Chapter 6
Richie's palms were slick. He could feel the warm moistness soaking his thighs through his jeans as he nervously ran his hands over the course material. The hardest thing about sitting in Claudia McGuire’s front room, was not the imminent threat of violence from her father and four very large brothers, but the very fact he had to sit across from the stupid bitch who caused all the aggravation in the first place. So angry was he at her causing all of this mayhem, he could have happily given her the slap of her life. Sitting less than three feet from him and staring at the ground, he could see that her face was burning red with humiliation and dread. But what infuriated him more was the fact that she was so cowed in his presence that it was beginning to seriously piss-off her brothers.
They were practically snarling at him now, like Rottweiler's straining against a very short leash, and any minute now he had the feeling the leash would snap and he would be lucky to get out of the room with balls still intact. Well if it taught him anything, he would make damn sure - double, damn sure - to be careful who he'd date from now on. Not only would they have to be up for it, but more importantly, they would be legal. If, he had to see their birth certificate then so be it, Ritchie Gallagher was not going to be caught a second time. Seething inwardly, while trying to look as guilt- ridden and contrite as possible in the oppressively small living room, he pulled the best remorseful face could muster and hoped for the best. With head bowed and shoulders hunched, making certain that eye contact was avoided at all costs, he looked the epitome of regret.
‘I’m going to let Ritchie tell you himself what he did, after all he's the only one here who has yet to say anything.’ Richard announced, with the intention of humiliating him even further. It worked, but not for the reason his father thought it would. For a start, Richie couldn’t remember much of what had happened. And he didn’t fancy exposing his little drug habit on top of everything else. But what rankled Ritchie the most, was having to relay a blow by blow account, of his clumsy attempt at getting laid. Why that mattered was simple really, not only had he failed miserably to get the leg over, but the teasing bitch sitting across from him had also been able to floor him. Big strong Ritchie Gallagher, copping a feel and smacked across the head for his attempts and that fact in itself was humiliating enough.
He wished now he could turn back the clock, go back to the sorry day he first set eyes on Claudia, and her huge tits, and gone for Melissa instead. A colossal error of judgment on his part had gotten him right where he was now, and he never felt so fucked off in his entire life. Plus it was getting harder by the minute to maintain the farcical humility he hoped would save him. And the absolute hatred he now felt for his father only added to his fury. His body was rigid with hatred for the man.
‘Ritchie?’ his father snapped. ‘Well?’ one of the brothers snarled.
Ritchie knew that he would have to say something, but he also knew that while Mick McGuire and the others would want to hear what happened, he didn’t think that every single detail that he remembered was necessary. And he certainly had no intention of winding them up even further.
‘I’m s-sorry, Mr McGuire,’ he stammered.
‘Tell them,’ Richie's father ordered treacherously.
Ritchie swallowed hard, he knew he would have to tell them something. He only hoped that it was something similar to what Claudia had said happened or he was in serious shit.
‘I was with Claudia over by Farrell’s hill and we started to...to...’ he swallowed ‘I put my arm around her and then she kissed me back and then she hit me and ran away.’ He added feebly.
‘What about the drugs?’ Claudia’s brother asked in an accusing tone. He knew Ritchie’s father hadn’t heard about that little gem.
‘What...?’
Ritchie frowned with disbelief, she had told them everything. ‘Drugs?’ his father roared, motioning to clatter him again.
‘I didn’t have any drugs, I had a Major in my hand, I don’t touch drugs,’ Richie looked evenly at Mick.
‘Tell the truth, Ritchie, you're in enough trouble as it is,’ Claudia’s mother spoke calmly.
‘I swear, Mrs McGuire, I’m telling you, I don’t do drugs,’ he insisted, and saw Claudia, from the corner of his eye, glance toward her mother and shake her head.
‘This is pointless, the little bastard isn’t going to say anything!’ James the eldest of the McGuire brothers seethed.
‘Perhaps you’re right, James,’ Richard nodded..
Ritchie sighed with some relief as the kangaroo court was coming to a close. He swore on his life then he would never be so stupid as to get caught like this again.
‘I think I’d better go. Maybe if I’m not in the room he’ll tell you more,’ Richard stood up wearily.
