Read The Last Days of Rabbit Hayes for Free Online Page B

and stifled a yawn. ‘Well, now, truth be told, “Forever In Blue Jeans” is my favourite but “Delilah” is the crowd-pleaser,’ she chuckled a little to herself, ‘but while I’m being honest I don’t get half enough acclaim for my “Wonderwall”.’ She was joking: she knew she was bad but she didn’t care and Rabbit liked that about her.
    ‘I knew a singer once,’ Rabbit said.
    ‘Oh, yeah? Any good?’
    ‘He was amazing,’ Rabbit said. ‘He could have been the biggest star on the planet at one point.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘He let me go,’ Rabbit said.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Jacinta said, and clearly meant it.
    ‘Me too,’ Rabbit said, eyes closing.
Davey
    Davey was the first to leave the hospital. He found it too difficult to stay. He didn’t know what to do or say and it was easier to walk away. It was still early enough in the evening to meet up with the lads. Francie was working late, but Jay was around for a pint, if he was willing to make his way across the city. He picked up a cab outside the hospital and called him en route. Jay was subdued on the phone. He’d heard about Rabbit’s diagnosis, even though he’d moved to the mountains.
    ‘Me ma met Pauline in the shops,’ he said, by way of explanation. ‘I’m sick for you, man. In fact, I’m sick for us all.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘It’ll be good to see you, though.’ Jay hung up. It had been six months since Davey had been home and Jay had been on holiday with the family in Spain then so they’d missed one another. Davey realized it had been two years since they’d met.
    The taxi driver was quiet: he was listening to Talk Radio. The presenter was attempting to get a politician to answer a straight question, with little success. Every now and then, the driver would mumble to the radio: ‘Oh, it’s all right for you, you shower of bastards.’ Or ‘Where’s my petrol allowance? You sons of bitches.’ And ‘You can shove your property tax up your bleedin’ hole.’
    Davey didn’t engage with him. Instead he watched Dublin City pass him by. It was dusk and the pavements were filled with people in suits walking to their buses, cars and trains. Some were talking on their phones, some listening to their iPods, others walking in twos, chatting and laughing. One guy was singing to himself as he walked past the taxi, which was stuck at traffic lights. It was just a normal April evening in Dublin.
Life goes on
, Davey thought.
I’ve always hated that poxy saying.
    Jay was waiting for him in the pub. As soon as they spotted each other he stood up and greeted Davey with a bear hug, then ruffled his hair as they pulled apart.
    ‘Looking good, DB.’
    ‘Back at ya,’ Davey said. They sat on stools and Jay ordered two pints without asking Davey what he wanted. They clinked glasses and took a sup before either spoke again.
    ‘How’s she holding up?’ Jay asked.
    ‘You know Rabbit. She’s hanging in there.’
    ‘Sucks, man,’ Jay said.
    ‘That’s life.’
    ‘So I’m changing the subject,’ Jay said. ‘How’s life in the fast lane? Tell me something good because I’ve just spent the day engineering sound for a cartoon that consists of beeps and whistles.’
    ‘It’s the same old same old.’
    ‘That’s not good. I want something good.’
    ‘I live on a fucking bus.’
    ‘Still not good.’
    ‘I’m boring.’
    ‘Don’t make me punch you.’
    Davey took out his phone and pulled up a photo of a young blonde American beauty. ‘I’ve been seeing her, on and off.’
    ‘Oh, wow! What age is she?’
    ‘Twenty-five.’
    ‘A model?’
    ‘Aspiring actress.’
    ‘Who would have thought it? DB’s such a stud.’
    ‘Not me,’ Davey said.
    ‘Not any of us, the bleedin’ state of you. You like her?’
    ‘She’s nice but . . .’ Davey shook his head ‘. . . she’s not—’
    ‘Marjorie?’
    ‘Don’t start.’
    ‘She’s separated now. It’s been official for ages.’
    ‘Not