Breaking Point (The Point Series: Book 2) (3 page)

Rachel rubbed her belly.

"Daddy better man-up before you come along, Bump."

She stared at herself in the mirror and frowned. Not a good look for her. Coupled with her baggy sleep-interrupted eyes she was like a Goth's wet dream. She sneered at herself.

"You've a bit of manning-up to do yourself, girl."

Rachel still hadn't found the right time to break it to Brian that there was a baby on the way. She wanted him to be in a happier place. It was important that his response didn't come off as unexcited or ungrateful. Because she didn't want to leave him. But more importantly, she didn't want him to leave her. That might interfere with her feelings for Bump.

She heard the scrunch-scrunch-scrunch of feet on the gravel path leading to the front door. Her legs locked in place. Who the fuck was calling at this hour? Then came the scratch and clunk of a key in a lock. The hinges creaked slightly and the door was eased shut. She strained to listen to a whispered exchange. Couldn't make out the words but knew there was more than one of them.

Move.

Rachel broke her paralysis and dropped to her hands and knees. She crawled to the bed and reached in under it. Her hand clasped around the handle of a six kilo dumbbell. She hauled it into the open and rose to her feet, the dumbbell hanging by her side. It would be a clumsy weapon, but she was willing to bet on the element of surprise.

Rachel hesitated at the bedroom door. She was wearing one of Brian's old T-shirts as pyjamas. Her legs were bare and covered in goose bumps. She thought about slipping into some trackie bottoms or pulling on her dressing gown, but decided against wasting the time. If she played it right, the prowlers wouldn't see much of her anyway.

Deep breath. Don't rush.

She crept towards the stairs.

––––––––

B
rian beckoned for Tony to follow him. His one concession to smoking weed in the house was that he confined it to the kitchen, with the windows and patio doors open. Rachel was more concerned with keeping the smell out of the living room than alerting the neighbours that they lived next to a pothead. And, of course, there weren't many people out in their back gardens at that time of night. Chances were, they were up to something a bit dodgy themselves if they were.

They closed the door and Brian relaxed a little. Rachel slept so soundly that there was a pretty good chance Tony would be in and out without her ever knowing. So long as they didn't crank up the radio or start shouting at the top of their lungs, or something equally stupid and raucous.

Tony set his three-quarter full bottle of Buckfast on the table. Brian shuddered at the sight of the evil slop.

"I hope you drink that through clenched teeth, mate."

Tony gave him a puzzled look. "Why?"

"It's made by monks, isn't it? So you have a gang of gnarly aul lads dancing on grapes to get the juice out of them. Can't imagine they're too concerned with personal hygiene. I wouldn't be surprised if a toenail or a dried-up verruca made its way into a bottle."

"That's a load of shite."

Brian widened his eyes. "You go ahead and risk it if you want."

Tony reached for the bottle and unscrewed the cap. Then he tightened it again and upended the bottle.

"No, it's all right, man." He pointed to the base of the bottle. "This one's got a low number embossed on the bottom. That means it came from the top of the barrel. Sure if there were any of that crap in it – and I don't really think there would be, like – then it'd be in one of the bottom-of-the-barrel bottles, wouldn't it?"

"I heard that number thing was just an urban myth."

"Well, this is a rural town, you know?"

"I really don't."

As if to prove his point, Tony spun the cap off the bottle and helped himself to a healthy slug. Brian grimaced.

"Think I'll have a beer. You want one?"

"No, man. I don't do carbonated drinks. They swell your stomach and reduce your lung capacity."

"Oh, right."

"Couldn't be good for you."

"If you say so."

"Will I skin up, though?"

"The weed doesn't bother your lungs, then?"

"Marijuana has many medicinal properties, including the ability to keep cancer at bay. If anything, weed is good for your lungs."

"Aye, but what about the tobacco that goes in a spliff?"

"I reckon they cancel each other out."

Stoner logic. There was no point arguing.

Brian shook his head. "Aye, go ahead, Tony. Skin up. And make it a strong one. I should have been super-high an hour ago."

"Cool, man. I'll build a cone."

