Ride On (4 page)

‘Yeah. Well that's between me and him. The point is, most people don't give a fuck about anything they can't show off to their greedy bastard mates, and you can't show off your soul. This isn't about heaven and hell or any of that manmade shite, Jimmy. It's not even about music. My job isn't really about music. It's about getting into someone's head and showing them the way out. Fuck knows, I've had a lot of practice flying in and out of me own head. For a while there I used to be gone for days. Sometimes me head wouldn't let me back in and we'd have a big row. Confusing as fuck that was.'

‘Jesus. What were you on? LSD, coke …?'

‘LSD and coke? Christ, you don't want to take LSD and coke together Jimmy. The fuckin' last thing you need when you're hallucinating is a confidence booster, I'm telling you. Anyway, I don't do that shit any more, but when an artist – like you for instance – wants something, I can usually get a feel for it and help them bring it out. And I thank God for giving me that gift. You've got your gifts too, as does that little delinquent in there. But the music industry doesn't give a fuck about any of that. No more than any other industry. It's about money, Jimmy.'

‘You're fucking bumming me out here Sparky. Jesus …'

‘Ah, I don't mean to Jimmy. The important thing is how
you
feel about the album. Where it came from, what it means … are you cool with it? Your name is on it. Can you stand next to it?'

‘Yeah. Yeah I can.'

‘Then fuck them all.'

Aesop came back into them. He had the knuckle of one index finger in his mouth and was frowning.

‘What's up?' said Jimmy. ‘You in the shit over some bird?'

‘What? Oh. No. No, it's not that.'

‘Who was it then?'

‘Remember Mena?'

‘Probably not, Aesop. Around when was she having the pleasure?'

‘No Jimmy. Mena. Remember them two little young fellas were outside here a while back? Wanted me to go to their sister's birthday party. She was sick, right?'

‘Oh yeah. Eh … Liam, wasn't it? And the little fella.'

‘Yeah. Well, that was their Da on the phone. Turns out that the poor young one is out in Crumlin in the hospital out there. She's not fucking doing well either.'

‘Jesus. That's fucking terrible. Is it bad?'

‘Yeah. They're only letting her home for her birthday cos they aren't sure she'll be having another one.'

Sparky blessed himself and shook his head.

‘Poor child.'

‘Her birthday is Friday night. I said we'd drop in.'

‘Okay. But … eh … we're playing Vicar Street on Friday, Aesop.'

‘We'll just say hello on the way to the gig. I know it'll be tight but, listen man, apparently I'm all she talks about, right? She thinks I'm fuckin brilliant or whatever. And now Liam is after copping that something's going on with her. He's starting to go off the rails at school, his Da says, and he keeps fuckin running away and all, y'know? And the Da sounds like he's only barely holding it together himself. C'mon. We'll drop in, Jimmy. Half an hour, right?'

Jimmy just nodded.

‘Okay. Yeah, no problem.'

The three of them stood there for a minute.

‘Cup of tea Aesop?' said Sparky, eventually.

‘Thanks man.'

Norman looked at himself in the mirror. He was just out of the shower, standing in his jocks and cursing at the spot of blood on his neck. His Mam kept buying him cheap disposable razors and they were making shite of his face. He smiled at that. He couldn't even use a crappy blade now without cutting himself and yet he could still remember being crouched over a small stream in the mountains of Afghanistan, shaving with a Bowie knife so that the locals wouldn't notice the big red head on him if he had to unwrap the thick scarf that covered his face. Freezing cold water and a nine-inch blade. The lads would only laugh at him if he told them about it. They were always taking the piss about when he was a soldier. He didn't mind that much. And anyway, there was nothing cool about shaving with a knife. No more than there being anything cool about having to carry your gick around in plastic bags when you were on a mission so that animals wouldn't sniff it out and give your position away. They tended to leave stuff like that out of the Rambo movies.

He was all excited tonight. The lads had finished their album, and they were celebrating with the gig in Vicar Street. They'd blown everyone away the last time they played there and this time was going to be even better. The press would be in, the new songs would be on show, the venue was sold out. After this one they'd be taking a couple of weeks off and then the CD would be in the shops and the whole thing would start up again. Dónal was already finalising the details of the tour. Yeah, it was going great for the lads. But that's not why Norman was excited. The reason he was clipping his toenails and scanning frantically through the shirts in his wardrobe was that he had another date with Trish.

Earlier that day, he'd talked to Jimmy and Aesop on the phone. He wanted everything to go perfectly tonight.

*

‘Jimmy?'

‘Norman. What's the story?'

‘Listen Jimmy, I'm on a date tonight.'

‘Yeah? Brilliant. Who is she?'

‘A nurse from out in Baldoyle, at work.'

‘Great stuff.'

‘Yeah. I'm picking her up at eight. What time are you on?'

‘We'll be on around nine-thirty I'd say. Leet are supporting us. Remember that band I said I was doing a bit of work with? They'll be on at eight.'

‘We'll probably grab a quick bite, but we'll be there for when you come on. Listen, can I buy a ticket for Trish?'

