and looked at its reflection on the exhaust. Car?
He stood up when the figures appeared beside his own onion face on the exhaust. Painless he recognized. The other fella looked familiar. Pony-tail, studs along his ear. He pulled out the earphones.
“Jammy,” said Painless. “How’s it going, man?”
“Oh, great. How’s yourself.”
He felt stupid with the rag in his hand. He bent his knees to ease the stiffness.
“Going somewhere, are you?” asked Pony-tail.
Like who’s asking, he wanted to say. He studied the dark patches under his eyes.
“Nice bike,” said Painless.
“Thanks.”
“Paid for, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You up to anything these days, Jammy?”
“The usual, you know. A bit of this-”
“A bit of that?” Pony-tail asked. He took a step forward, blew a bubble and cracked it.
“Like a bit of what?” asked Painless. Tierney glanced back at the sallow, expressionless face of Painless Balfe. Indoors all day, he thought. Probably a user. Psycho.
“Things is slow on the buildings. I get the odd ruxer. Then the rock-and-roll.”
“Still good with the balls, are you, Jammy?”
He tried to smile. He realized his knees were turning to jelly on him.
“You know yourself. Couldn’t make a living out of it. But the odd game does the job.”
Painless’s face took on a quizzical expression.
“Is that the only game you play, Jammy?”
“You know me, man. Just trying to get along. I never went in for the excitement.”
Balfe’s eyes bored into his now. Again he tried to grin. It didn’t come. A trickle ran down his back. He shrugged. Painless’s eyes slid down to the bike. He nodded several times.
“How fast does this yoke go, Jammy?”
“About one-thirty.”
“A hundred and thirty miles an hour? Fuck me. For real?”
“If you get the road, you know? It’s a real buzz if you’re into it.”
Pony-tail blew another bubble.
“Have you ever been on it when it went that fast?” he asked.
Painless’s sidekick was grinning. His teeth were yellow. Average size, nothing special if it was a clean fight, but bad eyes. If the Egans had him on the payroll, he had to be the goods. Tierney rubbed at his eyes and looked down at the hands in the pockets. Knuckles, maybe.
“No. Went to one-twenty once, though.”
“Not fast enough,” said Pony-tail. Tierney looked at Balfe. His face was blank.
“Seen Leonardo today?” Balfe asked.
“Well, I seen him the other day, yeah.”
Pony-tail chewed more vigorously.
“I don’t stay in touch with the likes of him, though. I mean to say, he’s a fucking header, right?”
Painless’s expression hadn’t changed.
“He’s always messing,” he went on. “He’s a goner this long time, you know?”
“He’s a mate of yours,” said Painless. “Am I right or am I right?”
The fear made him vehement now. He jabbed at his own upper arm.
“No way. He stopped being a mate of mine when he started feeding his fucking arm.”
“Feeding his arm?” asked Painless
“Whatever he does. I don’t know exactly. I’m not into that. Never was.”
“Fella saw you and him in the Eight Ball the other day,” said Pony-tail. “Charley’s?”
He popped one bubble and stopped chewing.
“Who?”
“Doesn’t fucking matter who,” snapped Painless.
“Well he obviously didn’t hear me give Leonardo the brush-off, did he?”
“Obviously?” sneered Pony-tail. “Obviously you’re trying to be fucking smart.”
His hand slid out of his pocket. Tierney looked down at the rings. Pony-tail began a foot-to-foot motion as though testing new shoes.
“Here, Painless, wait a minute!”
Painless’s hand was already behind his back.
“I’ll help find him for you, Painless, if that’s what you mean, you know, like?”
“How?” Balfe’s eyes had gone clear and moist. “Said you didn’t fucking know him.”
“Well, I know him, but I don’t know him.”
“Fuck off out of the way, so,” said Painless. Pony-tail went by him and raised his arm.
“Jesus, Painless, don’t, man! I swear to God!”
He jumped out onto the street. A bread lorry honked but didn’t let up speed. Pony-tail brought his hand down in a chop. It glanced off the petrol tank.
“Fucking thing,” he said. He drew back with his next swing and scraped the side of the tank.
“Painless! Man! Just get him to stop it, for Jases’ sake, will you!”
Painless had replaced something in his back pocket. He stared at the motorbike. Pony-tail began kicking against the exhaust.
“These bikes,” Pony-tail grunted between kicks. “You could…fucking…get…yourself…hurt tearing around the place on one of these things.”
“Lolly,” said Painless. Pony-tail turned with a mischievous look and smiled at Tierney.
“Be seeing you, there. Stay in touch.”
He counted the money again and tried to decide. It was too late for laying out the stuff on the paths along by the Green. But the office crowd would be on the move in a little while. He couldn’t decide. He flicked the cigarette away. His shoulder ached from lying on the grass. Two kids were throwing crusts to ducks by the pond. He stared at a can floating in the scum on the surface. Christ, the stink.
The ache for a hit ran up from his stomach and his heart seemed to swell. He stood up and lit a cigarette. For several moments he was dizzy; the heat and the glare and the smoke in his lungs made the trees come at him, changing colour as they did. He closed his eyes. He’d have to carry the stupid bag with his change of clothes in it as well as the pictures all over the city. Again the craving came to him. He could make himself do it, he thought then, cold turkey. He wasn’t really into it anyway, not like people who needed it bad enough to knock pensioners around for a tenner.
The tips of his fingers began to itch and tingle. He began walking around the bench. Eat something, that’d help. It was too hot. He looked down at the bags, imagining them in slow motion falling toward the water, taking his troubles with them. Grabbing the pictures, twisting them to a pulp, watching them sink into the pond. Nobody’d help him. He was out there on his own. People were looking for him. No shelter, the sun beating down on him like it was the Sahara. Through the trees and beyond the dappled walks he caught glimpses of the traffic wheeling around the Green. A man with his shirt open to his waist staggered around the shrubs and came toward him. He almost slipped but held the bottle of sherry upright. He slowed and began heading toward him again.
“Hey, brother. Wait a minute there!”
He grabbed the bags and headed across the grass toward the gate. Where could he go? Take Jammy’s advice and get the boat to Liverpool? Stupid bastard. No way: he’d go under there. There was no work. He didn’t know anyone. He moved faster down the path now, checking the faces and the parked cars. A faint hope began to leak into his chest and his stride settled. There had to be a way he could talk to the Egans, prove he had nothing to do with… Nothing to do with what? The thought of Mary dead made him slow almost to a stop. Nobody’d believe him. There was no safe place. He looked back at the foliage spilling over the railings in the Green. It was like an island away from all this heat and crap and noise, a place he could just walk in, a place where he could lie down to rest.
