Tore Renberg - See You Tomorrow

‘We have to go,’ he says. ‘It’s not safe here.’

Sandra feels like she’s going to shatter into a thousand pieces. There’s nothing about Daniel to indicate they’ve slept together, that they’ve looked as far into one another’s eyes as people can.

‘We can’t be here,’ he says, straightening his jacket. ‘We’ll just walk calmly across the path, me first and then you half a minute after.’

Daniel stops.

‘Fuck. Where’s my helmet?’

‘Helmet?’

‘Fuck,’ he says again. ‘Never should have—’ He shakes his head. ‘Okay. Me first. Then you follow half a minute later. I’ll take the Suzuki. You walk home.’

Home?

She’s not able to get up, not able to breathe, she can only cry.

‘Get a grip, Sandra.’ He’s not looking at her. ‘Get up. Don’t sit there blubbering. I’m off now, you follow after.’

She gets to her feet unsteadily. I have to do what he says, she thinks, otherwise he’ll leave me. He knows about this sort of thing. He’s older than me.

‘Okay,’ she says, mustering her most grown-up smile. ‘Half a minute,’ she adds, trying to sound upbeat. She leans forward, gives him a peck on the cheek. ‘So, did you like it?’

His eyes flit around, avoiding her gaze.

‘Hm? Yeah, yeah, it was great, see you tomorrow.’

What’s with you, Daniel William Moi?

How can you be so cold?

Are you a dangerous boy, Daniel William Moi?

She wants to hurl herself at him, wants to hit him more than anything, hit him with both hands, but she refrains. She smiles, brushes off leaves, grass and mould, and says: ‘Yeah. Sure. See you tomorrow.’

He’s pleased with this wheelchair.

Jan Inge rocks slightly forward and back while watching a movie. It handles like a dream, much better than you’d think to look at it. Ingenious idea Rudi had that time. Chessi needs a wheelchair. Where do they have wheelchairs? Wherever sick people are. Where are there sick people? At the hospital. Okay. Rudi drives to the hospital. He just walks straight in the door. He sees a wheelchair: That’s mine.

Rudi at his best. Utterly fearless.

Easy to change course too. Jan Inge brakes hard in front of the living-room table and turns the chair smoothly around. Carrying 120 here, after all. About time Rudi called. But that’s Rudi’s style, if you take him on you have to be willing to take on the best and the worst, like beer and calories, to make a comparison. But loyal? People have come and gone in this company, good people who’ve accepted Jani’s leadership style and realised this isn’t some half-ass gang, bad people who haven’t understood a single rule, people who’ve run themselves into the ground on drugs, made for a lousy atmosphere and been disloyal.

A cushion wouldn’t go amiss, if you were planning on sitting here for a while. And some kind of headrest. Be surprised if Tong couldn’t knock something up. There’re few things he can’t fix up, it’ll be good to have him around again.

Jan Inge grins at the TV as though it were an old friend, and that’s what it is, after all. A classic, Three on a Meathook . Well made, if you consider the budget and the fact it came out in 1973. Yeah. That scene’s so good. The axe isn’t even big, just a little hatchet, and it chops the woman’s head right off.

There. Darkness. Zoom in on the house.

The father walking around calling out to Billy.

Why didn’t you listen?

It’s too late now.

That’s what’s so good about horror movies. They’re all about it being too late. If Jan Inge ever writes that book, he can call it something along those lines.

It’s Too Late.

A Study of Horror Movies.

By Jan Inge Haraldsen.

That bloody surname. It doesn’t command any respect. He’d have to change his name if he was going to be a writer.

Jan Inge Wilson.

Doesn’t sound that good.

What are writers called?

Hamsun.

He can’t remember that many writers from school. But then again there weren’t many days he went to school.

Jan Inge Hamsun

That has a certain ring to it.

JAN INGE HAMSUN

Vibrant. But a bit Nazi.

Knausgård? Jan Inge Knausgård?

Bit boring. Bit German.

Jan Inge Nesbø?

Bit used-up.

Spielberg? Jan Inge Spielberg?

Not enough like a writer.

Jan Inge Cash.

No. He’s not really a writer-writer, Johnny Cash.

Nooo … Jan Inge … what’s his name…

Yess.

JAN INGE KING.

It’s Too Late. A Study of Horror Movies.

By Jan Inge King.

Jan Inge pivots a little on the wheelchair, nodding to himself.

It’s all about grabbing hold of life while you can.

Some people have that little extra. The company was vulnerable when Tong went inside. Cash flow was better when he was working. He can be a bit iffy upstairs but that’s the drugs. And as soon as that’s out of the picture, which Tong promises it is, then it’s hard to find fault. It’ll be good to have him home, then the gang will be all together, then they can avoid having to trust people they half know as well as complete strangers. Melvin. Tødden. God, he’s happy to be rid of that sick hippie, and Hansi, what a disgusting individual. He’d start jabbering away when he was drunk. When Rudi drinks he just wants to sing, dance, shout, mess about and screw Chessi, but when Hansi drank he wanted to hit the town, then he’d start blabbering, and then it’s not far to the copshop on Lagårdsveien 6, and before too long you’ve got Tommy Pogo standing at your door. Well, anyway, all that’s behind us now. Have to organise a party for Tong on Friday. Show him that we care. That he’s bloody well welcome back.

WELCOME HOME, YELLOW SUBMARINE, WE’VE MISSED YOU.

That’s what’s important, thinks Jan Inge, filling his mouth with crisps. Keeping the gang together. Being a good leader. He saw a programme about business executives on TV, and after listening to them, he can’t say he breaks with any of the fundamental principles of sound leadership. Trust. Presence. Ambition. Resolve. Seeing your co-workers. Seeing their good sides. Supporting them. Inspiring them. Being there for them in adversity. No, Jan Inge can’t see that he breaks with any of the fundamental principles. On the contrary, they’re precisely the same basic principles he adheres to when it comes to leadership:

No drugs (only when we’re on a job!).

No to porn (ruins your head!).

Never harm individuals (what have they done to us? Are we animals?).

No to excessive violence and weapons (= copshop on Lagårdsveien 6!).

Small jobs = good jobs (get too big, Lagårdsveien 6!).

Yes to break-ins, no to hold-ups (Lagårdsveien 6!).

Keep calm! (Chaos is our enemy!)

Only talk to your own people (who else can you trust?).

Focusfocusfocus (!!!).

The biggest danger is Rudi and Chessi moving out. That’s not a pleasant thought. What he needs to do is make sure things are so good for them in the old house that the issue doesn’t arise. A charter holiday? Is that what they want? Jan Inge can surprise them and splash out. He could spring a surprise trip on them. And what about the SodaStream? How about he actually digs it out to see if it can be fixed?

LEADERSHIP.

‘No,’ Jan Inge says aloud. He rocks a little back and forth. On the TV screen a dead girl lies in a bathtub filled with a mixture of water and blood. ‘No,’ he says again, even louder. His voice fills the room, as though he were addressing someone. ‘No,’ he repeats firmly, ‘need to get back down to a hundred. Too much of a good thing, this here.’