‘Jesus Norman, didn't I say to you …'

‘Ah no, Jimmy. That's not fair. I don't want to impose. You said I could just show up and I appreciate that, but I only met this one recently and then she wasn't sure if she was free tonight so I didn't want to …'

‘Ah Christ, Norman. You're already on the guest list. Guests can bring guests. Bring whoever you like, really. Get her to bring her mates, sure, if you want. There's a few dozen spare spots. Half of the press won't turn up anyway, the pricks. It's no problem. Just tell the guy on the door your name and you're in, done deal.'

‘Ah Jimmy, I feel like a terrible …'

‘Norman, for fuck sake it's nothing. We've been over all this before! Please, you and Trish come backstage afterwards. I want you to. And don't queue up either when you get there, right? Just come in.'

They'd actually nearly had a row over it before. The last time The Grove played Vicar Street, Norman had actually paid for his ticket and then was too embarrassed to ask to go backstage afterwards to see the lads. Jimmy went spare when he found out. Him and Aesop had been mates with Norman for twenty years. Norman had come to see the band play when there was more people on the stage than in the audience. He wasn't fucking having him pay in to see them now.

‘Jimmy, it's awkward, y'know? The fella won't know me and he'll be giving me that look, like I'm only …'

‘He'll fucking know you tonight, don't worry about it.'

‘How will he?'

‘I'll tell him a fucking huge Corkman will be in tonight with his bird and if he's not nice to you, he'll be cleaning the jacks next week. Okay?'

‘Ah, Jimmy, see what I mean? Going to the trouble …'

‘I'm joking Norman. Look, it'll be grand. Seeya there, okay?'

‘Okay Jimmy. Okay. I'll seeya later. If I don't see you before you're on, good luck.'

‘Thanks man.'

*

‘Aesop?'

‘Norman. Howya. What's up?'

‘Listen, Aesop, I'm bringing a girl tonight to the gig.'

‘Sorry, I'm confused. Which Norman is this?'

‘I'm serious Aesop. I'm bringing a girl.'

‘A real one?'

‘Yes, a real one. From Kerry.'

‘Okay. Well it's starting to make sense now. Fair enough. Good man. Why are you telling me, but? Did I ride her or something?'

‘No. But I'm just telling you that I really like this girl and there's a good chance we'll both be backstage afterwards. Okay?'

‘Right. Eh, Norman?'

‘Yeah?'

‘I'm only out of bed. What are you fucking talking about?'

‘I'm just telling you. I like this girl a lot, and it's our second date.'

‘Okay … right. And it's my turn to say something now, is it?'

‘Did you hear what I just said?'

‘Yes, I fucking heard you Norman! You've got a bird. Brilliant. Porky Pig is hang gliding past the window here. Are you going to tell me why you fucking rang me?'

‘Okay, I'll spell it out. I know you're playing a big gig and all tonight, and I don't want to distract you, but I'm just telling you now not to fucking annoy me this evening or I swear to God I'll kick your bollocks into your throat.'

‘What? You rang me to tell me that?'

‘Yes.'

‘You went to the trouble of ringing me to tell me you're going to kick me in the bollocks if I annoy you tonight in front of some bird I haven't even met.'

‘Yes.'

‘Norman, I was sitting here quite happily having a cup of tea and a bit of toast. Do you think I need this fucking abuse when I pick up the phone? I don't know who I'll be annoying today. I haven't given it any thought yet.'

‘Well, I'm just saying to you that it better not be me. And you're to be a gentleman around Trish too, or that'll be another kick in the bollocks.'

‘Fuck sake. Okay. Fine. I'll be nice to your bird. Can I go now?'

‘Yeah. Seeya later.'

‘Fuck sake …'

*

‘Was the limo really necessary?' said Jimmy. He was looking around the inside of the car, feeling the leather of the seats and pulling at all the drawers and gadgets.

‘Of course!' said Aesop. ‘And listen, you're to be on your best rockstar behaviour when we get there, right? The big swagger up to the front door in your leather jacket, the shades, and then I want to see some shapes when we get inside.'

‘What shapes for fuck sake?'

‘Just pretend you're on the stage.'

‘But I'm not on a stage, Aesop. I'm at a fifteen-year-old girl's birthday party.'

‘It's a stage tonight, man. No offence, but Daytime Jimmy is a bit of a boring fucker sometimes. We need Rockstar Jimmy to put in an appearance this evening.'

‘I'm not boring.'

‘Are you not?'

Aesop did a Jimmy impersonation.

‘Ooh, look at me, I'm Jimmy the artist … I'm so confused … life is heavy and sad … I can't say two words to a woman without falling arse-about-tit in love with her … hang on till I find a dark corner so I can write a nice song about rabbits … sad ones … and candy floss … and being so into some tart, that I don't know who I fucking am any more … oh, what does it all mean …'

‘Aesop …'

‘ … I wish I was in Radiohead …'

‘Get fucked. I'm not like that.'

‘Ah, you are a bit, but, aren't you?'

‘No. Jesus, just because your life revolves around your cock, it doesn't mean other people don't have things going on in their head.'

‘Whatever, Jimmy. I'm just saying that when we go in there tonight you're to be all cool and chilled, right?'

