Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds

The night explodes with a flash of orange flame and the thunder of a gun. Stu lurches in the back seat and blood sprays from his forehead covering Peggy from waist to shoulder. She screams but Frankie hears nothing, his ears still ring from the shot. Behind him he hears someone yell, "No one fucks with the forty-niners!"

Then BLAM!!! Something hot and wet smashes against his head and he tumbles forward. He sees Lucy screaming, her eyes wide with terror, she reaches out for him then turns and runs. The dirt reaches up to him and folds him warmly into its black arms where he knows nothing.

There are lights. Flashing red and blue. Voices far away. Someone rolls him onto a stretcher and jolts him heavily. Pain flashes black spots in his vision but he sees through them into the headlight beam from his mustang. Lucy lies in the dirt with blood all down her legs and a gaping red hole where her face should be. He screams and reaches out but makes just a gurgling sound and bright white claims him.

"Stuart you cunt. You took it all away."

His reveries are interrupted by some awkward looking kids approaching.

"Hey old timer, giz a look at your rig." Some boys with their pants falling down swagger over to where Frankie stands. He's conscious of the gun in his hand so stuffs it out of sight in his belt under his shirt.

"Oh man, sweet old-school ride. What's it a 67 'stang?"

"64 half," Frankie eyes them suspiciously. They are too 'crowdy' of him while they mill about the vehicle.

"Oh right, pop the hood cousin, what block she run?"

"289." He makes no move to comply and the young man reaches in the car to look for a hood release. "Hey you mind?"

"What up pops? I just want to check your chrome."

"Yeah, well stay out of my car."

"Or what?" He faces up to Frankie and three of his friends take shape behind him. "No-one tells me what I do. I tell mother fuckers got it? I tell mother fuckers, motherfucker!"

He pulls a switchblade from his pocket and shiny steel glints in the streetlight.

"Keys fucker. Giz keys -- Now! 'Fore I carve you cunt."

Frankie shakes his head and pulls the gun from his belt. "Fuck off home little boys."

Blam, blam, blam! Three shots in the dirt at their feet spray gravel and dust up their legs. No more words are required. The kids vanish in a stampede of fluorescent coloured runners; comically clutching the waists of their pants as they try to run.

The smell of gunpowder takes him back. He's standing over Tommy 'Fingers' Thomson. Fingers sobs in pain as he dies and 'God of Thunder' by Kiss plays on the radio. As the song closes, he's still twitching despite the loss of blood from his groin so Frankie puts a bullet in his forehead.

Fingers was the last of the 49ers present that night. Five of them and their ladies, had been down by the levee when Stuart fought with Fingers over a thousand dollar drug debt. All five would now rest in concrete graves. It paid to have friends in the building industry.

"It's done baby, it's done," He says to Lucy wherever she has gone now.

'Bully' Molloy was standing next to him at the time. "I hope it is done Frankie, a man can lose himself in revenge. I'd soon see the lot of them dead but we need to stop now for our own soul's sake boy."

"Dad, I've got just one last thing. One of them took Lucy's engagement ring. It's ok if you don't want to be part of this. I know the club want to keep their distance."

"She was my daughter before she was your fiancée, I'll stand with you lad. I'll not ask the club to be involved though, they'll back me taking out my daughters killers but this bit is personal."

He took two five-pound ball pein hammers and put them up his sleeves handle first. Three of the bikers wrapped Fingers in plastic and loaded him in a pick-up.

"We'll take your mustang, boy."

"She'd like that."

Down on 49th Street the clubhouse is in full swing. A band plays cover songs as poorly as they do loudly and the sounds of partying echoes in the alley where they park the mustang. Frankie takes a tyre iron from the boot and thrusts it in the back of his jeans. Two giants stand like gargoyles either side of a steel plate door and greet them as they approach.

"Well here we go, Paddy and Mario out for a stroll. You keep on walking boys."

In an instant, the two hammers drop from Michael Molloy's sleeve and into his hands. The smart mouthed giants jaw collapses in a shower of teeth and blood as the steel hammer head clips his chin and the other man reaches for his back. Frankie hits him baseball style with the tyre iron and opens a four-inch gash along his temple. The two giants crumple onto the concrete pavement holding their unfired guns. The steel door opens with keys from the first man's belt chain.

