Kate Tempest - The Bricks that Built the Houses

‘With the shark?’

‘That’s right, and I think he’s left me to it, but he’s obviously hidden somewhere and watched me dump the stash. I’ve left a load of money down there too, just what I had on me from the day, just to get it somewhere safe. There’s a fucking ton of security everywhere. I’m thinking, stupidly, this is all fine . Anyway, I’ve got a couple of bits to take care of. I tell Lucy I’m off for a couple hours, she puts a guy on the door of the basement. I head off, run a couple of errands, have dinner. Come back about eleven. You with me?’

‘Fine. I’m with you.’

‘OK. So, Joey lets me into the basement, I see everything’s all present and correct, just where I left it. He’s asked me what time I’m expecting this Harry to show up and if I know what she looks like. I say after midnight sometime, half past, she’s going to be on her own, and that’s all I know. Then he’s escorted me to this booth above the dance floor and he’s told me to wait there and that he’ll bring her over to me. So I’ve waited an hour or so. More maybe. I’m alright, I’m having a drink. People-watching.’

‘You like that,’ Ron says, enjoying the story.

‘I do,’ Rags agrees.

‘What next?’

‘Well.’ Rags takes a sip. ‘Eventually I think fuck this, what the fuck’s going on? I go and have a look for Joey and I can’t find him, he’s not at the bar, not on the dance floor, and the basement door’s locked.’

‘Can’t get in.’

‘Can’t get in. Exactly. So, I ask one of the Arnies moping around if he can get me another key because the guy who’s meant to be looking after me has gone AWOL. Fine , says the guy, no worries, come with me . So we faff around for half an hour getting the key off someone, then we faff around getting lost in all these weird basement corridors, and then eventually we get to the actual room we wanna be in. Open the door.’

Rags pauses for effect. Ron leans forwards.

‘And there’s Joey, looking like a fucking Picasso painting, all his bits are in the wrong place, like, lying on the floor murmuring to himself. All the cash has gone, along with about a key and a half of uncut gear.’

He stops dead. The silence swallows them both. Ron shakes his head. Stands up and paces the café floor. Rags watches him. ‘Sit down,’ he says, ‘you’re making me nervous.’

‘I can pace if I want to,’ Ron tells him without looking at him, strolling up and down the aisle between the tables. He stops suddenly. His face a green snarl. ‘How could you be so FUCKING STUPID?’ he roars at his brother.

‘What?’ Rags’ voice jumps up two octaves. ‘Me?’ He points at his chest, outraged. ‘I trust this Lucy with my life , right? I thought it was OK to leave the shit there.’

‘When, in all the days of this wretched planet, has it EVER been OK to leave that much money ANYWHERE? You PLANK. You fucking IDIOT. You. Urgh. ’ Seething, waving his hands in front of his face as if to wave the night away, shaking his head, Ron paces towards his brother, stands over him, about to draw his fist back.

‘IF YOU HIT ME, RON, WE ARE GOING TO HAVE A FIGHT. IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT?’ Rags shouts at his brother, levelling with him.

Ron lets a bark of laughter out. Eyes like two smashed cymbals, ringing. ‘Yes! That’s what I want, you fucking idiot. You fucking stupid—’

Rags stands quickly, his chair falls back, he grips Ron’s arms, pins them to his side. Holds him still.

‘You’re angry, so you’re lashing out.’ Their noses an inch apart.

Ron breathes heavy like a panicked horse. ‘Course I’m lashing out. We’re in the fucking shit here,’ he whines.

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Rags explains, patient as he can be holding his struggling brother.

‘Whose fault was it then?’

Rags doesn’t answer, just stares knowingly into Ron’s face, taking deep breaths in and out, indicating that Ron should do the same. Ron begins to breathe with him, and Rags holds his eyes until he sees the madness has gone out of them. They stand, saying nothing, breathing, for a good few minutes. Staring at each other. Eventually satisfied, Rags pats Ron’s shoulders and lets go. He walks back over to his chair, picks it up, and sits delicately back down. Crossing his legs and leaning his head back into his hands. Ron goes back to pacing. Slower this time.

‘Look, mate,’ Rags begins apologetically. ‘I’m still adjusting to all this, you know. I never asked for this responsibility. I never said to Pico, you know, look, why don’t you pop off to jail for eight months and give me a chance to get my blood pressure up. Did I?’

‘No matter if you asked for it or not, just, what I’m saying is, what the fuck were you thinking ?’ Ron has his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

‘I wasn’t really thinking anything. OK?’

Ron is victorious, throws his arms out to the sides. ‘See?’ he says. ‘My point exactly.’

‘Things have been, you know. since Amy left. I’ve not been. You know what I’m saying.’

‘My God, Rags! You’re not bringing THAT into this, are you?’

‘What?’ Rags takes a sip. ‘I was just saying.’ He swallows as he speaks, his words come out a damp gurgle.

Ron glares at him for a moment, bemused, before retrieving his glass from the table and holding it in the air grandly, like a trophy, thrusting it about. ‘It’s this Harry that’s done it then? No?’ He stops and turns to Rags, shows him his most questioning eyebrows.

‘Well. ’ Rags uncrosses his legs and crosses them again, stretches his back in his chair. ‘It came out, eventually, after a particularly tedious Q and A, that this miserable little drywank, Joey, tried to rob Harry , is the thing.’ Rags spreads his arms, incredulous. ‘That’s what happened.’ He lets his hands hang in the air, shakes his head and brings them back to his lap. ‘He thought he’d charge this girl Harry double the price and keep the difference. Or keep it all if he could get away with it. When Harry didn’t go for it, he panicked, and said OK, gimme all your money then. At which point—’

Ron cuts in, clicking his finger as the penny drops. ‘Harry beat him up, robbed him, and left.’

‘Exactly.’ Rags breathes deeply. Strokes the stubble on his cheeks.

‘Harry, who is a girl ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Beat the fuck out of this guy, alone ?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who the fuck is this Harry character?’

‘Superwoman, by all accounts.’

‘And given the nature of Pico’s friendship with Harry, which we know is extremely amicable’ — Ron goes back to strolling — ‘we think he’s going to be pretty understanding about what went on.’ Ron takes a measured swig, holds it in his mouth and swills it round before swallowing it.

‘Yes. That’s about the size of it,’ Rags tells him, satisfied.

‘Fucking hell.’ Ron looks at him. ‘Do us another line then, will you?’

Rags nods, begins the process. ‘Joey got disciplined, there and then.’ He opens the wrap, takes out a rock, crushes it beneath the flat of his credit card, smooths the little boulders down to powder. ‘Told us everything. Described this Harry. She was slim, five foot nothing, you know, tiny frame, geezer bird. Hard as nails apparently. Joey says she came out of nowhere. They were talking one minute, next minute she’d beat the fucking shit out of him and was giving him a cigarette to smoke while she walked out the room. Trained in martial arts, the lot. Brown hair, shortish. Unusual face. Funny nose, or something. Was it funny mouth? Might be alright, apparently, if she tried a bit harder. But yeah, absolute nutter.’