Big Fat Legal Disclaimer:
I, Levana Oba, do not own RocknRolla, nor do I lay any claim to the plot or characters created by Guy Ritchie…. Though, if Mr. Ritchie would be kind enough to let me borrow One Two it would be greatly appreciated. He might not get him back, but I promise that I'd take good care of him.
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There's Something About Bob…
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Mumbles took a good long drag from his cigar and contemplated the current situation. Normally the Speeler, as ramshackle as it was, was full of camaraderie and general good cheer. Today, however, it seemed as if the whole place had taken on an aura of hostile desolation. The bar was nearly silent. The only sound in the whole place was emanating from the races playing on the telly. The lads were in a right sour mood and quick to fight. Even Dolly, typically unfazed by the Bunch's moods, had become a bit of a wicked bint lately. The aura of animosity was so palpable that even the two swindling junkies who were both a constant thorn and a form of entertainment had chosen to lay low.
The source of this enmity that was poisoning the atmosphere of the Speeler was currently sitting in a corner using an old newspaper as a shield from any enquiring party. Not that anybody would have bothered him. Many of the lads had already been the victim of the Scot's vicious tongue and were content to stay well away from the raging lion that was One Two. The cause of the Scot's temper remained to be a mystery. For three days after One Two's party, the man had been in a somewhat decent mood. He had seemed wary every now and then; as if waiting for some large object to fall from the sky and land squarely on his head. But he still acted like the generally laid back man that One Two normally was. It was the day that they had all gathered at the Speeler for the first meeting of the New Year that had been a gift from the fiery depths of hell.
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The meeting went on well enough. All the lads were in a chipper mood, happy to be starting a new year. They had been ribbing One Two about his bout with Archy on the karaoke machine when One Two glanced about bar with a bit of concern on his face.
"Has any one seen Bob lately?" One Two asked casually – almost too casually in Mumbles' opinion.
"Well maybe he's still on holiday." Cookie offered with a small grin.
"It's the fifth of January – how long does he plan on celebratin'?" One Two groused.
"Maybe he took off with that Bertie fella for New Year's," Fred piped in, "You know how it is with new lovers – all in each other's business and blind to the happenings of the outside world…" Fred's face was pasted with a dopey grin, obviously thinking of things that didn't really have to do with Bob at all.
"Dolly keeping ya on a short leash then, Fred?" Cookie barely dodged a solid cuff to his head. Fred didn't take too kindly to being teased about Dolly.
Nobody but Mumbles had noticed the rigid expression that had blossomed on One Two's face. One Two slowly leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms and looked at the group before him with a decidedly surly expression.
"Well, should any of you lot see 'im, let 'im know that the fuckin' party's over and its time to get back to fuckin' work."
"I thought that jobs were slim pickins," Fred ventured cautiously, " so what's the harm with Bob-" One Two stood up abruptly, knocking over his chair in the process and planted his fists on the table in one smooth, aggressive motion.
"He doesn't fuckin' know that, does he Fred? He's not here to know whether or not if we had a job lined up! So if it's all the same to you, just pass on the fuckin' message that if he doesn't get his scrawny arse back here for work, he'll be fuckin' replaced!" One Two grabbed his coat and stormed out the building with all of the grace of a category five hurricane.
The three remaining men sat stunned, reeling from the abrupt change of attitude from their fearless leader.
"What's eatin' him, then?" Cookie asked after a long bout of silence.
"Dunno, boys." Mumbles sighed tiredly and shook his head. He stood up and gathered his own coat. "But I'll look into it. Keep your chins up and lay low for the time bein'."
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That lovely little episode had been about a week ago. Things had steadily gone to shit from there. Handsome Bob still remained missing, and One Two was a step away from getting the Surly Bastard of the Year Award; it was only the middle of January for Christ's sake.
Mumbles took another drag and leaned back in his chair to study One Two. The man was more prone to playing small pranks on his mates, not shouting at them in barely disguised rage. He was rarely in such a foul mood. In fact, the only other time he acted remotely like this was after he and Bob had danced-
Mumbles widened his eyes in sudden clarity of thought.
No fuckin' way… Mumbles snuffed out the remains of his cigar and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. I thought me and Archy were the last to leave the party... I'd forgotten that Bob had fallen asleep on the sofa…so did One Two… did he and Bob… do I really wanna know? Mumbles took another good look at the temperamental Scotsman in front of him. One Two had abandoned the newspaper and was fumbling about for his cigs and lighter, his expression dark and foreboding.
Bloody fuckin' hell…that explains it… the bastard's fuckin' jealous. Mumbles groaned internally. Somebody would have to patch things up. It looked like it'd have to be him.
Of all the the jobs that'd he'd taken on with the Wild Bunch, he sure as hell never thought that he'd have to play Cupid.
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