Get Some (22 page)

‘
Fuck maybes,’ I screamed. ‘Who the fuck is in charge?’

‘
Well, at the moment…’

‘
Who is in charge right now?’ I shouted even louder.

‘
Well, me but…’

‘
No fucking buts, Dave. You let me in. If after 5 minutes we aren’t out …. You can’t shoot me too, but we will be I swear, trust me.’

Dave looked at his watch and glanced over at the armed unit which was waiting for a reason to go in shooting. He looked at me, almost angry. ‘5 fucking minutes, Joey, that’s it. If I hear anything untoward, I’m putting brains on the wall. You get me? Go now,’ he shouted.

The armed team fitted me with a bullet proof flak jacket which I wore over my shirt. They then escorted me into the hotel and up the stairs to room 405. The unit waited a few feet away as I appr oached the cream coloured door.

I shouted as I reached it. ‘Tommy. Tommy. It’s me, Joey. You ok, buddy.’

I took another look behind me as the unit were all spaced out over the hallway and the landing. Room 405’s door was near a window which was broken and the rain was blowing in through a curtain. There was red smudged blood on the door handle.

‘
Tommy?’

Trying to avoid getting the blood on my hands as I opened the door, I twisted the door knob and peeped my head inside.

‘
Who’s this Tommy?’ I said as I saw a man laid on the floor, all bloodied. Tommy didn’t answer. I noticed an empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. Tommy was wasted. ‘Well it isn’t Trigg, so it must be Samson? Hmm, I see you have introduced him to your famous right hand then, Tommy?’

Sitting there with his Winchester shotgun gripped firmly in his hands, Tommy looked up at me. ‘They gotta pay, Joey, gotta pay. First they tried it with me, then Sarah. Who next? You? Emma? My baby? Can’t let that happen. Gonna blow his motherfucking head off.’

I knelt beside him. He looked at me angry. ‘Don’t try ’n’ take the gun. Don’t do it, Joey.’

‘
I won’t, Tommy. You think I’d fuck with you on a normal day, never mind when you have that look in your eyes? Shit, I’m staying the fuck here.’

He laughed. He was shaking, he was drunk, confused, and scared.

I had to calm him down. ‘Say, Tommy, how long’s she got?’

He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. ‘Two, two months.’

‘
Wow, two months to go. So she’s 7 months, eh? You know, Tommy, I read in Emma’s baby book yesterday that at seven months the baby - sorry buddy, your baby, your and Emma’s baby - will have fingertips, little fingertips. Apparently the eyes can open and the hearing supposedly gets much better. You see, at first all the baby can hear really is the mother’s heart, Emma’s heart, but now, wow, your baby will be hearing all sorts of stuff.’

‘
I know. Emma says the baby can hear me when I sing to her stomach,’ he said as I noticed he had lowered the gun.

‘
That’s right, bud, your baby needs a dad, Tommy, and your gonna be a fucking great one.’

‘
But all I bring is shit. Bad shit just sticks to me, and I can’t get it off. It’s my fault. What have I done?’

‘
We have both had hard times recently but, Tommy, this ain’t the way. Let the law handle it, please, this isn’t the way. Let him have justice the way it’s supposed to be done.’

Tommy stood and pointed the gun at Samson who was out, bloodied, where he had been cowering on the floor. ‘It ain’t what’s supposed to be done, it’s what’s gotta be done - a life for a fucking life, Joey.’

I looked at my watch. One minute to go. ‘What about Emma’s life? Your baby’s? Now, I swear, nothing is going to happen to them, Tommy. We already have Samson here, now all they need is Trigg. They will go away for life. Why waste yours? Because these police are coming for you, Tommy. I’ve seen them outside and down the hall, right outside the fucking door. Now I know you’ll take a bunch with you but they will kill you, make no mistake. You didn’t have a father Tommy, that wasn’t your fault, don’t do the same to your kid, to Emma, to me, please…Now we can wait for the men with guns to smash down the door or I walk you out of here, and I swear you’ll be out by morning, mate, no shit. I’ll figure what to say to Emma. Come on!’

