Free Fireproof by Gerard Brennan Page A

still made him giggle. The little blue-lit display screen told him Tony was calling.
    "Tony, how did it go?"
    "Easier than I thought it would, boss."
    "So the Goths are in?"
    "They sure are. And you know what? They aren't even all that bad. Some of the girls kind of suit all that black shit they wear. One of them was flirting with me a wee bit too. Then Tracey told her to back off. The wee Goth girl took it in good humour though. Then she slipped me her number when Tracey wasn't looking. I think I'm in there."
    "That's very… nice, Tony. How'd you sell it to them so quickly?"
    "I just walked up to the biggest group that was hanging around in the City Hall garden and I started my wee speech off with, ‘Now your parents may have a problem with this…' and it all sort of fell into place from there. I was talking for about ten minutes before I realised it, but all I did was reinforce the decision they'd made in the first twenty seconds. Then we smoked some dope and waited for the news to circulate amongst all the wee cliques that were sitting about. It didn't take long. They seem to be one big happy family."
    "You're a natural, Tony. I knew it."
    "Tracey says I could sell sand to the Arabs."
    "Wouldn't be much money in it though. Those Arabs drive a hard bargain."
    "Um, okay, Mike. Whatever you say."
    "And what about the other thing?"
    "The room? Yeah that's sorted out too. Two birds, one stone. One of the Goth boys I was talking to is in a band. This boy calls himself Skid. Skid and his pals have access to a Parish Hall on the Lisburn Road for band practice. It's a really big room with a stage and all. He said he'll keep it undisclosed and mysterious for the fun of it. It should seat a few thousand. At the last count there was about five-hundred hoods claiming membership and now we have about two-hundred Goths."
    "Think you can keep the hoods from bullying the Goths?"
    "Fucking right. Them long-haired freaks are my mates now. Nobody will mess with them."
    "Great job, Tony. I owe you one."
    "More than one now, boss."
    Tony hung up and Mike got back to scripting the mass. He'd put himself under a bit of pressure by scheduling it for the next night, but that was okay. He worked better that way. And he needed to keep his mind busy. Thoughts of Paul Murphy and Sean Phillips had to be kept at bay.
    Mike finished writing after eight pints of Guinness and a packet of bacon flavour crisps. He licked the grease and crisp crumbs off his fingers and tucked the notepad into the pocket of his tracksuit top. Then he called the barmaid over.
    "Another pint please, pet."
    "Oh you've put away your wee colouring book, have you? Maybe you'll pay me a little attention now," she said.
    "I most certainly will. Will you be here for the rest of the night?"
    She looked at her watch.
    "It's half seven now. I'll be finished in half an hour if Jimmy isn't late again," she said.
    "Well then, I'll buy you a drink when Jimmy takes over."
    She winked at him and went to pull his pint. There was a Guinness tap at his end of the bar but she went to the tap at the other end. She wanted him to watch her walk away. He did. She wore white tracksuit trousers that had worked their way down her spray-tanned hips. The waistband of her thong underwear peeked out. The thong screamed pink. He already knew that her bra was black. The straps were visible through her cheap, white vest.
    She didn't charge him for the pint.
    Jimmy arrived at quarter past eight and poured her a double vodka and coke to apologise. The barmaid forgave him and sat beside Mike on the other side of the bar. Half of the vodka and coke had disappeared before he could ask his first question.
    "So what's your name, miss?"
    "Kylie. What's yours, mister?"
    "I'm Mike Rocks."
    He held out his hand and she wrapped hers around the first three fingers.
    "You have huge hands," Kylie said.
    "You know what they say about men with big hands?"
    "What's that?" Kylie looked at Mike's crotch without shame.
    "They wear