‘You keep fucking telling me! Will you fuck off?'

‘Okay, okay. Look, this is Sandymount now. We're nearly there. Where's your shades?'

‘Jesus fu … they're in me pocket.'

‘Grand, grand. Just checking.'

Five minutes later they pulled up outside Mena's place. Aesop had called her Dad and he was already standing outside the front door waving at them as the car stopped.

‘Right Jimmy, now …'

‘I know, I know. Come on. We've only got half an hour and then we've to get to the gig.'

‘Help me with this, will you?'

‘What's in it?'

‘Ah, t-shirts, posters, a few bits and pieces. For the young ones at the party.'

‘Here, give me one of the bags.'

Mr Flanigan was all smiles for them at the porch. He shook their hands and welcomed them inside. Jimmy looked back at the car from the hall. There was already a bunch of neighbours starting to gawk.

‘Tommy Flanigan,' said Mena's Dad. ‘You're very good for coming.'

‘Not at all Tommy. I'm Aesop, and this is Jimmy. We're chuffed we could make it. Is she inside?'

‘She's on the couch in the living room. All her mates are in there with her. She can't get about, so the party is kind of arranged around her.'

‘Does she know we're coming?'

‘No. And I didn't tell Liam or Conor either or they'd tell her.'

‘Grand so. How's Liam?'

Tommy sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

‘He's not great Aesop, to be honest. He was always a bit of a handful, God knows, but himself and Mena are … y'know, when they were growing up and all, they were very close. Listen, he thinks the world of you too, same as herself. You wouldn't … you don't think you might just have a little word with him? Just, the two of you. A bit of attention. He'd love that from you, so he would. He's nearly a bigger fan than she is, sure.'

‘No problem, Tommy,' said Aesop. ‘I'll have a laugh with him.'

‘Thanks. Look they're just in here.'

Tommy nodded at a door just off the hall.

‘I'll go in first and say we have a surprise for her. Wait here a sec.'

‘Okay.'

Tommy went inside and the lads could hear him hushing everyone.

‘All right?' said Aesop to Jimmy.

‘I'm grand. And listen man … this is a good thing you're after doing. Fair play to you. I know you've been bloody annoying me all day about it but, y'know, at the same time …'

‘Shades Jimmy. Where's the shades?'

‘Oh for fuck sake … you'd have a saint wanting to kick the arse off you, you know that?' said Jimmy, fishing them out of his pocket and putting them on. ‘Okay? Is that all right?'

‘Lovely. You're a ride.

‘Did Sparky want to come? I mean, he's kind of in the band at the moment.'

‘Nah. Children give him heartburn in the arse he says. But he wants the limo on the way back from the gig. I think he's bringing his old dear for a spin around Dublin on the way home. Is that all right? We'll have to get taxis home like real people.'

‘I am a real person, Aesop.'

‘Are you?' said Aesop, grinning. ‘Do real people wear shades indoors? Look at the state of you.'

‘This was your fucking …'

‘Lads?' said Tommy, pulling the door open again.

Aesop winked at Jimmy and strolled in first. Jimmy took a breath and followed.

There was about one second of total, stunned silence in the Flanigan living room and then the eardrums in Jimmy's head nearly exploded with the screams of two dozen teenage girls.

*

‘Okay Mam, I'm off now,' said Norman.

‘Have a good night love.'

‘I'll be late. Or I might even stay in Aesop's in town if it's very late.'

‘Okay. Well, I'll see you in the morning then.'

‘Goodnight.'

Norman got the bus into town and stood next to Molly on Grafton Street, pulling his collar tight around him and sticking his hands in his pockets. There was a guy in a tracksuit standing just next to him with a huge basket of individually-wrapped red roses. He was shifting from foot to foot in the cold and looking around hopefully. Norman was thinking about it. After all, himself and Trish had pretty much met because of roses. It'd be cool. Or would it be fucking corny and crap? Norman wasn't brilliant at this type of thing. Still, he hadn't fucked anything up yet. He turned around.

‘Are you selling the roses?'

The guy looked down at his basket and shook his head.

‘Nah. I just thought I'd come out tonight and stand around in the cold like a cunt.'

Norman blinked at him.

‘Christ. I'd say you don't sell many, do you, charming fucker that you are?'

‘Not in this weather. Everyone's meeting their women in pubs, the bastards.'

‘I'll have one. How much?'

‘Fiver.'

‘A fiver? Are you mad?'

‘You're going to start haggling, are ye? And the fingers fuckin' frozen off me?'

‘Jesus, okay. Well just give me one so, please.'

‘Here you go.'

‘Thanks.'

‘No problem.'

Norman took the rose and looked at it. It was a bit shite-looking. Still, it wasn't exactly the season. He wondered where they got them. He folded his arms against the cold, tucking the flower into the crook of his elbow, and waited. It was five past eight. No sign of her yet. Another two minutes. Then he turned around again, frowning. The roses guy looked up.

‘What?' he said.

‘Are you going to just stand there?' said Norman.

‘What?'

‘Are you going to just stand there? Right next to me with a big basket of roses? She'll know where I got this one.'