Ken Bruen - The McDead

‘OK, have a shot but if nothing’s doing, screw ’em.’

‘They’ll agree, I guarantee it.’

The lead singer was named Matt Wilde (sic). He had acquired the mandatory mid-Atlantic drawl for rock stars. Plus, he scratched a lot. Mick found them rehearsing in a warehouse at the Elephant. He listened to their set and thought, Christ, they’re bad.

Matt called a break and signalled to Mick. Being summoned by a nineteen-year-old pup was energising. The star was scratching his neck, asked, ‘What’s yer bag man?’

‘I’d like you to reconsider doing the Law ’n’ Order party gig.’

‘No can do man, never gonna happen. It hasn’t got, like, cred. You hear what I’m saying?’

Mick shrugged, asked, ‘Do any Vince Gill?’

‘What?’

‘You have a mobile?’

‘Course.’

‘Tell you what, give Kate a buzz.’

‘Kate?’

‘Is there an echo in here? …Yeah, Kate, yer model girlfriend.’

Matt was less sure of himself, took up his mobile and, as required, dialled. ‘Kate?’

‘Matthew, hi.’

Mick said, ‘Ask her if there’s a blue Datsun parked outside.’

He asked … waited, then, ‘There is … OK.’

Mick nodded, said, ‘There’s a bloke sitting here, he’s got an acid container … need I paint a picture.’

Matt jumped at him and got an almighty blow to the solar plexus. The band members murmured but didn’t move.

Mick said, ‘Copyright infringement but we’ve got it sorted … haven’t we, Matt?’

Matt, still on his knees said, ‘I’ll go to the cops.’

Mick hunkered down beside him, said, ‘That would be very silly. Where would Kate get a new face, eh? You have a little think about it.’

Mick stood up, patted Mart’s head, said, ‘I think coffee break’s over.’

Falls wasn’t sure what to wear. She had been through her wardrobe, rejected it all. He’d said, ‘Let’s have a drink, see how we go?’

Out loud she said, ‘Meaning, if I don’t bore the arse offa him, we’ll move to level two.’ And instantly chided herself.

If she was to get out of the mire, she’d need to change her attitude. Decided to go down-home-folks, pulled on tight worn 501’s and a UCLA sweatshirt. Pair of red baseball shoes and she was Miss Selfridge.

‘What do I call you?’ she’d asked.

He thought about it, then, ‘Ryan.’

‘Like Ryan O’Neal?’

He smiled, ‘Not really.’

They’d arranged to meet at The Cricketers. When she arrived he got out of a car, said, ‘You’re on time.’

‘Oh, was it a test?’

He stopped, said, ‘You’ve some mouth on you.’ But he was smiling so she let it slide.

Inside, the pub was hopping and he explained, ‘Darts night.’

‘Oh.’

She’d made a commitment that come what may, she’d tell the truth. Even if he asked what she did. Most times, say you’re a cop, they’d say, ‘You’re never!’

What hung there was not a woman being a cop but a bogey, a black woman. Most legged it. So she’d tell the truth, all down the line.

Okay.

He asked, ‘To drink?’

‘Bacardi and coke.’

Got a table away from the dart players. He came with the drinks, scotch and water chaser, said, ‘Cheers.’

‘Cheers, Ryan.’

A tight smile as his drink hit, then he asked, ‘What do I call you?’

‘Yvette.’

First lie.

‘Nice, I like it.’

‘Do you work?’

‘Customer services.’

Second lie.

She crossed her fingers, a third lie was outright wicked so she asked, ‘Are you married?’

‘That’s fairly direct, does it matter?’

‘If we’re planning an engagement.’

He traced his finger on the rim of the glass, said, ‘I’m married with two kids, I’m not planning on leaving her.’

Falls was taken aback. At the very least, he could have whinged that his wife didn’t understand him.

She said, ‘Yet…

‘What?’

‘You’re not planning on leaving her yet.’

He gave an uncertain smile and she added, ‘Give a girl a bit of hope.’

‘Oh.’

Jeez, she thought, is he going to be as thick as two planks.

Then he said, ‘I don’t like lying.’

‘You must have an amazing wife … shit, I mean life.’

He finished his drink, grimaced, then: ‘I said I don’t like it, not that I don’t do it.’

The music got louder and Falls asked, ‘Like this?’

‘Yeah, I do, but I don’t know it.’

‘It’s Ocean Colour Scene.’

‘I believe you.’

‘Called “Beautiful Thing” with PP Arnold on there.’

‘You like music?’

‘C’mon Ryan, what colour am I?’

‘Sorry … look Yvette, could you cut me some slack here. I’m nervous and it cuts my banter into shit.’

She felt her heart jump, touched his hand, said, ‘Nervous is good.’

Later, they drove up the Edgware Road for bagels and lox. You have to know someone real well or not at all. Plus, it helps if they like lox. She did.

That night, after they’d made loud, sweaty, exhilarating love, she said, ‘Is it just me, or does lox sound slightly obscene?’

Falls was bubbling. She bounced into the canteen and wanted to shout, ‘Oh yeah!’

She saw Sarah sitting alone. Head down, the picture of misery. Walking over, she said, ‘The star’s a little dimmed.’

Sarah looked up, said nothing. The skin above her left eye was bruised.

Falls sat, asked, ‘What happened?’

‘Why, do you care?’

Falls touched her hand, said, ‘Wise up, I’m here.’

Sarah mumbled, ‘Thanks.’

‘Listen, we could do like in Cagney and Lacey.’

‘Go to the Women’s Room?’

‘No … cry.’

Falls stood up, went and got some tea and danish. On the way back she put four sugars in the tea, plonked it on the table, said, ‘Here.’

‘Oh I couldn’t.’

‘It’s for the sugar rush but it won’t last, nothing does. You can tell me on the upswing.’

Come the upsurge, came the story.

Like this: ‘I was having a drink with … with McDonald. He was getting me pina coladas. I’ve had them before but not like this. By the time we left, I was near legless. Next thing I know, we’re in the front seat of his car and he’s trying to push … his … thing in my mouth. I hit my eye against the door and then I vomited all over his … his, lower part. He got so angry, he pushed me outta the car. I was lying on the pavement, and this I do remember, he leaned over to shut the door and said, “Yah useless slag.” Then he drove off.

‘I dunno how I got home. Can I have some more tea, it was lovely?’

Falls got the tea, then asked, ‘What ya going to do?’

‘I dunno. Will you tell me?’

Falls took a deep breath, then, ‘You could charge him.’

‘Oh God.’

‘God won’t help and neither will the brass. They’ll drag you through it and make it impossible to stay in the job. You might-big might -make some trouble for him but they’ll massacre you.’

Sarah looked set to cry again, said, ‘So, he gets away with it?’

Falls grabbed her wrist, said, ‘I never said to let it go, I just told you about the official method.’

Hope now in Sarah’s eyes, ‘There’s another way?’

Falls gave a smile that Brant would have understood, said, ‘Course there is.’

Brant was drinking a Sauza sunrise. A close relation of The Eagles’ ‘Tequila S’, it consists of