Breakdown (14 page)

“Beer?”

“Bourbon,” said Craig. “And by that, I mean the biscuits. The nurses keep a stash behind their station, if you’re up for one.”

“A nurse? I thought you said Martin hadn’t made an appearance yet?”

“Biscuits, nowt else.”

“Whoa, hold me back, mate, I mean—seriously, get ready to drug my ass, because I’m likely to go nuts on the whole packet.”

“Jackass. Keep your nuts off the packet.”

I finally chuckled, surprising myself, and let him go first, his look very suspicious as I even held the door for him and smiled. “No marriage proposal, or anything.” I winked “I’m taken. Old Mukka just needs fucking reminding of it.”

The paperwork that came with the daily classes was worse than being back at fucking school. I sat in my room, text books sprawled over the bed, different papers and worksheets going spaghetti junction on them, and that old temptation was there to screw some pages up and hurl them at the people passing by outside, just to get a reaction.

“Fuck.” Rubbing at my eyes, I groaned out loud and lay back on the bed. This wasn’t me. Books, I hated fucking books. Gray had the sense to keep them three continents away on the east side of his manor, and under firm lock and key when I was around. Not that I’d ever walk into the fucking library unless in the form of undue punishment. Yeah, forget flogging or being made to watch as Jan and Gray fuck, putting me in a library was number one ball buster of the year for me.

“Are you going to take me up on that offer to help yet?”

Cracking open an eye, I saw Sally smiling over from by the door. “Ah.” Sitting up, I gathered the books together, flicking them shut. She’d offered a few times over the past few weeks, but, Christ, help from a kid? “Nah, I’m done, thanks.”

Sally came over and sat on the bed, then started to help collect up the paperwork. “Since Mr. Halliday put me through university, I’ve loved looking in books.”

That puzzled even my
couldn’t care less
mind. “You didn’t like looking in books before that?”

She flicked a look up. Fresh bandages covered her arms, but a scratch mark, looking more like it came from something thin, but sharp, escaped from underneath. Her hand fell across her lower abdomen, and she gave a small smile. “I was kept in some man’s home, mostly hooded and bound since I was four years old. Never really got to see much.”

That just about pulled the rug from underneath my ass. “I’m... hmmm...”

“It’s okay,” she said, fixated on putting the books into a pile, edges all straight, lined up. Perfect. Different to my ordering or OCD levels; there was a lot of pride and care in her eyes for being allowed to touch them. “First book I read, I was eighteen, and it was...” She looked up, thinking, “Rapunzel.” A little shrug was given; this was the first time she’d stayed around for longer than a few minutes. “Well, it was the first one that Dr. Halliday read to me. Rapunzel’s hair... it was so much like mine, only more... combed.” Tears were in her eyes, but there was an innocence there. “I haven’t stopped reading since: Keats, Kipling, Dickens...”

“Now if you’d gone for KFC, I’d have been right there with you.”

She flicked a grin over. Watching her for a minute, I took the nearest book off her neat pile and opened it up. “You better be good, and know how to help out the special kids in class.”

She looked up, smiled, and I noticed then how crooked her nose was. She’d had it smashed in a few times like Craig’s; some things wouldn’t ever be normal again, but it seemed to make her prettiness more human, less perfect and obtainable.

“I help out in ESL class at uni during the day,” she said, tugging the book off me. “Standard usage I’m good with. Although swearing isn’t something I’m keen on.” I got a very school-teacher look from blue eyes.

“I don’t swear around ladies. Scout’s honour.”

“You sure? Because that ‘fucking peachy’ thing... you say that a lot.”

“I do?” I forced a smile. “Hadn’t noticed. Tell you what, you write the answers down to these for me, and I’ll bite back any language that might upset you.”

Sally pulled one of the question papers over and looked at it. “How about I help you find the passages you need to answer the questions, and you can still keep your mouth clean?”

Jesus Christ... “You know a guy called Jan Richards, by any chance? He goes purely by the virtuous too.”

Sally tucked a long strand of hair behind her ear. Maybe the first attempt at flirting without it being forced or expected? “He a friend?”

“Boyfriend,” I said quietly.

She seemed a little puzzled, then mouthed an Oh, and—“Oh.” Her blush wasn’t because of flirting, there seemed a genuine confusion going on. Living a sheltered life took a whole darker turn to what exactly she hadn’t been exposed to, and I frowned, more pissed off now. She seemed to pull back, recognising the change, then sighed, forcing relaxation into the room for both of us. “For an ESLer, you’ve got good language skills.”

