Caleb watched his friend bent over the books before her, scowling at the words like they were another door in her path, another security protocol to navigate around.
He sat, wrapped in his sleeping bag, too much in pain now to do little but watch. The book he’d never finish was at his side, his reading glasses too sore against his nose. Every breath he took was like his chest was full of broken glass.
Been a long time since he’d taken a beating anywhere close to it. Made him feel small but he knew that feeling would pass if he let it.
Amanda was wrapped in her bag, books spilled out in front of her, the girl the same, the occasional comment made between them, loud enough so that thing could hear them.
There was no getting past the demon. No negotiating with it or conspiring against it.
But the woman never gave up. She was too proud, too confident, so caught up in her own legend that she wouldn’t face the notion that maybe she was beaten.
It had cost her so much already, the same thing that had made her notorious. The woman’s mind was a lockpick, it twisted and turned in directions Caleb never thought possible and it had got them places.
Give her enough time and she might solve this too.
And Barker had made a promise – that night after they had met AK and Amanda had launched her whisky glass into the little punk’s face.
He’d made a promise. Or perhaps he had merely voiced it to himself.
A couple of beers had already given Caleb a nice buzz, detracting from the urge to throw Amanda across the room.
Not three hours ago, they’d been kicked out of the club, AK bleeding heavily, whisky glass on the floor. Jamison had told them to stay put, running would only have made AK chase and then there would be no room for Jamison to work. Amanda had ranted and raged the whole way home. Caleb had held his tongue from throwing a few points of his own.
Now he was in Amanda’s dining room. While she was upstairs talking to Simon, convincing him they had to stay put but be ready to leave, the kids were taking turns to arm wrestle him over the corner of the table.
It’s a good thing, being surrounded by family.
‘Come on, son,’ said Caleb, ‘almost got it.’
Darren’s expression was so like his mother’s it was comical – desperate to win but intent on looking like he had no emotional investment on the outcome. He redoubled his efforts, young muscles standing out up his arm but he might as well have been fighting a statue. Caleb’s arm didn’t move an inch.
The girls were beside themselves with laughter, throwing out cries of support.
‘Come on, son,’ Caleb said again, not trying to win, just keeping them in the starting position, matching his godson’s strength. ‘Come on. Show us your muscles.’
‘He’s trying his best,’ laughed Michaela. ‘Look, you can tell that’s the one he wanks with.’
Emily rolled her eyes and turned, pretending to walk away from her older sister’s vulgarity, one part amused, one part horrified.
Darren pretended not to hear, licking his lips and giving one last all or nothing effort.
‘Not found yourself a girl yet?’ Caleb asked him, sensing weakness. ‘Or boy? Must be easier, being gay, is it? Not like my day.’
Michaela shrugged.
A dramatic exhalation and Darren gave up. ‘I can’t do it.’ He sat back, shaking life back into his arm. ‘You’re too strong.’
‘He’s also three times your size,’ Emily pointed out.
‘And it’s girls,’ said Darren. ‘Sorry, Uncle Caleb, I’m not like that.’
‘Don’t have to be sorry,’ Caleb took another sip of beer, sitting back himself.
‘Doesn’t matter either way,’ said Michaela. ‘No one would want to tap that if he paid them.’
Darren launched himself from his chair and Michaela squealed and retreated.
Caleb laughed as the pair chased one another around the table, so full of youth and energy there was no room for feeling down.
‘They’ve been up there a long time,’ said Emily, taking Darren’s seat.
As soon as they’d arrived back, Amanda and Simon had gone upstairs to discuss what had happened. Caleb was good at keeping his friend calm sometimes, but for the big things you needed a husband to talk you down.
It was times like these that he missed Michael most. These days he was always the rock, never the leaner. All he had was the ache in his chest, just as potent after all these years. He didn’t think it would ever go away. That man was still his everything.
‘They’re just talking,’ he replied.
‘The meeting didn’t go well, did it.’
‘Wasn’t ever going to go well. Sometimes it’s just like that.’
Emily, always the thoughtful one, looked worried.
‘All be OK,’ said Caleb. ‘You’ll see.’ He reached over and pushed the girl’s glasses up her nose, making her smile.
‘Alright!’ Michaela threw herself in beside Emily, nudging her younger sister half off her chair. ‘My turn.’ She put up her arm, ready to wrestle.
In moments they were all laughing again. Caleb held the girl as easily as he’d held Darren until, shrieking and shouting, Emily piled in to help her sister. The pair of them slowly forced Caleb’s arm toward the table.
‘You see!’ Darren was saying. ‘You see!’
They all cheered when Caleb’s fist touched the wood. Michaela and Emily high-fiving and hip-checking while Caleb pretended to be all defeated.
‘And how about you?’ he asked Michaela. ‘No more trouble?’
‘Nah, we’re good,’ the girl replied with a singsong voice, no hint of abashment.
‘Why? What happened?’ asked Emily. ‘What happened?’
‘Mind your own business,’ said Michaela, flicking her sister’s ear.
‘Ow!’
‘None of that,’ said Caleb. ‘Unless you want me to intervene.’
Michaela, a chip off the old block, had rented a flat off one of those online services that let you book other people’s gaffs. Checked in at midday, by early evening she’d had the building’s security fob cloned a dozen times and in the hands of a dozen waiting friends. Word had already gone out: epic party, no holds barred, twenty a head before entry. She’d tripled her investment no less than eight hours after taking the keys. Ten hours later and the flat was jumping, the neighbours complaining and the police had been called. All that, she could handle.
Until a few guys had arrived at two in the morning with drugs to sell, knives, a yen to kick in walls and basically kill everyone’s good time. When that happens, you call in your Uncle Caleb to sort it out and swear him to secrecy.
It seemed that protecting Colemans from the trouble they got themselves into was an inter-generational deal.
They stopped at the creak of the stairs.
Simon appeared first looking strained but putting a brave face on it. ‘Who’s hungry?’
As the kids passionately exclaimed how hungry they were, a general bustle kitchen-wards, Caleb stayed put.
Amanda looked calmer. Brittle, but calmer.
‘I really fucked up,’ she said.
‘Could have gone better,’ said Caleb. ‘But not by much. No way we were going to agree to it.’
Amanda nodded. ‘Good.’
Of course he was invited to lunch, which inevitably became dinner as well. The kids carried on. Simon entertained, telling jokes, seeing everyone was happy. Even Amanda was managing a laugh or two at the end.
Michael was absent, always absent, but the pain was always bittersweet on nights like this. What Amanda had done might not have been forgivable but it was, perhaps, understandable and it cut her almost as deep as it did Caleb.
‘Thanks for watching her back today,’ said Simon when they had a moment alone. ‘No knowing what would have happened if you weren’t…’
‘She’d probably have killed them all.’
Simon smiled. ‘No doubt. But seriously, thank you. You’re always there for her. We don’t say it often enough but we appreciate that.’
‘That’s what you do for family.’
The kids continued to laugh and shout. Michaela was telling some story from her college. They really were Caleb’s family and underneath it all, he knew he’d die for each and every one of them.
That was a nice feeling.