We walked outside. I gave Tommy my suit jacket to keep him warm as he had only a vest on, and police cells were cold. We held our hands in the air as the police took Tommy away.

Dave came over smiling. ‘You were cutting it fine. Fucking hell.’

‘
Dave,’ I said, ‘I need this shit to go away. I put the gun under the sink. Get rid of it. Samson is laid out in there, he’s the prize. You have a murderer now. Let Tommy go.’

‘
What? Fuck no. I let you get him out, now he does time,’ he said as he shook his head.

‘
No, come on, for me, give him fucking 24 hours to cool, then fucking send him home. False alarm, no weapon, just a skirmish with two drunks. Come on, for me, I’ll fucking owe you big time.’

‘
You truly are a fucking weasel. Because of your loss, you get this one thing, never again. And I don’t wanna see you ever again. He does 48 hours and a fucking fine for public nuisance. Fucking hell.’ He walked off into the building to get Samson shouting ‘False alarm, false alarm, no weapons, it’s all ok people.’

Chapter Forty Five

When I woke up they at least gave me a phone call. I rang Emma but Joey had already spoken to her. She wasn’t as mad as I expected and I felt stupid for what I had nearly done. Joey had toned the night’s events down a little though, bless him, and I wasn’t going to go any further into detail.

I had been involved in a little ‘mix up’, that was all he said. He hadn’t mentioned the fact that I went to that hotel with my Winchester, intent on blowing the motherfucker’s head clean off.

I guess anger and whisky don’t mix.

My head was a lot clearer now, in terms of thought anyway. In terms of hangover, my head was fuzzy and my body felt tired.

I looked down at what I was wearing as I sat bored in the police cell. At first glance I thought that I must have looked like I’d been sleeping rough for days or something. I had my tracky bottoms on, a black vest, and Joey’s suit jacket, along with my slippers that they let me keep on as they had no laces. I couldn’t potentially hang myself with those.

Word was I was gonna be let go in the morning. Fair enough, I suppose. Don’t know how the fuck Joey swayed it with the police but, hey, that’s what he does I guess. It had been a mad week, a bad week. But I knew Joey was right. I had to let go of all this shit, let the police handle it.

Sitting there in the cell alone with my thoughts was quite therapeutic given the circumstances. I read countless bits of graffiti on the walls and I found myself laughing at the most random of things that had been written. Among the best were ‘She said she was 18’. Bad taste, I know, but still had me giggling, ‘Jon Coffee was here’, ‘the food here sucks’, ‘my dog made me eat her,’ and, last but not least, that old original ‘suck my cock’.

Then I had a brainstorm and realised there were no pens in the cell. I looked back at the writing and all of it was smudged and brown in colour. I didn’t get too close to the writing on the walls from then on.

Still, this place was like the Hilton compared to what I had been used to. Apparently I was getting a meal soon.

Getting stretched out on the bed I got thinking again. I was going to be a dad. Me, a dad.

Fucking sounded crazy when I thought about it, as nice as the thought was though. I still had this underlying fear that I would be a shit dad. I didn’t want to wreck the kid’s life and was scared of the thought of not being able to be as good as other dads.

For one, I would never be as smart as other dads and probably never as ambitious. All I cared about was those close to me. But then I thought again. Isn’t that a good thing? Isn’t that the way it ought to be? Ok, I was no expert, especially growing up with no parents, but I kinda thought that if all I did was care about Emma and my child, then surely they would feel loved.

That couldn’t be wrong.

After my meal I drifted off for a few hours, only to be awoken by a copper who resembled Elma fucking Fudd rattling on the cell door.

‘
You have a visitor,’ the red haired and red bearded copper said before opening up the cell door.

To my surprise, it was Joey. We hugged and he smiled at me, shaking his head.

‘
You were wrecked, Tommy. What the fuck? How are you feeling big man?’

Joey looked a little better. He had a very smart black suit on with a red shiny tie, his cufflinks were gold in the shape of playing cards, and his hairstyle was cool, slicked back. He looked like he had slept and this was probably the best he had looked all week. It kinda looked like he was going somewhere special.

