Gurriers (48 page)

Since we were standing up this time, there was an added bonus - the boner!

Even if I wanted to I couldn’t have stopped it touching off her. The only way she could have avoided it would have been to stop my hand pushing into the small of her back and then to take a step away from me. She didn’t. I was in!

One hour later we were in the car park at the front of the club. The crisp air was a welcome relief from the clamminess of
the inside and the frosty breaths a fresh contrast to the smoke.

We had spent 50 minutes or so of the previous hour lip wrestling, oblivious now to the company through a most enjoyable combination of drunkenness and horniness.

“So, Four Sean, have you any plans for tomorrow?” She leaned away from me and gave me a look that was made all the more enticing by the drunken flaws about it.

This was her expressing that she was prepared to part company as I had done the previous evening. What she was really saying was that she was also prepared not to part company. This was the reward for my patience on our first date.

“Well, the first thing I have to do is get a good breakfast inside you. After that I’m at your disposal, m’lady.”

“I don’t know what to say to that!”

“Say ‘wow’.”

“Wow.”

This time as we kissed, I used my left hand to successfully hail a taxi.

“Oh, my fuckin’ head! You cookin’? Fling on a bih for me, will ye? Maybe a sausage an’ an egg’ll help strai’en me ou’ a bit. Were you in before or after me?”

“Before, I think. I got back before three and there was no sign of life in the house, though you could have been asleep in your room.”

“Nah, I was still ou’. How’d yer meal go?”

“There was no meal.”

“I fuckin’ knew ih! Where were ye really?”

Jenny entered the kitchen as if on cue. “Good morning, boys. Can I do anything to help?”

“No thanks, babe. Vinno, I believe you know Jenny. Jenny, this is Number One Vinno, the landlord.”

“Eirtail, isn’t it? Well Shy... Sean sure is a dark horse, isn’t he? He looks good in a suit too, doesn’t he?”

“Dashing!”

Vinno shot me a knowledgeable expression, as if to be sure
that I knew that I could never get away with bullshitting him. Dashing alrie! Good for gettin’ the gaff clean after a session also!” Vinno proffered a cigarette to Jenny. “Smoke?”

“I don’t smoke cigarettes, thanks.”

“Well, what do ye smoke?”

“Just a toot every now and again.”

“An’ this lad refrainin’ the other nie- comin’ home like a demon, snatchin’ joints off people an’ all.”

“If he had said something we could have had some joints that night.”

“Well, we can make up for it now if you want to get one together while I finish the brekkie.”

“You’re such a romantic, Sean!”

“C’mere you.” I pulled her in towards me.

“Call me when the grub’s ready; I don’t have the stomach to be lookin’ at this nonsense!” Vinno left the kitchen.

Life was good that weekend. I felt truly uplifted by Jenny, but men always do feel great at the start of relationships because of that primitive drive within us to plant our seed in as many women as possible. We would like to think that we have evolved above such drives, but they are still there in our DNA, albeit muted somewhat by our development as a species, much the same as the female attraction to older males.

In the modern world this does not make a lot of sense, but for the vast majority of our time on this planet, only the very best of our species managed to achieve senior years’ thereby deeming them as the bearers of the best seed for procreation and instilling a drive within females that exists to this day.

I would also be revered by my tribe for my conquest. This is another primitive trait that we haven’t developed beyond yet. Some men are a long way from evolving past this desire for conquest. These men are to be pitied, but not as much as the unfortunate women who fall for them and get cheated on. I will never be such a man.

I have never had the slightest inclination to cheat on a girlfriend and have treated each one as honestly as possible.

I was concerned about couriers disrespecting Jenny, making a joke out of our relationship, being over familiar with her in her workplace and such, but that wasn’t my biggest concern for the girl. The biggest risk of harm to her wasn’t them - it was me. There was a distant cloud on the horizon that was going to be a rainstorm by the time it got to us.

Despite the time that had passed, I was still hurting over Saoirse. I was damaged goods, and I was going to damage Jenny. I was going to damage her because I would never love her, no matter how much she deserved it or even how much I wanted to. The best I could do for her was damage limitation in the form of honesty.

Absolute blunt, cruel honesty.

We had several very enjoyable weeks together, but inevitably the awkwardness about where we were, or more to the point weren’t going, reared its ugly head.

I was as gentle as I could be when doing the damage to Jenny, and she seemed not to get too upset about my resolve that there could be no future for us because of my situation. She didn’t cry, but she did leave very soon after the revelation, blurting out that it was best for us not to see each other, as she made her way to the exit.

Eirtail stopped using Lightning the following week.

“Four Sean, Four Sean, four, four. Answer me, Sean, this is important! Four Sean four.”

Fuck him, I thought, let him sweat it out.

It was late on a Friday afternoon and the place was hopping. I had been going like a mad thing all day. I had had no lunch (If I hadn’t bullshitted waiting time during the day I wouldn’t have even got to have a smoke) and I was totally shattered. I was beginning to realise just how exhausting driving a bike all day in winter was. Apart from the physical element of wrestling the machine around the city (motorbike driving is considerably more physical than driving a car) and carrying all that weight (full winter motorbike gear weighs an average of 28 pounds or 12 kilos plus the added weight of whatever you’re carrying if you have a bag on) and the mentally draining element of being at full concentration – which you must be at when driving a motorbike fast through traffic if you don’t want to end up as road kill and finally there is the drain on the nerves caused by the humongous amount of stress involved. It was pretty tiring stuff all round.

“Four Sean, four. Looking for a signature, Four Sean, an
swer me, four.”

To say that I was getting a bit annoyed would be putting it lightly.

“Four Sean, four, customer on the line. Four Sean.”

