Breakdown (12 page)

And there he was again, his little bald patch and pious grin making him look like a priest caught out of his cowl and dancing around in his underpants.

Christ. “I can fucking see you, y’know,” I said as the door creaked open a little more. The shuffling of feet coated in slippers came a second later, and again a cheeky smile was offered over.

He looked too old to be just back from doing a tour of duty, too small to reach the hat stand in PC plod land (or CID as Jan would put it), and too fucking noisy to be ex MI5/6. Christ knows what he was doing here.

“Joe, back to your room,” said Craig, easing the door wide open and smiling his way past the old man. “They’re not here.”

I looked around my room. “Who?”

“Sure not here?” said Joe, shuffling a little further into my room. His look was on my cup, then back at me.

“Jack’s got his own teeth,” said Craig, and I groaned as I looked down at my cup. A kick made damn sure there was no dentures smiling up at me from the bottom, although the need to drink withered away to dust knowing that they may well have been. I’d popped into the bathroom for a few minutes and left it unattended. Just my luck to go from worrying about having my ass drugged in a scene to worrying about some old geezer’s teeth in the bottom of a cup.

“Name’s Joe.”

I narrowed my eyes as Joe came over, just a few shuffles first, then quick and fast like he was a demon on roller skates, all long and twisted fingers to boot. “Say hello Joe,” he said with a smile at me.

A hand was offered out, just inches from my nose. Skin had those dark brown patches that always seemed to come with old age. Nails were bitten short, but dirt covered the thin fingernails in places, like he’d been digging in the dirt and forgotten shovels had been invented long before the wheel.

His smile started to fade and Joe jerked a look back to the door, to Craig, withdrawing his hand and cupping it as though scolded. “No hello Joe.”

“It’s okay,” said Craig, coming over, and he offered his hand out to the old man. “Hello, Joe.”

Joe shook it, grinning, then gripping on with both hands and looking like he was going pneumatic drill with pure Craig. “’lo from Joe, Craig.”

“Hello, Joe,” said Craig, winking down at me.

Now finished shaking any chance of Craig having kids out of him, Joe again held out his hand to me. “Hello Joe?”

Giving a frown, I looked away. The shuffle of feet moved away from the bed a moment later.

“Hello, Joe,” I said quietly, and Joe smiled back as I looked over, “sorry about the hand shi—” I bit back the swearing and went back to reading the paper I’d “borrowed” from off the nurse’s station. “Just a touch... OCD, that’s all.”

“Oh, CDs... ’S okay.”

I scowled as the paper was lost under Joe’s ass as he sat down. “Joe not like them either.” He nodded over at me, the lines on his face seeming to come and go with each new expression. “Dom Williams, better on vinyl, so you.” He reached over and patted my hand. “It’s okay Jack not like CDs. Joe get him vinyl.”

Craig folded his arms and buried his grin. “Joe, Jack’s trying to say—”

“CDs,” I added, shaking out ‘my paper’, then looking at Joe. “No, don’t like touching CDs, Joe, so just, y’know, don’t take it funny—”

“Oh Joe knows.” He tapped his head. “Knows Jack don’t like saying hello Joe if Joe touches CDs.”

I bit back my own smile and buried it pretending to read the paper as Craig helped Joe up.

“Sure Jack not take Joe’s teeth?” Joe bent over and peered into my cup. “It’s just—”

“Lunch, Joe.” Craig turned him toward the door. “We’ll scrub those hands, then go check under your bed. It’s where you put them for safekeeping last time you were off on your travels.” Joe left and chuntered on about something, his shuffling feet adding to the whole steam train image. Craig smiled down. “This the new place for lost property, is it?” he asked, eyeing up the paper. “Because I swore I brought that in this morning for me to read at break.”

I flicked through to the classifieds, eyeing up the motors for sale. Not that they’d do me any fucking good in here. “You’re MC. You share,” I said, only to find the paper pinched from the bed.

“Any wonder Joe thinks you stole his teeth?” Craig folded the paper and threw down a scowl. “Mine. It says so right here.” He pointed at something, and fool me I followed, to which he gave me the finger. “See?”

“You do know that giving me the finger from your right hand signifies you’re not only a sub, but also into nipple piercing, or that you have your nipple pierced at least,” I said, loving how his smile fell a touch. “And here was me thinking you were a BDSM virgin.”

“Seriously?” Craig started feeling his breasts up. “The right middle finger says I have a nipple pierced?”

