CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Monday evening.
Ma's in the kitchen, hunched over at the table poring over the newspapers and fiddling with her pill bottles like always, can see her slight figure silhouetted against the last of the evening sun.
No sign of Curly though, and no music blaring out from Ange's room so I guess she's out too.
Shrugging off my jacket, I toss it through the doorway of my room so it lands on the end of my bed, kick off my muddy boots and head for the bathroom. All I want to do right now is take a shower, unwind a little after hauling bricks and shit around a construction site all day.
Only then I hear it. The unmistakeable sound of crying coming from my sister's room.
The door's pulled almost-shut. But I take a quick glance in through the inch gap. She's sat in her bed, legs pulled up with her arms around her legs and her forehead resting against her knees. Shoulders shaking as she sobs. I take a step back, about to leave her to her misery 'cause I'm not exactly keen to hear anything about her latest dramas. Only the floorboards creak beneath my feet and Angela lifts her head and catches me standing there.
"Hey, Angel" I grin at her. "What's up?"l
"Nothing." She sniffs. "Go away."
"Okay then."
Go to walk away, only she calls out to me, "Tim, wait. Come back."
Stepping inside I take a good look at her; her eyes are puffy and red, and that make-up she wears way too much of is streaked down her cheeks. "So, what's the matter? You gonna tell me what's got you in such a state? Had another fight with Ma?"
She shrugs, "It's nothing much." Hastily begins wiping her away the tears with the back of her hand.
"Really? 'Cause it sure doesn't seem like nothing," I offer as I sit beside her on the bed. "Something happen at school? Someone upset you?" I grin at her, raise an eyebrow. You need me to sort them out for you?"
She laughs a little, dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "No it's nothing like that. It's Curly—only don't you dare tell him I was crying about him. He'd never let me forget it if he thought I was upset because of him."
"Why, what's the dumbass done to you now? You know you should try to ignore him. Not let him wind you up so much?"
"That's just it, Tim. He hasn't done nothing to me, or anyone else. Not this time."
"Don't understand—what's the problem then?"
"We had a real big fight last night, told him I hated him, wouldn't speak to him before school this morning either."
I roll my eyes at her. "Well that ain't exactly nothing new, Ange."
"I know, but then Ma got this phone call about half an hour ago. Was the cops saying they arrested him. She was in a right state when she hung up."
"She alright now?"
Ange shrugs. "Hopefully. She took a couple more pills, don't know which ones, maybe those new ones she got. So hopefully she's calmed down. They usually seem to help."
I nod. "Alright. So did she tell you anything else? Suppose she'll expect me to go pick him up from the station tomorrow for whatever dumbass thing he's done this time?"
"No. You won't be able to."
"What the hell? What's that supposed to mean?"
"He's been picked up for robbing some store over the weekend and he's likely gonna get a real long spell in the reformatory this time around. The cops reckon the judge will make an example of him on account of his record and what happened with that other kid Saturday night."
My chest feels tight, my heart's pounding like it's going to explode outta my chest. "Wait. Start again. What exactly are they saying he's done? And when's he supposed to have done it?"
"Last night, they told Ma he broke into some liquor store across town. But he can't have done it, Tim, not when we were here fighting all night."
"Which store?" I demand.
"I don't know the name of it; it's not one round here. It was some place down by the river."
~oOo~
Tuesday morning.
"Wait over there." The desk sergeant scowls at me, gesturing to the hard wooden bench opposite his desk.
It's a little after nine, was meant to be on site over an hour ago, so I ain't gonna get a full weeks wages after all. Instead I'm here at the police station with Ma hoping to find out exactly what's happening, maybe even see Curly whenever they eventually get around to talking to her.
Feels like time is going backwards, as I watch the minutes tick past on the clock behind his desk. Just hope Ma doesn't lose it completely. Should've got her to take one her pills before we left home 'cause she's already crying into her handkerchief and bitching at me about how it was my responsibility to keep Curly out of trouble. Like I'm not on edge enough already about him being here without her damn well adding to that.
I'm not even sure that they'll let me see him. But if he's up in front the judge sometime later today then it won't be long until they ship him out of here. So it's got to be worth a try, to make sure he's alright—even if choosing to hang around the police station isn't exactly how I'd choose to spend my time.