‘
Yeah, I’m ok. Cheers, Joey, my head was fucked, buddy. But I’m here now. I thought about what you said, y’know, about the Law handling it ’n’ all. You’re right, I guess. I have to think about Emma and the baby, I know. It’s just I got all fucked up over what happened to Sarah. Your words at the funeral, man, it all just like swept over me. I guess I’d been holding some shit in, not just from this latest stuff but from what happened over there. Was bound to catch up with me at some point, I guess, only human, aren’t I?’

He tapped my shoulder and walked around the cell.

‘
You’re right, Tommy, only human. You are probably going through some sort of post traumatic stress. It all comes to the surface eventually, Tommy. I know you try and keep it buried, Tommy, but it does no good and, as you know, some things need to come out. All that stuff in you, Tommy, you need to get it out. It’s no good locked in there.’

‘
Aye, Joey, guess I have to face some shit. It just scares me, I can admit that now. I just tried to store it away, y’know, all the shit, all the pain, didn’t want any of it touching her. But I guess it finds its own way of rearing its ugly head, eh, Joey?’

‘
It does,’ smiled Joey.

We chatted for a while about my charges, or lack of them, thanks to Joey. It was sorted. I was definitely being let go in the morning. Only a few hours to go as we were already near dawn.

Joey indicated he was going to be away for a while. He said he needed some time to reflect on some things, which of course I totally understood. We all handle things differently. He did say that he would be back for the birth, though, said he wouldn’t miss it for the world.

He also told me he had bought the Harley Davidson he had wanted all this time. He said he was going to get out on the road and burn some rubber. Good for him. His ex-wife forbade him to get a motorbike and he had always loved them.

I took the suit jacket off he had given me and tried to give him it back. It was expensive and I had blankets in the cell so I was warm enough. But Joey said ‘Keep it for now’. He said he had to be somewhere and didn’t have a bag or anything, which was fair enough.

After he left I laid on the bed and relaxed, just waiting for them to come and let me go. I felt something rustle in Joey’s jacket pocket. I was bored and feeling nosey, so I looked and pulled the paper out.

It was Joey’s words for Sarah’s funeral, and while I didn’t want to get upset again, I just had another quick read. I browsed quickly through the lines and then I noticed something which, when I read it, disturbed me.

The last four lines Joey couldn’t read.

‘
I love you Sarah, I always will

But please forgive me, there are men to kill

So I can’t stand yet at your grave and cry

Because all those bastards have to die.’

I crumpled up the paper in my hand and two words came to mind: ‘Oh’ and ‘shit’.

Chapter Forty Six

My intention that morning was to just be gone. I felt bad I had lied to Tommy, but I figured running away was the only answer. I had it in my mind to get on my bike and go, just fucking go, to who knows where.

It’s hard to describe how my bike made me feel. Those who ride bikes get it. They will know what I’m talking about when I describe how riding a bike gives a sense of freedom, a sense of calmness.

Calmness, now that was something I needed. My mind was chewing away at me, telling me to do what I needed to do.

‘
No, that’s not who I am,’ I told myself. I needed to focus. So out came my new bike. I got on my leather jacket and my helmet, and revved her up. I let loose and zoomed off down the road. Eventually I ended up near the motorway with no idea where I was going.

I just rode. The calmness wasn’t there yet, but the ride had been good so far.

Usually when riding my bike I get crapped on by a few birds – probably nature’s revenge for all the chicken I ate. Then there are the sneaky torrential rain attacks, which any biker will tell you pisses you right off. Then there are the rare days. That morning was one of them days.

It was cold as I rode, but the sun was shining, the little wind there was blew behind me and the path was clear in front of me. My foot was firmly down as I just got faster and faster, not paying any attention to how fast I was going.

It seemed like I had ridden for hours. I had to stop because my legs and hands were getting cold. I hadn’t put on my biker gloves, ‘Fuck,’ I thought. It wasn’t safe to keep riding as I was so cold, so I stopped at a service station to get a coffee and some food in an attempt to warm myself up and get my bearings.