“Nope, you ass,” I said, easing both feet on the bed as I lay back, propped up. “But it’s going on your shit-list that you were playing with yourself in front of me. Now... to keep that information away from Halliday, I’d like a morning newspaper delivered to my bed every morning about sevenish, please.”

“You know you’re not back in juvy, right? That there’s a request form for these little things?”

“There is?” I scowled. “Fuck. Can I have one?”

“For your damn bribing cheek? Christ no.”

I chuckled and rested my arms across my knees. “What’s Joe in for?”

Craig looked back at the door, then just offered me a smile.

“Oh right, privacy policy.”

“U-huh. Come on, hard-ass. Dinnertime,” he said, smacking at my leg. “After that, it’s rec time, and by that I mean relaxing, and, if you’re really good, a walk in the garden outside.”

“Woo-hoo.” I lost my smile. “Do I get to cock my leg up a bush, being as you’re letting me outside?”

“We prefer you use your bathroom, but going wild doesn’t hurt on the odd occasion. But first, you need to get your ass into the dinner hall instead of hiding out in your room. You’re not going to catch anything that anyone else here has.”

I looked away a touch, not liking how my own prejudice was brought to life. I didn’t realise I’d been using my own shit to hide out in here come dinner time....

Joe was poking his head back around the door, that stupid smile on his face, and I suddenly pushed to my feet, avoiding him. “Didn’t fucking say that, did I?”

“Hello Joe.”

I flicked a look over and Joe shuffled in again as my hands went in my back pocket.

“Look—”

“Seen Joe’s teeth, Jack?” said Joe through whatever Craig was going to say.

I grunted a smile and Joe peered down into my cup.

“I don’t have your teeth, Joe.”

“Jack sure?”

Giving a sigh, Craig got to his feet. “Come on, Joe, let’s go and eat.” He didn’t look back to see if I followed. But he’d taken the paper, so I did, using the paper as an excuse to hide how hungry I was.

The food on offer was pretty impressive, with every diet catered for. It had the usual cafe feel: lively chatter, the odd chair being scraped back and forth as people sat and ate. If these twenty or so people were all MC, I’d never seen them. But then, the BDSM side was only a percentage of what the MC stood for. The queue to the food counter wasn’t too bad, just a few people in front, the odd shuffle off Joe from behind me and Craig helping him out. The only difference was the black tunics dotted about the place. Some, just a few of the staff sat eating with the patients, the others no doubt preferring their own meal times, but there was that watchful manner about the few here. Craig had the same look about him as he helped Joe pick up a tray.

Social. I looked around. Hadn’t done social for such a long time, not since...

“Sally. That’s me.”

“Huh?” Giving a glance to the side, saw a young woman standing up close and personal. She was pretty, about twenty-three, twenty-four, and she was twisting a strand of hair around her black painted fingernails. Jeans were tight, showing off her figure, with a T-shirt that had “Taken” written on the front slipping snugly over her curves. Pretty enough to earn a second glance, but one of her finely curved eyebrows was missing, and after a moment, she stopped twisting her hair to pull at her eyebrow.

“Sally, do you know what you’re doing?” said Craig, sliding a plastic knife and fork onto Joe’s tray, and Sally automatically tutted and offered her other hand out as I looked at Craig. Yeah, I’d noticed how they got you to recognise what you were doing to yourself.

“Sally.”

I was back with her as she spoke.

“I’m from Manchester; close to finishing my Master’s, and well,” she shrugged and flicked a look at Craig. “Life got complicated and—”

“No,” snapped Joe, smacking lightly at Sally’s hand, then patting it gently as if to wipe the sting away. “CDs. Them rave ones in your room. Jack not like CDs, Sal.”

“Oh.” Sally frowned over. “You okay with iPods?” She thumbed behind her. “Kate’s borrowed mine, I could—”

“Jack,” I said, letting out a sigh, but I didn’t hold my hand out. “I’m just Jack.”

“Sally.” She didn’t offer her hand again, but a blush was there. “Nice to meet you, Jack. Are you Joe’s son?” she said, guiding Joe back into the queue.

“Barry. Barry’s Joe’s boy,” said Joe, scowling at Sally. “Told you that.”

“Yeah, yeah you did,” said Sally, rolling her eyes at me. “So, you’re... staying here for a while?”

“Looks that way,” I said, moving over as the space ahead became free. “You’re not MC?”

