Love, Lies & Lizard Babies by PoorQueequeg
Chapter Four
Helen took the car around the block and back down the street, turning the wheel heavily to pull through a narrow archway and onto the tarmac yard in front of O'Shea Autobody. A man in a blue boiler suit was stood just inside the open doors, wiping his hands on a grimy rag and he turned his head to look as she stepped out of the car and sauntered towards him. Helen couldn't help but notice the way his eye's flicked up and down her body and she straightened her spine and stuck her chest out a little before plastering on her most charming smile. The man worked his tongue across his teeth with a smacking sound and pouted his lips at her in an effort to seem nonchalant.
"Can I help you?" he asked and Helen twisted her neck to one side.
"Oh I hope so," she said in a particularly airy voice. "I've bought this car but I just can't abide the color."
He narrowed his eyes at her and smiled, nodding his head lazily. "Hmmmm," he replied wandering closer. "Mustang. Sixty Eight."
"Sixty Seven,"she corrected and he jerked his chin up at her. She smiled sheepishly. "Or so I've been told." The man smacked his lips and looked her up and down in distaste.
"Hmmm. So ah...whaddya want? Red?" Helen's cheeks began to ache slightly but she continued to beam at him.
"Or blue?" she asked ditzily. "Anything but green really." He chuffed at her light-heartedly.
"Yeah, green's not a good color in a car, huh?" She nodded enthusiastically and showed her teeth.
"So I've heard."
"From the sound of it, the engine could use some work too," he continued sliding his fingers under the hood and it squealed as he yanked it up.
"Oh, could you look at that for me, you think?" Helen said, her eyes flicking into the recesses of the shed behind them. Inside she could see a couple of cars, some embellished with gaudy flames and wings, others with half done paint jobs. Around the edges of the building stood various canisters and cans of what she presumed were paint or car polish.
"Na, we just do autobody," the man said disinterestedly, leaning further under the raised hood and peering at the engine.
"Oh," Helen cooed softly, squinting as she tried to see through a half drawn blind across a perspex window at the back of the shed. "Perhaps you could recommend somebody."
The man nodded and pulled his head up, turning to face her. She snapped her neck around and plastered the smile back onto her face as she met his eyes. "Could do. We got another shop up on Cannon Street."
"Cannon Street," she parroted and the man looked at her intently for a second before he smiled back broadly. Helen suppressed the odd feeling that sprang up as he grinned.
"Yeah, ah, I'll just grab some sample cards. You can take a look at the colors and we can see about a price," he said gesturing with his hand into the shed. Helen smiled and nodded and took a step forward, that feeling of disquiet in her stomach growing stronger. He continued to smile, raising his eyebrows slightly. She took another step into the shady interior and he followed a step or two behind, watching as she looked around the quiet space and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. She caught a flutter of movement in the corner of her eye and turned on her heel abruptly, adrenaline surging through her body. She raised her arm to deflect the blow but he was too fast and the palm of his hand crashed into the side of her face with a loud slap.
Helen gasped, her face suddenly aflame as she listed heavily to the side. Her fighting instincts kicked in and she spread her arms to balance herself as she staggered. The man grabbed at the lapels of her coat and yanked her upright so she raised her arms to claw at his face, digging her fingers into his scalp and tugging viciously on his hair. He grunted and screwed his face up in pain, raising one hand and slapping her again hard enough to make her head spin. She teetered backwards and he shuffled along with her, still gripping her coat. She clawed at his eyes as he pulled her hair back, his face contorted in a sneer.
"Ah! Fucking bitch!" he cried and heaved her to one side, slamming her against a stone pillar. Her head cracked hard against the concrete and her vision blurred a little. She gasped and began to flail her arms and kick her legs, aiming her knee in the vicinity of his crotch but before she could get a good blow in he had his hand inside her coat and was jabbing her gun in her face. "You little whore, you think I'm stupid?" He snarled wrapping his hand tight around her throat and slamming her head back again.
