Page 71 of Red's Peril: Part 1

He glances up, examines me carefully for a moment, before chuckling and raising his chin. “VP. You’ve got a bit more colour than you had earlier.”

“Yeah. It was a good night.” I grin back.

“That it was.” He leans back in his chair, linking his hands behind his head. “So, you and me.” He waves his hand between us as he wastes no time getting down to the matter at hand.

Our new partnership. “I’ve got your back, Prez.”

“Never doubted it for a fuckin’ minute, Brother. And before you ask, I had no hand in how the votes played out. Drummer did Vegas a solid when he sent you to us. He fuckin’ knew what he was doing.”

I frown. “He couldn’t have predicted how things would play out.” Unless he’d a crystal ball that I’d not been party to.

Brick nods. “Yeah, no one could have foreseen Rainman’s death.” He grimaces slightly. “Though you did try and warn me.”

I had. But what’s the point of rehashing things now? Shrugging, I tell him, “I didn’t envisage it would play out to that extent.”

“I think you did,” Brick challenges, and levels me with a gaze that’s not quite as effective as Drummer’s but chilling all the same. “You tried to tell me, I didn’t listen. I was too quick to dismiss those pricks.”

“No one blames you, Prez. You’ve known Ringo far longer.” Though I do think it’s his fault, what’s the point of making him feel worse? Sure, he could have done something to prevent it, but nothing’s going to bring Rainman back. And now I’m his second, I can speak more forcibly when I don’t think things are right.

“Which means I should have known.” No longer looking relaxed, he leans forward, his fist meeting the table, making paperwork on it jump. He then wipes both hands against his cheeks, pulling at his skin and drawing down his eyes which I can see are tinged with red.

He looks tired.

A wave of sympathy goes through me. Well, I’m here now to share the weight. “What do you need me to do, Prez? I mean, I get I’ll take on what Rainman was doing, but what more do you want me to do to help?”

He shakes his head. “Straight to the fuckin’ crux of the matter,” he mumbles, half to himself. “There’s no beating around the bush with you, is there, Red? And no hiding that I’ve not been myself.”

“Prez—” I go to deny it, but he holds up his hand.

“You ask me what I need you to do, Red? I’ll be straight with you. This isn’t going to work if there are secrets between us.” He pauses, takes a deep breath, then announces, “I need you to learn how to run this fuckin’ club.”

My head dips and rises. “Sure, that’s the VP’s job. To back you up and act on your behalf when necessary.”

Brick’s lips open, but before he can speak, he’s overcome with a coughing fit. Taking a handkerchief out of his pocket, he holds it over his mouth. It takes him more than a minute to get himself together. When he finishes, he’s flushed and breathing heavily. Instead of speaking again, he takes out his cigarettes, lights one, then slides the pack toward me.

“Should you even be smoking?” I ask, taking one, placing it in my mouth, then leaning forward to accept a light.

He gives a nonchalant shrug. “Won’t make no difference whether I do or do not. Which brings me to the conversation we need to be having.”

I start to get a bad feeling in my gut. Brick’s got health problems, no one needs to tell me that. Apart from his coughing, there were those tablets he’d swallowed when I walked in. At least he’s on medication.

Jumping to a conclusion, I take a drag on my cigarette, then state, “You’re ill. You need me to step up for you? Just tell me what to do and I’m there.”

The smoke, strangely, seems to have calmed his lungs, at least for now. He takes a deep breath, shudders as he lets it out, then states, “I trust you, Red. What I’m going to tell you is just between us for now. I got your word on that?”

“You’ve got my word.” He doesn’t need to ask me. I suspect there’s quite a lot that needs to be kept tight between VP and Prez.

“Rosa knows. No one else. Not even the kids.” He pauses, but realising it’s more to gather his thoughts than expecting me to say something, I stay silent. I’m rewarded when a few seconds later he resumes. “Not going to pretty it up. I’ve got lung cancer.”

I’m a problem solver. “Right. Give up the smokes for a start. Hell, I’ll be right behind you.” I stub out my half-smoked cigarette to make the point. “You need time off for treatment? Then I’ll step right up—”

“Whoa, there, Brother.” Brick stops my flow. He grimaces. “I’ve been a fuckin’ fool, or maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but I ignored the signs. Brushed it off as a smoker’s cough. Rosa,” another pause as his face softens, “Rosa finally got her way and pushed me to see a doc. Seems I left it too late, it’s already spread. I’ve only got a few months.”

I draw in a breath and hold it, trying to compute what I’m being told. I’d come here expecting to talk about our long-term partnership, and he’s hitting me with the suggestion our time working together will be short. “Jeez, Brick. I don’t—”

“There’s nothing to say. It is what it is.” Brick stares at me. I take that moment to examine him closely. Now I’m really looking at him, now his flush is fading, his skin’s not only pale, it looks grey. But his eyes are still sharp as they focus on me. “I’m going to die in harness. I’m not going to give up and fade away. I’ll stay in this chair as long as the Devil lets me.”

I’ll be beside him all the way. “I’ll do whatever I can.”

---