‘Dad...?’ Ritchie’s tone rose an octave as panic gripped him.
‘I’m sorry to have this whole mess thrown upon you, Mary...Mick...and you, young Claudia. I’m ashamed to have this scut in my family. Whatever you see fit to do, I’ll have no objections. Maybe you can make him see sense,’ Richard sighed, leaving the room like the wronged party.
Ritchie knew he was seriously screwed. Leaping up off the chair he ran following his father out into the hallway, but before he could reach him two big hands grabbed his arms from behind and pulled him back into the living room. Tossing him on to the couch Ritchie landed on the edge of the sofa almost sliding off as fast. ‘Don’t move,’ Tom, ordered.
Ritchie nodded, not moving a muscle. Instead he watched with growing terror as Claudia’s father exited the room following Richard out into the hall. Ritchie couldn’t hear what they were saying beyond the inaudible sound of their muted words. His heart sank as the sound of the click of the front door closing reached his ears. He was on his own in the lion's den and for the first time he was now truly worried.
Mick McGuire walked back into the room his face emotionless, his eyes ice cold.
‘Mary, take Claudia and go across to Nan’s. We’ll call you over when we’re finished here.’
The two women, Ritchie’s last hope of salvation filed quickly from the room. He caught a flash of pity from Mary to her husband.
Richie swallowed hard, feeling his chin begin to quiver. None of the men in the room spoke until the front door closed for the second time in less than a minute. A thin film of perspiration moistened Richie's skin, saturating his clothes in an instant, making them stick to his body like wet rags.
His eyes darted nervously around the room as all five men remained silent and nothing but the ticking of the mantelpiece clock echoed through the air now heavy with suppressed rage. Were they psyching themselves up to kill him? It didn’t bear thinking about.
He got the feeling however, he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to find out. As Mick crossed the room, he bent down toward Ritchie who recoiled, bringing his arm up against his face waiting to deflect the anticipated blows. Instead he found himself being jerked upright onto his feet. The collar of his shirt was gripped inside his Mick's fist and Ritchie could feel the big knuckles pressing sharply against his collarbone.
‘I’m only going to ask you each question once,’ Mick's whisper cut like a knife.
‘Hit him, Da!’ a voice shot out from behind.
Ignoring the call, Mick continued. ‘One lie and I will hurt you, understand?’ Mick snarled through gritted, yellowed teeth. ‘Understand?’ he shook Ritchie violently.
‘Yes,’ Richie cried.
‘Da, give him to me,’ another voice called out. ‘Did you touch Claudia?’
Ritchie didn’t speak. A cry exploded from his mouth as Mick slapped the side of his face hard.
‘Well...?’
‘Y…y…yes.’
‘Where...?’
Again Ritchie didn’t answer, but this time it was because the fear was too great. Only then for the first time did real tears burn his eyes. Another slap forced a cry from his mouth. Ritchie brought his hands up to his face, trying to defend the blows that were sure to come.
‘I did. I’m sorry!’ he cried aloud.
‘Kick the fuckin' bollocks off him, Da!’
There was a moment of silence before the next question came. A split moment when Ritchie knew that whatever came next would not be good.
‘Did you have sex with her?’ Mick’s voice lowered. ‘What!’ Ritchie cried.
Mick raised his eyebrow ready to slap him again.
‘No, Jesus I swear, no way, no way, Mr McGuire!’ Ritchie, for the first time since the whole sorry event happened, was being honest. He realised how serious this was going to get if he was anything but.
‘And the drugs?’
Ritchie swallowed hard again. ‘Well...?’
‘Grass...just some grass, is all...’ he cried. ‘Did she...?’
‘What?’
‘Touch ‘em?’
‘No, she wouldn’t’
‘You tried to make her?’
‘No!’
‘I said the truth!’ Mick roared slapping him hard against the side of his head for good measure.
‘She wouldn’t touch them, said they made her sick.’
‘She’s tried them?’ Colm the youngest of the brothers stood up circling him.
‘I dunno, I swear,’ Richie answered truthfully. ‘He’s lyin', Da.’