The band is crucifying "Calling Doctor Love" as they step into the clubhouse. Frankie can see Ramone, the president sitting at a long table with his usual crew and beelines toward them. Ramone places an Uzi machine pistol on the table in front of him. It will be the only firearm in the clubhouse. They have a 'strict no guns inside' rule.

Two men rise from off to the side and stride toward the intruders. Mr Molloy says, "I got your six lad."

The first man looks at Frankie and charges. Frankie steps sideways and brings the iron down hard on the man's knee. He screams and drops to the floor. The second man stops and looks over his shoulder for support. The band has stopped playing and most of the men present have stood up. Ramone nods to two more men and they start towards Frankie who ducks a chair swung at his head and returns a tyre iron to a waiting crotch.

A man with a gaudy red leather jacket jumps unbidden from a nearby table and Bully Molloy catches him in the stomach with one hammer and a second hammer taps him almost gently on the back of the head and sends him to the floor asleep. Frankie is dealing with two men, the shorter of which throws a spinning kick at him. He catches the flying foot and smashes the other shin with his tyre iron. An audible crack precedes a whimpered scream as the man collapses on his broken leg. The taller man has managed to get an arm around Frankie's neck and is attempting to choke him.

"Stand still lad. Hold a wee moment." Crack! The sound of metal striking skull is sickening but the thump as his attacker hits the floor is welcome.

Ramone stands as they approach his table and watches as the duo fend off four more of his men. He waves his arms for silence and call to Frankie.

"What do you want greaser?" He raises his Uzi in one hand as a signal that the fighting has finished and the shooting will start if they come any closer. "I should shoot you and this old man where you stand. You've killed four of my men."

"Five."

"Five?"

"Fingers."

"Fuck."

"I'm done killing."

"Way I see it, you shouldn't have started. That boy of yours got what was coming. No one fucks with the 49ers. You come on down the bay stabbing my brothers and expect what?"

"Hmm. Stuart... He shouldn't have done that. He was fucked up on that shit your boys were selling him. But what they did to Peggy and Lucy. That was evil..." He hangs his head remembering. "They've paid now in any case."

"So what are you here for. You coming for me? Cause that's suicide grease monkey."

"One of them took Lucy's engagement ring. I want it back."

"What? Motherfucker you are insane. I don't know what happened to your old ladies ring."

"Then I'm gonna keep killing 49ers till I find it."

"Bitch, you are confusing ambition and capability. Only one of us got a gun."

"You'd think so wouldn't you? You'd think those apes at the door would frisk people." Frankie pulls the .44 from his belt and lets it hang by his side.

"Now I can count Ramone. I got six bullets and you got thirty. But see, I don't gotta kill lots of dudes to find that ring. I just gotta keep this little thing pointed straight at you." Frankie raises the .44 and aims, "If a single man moves toward me I'm gonna take all six shots at you. Sure enough, you could start shooting and kill me, but I guarantee I'll have six holes in you before I hit the floor."

"Hahahaha, My boys," he waves his arms "move in front me. Do it. Protect your president."

"Fuck that."

"Nah, nigger you on your own."

"Disloyal group of friends you keep Ramone. Now... My fiancées ring."

He slumps back in his chair. "Fuck this shit. You're fucken crazy greaser." He thinks for some time then stands again and loudly addresses the clubhouse like he is giving an election speech.

"Well... I'm motherfucken disappointed! Two dudes, a tall skinny pizza eating motherfucker and an orangatang armed, hammer swinging ginger paddy come right in my house, fuck up all my people and threaten me with a gun. Jesus! That's some fucken testicles. But truth is, I aint got a fucken single fucken clue where that motherfucken ring is. Please..." he bows with a flourish, "Allow me to make some discreet inquiries..."

Standing, he flamboyantly makes his way along the table to a crying Asian girl. "Now this here is Susie. She is... was... Fingers ole lady. Susie, have you seen this gentleman's ring?"

"Fuck off you spaghetti eating cunt!" She screams at Frankie.

"Now that's hardly polite to our visitors."

He takes her hand and forces her fingers unclamped. "Oh, now this is pretty. Did Fingers give it to you?"