I wondered did he think that by calling me this many times I’d decide not to ignore him?

“Four Sean, four, I’m not going to answer anybody else until I get a signature.”

The sly bastard! He was playing me off the other couriers. I knew that loads of the lads would be trying to get his attention for directions, with problems and generally to avail of his services. They would all have loads of work on them also and freaked by any delays and freaked with me now because of this slimy bastard. On reflection, there was no logic in ignoring him anyway just because I was stressed out. I knew that it was better to just answer the fucker.

“Four Sean.”

“Four Sean, go ahead.”

“Were you calling me?” Being a smart arse always worked wonders for me when I was in a bad mood.

“I’ve been calling you for the past fuckin’ 20 fuckin’ minutes. Where are you now?”

“Sandyford heading for Stillorgan.”

“You went to fuckin’ Sandyford without fuckin’ droppin’ Stillorgan on the way?”

One thing I didn’t need was this shite from him. I had decided on my best route with the work I had had on me, which was all over the place. I had drops in Churchtown, Dundrum, Sandy-ford, Stillorgan, Deansgrange and Bray. There was no way to avoid some backwards and forwards with that lot, It was just unfortunate that these fuckers in Stillorgan – who had got the short end of the stick as far as the delivery order was concerned – were waiting for whatever I was bringing to them and had been inconsiderate enough to ring up looking for it. Bastards!

“That Dundrum one was up in Ballally, so you can add on an extra two miles onto that docket, so I left Stillorgan till after Sandyford then onto the main road for Deansgrange and
Bray.”

“Just hurry up with it, you gobshite.”

“How would you fucking like it if I decided to do Deansgrange and Bray and then do Stillorgan on the way fucking back?”

Aidan had had his day ruined by couriers snapping and deciding to go out in a way that would lose the accounts, regardless of whether it cost them their job or not. (A sign of the benefit to us couriers of the shortage of us in the city) My threat was sure to put manners on the shithead for calling me names.

“Look Sean,” His tone was much more subdued. “This customer has been on the line for fifteen minutes looking for this. How long will I tell her you’ll be?”

“Am I a gobshite?”

“No.”

“Tell everybody.”

“You’re not a gobshite.”

“Tell her two minutes.”

“Roger.”

Ten minutes later I was leaving a shouting receptionist who already had her coat on and who didn’t look as if she believed my bullshit story about taking the envelope off a courier who had broken down.

As I smoked down towards Stillorgan Park junction to turn right for south, I felt the first drops of rain that had been threatening from some very black clouds for the past hour or so. By the time I got to the red light at the junction, it was bucketing down. This was perfect - just what a tired, stressed man needed coming into the last stretch on a Friday evening. I lost myself in a self sympathising reverie at the lights, as I watched the large raindrops splash violently off my tank.

I was still feeling sorry for myself when the lights went green and so I didn’t notice them immediately. Some arsehole in a Mercedes risked being dragged out of it and having the shit kicked out of him by beeping at me. I never actually lifted a finger against a motorist but the initial burst of road rage was always a violent intention. I’m not sure how close I ever came to attacking somebody in a fit of rage, but the possibility was
always there and it was never too far from the surface. Placing both feet firmly on the ground I turned and stared at him straight between the eyes, daring him to beep again and delaying him more at the same time. He just made a “go on” gesture at me while I considered getting off my machine and confronting him. Then he broke eye contact and just sat there waiting for me to move. Somebody behind him beeped, safe with the cars between me and him, round about the same instance I decided that Mr Merc had been intimidated enough. He knew now that beeping to hurry someone up can actually have the opposite effect if that somebody had a bad attitude, and the vast majority of couriers had attitudes that were just about as bad as they come.

I turned to face where I was going, tapped my bike into gear and proceeded around the corner as other cars in the queue behind me joined in the chorus of beeping.

“Four Sean, how long before Bray, Sean? Four Sean answer me.”

“Yeah, go ahead.” I was getting the hang of talking on the radio as I was driving my bike, with the left hand pushing the talk button instead of the right, which had to stay on the throttle, but in these conditions it was dangerous as hell and I didn’t like it one little bit.

“They’re looking for you on the Boghall Road, Sean. How long will I tell him?”

“Tell him an hour.” I knew full well that was not what they wanted to hear, but I had a private address in Deansgrange to find and deliver and then three other locations to get to in Bray before Boghall Road, which was the furthest south. Given that there were bound to be delays in some of the other drops, I knew that it could easily take an hour, but I also knew that the base could not tell them that long – Friday afternoon or not.

“Ah, come on, Sean. Be real!”

“I have some gaff in Deansgrange to find and then three other Brays before Boghall.” I knew what was coming next.

“Could you not go straight to Boghall and then do the others on the way back, leaving the private until last?” It was perfectly
logical and not at all unreasonable for him to ask me to do them that way, but – and I can only blame the mood I was in for this – my attitude kicked in and I replied as reluctantly as if he was asking me to drive 20 miles out of my way.

“Yeah, Roger, I suppose so.” Making sure that my depressed state was painfully obvious in each drawn out word.

“How long will I tell them, Sean?” Aidan’s pressure filled babble bearing such a contrast to my dreary dialogue.

“I don’t know! It’s probably just another receptionist tart looking to get to the pub.” I was beginning to feel the fire of anger being fuelled by my self-sympathy. “Tell the bitch twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, Roger, Sean – it’s actually documents for a lorry load of goods waiting to drive to Cork. Do the best you can.”

The legitimate reason for urgency did nothing to improve my mood, but as my left hand rejoined the handlebar, the right gave it just a tad more acceleration on the other side of it. I was actually going to do the best I could.