‘I’m not, please...please, don’t hurt me,’ Ritchie’s legs shook and gave way beneath him. He crumpled to the carpet in a small heap curling up into a ball. Sobs emanated from his mouth in small gulps as he cried real tears. He could hear them standing over him breathing heavily. Squinting upward he saw them waiting for the nod from their father. He watched terrified, as all eight fists clenched and unclenched. He waited. And waited. No amount of humiliation would stop him crying now, he didn’t care how they saw him, he was terrified and if that’s how he looked then he couldn’t have cared less. He instinctively curled his shivering body into the smallest ball that he could manage. Mick peered down at the wet-faced mess beneath him and felt his anger subside. If the young lad was older, bigger, a physical equal even, he would take great joy in throwing his size elevens into him. But he wasn’t. He was smaller than any one of his sons and he was younger than his youngest son. As much as he had really wanted to, he just couldn’t quite bring himself to hurt him anymore. One thing was for certain, he wouldn’t be letting Claudia out of his sight again until she was either married or in a convent, he couldn’t be dealing with all this business again, especially when he had to deal with the likes of Richard Gallagher, a man he abhorred. He found the man disingenuous, pompous and worst of all, corrupt. Everything about the man was the total opposite of what Mick McGuire stood for. Mick wasn’t stupid. He knew that this little showdown of handing up his son like this was just another chess move in Richard Gallagher’s world.
Richard Gallagher had tried to play him, simple as. And because of his little games, Mick knew, from this day onward, he would block whatever scheme Gallagher intended putting forward to him at the next Council meeting. He knew the man would soon be pushing for planning permission, getting land rezoned and more importantly getting an extension on his hotel licence for after hour’s liquor sales. But after today, Richard Gallagher could sing for his vote. So, now looking down at Gallagher’s son crying snot all over his carpet, he suddenly wanted this whole orchestrated mess out of his home. He wasn’t going to serve himself up to Gallagher on a plate and give it to be seen that he had been assuaged by this whole dirty saga. No, he would make the skiving little bollocks sweat.
‘Get up,’ he ordered.
If Ritchie heard he certainly didn’t respond. ‘Get up!’ Mick roared.
Ritchie blinked looking up at the hardened line of Mick’s mouth. ‘Up,’ he added again.
Ritchie looked at the brothers and knew by their quizzical expressions that it was safe. He crawled off the ground slowly.
Mick grabbed his shirt pulling him up to his face. ‘Touch her...go near her...talk to her...even look at her, and you’re family will be planting flowers over your head.’
Swallowing hard, Ritchie nodded. ‘Da...?’ one of the brothers quizzed.
‘You understand me, Gallagher?’ Mick growled. ‘Yes,’ Ritchie nodded again.
‘Good. Now get the-fuck out of my house!’ Mick threw Ritchie toward the living-room door with such force that he slammed against it hard.
‘Da...?’ the brothers echoed one by one.
Ritchie, slightly disorientated and unsure of what had just happened struggled in his search for the door handle. As he rounded the wall, he ran toward the front door. Twisting the lock he was just about to set his first step outside to freedom when he felt the presence of somebody behind him. He glanced back and saw Mick.
‘You’ll be safe from my boys as long as you heed this warning.’
Ritchie nodded and stepped outside to freedom. As he put one foot rapidly in front of the other, he ran down the path reaching a small wooden gate. It was then he came face-to-face with Claudia and her mother who were standing across the road. He saw, her expression mirrored his own fear. For the briefest of moments his eyes hardened.
His heart pounded inside his chest as he realised that he was still too close to her family to be throwing threatening looks in her direction, so he turned right onto the footpath and without looking back, ran as fast as he could. He ran until his sides cramped and his lungs burned, forcing him to slow down to a shuffle. Where could he go? He couldn’t go home as that was where his father was, and as far as he was concerned his father was now a very real danger to him. How he could desert him like that, regardless of what the outcome could have been, had shocked him to his core. It was Claudia’s father who had saved him in the end, not his own. Coming to the corner of Whelan’s road, it dawned on him that maybe Whelan would let him stay a night or two, anything was better than going home to that bastard.