"He asked me to marry him." She sobs some more.

"Well he's dead now bitch. Give it ring here."

"No! It's mine. It's all I got left from him now."

"Well aint that some ironic serendipitous bullshit? Seein' how he stole it off this man's lady after he killed her. Give it."

"No! Fuck off."

"One more time, please give me this gentleman's ring so that I can return it to him and avoid any further unpleasantness in our clubhouse."

"Fuck you!"

Slap! As Susie recoils from the blow, he nods to two men at the table and they rise and restrain her.

Ramone addresses all present, "The good lord giveth and the good lord taketh away. He says, 'do unto your brother the same as you don't mind getting fucked up when the karma bus comes round'. Eye for and eye and that shit. He does NOT say, if a man stabs your friend, fuck up all his friends and do evil shit to his bitches."

"Sure enough... Fuck that man up. That's righteous. But don't go killing all them motherfuckers and then bitching cause other motherfuckers get all vengeful and shit. This greaser here probably would have left it all alone if you dumb fucks had just found that fuckwit Stuart and stabbed him later. That's justice."

"The 49ers are all about justice. We're not gang banging dumbarse motherfuckers drawing down heat from bikers. That's right 'Bully' Molloy. I know you. I know you connected... and thankyou for not bringing your associates into my house. But Fingers crew got all uppity cause he got poked with a little knife and started some shit and look where it ends. These men kill all those boys and then come in here, fuck up ten of my men and pull a gun on me. You soft cunts can't even stop an old Irish biker and an Italian mechanic."

"So I say this. These two men are examples for you cowering cunts. They are welcome to walk in here and sit at my table and eat my food and drink my wine like Jesus friends did back in the day. They are my new favourite people. Hell, they can fuck your women too, I bet they better at that than all of you as well. Now on, aint no one touches my two new friends or any of their friends. We clear?"

The silence is tangible.

"Are we fucking clear?"

"Clear boss." Choruses through the room.

"Good, now this ring." He stretches out Susies hand on the table holding down her fingers with one arm.

"The good lord says, 'if your hand causes you to sin..." In a flash he takes a large knife from behind his back and strikes it through her knuckle into the table where it quivers alongside her severed finger.

"I believe this is yours Frankie Tuscally." He holds out the severed finger and Lucy's ring.

"Thankyou." Frankie pockets the grizzly prize.

"Now, would you gentlemen care for whiskey and music or?" he gestures around the clubhouse, "do you have more pressing engagements?"

"I believe we're done here."

Susie's screams are swallowed by the cacophony of the band striking up as the two men leave.

He's holding the necklace he wears with the ring on it as he walks along the levee out toward the beacon where the river meets the bay. Once this would have been crowded with cars and people and music would have been playing. Now it's all gated off to prevent vehicle access. Some kids have a bonfire built on the beach down below and he sits on the rock wall and watches them while he lights another cigarette.

They look like college kids. It was always the college kids on the beach with the fires and the rollers up here on the levee with their cars.

"Tell me about college daddy-o."

"All work no play baby, all work no play. You got your head down in them books all through the year. No time for nothing else. Keeps you outta trouble though. Until summer. Then you get down there on the beach and find all the trouble you been missing out on."

"You ever get in any trouble back then?"

"Not too much baby, not too much."

"So why don't you do that thing you learned Daddy, that farmer thing."

"Pharmacy baby, It's just selling drugs with labels. I guess I do a bit still for your father, just without the labels."

"No seriously Frankie, it would be a good life for our family. Good money for the children's educations. You could sell the garage and get out of the family business. You could keep it clean and above the table. I could be a Pharmacy's wife."

"Pharmacist baby, pharmacist."

"Yeah one of them things."

"I like my life baby. I like working on the cars. I like working with your Dad. I like the smell of the garage, the sound of the tools. Fixing things that are broken. It's simple and good. It won't make us rich but it feeds us and we're careful, so there's always a little to put away."

"I like my life too daddy, I just wonder sometimes what it's like in the suburbs."

"Maybe one day baby, one day."

"Sure is hot tonight daddy-o, want to come for a swim?" Clothes shed from her almost of their own accord, weighting the question unfairly toward the positive.

