! — Then his arm was grabbed. Disbelief pounded through his body.
Caught! Already!
And turned to see a black guy, something familiar about him, the guy saying, ‘Yo, fool, you owes me a buck and a half!’
‘What?’
‘The other day, dude. I be giving yo’ sorry ass a pamphlet ’bout dem CIA …
‘Oh right … I thought it was free.’
‘Where yo’ been, dude? Ain’t nothing free on the street.’
Fenton reached for change, handed over a five. The guy wailin’, ‘What cha thinkin’, like I’m gonna make change?’
Fenton laughed, said, ‘Keep it, knock yourself out mate.’
‘Yo dissin’ me man, dat what cha thinkin’?’