“ESLer?” I frowned.

She waved at me. “Half Italian, aren’t you? But your accent’s pure Londoner.”

Giving a deeper frown, I picked up the worksheet she was messing with. “Half-cast, mother’s side.”

“Can you speak it?”

“What?”

“Italian?” That blush was there again, but it had nothing to do with flirting. Just the innocence of exploring, of wanting to explore but not quite having the confidence to ask. She was different from the Sally I’d met in the dinner hall. Maybe she’d had more practice at introductions, but didn’t usually go much further than that.

Part of me wanted to stuff any association back to my old lady back down her throat and watch her choke, including every volume of Italian I could find, but instead, I opened up the book on anger management and translated a passage for her. Each time I flicked a look up, I’d catch her with her eyes closed, ear turned slightly towards me, just listening. It was good to watch, to be allowed to watch.

“Very good,” she said when I finished, then she leaned over and tapped at one word, “declension was wrong here,” then another, “conjugation, here.” She gave me the correct version and I tossed the book on the bed.

“Fucking kids.”

“Beg your pardon?” Her laugh came easy, as easy as Jan’s, and I let my gaze run towards the window. The book was picked up again, and she started flicking through. “Anger management, ten steps on how to not let ‘gits’ like that Sam at your garage get to you. Can you name the first three?” Her look was a little more playful. “And the need to throw the book at them isn’t a suggested method of managing your anger.”

“Hello Joe.”

I looked past Sally to see Joe come shuffling in, giving a little wave. Oh boy...

“Hello, Joe,” Sally said at the same time as me and I saw how she hid the book out of hand’s reach.

“Seen Joe’s teeth, Jack?”

“Sorry, Joe, no,” I mumbled, “I haven’t seen your teeth.”

Sally chuckled at me as Joe came over. “Say hello Joe.” A hand was offered to Sally. She took it, then stood and pecked his cheek. “Hello, Joe.”

Joe blushed at the soft kiss and looked over. “Jack no say hello Joe. Jack not like CDs.”

Sally winked as she hugged Joe. Again, such an ease behind it. “No, Jack doesn’t like CDs, Joe.”

“Jack likes Joe’s teeth, though.” Joe nodded at Sally, then scowled at me. “Saw him take them.”

“Sorry, Joe,” I said trying to hide a chuckle and patting my jeans and T-shirt down. “I’ve not taken your teeth.”

“Joe, c’mon, I’ll help you find them,” said Sally, mouthing an apology. “Let’s go look under your bed, ’kay?” I waved her off as I started to tidy the books away. I’d more than had enough for today.

“But Joe saw Jack.” The old man frowned. “Bad Jack took them, said Joe needs to swallow Jack’s medication and go away for good. Leave him alone.”

I flicked a look at Joe.

“Wasn’t nice. Joe only likes nice Jack.”

“Sorry,” said Sally, rolling her eyes. “C’mon, Joe. Let’s leave Jack alone.” She ushered him out of the room, and I sat there, watching the empty space.

The weight of the text book felt a little heavy, along with the ability to breathe, and I headed on out of my room, down the corridor to the nurses’ station. Craig was off in the back room talking to some other staff. He was just coming on shift and they were no doubt going through the patient shit-list for the evening. The evening paper was there, Craig giving up on me taking it and just leaving it here anyway, so I paid some attention to that whilst I waited. And waited.

“You know I could have pinched the keys to the drugs cupboard by now, drugged myself silly, and died of overdose in my room?”

Quiet, then, “Hi, Jack. Craig’s not here at the moment, but if you’d like to leave a message after the
I couldn’t give a monkey’s crap
beep, I’m sure he’ll get back as soon as he’s finished doing important stuff, like having a coffee, eating a donut, and throwing darts at your picture to practice for the next time he needs to drug your ass.”

Chuckles drifted over from the nurse’s station and, giving a sniff, I peered over the station desk.

“Not gonna work, Jack, there’s nothing for you to mess with there.”

Not even looking, I gave the finger up into the corner, knowing full well that a camera sat there. Messing with a few cables, I pulled them free, then held them up. “Think your printer’s broken. Might delay getting those hand-over sheets actually, y’know, handed over. Want me to have a look at it for you? Mate’s rates, of course?”

