Holding On To You (15 page)

'Shame to waste it', Matt whispers, before reluctantly readjusting the framing.

'In your own time', the floor manager says.

'As long as it's now', the director says to himself.

Alexis stares through the barrel of the camera. She rubs tears away from her eyes with the palm of her hand.

'My name is Alexis Carver', she says. 'I'm Maddy Parker's best friend, and I have a message for the person that took her.'

'What if Maddy sees this, and not the robber?', the director asks. 'She's going to wonder who the fuck this woman is.'

'That's not our problem', the producer says. 'The police pay, we film it and broadcast it.'

'And if it comes out that we've lied? That we've got an actress in here', the director says. 'I don't want to get into trouble over this.'

'Actress is pretty strong', Tina says.

'Nobody will give a shit if it gets her back', the producer says.

'Nobody gives a shit anyway', Matt whispers.

'Please bring her back home', Alexis continues, her performance on the hammy side of theatrical. 'I know you're a good person really, and I know you probably feel just as scared and alone as she does. Please think about Maddy. Please think about what you're doing to her. Think about her family, and her friends and her life, her life that you are busy now ruining for her. She didn't ask to be taken, so all I'm asking now is for you to do the decent thing and give her up. Please give her up. Please bring Maddy back home.'

Alexis breaks down into tears again, her shoulders shaking as she gasps heavily. Half a minute later she looks up, her face back to normal.

'Do you need more?' Alexis asks.

'What do you think?' the director asks the producer, his hand covering the mic. 'I can cut a promo out of the crying, and a longer piece with the entire message. We've got her for a bit longer though, you want to try and do some questions?'

'Do you think she can handle it?' the producer asks.

'Might as well give it a go, that wasn't too bad after all.', the director says, shrugging his shoulders.

'Sometimes I wonder how you ever made it up there with judgement like that', Matt says.

'By being right', the director says. 'Soapy is exactly what people want. That's a rating's winning performance right there.'

'Her tits might bring in the punters, but her performance won't', Matt says sarcastically.

'Tina?' the producer says.

'I know', she responds, 'I'm already on it.'

'Keep it light. Don't give her too much she can fuck up on. Just talk about their history and some emotive bollocks about what makes them friends. How much of a good person Maddy is. Blah, blah, blah. You know, make her sound normal and likeable.'

'Nothing like she is then', Tina says.

'Well it wouldn't be TV if we didn't make people into who they weren't', the producer says.

'Welcome to the dream factory', Matt says, the lens of his camera once again zooming in and out of Alexis's well proportioned cleavage.

There is an artist's sketched picture of a man in a balaclava with a cigarette in his mouth, at the centre of a large map of the city of Albuquerque, the New Mexico desert and the surrounding area, all of which have been pinned to a moveable white board next to Garland's desk. Mugshots of the dead robbers occupy one corner, while red lines connect each one of them to a list of various names, some of which have been crossed off already. On the other side of the board, there is a photo of Buck Tavern, with a big question mark next to it, and a similar list of names of business associates and family members underneath. Half way down, is the name River Woods.

Garland clicks off his computer, pushes the white board into the corner of the room, and goes to find Frank. He is, unsurprisingly, still at his desk, working his way through the bottle of scotch.

'They're going to run the appeal on the ten o'clock bulletin', Garland says. 'I have a copy if you'd like to see it?'

'Have you watched it?' Frank asks.

'Yes', Garland says. 'She's not exactly Audrey Hepburn, but it works.'

'So where are we Garland? Someone robs a bank in our city and turns into a ghost. But before that, he rubs our faces in it. We've had no sightings and so far none of the stolen cars have turned up with him in it.'

'There are still two to find', Garland says optimistically.

'He could be on foot for all we know. He could even be right here in the city and we wouldn't have a clue.'

Frank sips at his whiskey, wincing as the poor quality scotch burns all the way down to his partially eroded stomach.

'He'll show up', Garland says even though he thinks otherwise. 'This is America, after all, nobody disappears for long. Especially someone with a hostage. He'll make a mistake somewhere along the line, and then we'll be there to catch him.'

'You really think that?' Frank says, hopefully.

'Absolutely sir, you taught me so', Garland lies.

'Sit down Garland, have a drink with me.'

'I can't sir, I have to get back home. My wife. Maybe when we catch him', he says.

'I guess I don't have the same commitments', Frank says.

'I got prints from the car', Garland says keen to raise Frank's spirits. 'The lab will get the results back to us tomorrow. If he's in the system we'll have a name.'

'That's good work Garland.'

'Go home sir', Garland says. 'There isn't anything else we can do here today.'

'There isn't anything else I can do there either', Frank says.

'Goodnight sir', Garland says, and makes his way back out.

Frank sighs heavily, picks up the appeal tape recording that Garland has left for him, and dumps it straight into the bin. He fills his mug again, and puts the scotch bottle back into the top drawer of his desk, where it sits on top of the photo of his wife and two children, that once used to take pride of place on his wall.