They pick their way down the rocks to the beach below. She laughs as she runs naked to the water. It's like a living thing in your ear. A music that dances in your heart. He spends half his life working out ways to make her laugh just so he can hear it again. He strips too and chases her to the water.

It's breath-takingly cold as he dives in. Coming up just in front of her, she reaches for him and shivers in his arms.

"Who's stupid idea was sw-swimming d-daddy?" she chatters doll like in his arms.

He carries her to the beach and they sit naked on the white sand and cuddle waiting for the night air to return some warmth to their bones.

"You know what eskimos do when they are cold?"

"No baby, no..."

She climbs onto his lap and puts her arms around his neck.

"I'm getting a bit of an idea though."

"Hmmm..." She wriggles back and forth on his hardening cock. She's wet already and he grows up into her and is only just fully hard as she has her first orgasm. Her breasts mash into his stubbly face as she shudders on him and cold sea water licks his balls. "Oh daddy of mine, that's just divine. I feel warmer already."

"I'm a little worried maybe a crab is gonna run off with one of my balls. Maybe we should head up to the car."

"Not yet daddy." She moves again on top of him rocking back and forth on his pubic bone, pushing his cock in small infuriating strokes almost to orgasm but not quite. "oh yeah, oh fuck, oh daddy..."

"Gonna have to get this sand off us."

"Soon daddy-ohhh oh god yes!" She clamps down on him and stiffens in his arms.

Cold water splashes his balls again. He scoops her up and still inside her walks to the waiting waves. He deliberately exaggerates the movement of his strides to move his cock inside her. Bouncing her as he walks, the water takes his ankles, then his calves, then his thighs and as a wave crashes on her back and all around him he comes inside her with the oceans surge. They tumble under the water and hold close together while he spurts deep within her.

They surface laughing. The wave has carried them into shallow water where he sits while she climbs off and washes sand and seaweed from her limbs. She throws seaweed at him, "Now I'm all cold again. You're so mean daddy-o. Go get my clothes."

"No baby, no clothes for you. I like you better without them."

"Quick, there's people coming. I can see someone's cigarette."

He laughs and fetches her things from the rocks and shaking them off hands them to her. They've just about finished dressing when Peggy steps from the shadows.

"Oh dear, looky here... nudists..."

"Fuck off Peggy, I'm surprised we have two children - you keep interrupting all the time."

"Fuck off yourself Strawbs. How long does a girl need?"

"Well it wasn't put there to sit on."

"She so cute when she gets all red-head cranky Frankie."

"Where's Stu Pegs?"

"Oh off somewhere looking to score."

"There's plenty of coke in the car honey."

"He don't like that, says it's all done too quick."

"Other shit is dangerous Pegs, that's why it's cheap."

"I know, I know already."

They walk back toward the rocks and the mustang up on the levee. Peggy leads the way chattering and Lucy leans in closely, "Hey daddy-o..."

"Yeah baby."

"You're gonna be a daddy again."

"Fuck off, we only just did it, how'd you know already?"

"I knew a few weeks ago."

"Serious?"

"I never need to lie to you."

"Whoo!" he pulls her close and lifts her off her feet. "I love you baby, love you to the stars."

"You send me there daddy-o." They are in that place where it's just them and the stars and in ironic coincidence, they are just arriving back at the car when "Lucy in the sky with diamonds" comes on the radio.

"Turn that up daddy. That's my jive."

He turns up the radio and watches the girls dance. Lucy holds Peggy's hand as she twirls under her arm and they laugh while they dance.

"So Strawbs have you guys set a date?"

This time he stops the recollection there, where it's still a happy one.

He stands and knows his night is done. Those days, those people are all gone. A faint chill carries on the bay breeze with their memories. The smell of fresh mown lawns laden with dew licks his neck and arms. He puts his hands in his pockets and stalks back to the one girl that stayed with him through his life.

She mumbles dirty things in his ears as he idles out of the parking lot back onto the esplanade and makes his way home. She tells him stories of all the good times in the back seat, all the laughter and dancing, all the smiles and cheek. By the time the garage door rolls up and he pokes the mustang into the driveway he's smiling from ear to ear.

She looks at him from the passenger side, "Later daddy-o."

"I'll see you in the stars baby, in the sky with diamonds."