Finally, the door at the end the corridor that leads to the holding cells opens. Some cop who ain't all that much older than me appears while Dallas Winston swaggers out from behind him. Winston's a little worse for wear, grinning at me as he goes by.
The same cop smiles at Ma, tells her someone will be out to speak to her in a minute, before he turns to me, more hostile now as he gestures for me to follow him.
"He's in here, although I guess you already know the way—reckon we'd be doing the world a favour if we locked up the pair of you."
Really want to tell him what I think of him, but I know I got to keep my damn mouth shut, can't risk being thrown out when I'm this close to seeing my brother. So instead I shove my hands in pockets, keep my head down and follow him back into the depths of the police station.
"Hey, Tim." Curly smiles up at me from his seat at the table, like he don't have a care in the world. Does a pretty convincing impression of it from a distance, too.
The cop stays in the doorway, half-heartedly watching the pair of us, but more interested in the conversation going on across the hallway between some of his buddies. Gradually his attention drifts as we talk about nothing very much until finally I get the opportunity to ask the one question I need to have an answer to.
"Damn it, Curly, what are you playing at?" I mutter, trying to keep my voice low. "Angel reckons you were home all night; tell me you ain't dumb enough to have hit that place a second time?"
"No, I didn't do it, not this time around. Not that the fuzz give a damn about that, they're gonna pin it on one of us anyways by the sound of it."
"What d'you mean?" I lean forwards, elbows on the table.
"Cops said when they picked me up that they got a witness. Seems I matched the description pretty much exactly—teenager, 'bout six foot, greased back black hair, tough looking, and then when we come in here she picked me out straight away, told them she was a hundred per cent sure it was me she seen." He rubs his forehead, grins at me. "Got picked up pretty soon after I left school, I'd only just got across to the Ribbon and there were cops everywhere, probably on account of all that happened Saturday. Sure wish I'd gone straight home for once."
"Fuck's sake, Curly, if you didn't do it why did they tell Ma you confessed?"
"Obvious ain't it?" he says with a shrug, his voice low and quiet. "Soon as they said which store it was, I knew it had to be a set up, and we both know who's behind it. Reckon it's lucky the cops found me first, don't you? I mean that description's vague enough that it could just as easily have been you they arrested. And that witness didn't see me so she's got to owe them or be in on it somehow."
"Still don't explain why you admitted it."
"Jesus, Tim, you know you'd get full-on jail if you got sent down over this, get sent up to County or something. Figured it was easier for me to take this one."
Curly stares at me, and I recognise his expression, that same look I've seen so often over the years when he's desperate for me to tell him he's done good. "God, Curly, you don't have to do this, you can say you didn't do it."
"Yeah I do, Tim. You've gotta keep everything going, take care of Angela and Ma. We both know I wouldn't be no good at running things and I don't expect you could trust Danny or Ryan to do a good job either. Without you around everything'll fall apart. Besides, the only person who seen me at home was Ange and they aren't exactly gonna take her word are they?"
"Shouldn't have done it, Curly, they don't have no real evidence 'cause you didn't damn well do it." My emotions are all over the place, ranging from pride in him for thinking he was doing something good for me, via anger at Myers through to despair that my brother's admitted to anything before I had the chance to speak to him, to try to figure out another, better, solution.
"Can't see any other way around it, Tim. I'll be home getting on your nerves again before you know it." He grins at me now, his voice full of bravado again. "Hell, if Dallas Winston can get off early for good behaviour, reckon I can give it a shot too. Oh and tell Angela at least in the reformatory I'll get a break from listening to her crappy music all the damn time."
For all the world Curly looks like some no good hood as he sits there smiling, but I know him too well, can see the fear in his eyes.
"Yeah? You sure about this? You don't need to do this—I'll go tell 'em it was me, get you out of here right now."
"Yeah I'm sure. Go home, Tim. Sort all this shit with Myers out once and for all."
"Okay you two, enough of the chat, your time's up. On your feet, Shepard," the cop interrupts, and we both drag ourselves up from our seats, turn to Curly as the cop starts to lead him away.
"You're an idiot, but you're alright sometimes, kid. Be careful and watch your back in there, make sure they know not to mess with you."
"Yeah, I know, ain't like it's my first visit, is it?"
As he heads back down the corridor, I know there's nothing I can do for Curly now—apart from ensuring Myers doesn't get away with this, that I make him pay for what he's done to me and my family.
A/N: Thanks for reading :)