River leads Maddy across a crowded dance floor, towards the bar. This is definitely not the kind of place Maddy would normally ever find herself in, and the lecherous looks and occasional wolf whistles from the mostly male clientèle is making her skin crawl. In the corner, a heavy metal band thrashes out a tuneless wall of noise so offensive to Maddy's ears, it makes her want to throw up.

'Can't we go somewhere else?' Maddy shouts into River's ear.

'There isn't anywhere else to go', River says. 'Now what do you want to drink?'

'Water', Maddy shouts to him.

While River shouts the order across to the barman, Maddy keeps as close as she can to him, not because she thinks he'll shoot her if she doesn't, but that she feels safer with him than she does alone.

When River turns back, he has two beers in his hand, one of which he gives to Maddy.

'They don't have water that's safe enough to drink', he says, and leads her by the hand to a table in the far corner, far enough away from the music that they can talk to each other.

The place is full of drunks and old men dressed in leather. The only women she can see either seem to be waiting tables, or gyrating like crazy on the dance floor.

'You look like you've got your eyes on stalks', River says.

'Are we safe in here?' Maddy says, her eyes as big as dinner plates, taking in everything around her. It seems pretty much like everyone is taking her in too.

'Are you seriously asking me that question?' River says.

'Everyone is looking at me strangely', Maddy says.

'You mean to tell me you've never had people look at you like that before?'

'I've never been somewhere like this, for them to look at me like that', Maddy says.

'You're something else, you know that', River says, and smiles.

'Is that meant to make me feel better?'

'Look, if anyone has a problem, I've got a solution',  he says and indicates the gun that sits ready, tucked into his jeans at the small of his back. 'We won't need it though, I can promise you that. This may look like a rough bar to you, but believe me, it aint.'

Maddy politely sips her beer. She can't stop looking around her, and it's making River smile. He takes the pre-rolled cigarette from behind his ear, sparks it up and relaxes into the well beaten leather backing of the bench he's sat on.

'What did you want to be when you grew up Maddy?' River asks her.

'Is that what you normally ask girls on a first date?'

'We're not on a date remember', River says.

'In that case, I didn't get a choice', Maddy says.

'What do you mean you didn't get a choice? Everyone gets a choice of what they want to be, even if it never happens. Nobody chooses your dreams for you.'

'Somebody chose mine. My father to be exact. From as young as I can remember, he knew what I was going to do.' Maddy says.

'And what did
you
want to do?'

'I don't know, make him happy, I guess', she says sadly. 'Don't we all want to make our father's happy?'

'I couldn't give a rat's ass about my father's happiness. He never cared about mine', River says.

'I bet you did once though.'

'I wouldn't count on it', River says. 'Just thinking about him puts a bad taste in my mouth.'

'What did you want to be when you grew up?' Maddy says, turning the conversation around.

'I wanted to work with animals. Horses maybe', River says, and Maddy nearly spits out her beer.

'Something funny about that Princess?' River says.

'I just didn't see it, that's all', Maddy says. 'You don't look like the type.'

'What type do I look like then?' River says, intrigued.

'I don't know', Maddy says, 'maybe a movie star. You're cocky enough for it.'

'Are you making jokes again?'

'I'm trying', Maddy says.

'You've obviously never seen a cocky horse wrangler before', River says.

'Not yet I haven't', Maddy says.

At the bar, a fight breaks out, and the noise takes Maddy's attention away for moment. She watches someone throw a punch, collect one back in his gut, and then both of them get bundled outside by a bouncer as wide as a door.

'Why horses?' Maddy says, looking back at River again when the bar has calmed down.

'Because I aint never had a better friend than a horse', River says.

'That's sad', Maddy says genuinely.

'No it isn't. The sad part was when he died.'

River takes a slug of his beer, and smoothes the ash off the cherry of his cigarette.

'How did that happen?' Maddy asks.

'You really want to know?'

'If you don't mind telling me.'

'I've never told anybody else this story in my whole life', River says.

'What's better than starting with a stranger?' Maddy says diplomatically.

'We've got to trade. I'll tell you my secret, if you tell me one of yours.'

'I haven't got any', Maddy says.

'You and I both know that that's not true', River says.

'Alright', Maddy says. 'I'll tell you a secret that no-one else knows.'

River takes another slug of his beer, looks around to make sure no-one is looking, clears his throat and leans in towards Maddy. It is the most uncomfortable, unsure of himself, she remembers ever seeing him.