Craig coughed, and I glanced back, but only for a minute. She looked young, too young to be tied to any shit that the MC usually dealt with. So that made her... what?

“So, just Jack. What’s your, y’know, ‘issues’.” She air-quoted there and I resisted a groan. Sam. Why
th’ fuck
did she look like the female version of Sam? Christ.

“Sally, what have I asked you to do when new people come into the dining hall for the first time?” said Craig, giving me the eye to move up and start choosing some food.

“Just say hi and let them eat in peace,” she said, mimicking Craig’s deep voice and even adding a slouch to mimic his slightly bigger belly. Okay, so she might grow on me, give it a decade or two.

“What are you not doing?” said Craig, reading off a list of questions he must have used a dozen times over.

“Getting Jack’s phone number?”

“Sally.”

“I’m not leaving him alone.” Sally rolled her gaze at me, then gave a little wave. “Bye, Jack. See you around.” Then she gave Joe a kiss.

“Hello Joe,” said Joe.

“Hello, Joe,” said Sally, then she was gone after winking at me.

“So, Jack,” said Craig as I started to focus on the food, opting for some mash and sausage. “What do you think of your stay so far?”

“Peachy,” I said, trying to ignore him. “Just real fucking peachy.”

I got a tap on my back. “Hello Joe,” said Joe.

“Hello, Joe,” I said, picking up some coffee. “I’ve not got your teeth. Please stop looking in my coffee.”

“Jack sure he not got Joe’s teeth?”

“Jack’s—” Christ. No. I—“I’m sure I’ve not got your teeth, Joe.” Drugs. I was going to need some real big fuck-off drugs to get through this shit.

“How did recreation go yesterday, Jack?”

Sat in Halliday’s office, Halliday took his usual spot, Craig next to me, on the settee, and I struggled to answer for a minute.

“Jack?” Halliday looked up, not that he’d been looking at anything in particular. “Are you okay?” He seemed uneasy.

Or maybe it was me who was uneasy. I remembered standing in the dinner queue, waiting to be served, meeting Sally, and that Joe had pissed me off asking about his teeth, for the third time looking in my coffee, but after that? “Session,” I mumbled. “I thought our first session was tomorrow.”

Craig and Halliday shared a glance.

“What’s the last thing you remember, Jack?”

I looked at Craig. Shrugged. “Dinnertime. You were behind me, with Joe. Sally had been talking about phone numbers and...”

“Jack, that was yesterday.” Craig was frowning. “Can’t you remember anything after dinner? About going outside? The sessions you took part in? Settling down for the night?”

I sorted through some fog, then... after dinner, I’d been sitting in a group, some anger management class that had really pissed me off no end. Joe had found me in my bedroom next, twice, both times looking for his teeth. This morning after breakfast, I’d played a little table tennis with Alf, who had completely kicked my ass. Dinner again, then some free time that I swear nearly had me cocking my leg up a bush with how good it felt to be outside, but after tea?

Craig tapped on my knee. “We’ve just come from your room. I found you there after tea. You’d ‘borrowed’ my paper again.”

I chased the memory, then found it hiding out in the corner behind
I couldn’t give a fuck
land. I’d been sitting on the bed, turning the pages to the paper, confused over why every other page had been torn down the middle, almost as if someone had taken the time to fold it in two, then meticulously tear nice, straight lines. Yeah, I remembered. Craig hadn’t looked impressed. “Joe. Joe tore the paper.”

“Hm?” said Craig. “Paper? Jack, can’t you remember coming up here with me?”

I shook my head, mostly to shake away the cobwebs. “The paper... it was torn.”

“Torn?” said Craig.

“Joe tore—”

“One of Sally’s cousins caught hold of it; it’s why I’d put it in the bin.”

I frowned at that. “I took it from the bin?” Christ, I resisted a groan, not wanting to go there with the image. And why the hell was I trying to blame Joe?

“You’re struggling to remember details through to yesterday?” Craig again looked at Halliday. “Maybe we should cancel this session?”

“No.” I looked at Halliday. “Slipped. Things just... slipped. Being drugged, it’s been making things slip for the past few weeks. That’s not going to stop unless I get a hold on things.”

“How often do things ‘slip’ that you can remember, Jack?” said Halliday.

“I don’t know. Just... they just slip and I let them, not—” Wanting. “—bothering to chase them afterwards.”

“Best not to?”

Yeah. Halliday knew his shit.