The wires were pulled out of my hand a moment later and Craig handed them over to Janet, at least I think that’s what he’d called her yesterday. Craig gave a heavy sigh. “So, what’s up, Jack? Please note I’m really saying don’t touch the equipment again, or cross over the nurse station line again. Ever.”

Giving a smile, I wiped at my nose. “Being as you’re here, can I make a call? Decent chap that you are, like Halliday said a few weeks ago, and I’ve done my good bloke time, guv’na.”

Craig looked at his watch, the upside down one on his breast pocket, and I tried to twist my head around to see what the fascination was.

“It’ll only make your shift with me go longer if you keep checking that thing,” I said and earning a
yeah, frickin heard that
glance in return. “Phone.” I thumbed through in to the back. “This way, right?”

“Yeah.” Craig shifted his head back into another room, “this way, Loci.”

“Who’s that?” I said as I passed.

“Doesn’t matter. In here.” He pushed past slightly and opened a door. Inside wasn’t exactly your typical breakroom, but again, it was the MC, where even the staff were as looked after as the detainees. In built flat-screen TV, all the mod cons to get by: fancy microwave, granite units, lighting fitted into black tiles around the wall. Comfy chairs, both eating and work stations, huge fridge and I bet everything inside was tagged and bagged with a ‘property of...’ sticker on the front.

“How the other half, live, eh?” I glanced around. “You know I feel slightly miffed; I don’t even get a TV. Or carpet.”

Craig went over to a nice-looking desk over in the corner and started typing in a few numbers. “There’s a TV in the rec room, Jack. You also have one in your room, so stop playing the hard done by.” He flicked a look up. “You can watch TV whenever you want.”

“If I say please?”

“Hah, so you do know how manners work?” He winked over, then seemed to listen. “External line please, Michelle.”

Michelle. She was Brennan’s secretary. Communication went directly through to the MC base.

“What number, Jack?” He was holding the phone out, so I went over and picked it up. Giving a tap at my shoulder, Craig then went over to the door and stood just by it, arms folded as he rested against the wall.

“Jan Richards, Michelle, please.”

“Jack...” The longest pause came. “Of course. I’m connecting you now.”

“Thanks.” Ringing came through a moment later, and watching the fading light of the room, I sat down on the chair, my elbow going on the table, hand then rubbing at my eyes. It seemed to ring for an eternity, then—

“Hello.”

I screwed my eyes shut. He sounded so fucking tired. Wasn’t he at work? Had he been at work at all? Even at Gray’s, I hadn’t even noticed let alone asked. Fuck.

“Jah—”

I stopped there, hand slipping from rubbing my eyes, to my mouth.

“Jack...”

Stillness.

“Jack, is that you?”

I tried his name again, but only ended up screwing my eyes shut tight. My fault... my fucking fault. “Everything...” All the hurt he’d been through, it was my fault. My—

“Jack?” More quiet, then a soft sound, like Jan resting his head against the wall. “I’m here, baby, for when you’re ready to talk. I’m always here. Okay?”

Fuck.

“Sorry I left you there, you... you just get better, okay?”

The phone was back in its cradle before I realised, and I sat there staring into the oncoming darkness.

“Okay?” Craig was by me. If asked to swear on it, I couldn’t say when. I shook my head, shaking free just how much I wasn’t. Craig crouched down. “You didn’t put Jan there, Jack. You need to get that out of your head, and maybe you need to do it before you call him again. Otherwise you’re going to hurt and confuse him too. You didn’t hurt Jan, but he
is
hurting. Don’t make it any worse for you two as a partnership.”

“I don’t like the thought of him being on his own.”

Craig nodded. “He’s part of the MC now, Jack. You know this: you know he’ll never be alone again, not in the sense that most people are. And knowing Gray that will mean round the clock surveillance.”

Gray. I’d picked up the phone before Craig could stop me.

“Michelle, can you put me through to Rachel, please?”

“Jack... Give me a moment.”

Craig was shaking his head, eyes saying no, but I stared him down as the ringing stopped.

“Rachel?”

“Jack.”

“Can I be put through to Gray, please?”

“Putting you through to his personal line. One moment, Jack.”

Again the phone started to ring, then ring some more, then as it was picked up and... Jan. All the fucking hurt I’d put him through. Everything I’d done to Gray—“Fuckssake.” I went to slam the phone down.