Helen gasped for breath, pain lancing through her skull. She squirmed beneath his grip as he spoke, little flecks of spit hitting her in the face. "You think I don't know who that car belongs to huh? HUH?" Helen wheezed, her eyes wide, her mouth contorted as she tried to scream but she couldn't get any air into her lungs. "You listen to me to you stuck up limey cunt, you tell your boyfriend that his shit-head brother owes me money!" Helen felt his hot breath on her face and began to feel light-headed, his face began to blur and her eyes rolled in her head. She felt him shift his arm and closed her eyes tight in anticipation of another blow and flinched as she heard the heavy crack of wood against bone.
She heaved in a huge breath and slid down the pillar, her eyes flying open to see the man face down on the ground, her gun tumbling from his hand skittering underneath a car. Jason stood to one side, the shotgun clasped in both hands. The man shook his head and began to push himself up when Jason's boot impacted loudly with his ribs and he sputtered, falling heavily onto his side. Jason snarled and stepped over him, reaching down and slipping the shotgun under his chin. The man wheezed and his eyes bulged as Jason pulled against the gun, the barrel pressing hard against his throat.
"How do you like that huh, you bastard? You like to hit a woman do ya? You sick fuck!" Jason bawled in a rage. Helen hunched forward onto her knees, propping herself up on one hand and reaching up to her throat with the other as she heaved in great lungfuls of air. She glanced up to see Jason dragging him backwards by the neck, flipping him over and stamping on his shoulder. The man's chin crunched loudly into the floor and she grimaced.
"Jay!" she choked, stretching her hand out to him. "Jay, stop!" She struggled to her feet, swaying as she stood upright. Jason's face was twisted with hate and she staggered towards him as he clenched the gun hard and stuffed the barrel in the man's face. "Stop!" Helen screamed and Jason froze, heaving in great breaths, his teeth clenched and his hands shaking with rage.
Helen swayed on her feet and stumbled forward, leaning heavily on his shoulder. She peered down at the man on the floor, his face contorted in pain as he rocked from side to side yowling in agony. Surely this wasn't the fearsome Danny O'Shea? Americans and their hyperbole, she thought despairingly as she raised her hand to her jaw and cupped it tenderly.
"Where's my brother, you sack of shit!" Jason growled, jabbing O'Shea in the shoulder with the end of the gun. O'Shea let out a yelp.
"Jesus Christ, you psychopath! My face! My fucking face!" he sputtered, bloody spraying out of his mouth and across his chin. Helen swayed a little as Jason reached into his coat and pulled out a grenade. Helen's eyes grew wise as he stooped down and held it close to O'Shea's face.
"You better talk or I'll blow this dump to hell and you along with it!" he threatened.
"Okay, okay, Jesus," O'Shea whimpered, his eyes wide with terror. Helen began to rethink her assessment of Jason's mental health but pushed it aside, adrenalin surging through her brain and mixing with a hefty dose of hate for the pitiful creature in front of her. Bile rose in her throat as she regarded his snivelling form and she turned away, leaning against the pillar and hunching forward slightly to take a few breaths as O'Shea began to babble incoherently about money and a job.
She braced herself against the pillar once more and stepped forward, a little more steady on her feet and walked back to stand beside Jason.
"This job..." she began, flexing her jaw from side to side as she spoke. "What was it?" O'Shea's eyes darted to her face and back to Jason.
"Answer her!" Jay barked, shaking O'Shea roughly.
"A pick up! Some freaky lizard eggs, I dunno," he rasped, choking a little. "I sell 'em to a guy I know, into all kinds of fucked up shit. Deals to freaks and weirdos."
Helen ground her teeth together in anger and disgust and winced at the pain that pulsed through her jaw. "Who?" she spat. O'Shea swallowed loudly and sniffed.
"Calls himself Worrall. Real weird looking guy with tattoos." Helen jerked her chin up and glanced at Jason. He met her gaze for a moment and dropped his eyes back to O'Shea.
"How was my brother involved?" he asked in a low voice. O'Shea licked his lips.
"He owed me. Lost big at cards and couldn't pay." Jason's eyes fell closed and Helen could see the disappointment wash over him.
"You're a liar!" He shook O'Shea roughly.
"So you figured you'd get him to do a few jobs for you, work off the debt," Helen said gravely.
"That's right but I swear, we're done now. We can just forget the whole thing, just don't kill me!" O'Shea whined pathetically.