'I didn't have any friends when I was a kid', he says. 'My brothers were older than me by eight and eleven years, and when I was growing up they didn't want to be anywhere near me. I wasn't cool. I had buck teeth, big ears and a bad haircut, and believe it or not, I was never as stylish then as I am now. My parents didn't have much money, and what they did have, my dad spent on alcohol. Needless to say there wasn't much left over to pay for a haircut or a decent outfit for a mistake like me to knock about in. My dad made sure I knew about that too, about how they'd be alright if I hadn't have come along out of the blue to ruin it. Anyway, one day I was out walking the trail that runs round the back of our shitty parcel of land, crying for some reason or another about some shit that he'd said or done to me, and I found this horse just standing there in the middle of the grass minding his own business like some sort of ghost. I'd never seen him before, and I couldn't for the life of me work out where he'd come from. There was a farmhouse about two miles away, but he definitely wasn't from there, and he didn't seem to belong to anybody else as far as I could tell. It seemed like he'd come on his own and didn't have anybody else to answer to. I liked that. I must have been about nine years old, and I just stopped in the middle of the trail and stared at this big old beast with my mouth open in amazement, while he stared right back at me, black as the night, with a white streak across his belly and eyes like rocks of coal. Lightning I called him because of that streak, and I thought he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen in my life. Probably that I ever would see. Every day that summer I'd follow the trail, and every day without fail, Lightning would be there waiting for me. I rode him too, even though I had no idea what the hell I was doing, not that that bothered either of us. It took me a while to get up on him, standing first on the side of a fence, but when I was up, it was like we'd been riding together for years. I didn't fall off once. I spent the whole summer hanging out with him, telling him about my shitty life and sharing all of my stupid problems with him, and that horse just lapped it all up like it meant nothing. Like he was put on this earth just to listen to me and be my friend. He never once told me I was a piece of shit or beat me to the ground for just being there, he just looked at me with his big beautiful mud black eyes and told me without saying it that he understood the pain I was going through, and what's more he'd get me through it. I spent more time with that horse that summer than anyone else I ever have in my whole life since, and just for a while he made my life alright. He came to me right when I needed a friend, and then went right out again, just like that.'

River takes a pull of his cigarette and a slug of beer.

'He left?' Maddy says.

'He didn't leave. My dad shot him.'

Maddy doesn't know what to say. River continues.

'One day I went up to the trail, and he was just lying there in the grass bleeding from this big shotgun wound in his gut. I ran to him, and he was still alive when I got there, but there was nothing I could do. I couldn't save him. I just held his head and stroked his nose and watched the life go right on out of his eyes. For all the shit that happened to me, that was the saddest thing I ever saw. A beautiful animal dying right there in front of me whose only crime was making a nine year old boy happy for the first time in his pitiful, sorry excuse for a life.'

'Oh my god, that's awful. I'm so sorry', Maddy says.

'Yeah, so was I. Nobody has ever loved me like Lighting did, and I don't think I've ever been close to loving anyone like I did him. That experience kind of fucked up my perspective on things.'

'Why did your dad shoot him?'

River pauses a moment before he answers. Customers pass the table and the music goes on.

'Because the horse made me happy, and he couldn't.' River says eventually. 'How fucked up is that?'

River finishes the last pull of his cigarette and turns it into dust in the ashtray, pressing it much harder than necessary to put it out. They sit in silence for a while as the story sinks in. The first time for Maddy and another time remembering the horror of it for River. After a while River gets up.

'I'm getting a beer', he says. 'You want one?'

Maddy still has beer in her bottle, but she nods anyway, because she thinks she should.

When River comes back from the bar, he puts the new bottles on the table.

'You know', he says. 'I feel like dancing. You want to dance with me?'

'I don't know how', Maddy says.

'Then we can learn together', River says and takes her arm.

'What about the beers?' Maddy asks. 'And my secret?'

'They'll wait', River says, and leads Maddy to the dance floor.

If anything, the music has become even more intense. There are several people on what would normally just be the space in between the bar and the tables, throwing their bodies around without any perceivable order or rhythm. It looks more like fitting than dancing, and Maddy begins to have doubts. She pulls River's arm back and it jerks him out of his stride.

'What's wrong Princess?' he asks her.

'I can't dance like that', she says.

'That isn't dancing', River says, 'and we're not going to do it like that anyway.'

'How are we going to do it?' Maddy says, a little scared of the chaos going on all around her. She's tightened up, and River can tell.

'Like this', he says, and pulls her towards his chest. He puts one arm around her waist, and holds her hand with his, so they look like they're about to tango.

'Loosen up', River says.

'I don't know what I'm doing', Maddy says.

'You think anyone in the world knows what they're doing when they dance?'

'Yes', Maddy says. 'Most people.'

'Well forgot all about those people, because they're the ones that aint having any fun', River says.

River begins to move her slowly, letting his own rhythm run through his body. They are the only two people on the dance floor, perhaps in the history of dance itself, attempting to slow dance to thrash metal, and it's getting people's attention.

'People are looking at us', Maddy says.

'Let them look', River says. 'Don't worry about them. Close your eyes if you have to.'