Breakaway (21 page)

“There’s always just one thing with you, Rory.”

“We don’t boast about it. Let everyone come up with their own reasons why that loser pulled a runner. There’s no need for people to know we had anything to do with it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jake replied, beginning to chafe.

“Boring you, am I?”

“No, I have to get back to work. Some of us do have to do that, you know?”

“As a matter of fact, I do know,” Rory fired back. “And so do you.”

“You look like an arse in that baseball cap, you know.”

“Ta, Jake.” Rory stood. “I’ll ring you when I know the lay of the land.”

“And I’ll ring you when I’ve figured out the next competition.”

Rory groaned. “Give it up, mate. It’s getting sad.”

“You’re the one who couldn’t hold his drink.”

“Right, fine, if it’ll stop you harping like a nagging old woman, one more contest. One.” He shook his head. “I don’t know why we’re even bothering with this. It’s clear she doesn’t want you.”

Jake laughed loudly. “Oh, and she wants to be with you, does she? One stuffed animal won at the fair and she’s all for bearing your children? Watch you don’t trip over that ego of yours and break your neck, Rory.”

“I’ll do that.” Rory went out the front door, Jake out the back. Him and Jake taking care of the Larry problem. It just might be the way to mend things.

Two nights later, Rory was buzzing with adrenaline as he and Jake went to “chat” with Larry.

Rory knew from Erin that Larry was parking his fat arse in front of his brother Lance’s TV. Jake learned from Bettina that it was definitely true that the two brothers were dealing dope from the house. Larry was there most nights, since Lance held down an actual job as a night watchman at the mall in Moneygall.

Rory and Jake parked at the head of the narrow street and then quietly strolled up to Lance’s two-up, two-down, identical to every other house on the road. They knew someone was there, the flickering kaleidoscope of colors from a TV lighting up the lace-curtained windows like a blaze. Rory peeked through the flimsy lace. “He’s there.”

Jake rang the bell. No answer. Again. No answer. Again. But this time a nasty voice from inside boomed, “Feck off!” Rory and Jake looked at one another and kicked the door in.

“What the fuck?”

Presented with two large men looking angry, Larry put
his hands up immediately. “Take whatever you want. Seriously. I’ll even show you where the shit is. Just don’t kill me.”

“No one’s here to kill you,” said Rory in a voice meant to soothe a child. “Although I should have when I had the chance.”

Larry started up out of his chair, but Rory shoved him down. “You’re sitting for this one.”

“Fuck you.”

“I suggest you do what Rory says,” said Jake, nodding his head approvingly as he inspected the nasty cut on Larry’s forehead, a souvenir from when Rory had headbutted him.

Larry muttered a few indistinct curses beneath his breath, but he stayed put on the chair.

Rory stood directly in front of him, arms folded at his chest. He towered over the sickening coward, intimidating him, which was just the way he wanted it.

“Here’s how it’s going to go: you’re going to get the hell out of Ballycraig.”

“Mind your own feckin’—”

Rory grabbed his face. “Shut up.” He released him with a shove.

“As I was saying,” Rory continued congenially, “you’re outta here. Sandra is going to get a protection order. The school is going to get a protection order. If you ever go near her, the kids, or Erin again, they’re gonna find your body in the Dumpster behind the Oak, mate.”

Larry gave a phlegmy laugh. “You threatenin’ me? The minute you leave here, I’m calling the garda.”

“I thought you did that last time,” Rory taunted.

“I know people in the garda,” Larry continued, trying to sound menacing.

Rory laughed in his face. “I bet you do, arsehole. How many times have they nicked you for petty stealing? Drunk and disorderly conduct? Eh? We’re not fucking about here, Larry,” Rory said, stone-cold serious. “You disappear by morning or we drop a dime on you about your and Lance’s little sideline.”

Larry stared up at them stupidly. “Drop a dime?”

“We’ll tell the garda you’re dealing drugs out of this place,” Jake said with exasperation. “Got it?”

Larry nodded, glaring.

“No.” Rory grabbed him by the collar. “We want to hear you say you’ve got it.”

“I’ve got it,” Larry muttered.

Rory released him with a shove. “Good. Glad we’re clear.” He turned to Jake. “We done?”

“One more thing. Think on this,” Jake said to Larry, his smile glittering with malice. “I’ve more brothers than you’ve got brain cells, so don’t even think of trying to pull something stupid. They’ll hunt you down like a dog. I’d leave Ballycraig as soon as possible if I were you.”

Larry’s eyes were beady with hatred, but he kept his yap shut.

Rory turned to Jake. “We ready?”

“I think so.”