Tony pulled cigarette papers, a tobacco pouch and the big bag of Blueberry Cheesecake out of the backpack he'd toted to Brian's. His pudgy digits got to work. Brian watched him for a few seconds, impressed by how nimble and sure-fingered he was. But his thirst drew him to the fridge. He pulled three bottles of Coors Light from the shelf to save himself some time and effort. The old silver bullets went down particularly fast, especially when the weed-induced cotton mouth kicked in.

When he got back to the table, Tony had already finished constructing the cone and was in the middle of rolling a second one.

"Holy shit, man. You work fast."

Tony grinned. "I get plenty of practice." He nodded at the monster-spliff. "Spark that up, dude."

Brian's heart went giddy-up. He reached for the cone—

The kitchen door burst open. Everything happened fast, but Brian saw it in slow motion.

Tony threw his hands in the air. Strings of tobacco and flakes of weed flew through the air. Rachel charged into the kitchen, a dumbbell hefted at shoulder height. She fixed her eyes on Tony. He stood up and knocked his chair backwards, grabbed the Buckfast bottle by the neck and swung it upwards. Rachel shattered it with the dumbbell. Glass and tonic wine spattered the walls and linoleum. Tony skipped backwards, tripped over the fallen chair, but somehow managed to stay on his feet. Rachel went for him again. Brian found his voice.

"Rachel!"

She looked away from her target and the dumbbell struck the wall. Hunks of plaster tumbled to the floor. She dropped the weight and looked from Brian to Tony.

"Who the fuck's this?" she asked.

"Watch your feet, babe. There's glass everywhere."

Rachel looked down at her bare feet. "Who the fuck's this?"

"I'm Tony."

Rachel looked at the pudgy dealer like he'd pissed on her.

"He's a friend, babe. Nothing to worry about, okay?"

"It's a bit late to invite friends over, Brian. I thought we were being robbed."

"Sorry, babe."

"Got it into my head that you were in trouble."

"I'm fine."

"Yeah, he's fine," Tony said. "No harm done. Apart from a broken Bucky bottle, like."

"I'll clean that up," Brian said. "Why don't you go back to bed?"

"You think I can sleep after
that
?" She put a hand on her hip. "Put the kettle on, will you?"

"Do you not want something stronger, babe? You look totally freaked."

"No, I can't."

Brian rubbed his scalp stubble. "Why not?"

"Oh... it's late. And I've got work tomorrow."

Tony tiptoed through the shattered glass. He held his hand out to Rachel.

"Nice to meet you."

Rachel passed him the dumbbell. "Yeah, yeah. Hold that for me."

––––––––

B
rian did his best to enjoy the Blueberry Cheesecake, but the monster-spliff was too strong and Rachel's obvious displeasure at witnessing the debauchery interfered. There was conflict ahead. The fact that he felt the need to go ahead and piss her off anyway didn't enhance his high any.

Well, fuck. What more did she want? He'd cleaned up the glass from the broken Bucky bottle already. Anybody else would have left the mess until the next morning. He'd even told her he'd paint over the stains on the wall after he'd repaired the big chunk of plaster she'd busted with the dumbbell. And he was pretty sure she was exaggerating about the smell of the tonic wine. Only stink he could sense was the chronic they were smoking.

"Good shit, isn't it?" Tony's big grin squished up his pink eyes. His whiskers needed a trim. He looked like a fattened pet rat.

Brian exhaled, coughed and nodded.

Tony giggled. "You're stoned to fuck, aren't you?"

Brian toked, held it in his lungs and nodded.

Tony giggled again.

Brian offered the cone to Rachel for the third time. She waved it away and sipped on a cuppa that had to be too cold to be nice. He felt bad. Didn't want to, but couldn't help it. Third time was a charm, though. He wouldn't offer again.

"Sorry," Brian said, his words passing through a fresh cloud of pungent smoke.

"For what?" Rachel gave him the I-fucking-dare-you smile.

Brian shrugged. He honestly wasn't sure how to answer her. And if he tried to wing it, the weed would fuck him. He shouldn't have smoked after she got that scare. What kind of a scumbag was he?

"Stoned, just."

