CHAPTER 14: PULLING THE DEVIL'S TAIL
By Sadie Rose Bermingham © 2006
ATONEMENT:
Rayne woke up alone, which of late was so unusual that he took his time to assimilate and appreciate the space in which he found himself. He felt groggy and in need of a good long shower but he was not as sore as he dreaded he might have been. The bed was large and clean and very comfortable. It also showed signs of not having been slept in by more than one person. Under the circumstances that was a relief. Slowly now his memories of the last time he had been properly conscious were coming back.
He curled up again and buried his face in his arms.
"Jesus fucking Christ on a bike!" he muttered with a shake of his head. "I've been such a fucking muppet!"
It was earlier than he had first guessed and he took advantage of the fact that his fellow boat-mates were still asleep in various tangled configurations to quietly recover consciousness under the cool drizzle of the shower. His upper left arm was sore and he vaguely remembered that Mahmoudi had been there and had poked a needle into the crook of his elbow before he could even point out that he was left handed. He knew without asking that the shot was Diamorphine. It had knocked him straight out. Maybe it would have killed him if it had been a bigger shot but he guessed that even Mahmoudi would be pressed to explain his demise under such circumstances. And Paddy would not want something like that happening on his boat.
"Could have been worse," he muttered to himself, tilting his head back to let the cool water flow into his mouth and run down his chin. He spat it out and shook his head. "Leland would have dumped you over the side and reported you missing three days later!"
Even Mikkal was not up and about yet and Rayne wrapped himself in a towel, feeling cold to his bones in spite of the mild, summer morning. The galley kitchen was in a semi-mystical state of emptiness and the morning half-light pushed through the gaps in the vertical blinds, reaching vague silvery fingers into the oddest corners. The quiet splashing of water against the side of the boat and the clink of mooring ropes outside broke the stillness but other than this it was bizarrely quiet. When he pulled the blinds, it was just getting light outside and somehow he managed to make himself a pot of coffee in semi-twilight without dropping or spilling anything. He was just about to take it up onto the roof and have a cigarette when someone spoke his name and he jumped so violently that he almost threw the whole shooting match onto the floor.
"Christ!" he exhaled nervously when Aldo pushed himself up off the sofa, where he had plainly spent the night. Rayne had not even spotted him when he first stumbled through into the kitchen. The Italian pushed a hand through his rumpled black hair now and knuckled the sleep from his eyes.
"Sorry... did I freak you out?"
Rayne's knuckles tightened around the handle of the coffee pot and the huge mug in his other hand. He felt his heart quicken but at least this morning it was just natural adrenaline.
"Leave me alone!" he warned, bristling defensively when Aldo tried to get closer. "I'm warning you, this stuff is hot!"
"I'm not gonna try anything. I... I didn't sleep too good last night if that's any consolation," Aldo said a little blearily.
"Good! I slept fine," Rayne glared at him. "I'm gonna go up and have a fag. I don't want company!"
He got it in any case. Admittedly, Aldo left him to his own devices for at least two cigarettes, by which time he was ready for the top up of coffee which the Italian brought up for him, together with a large plate of hot buttered brioches and a pot of strawberry jam.
"There's nothing bad in it, I promise," he said in a contrite tone as he set the tray down on the roof deck next to the younger man. "I thought you might be hungry by now."
Rayne was and he scowled at Aldo for just a little while, then attacked the sweet rolls before they began to cool. His companion poured them both some more coffee.
"We've got today off," he said quietly. "PJ's pretty pissed off at me. I guess I'm probably not gonna work with him again for a while."
"Serves you right," Rayne muttered with his mouth full. He chewed vigorously for a moment then washed the mouthful down with more coffee. It made him feel sick but he needed to feel occupied and the food kept his hands and mouth busy so that he could keep conversation to a minimum. "'ave we got any Cheerios?"
For a little while Aldo just looked at him in bewilderment, then he pushed himself to his feet and went back down into the galley with a little sigh.
Rayne dipped a finger into the jam and sucked it clean. It was sharp and sweet, just the right mix of sugar and fruit. He scooped a slightly more loaded finger of preserve into his mouth and licked his lips, relishing the sugar rush. It balanced the coffee out quite nicely.
When Aldo came back up on deck with a large bowl of cereal swimming in milk, he did not have the heart to point out that they were better dry. Instead he concentrated on picking the little cereal loops out of the milk and flipping them into the air, catching them in his mouth.
"It is little wonder that you are thin," Aldo said at last, having observed this human sea-lion routine for a few minutes.
"I'm not gonna put much weight on with 'you' around, am I?" Rayne said venomously, flicking another Cheerio so high into the air that it vanished over the other side of the yacht.
"I did not give you the pills to hurt you," Aldo countered with a shake of his head. "I am sorry, Rayne. What more can I say?"
"You think I care if you're sorry or not?" the younger man snapped at him. "Aldo... I thought you were my fuckin' friend!"
"I 'am' your friend," Aldo protested, looking genuinely hurt by this. He shook his head at once, staring mournfully at Rayne with those dark, Latin-Spaniel eyes.