“Have a nice life, you piece of shit,” Rory sneered, then spat on the floor. Jake did the same. No more words were needed. As they strolled out of there, Rory was confident about two things: one was that Larry was leaving and Sandra, her kids, and Erin were safe; the other was that he and Jake were solid. Two victories down, one to go. He was going to score a hat trick if it killed him.

Erin had finished tidying up the dining room at the B and B when someone leaned hard on the front door buzzer. Maybe Mr. Russell had locked himself out again. It had been happening with alarming frequency. Erin put down the dust rag in her hand and opened the door. There was Sandra, looking like a wild-eyed thing.

Erin pulled her inside. “What’s the matter! Did that bastard come back? Is it one of the kids?”

Sandra looked around, agitated. “Can we talk?”

“You even have to ask?” Erin could feel her stomach begin to shrink into a cold, hard stone as she led Sandra into the kitchen. Bloody Larry. She knew he’d weasel his way back into the house. That jerk could talk the Queen into giving him the crown jewels.

“Sit, honey.”

Sandra sank into her chair like a sandbag, limply holding out a crumpled piece of paper to Erin. In childish scrawl, it read:

Sandra,

I’m sorry for what happened.

I think it’s best I go.

I love you and always will.

Your Larry

Erin folded it neatly and handed it back to her friend.
Finally,
she thought.

“You’ve got to talk to Rory,” Sandra said frantically.

“Whatever for?”

“I’m sure this has to do with him giving Larry what for in the living room. He’s chased him off.”

“Good.” Erin moved to put the kettle on, but the sound of Sandra’s wail put a stop to that.

“Ssh,” Erin hushed, closing the kitchen door. “There are guests here, remember? All we need is tourists thinking a banshee lives here, and my folks will lose a boatload of business.”

“I’m sorry.” Sandra’s lower lip was quivering.

“It’s okay. You can cry. Just keep it down a bit.”

“This is all Rory’s doing,” she accused.

“I doubt that,” Erin said tersely, even though her gut told her otherwise. “Rory might have been the one to set the wheels in motion by defending us, but you and I both know Larry was going to pull a runner sooner or later. I just wish it had been sooner.”

Sandra was staring vacantly out the back window.
She thinks her life is over,
Erin thought.
But really, it was just beginning
. She’d realize that eventually.

Erin poured the tea and grabbed a box of Jacob’s Cream Crackers from the cabinet. It was just San, no need to put them on the plate.

“Right,” Erin said, tearing open the cellophane with her teeth. “Tell me what happened.”

“I woke up before the kids the way I usually do, right, to make their breakfast. And I’m coming down the stairs, and
this white envelope was on the floor that someone had pushed through the letter box. My first thought was, ‘Oh crap, don’t let it be from the council saying they’re gonna turn the water off.’ My heart was in my throat, Erin. I swear to God.

“So I picked it up, thinking, ‘What the—’ And I opened it”—her eyes started brimming again—“and there it was, the note from Larry.” Tears ran freely down her cheeks.

“And there’s no part of you that’s glad he’s not going to come round anymore and terrorize you and your kids?”

Sandra wasn’t hearing her. “You have to find out what Rory said to him when we were upstairs,” she pleaded.

“What does it matter?” Erin was about to tear her own hair out by the roots. “We don’t know where he’s gone, and even if we did, I would never speak to you again if you went chasing after him. I mean that. You should be thanking Rory! I don’t even want to think about what could have happened if Rory hadn’t walked in.”

Sandra looked distraught. “What am I gonna tell the kids?”

“Sandra, they know he hit you. They’re not idiots.”

“He’s still their father.”

Erin grit her teeth. “Fine. Tell them he’s found work somewhere.”

“Work? Not bloody likely.”

“You know, there are some positives to this,” Erin said cautiously.

Sandra scowled at her. “Oh, really? What’s that?”

“Well, for one thing, you were thinking about getting away from him anyway, taking classes and all that. But he’s gone and done it for you. And you don’t have to worry anymore about him coming home drunk, or not coming home at all. Or
hitting
you. Or belittling you in front of the kids and chucking furniture about. Or trying to win the kids’ affection with iPhones.”

“Wonder how he managed to afford those,” Sandra muttered.

“You know how: either he stole them like we thought, or
he bought them with drug money. Things can only go up from here, love.”

Sandra burst into tears again. “But I love him! What am I going to do without him?”

Erin lost her temper. “San, I’m trying to be as supportive as I can, but you seem to have forgotten that Larry hit me, too! Who would he be hitting next if he stuck around? Your kids?”

Sandra’s voice trembled. “I’m so sorry he did that, Erin.”

“It’s not your fault. But if you really give a damn about your family and friends, you’ll set your sights on building a good life for you and your kids without that prick.”