Rachel eased up on the stare-down. He'd have thanked her but that would have led to another question. If in doubt, say fuck all. It was a life philosophy that stood by him his whole life. He wondered if the Buckfast monks took a vow of silence. Maybe he'd Google that in the morning. It'd be rude to leave Rachel and Tony alone while he went looking for the laptop. And Rachel might decide to kill Tony if he wasn't there to supervise.

It started off as a funny thought but spiralled quickly into darkest depths. He saw Rachel pull the trigger on Paul. Relived his decision to stick with her through the farce of a police investigation. She'd played the self-defence card. He'd supported it. What else could he do? Paul had been his only family until Rachel came along. Then Brian wanted her to be family. And she became that. Quickly. Too quickly for Paul. Maybe it might have worked out if Paul hadn't drawn chaos to them. None of them were blameless for that mess back in Warrenpoint. The Point. Not quite Brian's breaking point. But close.

"Are you working tomorrow?" Rachel asked.

Brian shook his head. The movement left him a little dizzy.

"Good." She brought her cup to the kitchen sink and dumped the last of her tea down the plughole. "We're not all so lucky, though. Only five hours before I need to get up. I'm away to bed."

"Night, babe."

She looked at Brian but didn't reply.

"Oh, em..." Tony waved his spliff at her. "What do you want me to do with this?" He reached his free hand under the table and heaved the dumbbell into sight.

Rachel's face took on a little of the devilment Brian had fallen in love with. She took a deep breath, opened her mouth and said, "Just leave it on the floor, thanks."

Brian sagged. He was sure she'd have told Tony to shove the weight up his arse... sideways. And he knew she wanted to. But she decided to chip away at another piece of Brian's heart instead.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Brian held his hand out to Tony. The dealer handed Brian the shrinking cone. He drew deep from it, burning the shit out of his throat and lungs. And he held it there. Counted down from sixty.

Tony licked his lips. "Your girl's gorgeous."

Brian nodded, his lips sealed.

"I think she likes me, Brendan."

A wisp of smoke escaped Brian's nose. He closed his eyes and wished that everything could just be all right.

––––––––

O
wen Donnelly jolted from sleep. A silent headphone popped out of his good ear. The wire from the unused ear-bud had worked its way around his neck. He slipped a finger between his skin and the thin plastic lead and eased it away from its mock-strangulation position. His head pounded. He checked the time on his phone, saw it was too late to drink whiskey and too early to get up.

Ibuprofen.

That'd help.

He popped two 400mg pills and washed them down with flat cider, the only liquid in the cool-bag by the bed/table. Half-sleep washed over him and warped his pre-dawn dreams. Scattered images; nothing stuck. A twinge in his stomach forced him to sit up again. He should have eaten something with the ibuprofen.

Once the birds started their racket, there was no point even pretending he'd get back to sleep again. Owen tossed his legs over the side and pushed himself up to his full height. He tottered for a couple of seconds then took the two steps to the kitchen when he was confident his balance was under control. Coffee.

Owen tried to fill the kettle at the kitchen sink. The tap juddered and clanked and produced no water. He cursed and threw the kettle at the bathroom door. The clatter didn't do much for Owen's headache. He'd have to go out for a walk. Pay over the odds for shite coffee in a Styrofoam somewhere. Maybe at the petrol station where Brian Morgan was supposed to be working.

––––––––

"H
ey, Brian. Are you awake?"

Brian raised his head from the kitchen table. His eyes were gummy and barely open but he could tell it was morning. And Tony was still there.

"You stopped calling me Brendan," Brian said.

"Yeah, this note kept me right."

Brian took a piece of paper from a blurry Tony. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand to clear his vision a little. Rachel had written him a note.

Brian

I'm away to work. See you later. Don't let that sponger stay another night.

Rachel

No 'I love you' or 'xox' at the bottom. She
was
pissed at him.

"I guess she doesn't like me," Tony said. "Weird. I'm usually good at judging that sort of thing."

"That's just Rachel, man."

"I'd like to meet her again. Sober this time."

Brian dragged down the skin under his lower eyelids. He focussed his improved vision on Tony's face.

"I'm serious, Brian." And he looked it. "It sucks when somebody gets a bad vibe from me."

"I don't think I've ever seen you straight, Tony."

"You haven't met me too often either, man. Do you think I'm a sponger too?"