Fireproof (34 page)

Mike looked around the pub again, hoping inspiration would strike. The mahogany and red velvet décor seemed as expected, old fashioned but inoffensive in the dim lighting.

The pint still sat in front of him. He took another sip. He felt neither inebriated nor sober. His mind languished in that twilight just before the drunk. Where was he again?

Maybe he should have a whiskey. Clear the mind for a second.

Mike patted his shirt pockets for some cash. What he felt there made him look down. His chest was peppered with bullet holes. That was significant. Wasn't it?

"You look like you could do with a shot on the house. Whiskey, isn't it?"

The voice drew Mike's attention away from his chest. The barman looked familiar, but Mike couldn't quite place him. It would come to him.

"Yes my good man. A whiskey is what I need."

The barman nodded. Familiar but different, tall and thin with a neatly combed, long beard and long hair tied back in a pony tail. His white shirt had a name tag on it.

"Nestle is an unusual name," Mike said.

"Not round these parts," Nestle the barman said. "Nothing's unusual round here."

Mike nodded. "I've got the feeling
everything
is just okay around here. Not great, not bad, not unusual, not ordinary. But it's okay."

Nestle nodded slowly and smiled. "You're getting it now. Drink that whiskey and see what else you get."

The whiskey warmed Mike's throat and belly. Names danced in his memory; Cathy, Jim, Cadbury, Kelly. They were elusive. Mike looked at the whiskey glass. It looked untouched. He drank again. This time, a beautiful woman with her hair tied back winked a chocolate coloured eye at him. The thought of her made him smile. He looked at the whiskey glass, still full, but he didn't drink from it.

"Don't you want any more?" Nestle asked.

"I want to save it."

"It doesn't run out."

"It's not about that."

Nestle nodded in approval. Mike liked him.

"I think I knew a guy called Cadbury. Any relation to you?"

Nestle smiled. A handsome guy, but his eyes were too wide. Mike thought he might be a little bit crazy.

"Yes, I have a brother called Cadbury. He does some very important work in his field."

"He's not a farmer though, is he?"

Nestle laughed, a sound tinged with lunacy. "No, Mike, he's not a farmer."

"I think I know where I am, now, Nestle."

"You're a perceptive man. You figured it out very quickly. You should relax. You might be here a long time."

"I think there may have been some mistake. I should be somewhere else. Somewhere hotter, if you catch my drift."

"I catch your drift, but you're quite wrong. It's never too late to be redeemed. Of course, your stay here will be lengthened by some of your more… regrettable actions."

"Wow. That seems like pretty good news."

"There's better to come, Mike. So much better the promise of it could drive you a little crazy. You should relax. There's a lady who might join you here before you're ready to move on. I think you'll be happy to see her. You may have to wait for quite a while, but time is different here. It's more about remembering and reflecting than waiting."

Mike nodded. He looked at the glasses in front of him; a half full pint of Guinness and a full glass of whiskey. No rush.

"It was nice talking to you, Nestle. Pass my regards on to your brother, next time you see him."

###

Wee Rockets

"The Wire? This is Barbed Wire. A cheeky slice of urban noir, a drink-soaked, drug-addled journey into the violent underbelly of one of Europe's most notorious ghettos,
Wee Rockets
makes
The Outsiders
look like the Teletubbies" – Colin Bateman

Wee Rockets
does for Belfast what Irvine Welsh did for Edinburgh. A gang of fourteen-year-old hoods rampage through West Belfast, indulging in violent street crime and mugging pensioners to pay for cider, cigarettes and sweets. Branded scum by a shocked community and pursued by a dogged local vigilante, the young gangsters' antisocial behaviour soon escalates into something much worse.

For fans of
A Clockwork Orange
,
Kidulthood
,
The Wire
,
Boyz n the Hood
or
City of God
set in Belfast and for anyone with an open mind about disaffected, disenfranchised youth in modern urban society.

Gerard Brennan is the author of the novels,
Wee Rockets
and
Fireproof,
the novella,
The Point
, and co-editor of
Requiems For The Departed
, a collection of crime fiction based on Irish myths. He lives in Dundrum, Northern Ireland.

For news, reviews, interviews and lots more about
Gerard Brennan
and our other great authors, visit
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