Read Online Beyond the Rage by Michael J. Malone - Free Book Online Page A

was playing hard to get,’ he said to Kenny.
    ‘You just can’t get the staff,’ Kenny replied, reaching for his fresh glass. Ray was only aware of part of his various enterprises, had no idea he was the owner of The Blue Owl.
    ‘What kind of name is that, anyway? The Blue Fucking Owl?’ asked Ray.
    ‘I like it,’ argued Kenny. ‘Makes me want to stay up all night and play jazz.’
    ‘Is that a euphemism?’
    Kenny pushed back into the cushion of the chair, enjoyed the whisky that glowed in his system and they settled into silence. Sometimes you just wanted the presence of a friend without having to fill their ears with the minutiae of your day. And sometimes you want to tell them everything.
    He leaned forward in his chair and told Ray the lot: his memory of that night, his life with Aunt Vi and Uncle Colin, the letters. He spoke without emotion, relaying the facts, allowing them the freedom of the atmosphere.
    After speaking, drained like an anorexic after a feast, Kenny sat back in his chair and cleared his throat. To get the words out was enough. He didn’t need to know what solution Ray might suggest.
    ‘So,’ said Ray with a grin, ‘a man saves your life and you’ve got to listen to his whole freakin’ life story, jeez.’ He grinned. Grew serious. ‘What now?’
    ‘I find the fucker who killed my mother.’ His phone beeped. A pause. ‘Right after I answer this text.’

11
    It was the next morning and Alexis still hadn’t answered any of his texts. He woke with the light thrusting in under his eyelids and a mouth as dry as a sandpit. He opened his eyes and squinted. It wasn’t like him to leave the curtains open. He had another look at his phone. Still no answer. Then he assessed his physical condition. Apart from the dry mouth, he felt fine. He was fortunate this was as bad as a hangover ever got for him. He threw his mobile on the bed and turned his mind to a different form of drink – coffee.
    He stretched and then lifted his feet off the bed and on to the floor. Looking at the foot of the bed, he could see that his clothes were in a pile. Struggling to remember even taking them off and uncaring that people in the tenement flat opposite might be able to see him, he walked naked into his kitchen.
    ‘Aww, bless.’ Ray was standing with his back to the window with a glass of water in his hand and looking at Kenny’s morning semi-erection as if it was the saddest thing he ’d ever seen. ‘I didn’t know you cared.’
    Kenny sat on a breakfast stool. ‘It’s big enough for me.’ He flipped Ray the finger. ‘You... you stayed over?’ He looked around himself. ‘Yes, I’m home. This is my place. What time is it?’
    ‘You’re not much of a boozer, Kenny. You were snoring in the taxi. I almost had to carry you up the stairs. I threw you on your bed and left you to it. To my everlasting regret,’ – he made a face – ‘you managed to take your own clothes off.’ He took a long, slow drink from his glass. ‘I slept in your spare room. And it’s now...’ – he looked at his wristwatch – ‘...eight-fifteen.’
    ‘Coffee?’
    ‘Aye.’
    ‘What does the day hold for Mr Detective Extraordinaire?’
    ‘Kenny, I can’t hold a conversation with a naked man. Go put something on for fuck’s sake and I’ll make us some breakfast.’
    ‘Coffee,’ said Kenny. ‘Only want coffee.’ He stood up and walked out of the room, scratching his arse. He returned moments later wearing jogging pants and a T-shirt and holding his phone.
    Ray was pouring milk into a couple of steaming mugs. He looked over his shoulder when he heard Kenny walk back in. He shuddered. ‘Burned into my memory, mate.’
    ‘That’s handy. You can wank off to it every morning.’
    ‘Tell me why I’m not locking you up right now?
    ‘You want to see just how low you can go?’
    Ray opened a drawer, picked out a spoon and stirred the coffee. ‘What do you take in yours again? Ricin?’
    Kenny reached past him and