Picking up his pace, he jogged until he saw his friend's house and slowed giving himself time to catch his breath. Wiping his face with his hand, he shuffled up the footpath to the front door and rang the bell twice. The door opened. ‘Wheels, am I glad to see you’ he stepped past his friend and headed for the stairs.
‘Who is it? Oh...’ asked Mrs Whelan from the sitting-room, finishing her question with a disapproving look on seeing Richie.
‘Hey, Mrs Whelan, just calling…’ he noticed the cold look on her face. Turning around to face his friend, Ritchie’s heart sank as Whelan’s eyes avoided his.
‘Paudie,’ Mrs Whelan warned.
‘I know, Ma,’ he nodded. Both boys were silent as they watched Breda Whelan turn away. Paudie closed the sitting-room door behind her.
It suddenly dawned on Richie that he had been become a pariah overnight and knew that this was just the beginning. ‘What’s up?’ Ritchie nodded toward the sitting-room door.
His friend sighed heavily first before speaking. ‘She heard about you and Claudia, Ritch.’
‘So?’
‘Well…’
‘What?’
‘I don’t think you should come around for a while. Y-You know what she’s like,’ he stammered.
‘What do you mean, a while?’ Ritchie growled.
‘You know, a while,’ Paudie muttered stepping back from him. ‘Why?’
‘Coz, she's a bit pissed-off about the whole thing, Ritchie. You know what she’s like.’
‘And what about you?’ Ritchie asked, disbelief etched on his face. ‘What about me?’
‘Where do you stand?’
‘Look, it’s just for a while, okay. Just wait for a while until everything settles down.’
‘Fuck this!’
‘Sorry, Rich, really I am. Like I said, just let things settle.’
‘Fuck you, Whelan.’
‘ It’s not my fault you got a bit heavy with her, Ritch, you know what you’re like when you take a puff or two.’
‘What did you say?’ Ritchie snarled.
‘I’m only saying what I saw,’ he mumbled.
‘What did you see, Whelan. You were too fucking busy sticking your tongue in Melissa‘s gob to see jack-shit,’ Ritchie seethe.
‘Keep your voice down,’ Whelan glanced nervously toward the living room. ‘You know too well you went too far. You’re always like that on the weed, it fucked with your mind that night an--’
‘Screw you, Whelan. You’re a fucking hypocrite, do you know that?’
‘Sssshhh, will you?’ he nodded toward the living room door. ‘What did you say, Paudie? Who, the fuck, did you tell about that night?’
‘No one!’
‘Yeah you did, you bollocks! You grassed me up.’
‘No I didn’t.’
Ritchie stepped closer to Whelan leaving only breathing space between them.
‘I’ve a long memory, Whelan. Think I’ll forget you for this?’ Ritchie snorted.
‘Ah fuck off home, Ritchie, it’s your mess, not mine,’ Paudie had had enough. Ritchie could be a right prick sometimes, acting like a self important knob just like his father.
Ritchie saw the indifference on his friends face and if he had been half a foot taller he would have slammed his fist into Whelan’s jaw, but the fact that he barely came up to his chest made him err on the side of caution. Claudia, his father and Mick McGuire had all taken a pop at him and he was beginning to wonder when the next few digs were going to come his way. Instead, he shoved his oldest friend out the way, slamming the front door behind him with as much force as he could possibly muster. Storming down the path he walked on until he reached the end of the road before realising he was on a path to nowhere.
Peering up to the road that led home, he stopped and turned to look at the house he had just left. For the first time in his life, he had nowhere to go. Jack Carmody had already gone for the summer to his uncle’s place in Mayo, so that was a no go. Where else was there? He had well and truly pulled a short straw. He couldn’t go home. He certainly couldn’t go back to Whelan’s. He didn’t dare try any of the other lads because, to be honest, he really didn’t know what type of welcome he would get there either. He could acknowledge that he was a bit of a dick now and again, but for the first time ever, he realised just how few real friends he had. How had he let that happen, he hadn’t cared before, he hadn’t needed to, but now he was utterly alone, with not a single person he could turn to for help, the realisation of that fact brought about a startling understanding the Ritchie Gallagher was one very unpopular bloke.