"Where can we find this Worrall?" Helen asked and O'Shea shrugged, wincing in pain.
"He hangs around that freak bar across town, I dunno."
"Jason," Helen began but he remained frozen. "Jay, let's go..." she said, raising her palm slowly and bringing it rest against his bicep.
Jason screwed his face up again and slowly turned his head from side to side. "I oughta kill you. I want to kill you," he sneered through clenched teeth.
"Jay, please," she continued and he raised his head to look at her. His face softened a little as he ran his eyes across the angry mark on her face and he exhaled slowly.
"Alright," he said quietly and Helen's shoulders sagged in relief. "Can you get your gun?" he asked, gesturing towards the car beside them. Helen nodded and moved stiffly over, crouching down, her face contorting in a grimace as she slipped her fingers under the car and wrapped them around the cold steel. Standing upright she watched as Jason pulled O'Shea off the ground a little way and growled.
"If I ever see your ugly face again, I will kill you, you understand?" O'Shea gulped and nodded and Jason shoved him hard so that his head smacked sickeningly against the ground. Jason backed away from him and stepped towards Helen, wrapping his arm around her waist and hustling her towards the door. She glanced over her shoulder at O'Shea, still frozen on the ground, his hands balled into fists and pressed against his eyes as he snivelled.
Jason opened the passenger door of the car and Helen slipped inside. He closed it behind her and jogged over to retrieve the bag from where he had dumped by the gate. Helen stared through the windshield as a clap of thunder rumbled in the distance. She watched the rain began to spit on the glass and rubbed the back of her head lightly, wincing at the sting. O'Shea rolled onto his stomach and was watching them, his face twisted in fear and when Jason turned back he dropped his head onto his arms.
Jason slid in beside her and twisted the key in the ignition, the car jarring to life with it's usual squeal. He reversed, turning the wheel hard and shifting gears again. The tires screeched against the tarmac as they turned through the gate and moved away down the street. Jason drove a few hundred yards and turned around the corner before killing the engine abruptly. He turned to her and clasped her arm gently.
"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" he asked anxiously, cupping her face in his palm and looking her over.
"I'm okay," Helen began but he didn't seem to hear as he gently turned her face from side to side and ran his fingers across the back of her head.
"That fucking asshole, I should have killed him," he complained, gripping her chin tenderly between his thumb and forefinger. "I shouldn't have let you go in there. What a stupid fucking idea that was..." he rambled.
"Jay," she protested quietly, reaching up grasp his fingers but he didn't seem to hear. "Really, it's not that bad. I've had worse, believe me."
"We need to get you to a hospital," he said, turning back and starting the ignition again.
"No, please. I'm okay, Jason." she assured him. "Just take me back to my hotel."
"No way, I saw the way he smacked you. You need a doctor."
"I am a doctor!" she cried exasperated.
"Ya and everybody knows you make the worst patients so just sit back and let me drive ok?" he told her pointedly. She tipped her head to the side and pulled a face at him.
"Jason."
He studiously ignored her, fixing his eyes on the road ahead. His fingers gripped the wheel tightly and Helen was sure she could see his pulse throbbing on the side of his head. "Jay," she repeated softly. When he still didn't respond she turned back in her seat, leaning against the head rest and looking out the rain spotted window as the buildings rolled by. After a minute or two she spoke again.
"If you take me to the hospital they'll just think you're the reason I'm there," she told him matter of factly. He turned and regarded her through narrowed eyes.
"You wouldn't," he said, disbelieving. Helen sighed.
"No, I wouldn't but it wouldn't stop them from thinking it," she explained.
"Well I'll just tell them about O'Shea. Let the cops deal with him."
"And what do you think he'll say? Then they'll be knocking on your door and dragging you off to jail," she countered. He clenched his jaw and twisted his neck. "Jay, please," she said in a sad, quiet voice. "Just take me back to the hotel. I have my medical kit, we'll be fine. Please."
Jason exhaled slowly and let his eyes fall closed as they stopped at an intersection, the brakes squeaking loudly. The engine rattled under the hood as Helen ran a fingertip along the seam of the leather on the seat beside her and dropped her eyes to watch the stick tremor under his hand.
"Alright," he said softly, pulling away as the light turned green.