"Rockin!" Season II/Episode III
2006-02-01, 5:38 a.m.

Zon walked back to the car with a heavy heart. She really didn’t want to believe what Mystic had said, but what would be the point in her lying?

She would need to think about this one. She couldn’t just rush in and accuse a man of being a drug pusher when he was lying ill in a hospital bed.

She just wasn’t sure what to think. I mean drug pushers were scum, weren’t they? Would a scumbag really attempt to save the lives of himself and his colleagues by leaping forward to stop a man with a gun from killing a room full of people?

Tiredly, she drove back to the office to try to restore some sense of normality.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hey you.” Dandy entered Smash’s room and sat down, next to his bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Bleargh,” Smash grinned. “Ah, not too bad, considering. Very tired, though.”

“I can go if you want to sleep.”

“No, it’s cool. Stay. I’m going loopy, lying here all by myself.”

“Typical. We get together and you have to go and get yourself shot.”

“We what?” Smash looked confused.

“Y-you don’t remember? The sandwich shop, lunchtime on Friday?” Dandy stammered, fear clutching at her stomach.

“What happened?” Smash looked earnestly at her.

“Oh, nothing…” Dandy trailed away, sadly.

“Oh!” Smash exclaimed, “You mean where we snogged the lips off of each other in full view of everyone?” He grinned cheekily at her.

“You bastard! I ought to…”

“Hey now! I’m ill remember. No smacking the patient.” Smash grinned at Dandy and she grinned back, instantly forgetting to be angry with him. “Of course I remember. I’ve been waiting for you to come in and see me. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do much for a while though. The doctor says I’ll need a few weeks off from work, so I’m going to Mum and Dad’s for some tender loving care.”

“It’s okay, I understand.” Dandy looked crestfallen.

“But you can come over and visit, if you don’t mind the drive. I mean, you don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he added.

“Of course I want to, you fool!” Dandy smiled. “I can think of nothing I would rather do.”

“Cool, babe. Hey, you couldn’t do me a favour could you, next time you come in?”

“Of course. What?”

“Bring me in some smokes. I’m gagging here, and I bet they won’t be letting me up and about anytime soon, so I’ll have to have a sly one when they’re not looking.”

“Smash, you shouldn’t!”

“Aww, please. I’ll be careful.”

“Oh, alright,” Dandy sighed, resignedly.

“And some beer?”

“No!”

“Spoilsport.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“You did what?” Candoor was incredulous.

“I had to tell Hubbyman,” Barista protested, “He knew something was going on, and we could hardly keep it a secret. But I’ve told him it’s over. I’m going back to him, and we’re going to try to work things out.”

Candoor snorted. “You remember telling me how unhappy you were? Do you really think things are going to change between you just because he nearly got himself killed? You’re a fool if you think life is going to suddenly become rosy and wonderful just because of what happened. This isn’t a bloody film where we all get the happy ending you know. A month, two months, ten months from now you’ll be just as bored and unfulfilled as you were last week. And then you’ll be looking for something better. Something better, like what we had… what we have. ” Candoor tried to keep the desperation out of his voice.

Barista wavered. Despite the abruptness of his point, she knew Candoor was right. Would things ever improve between her and Hubbyman? She wasn’t even sure what had got wrong, so how could she go about setting it right? He reached out to her, and after a moments hesitation, she flung herself into his arms, where they kissed, passionately.

“You know, when Hub gets out of hospital, he’s going to come looking for us, for you, you know,” Barista looked at him, worriedly.

Candoor kissed her on the top of her head and smiled to himself. “Don’t worry, my darling,” he soothed. “I’m sure I can take care of it.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“I’m sorry, Damien, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it tonight. There are a few things here I could do with sorting out. It’s going to be a busy week ahead,” Zon yawned. She was tired.

“Oh. Well, how about I pop over and see you on the weekend? I could come over and cook for you.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Zon smiled. “Can I let you know nearer the time, say on Thursday?”

“Yes. Of course.” Zon didn’t quite catch the note of annoyance in his voice.

“Excellent. Take care, Damien, speak to you soon.”

“Goodbye, Zon.” Damien put the phone down and banged the desk in annoyance.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“So, Mystic,” Criminal smiled, “how are you getting on?”

“I hate it here, I want to leave.” Mystic attempted to look as if she were about to burst into tears, though in reality she just felt drained and unable to do even that to further her cause.

“Good, good.” The smile remained intact (and sincere) on Criminal’s face.

“Good?” This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, thought Mystic.

“Well yes,” that smile again, “it wouldn’t be much good if you loved it and wanted to stay forever now, would it?”

“Look, you don’t understand, this has all been a terrible mistake. Okay, look so I took a few lines of coke and really shouldn’t have, but I won’t do it again.”

“No point in promising me, Mystic, it’s yourself you should be making the promises to. And besides, we know your problem runs deeper than that. You admitted that to us yourself on your first day here.” Criminal looked at Mystic sympathetically.

“Look, fuck that crap. I want out of here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” Mystic felt the anger rise in her chest. “I’m leaving, right now.”

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear.”

“Says who?” Mystic was defiant.

“Says this, for a start.” Criminal waved a piece of paper at her. “When you arrived, you signed this contract that said you would agree to stay here for six weeks. And stay here is exactly what you will do. If you try leaving – and let’s face it you’ve got very little hope of getting past the guards and over the gates – we’ll simply get an injunction to bring you straight back. You might as well just stay here and get well, and then leave freely – and cleanly, I might add – in six weeks time.”

“You fucking smug, arrogant, pretentious bitch!” Mystic flung at her, as she flounced out of Criminal’s office.

“Goodbye, dear.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Holding the fort in the office was, Smed realised, a far harder task then he’d imagined. He didn’t understand how Smash had done it for so long. And he thought Smash just sat around all day smoking and chatting up the girls.

Thinking of girls made Smed immediately think of Tart. His heart stopped as he thought of her lying in that hospital bed, looking so weak and feeble, and all because he hadn’t been honest with her.

In a moment of honesty, he realised how badly he had treated Anita, and his daughter, Katherine. He knew he could never feel for Anita what he felt for Tart, but he could go some way to making amends. He picked up the phone.

“Anita? It’s Smed, please don’t hang up.”

There was a pause. “What do you want?” she said, finally.

“To apologise. Oh, I know it’s totally inadequate and pathetic, so you don’t even need to say anything. But I wanted to anyway. And about the divorce, I promise you I will make more than sufficient provisions for you and Katherine, but please, I beg of you, let me see my daughter.”

“Has Tart given you the boot then, too?” Anita laughed, relishing her victory.

“Yes, she has. She tried to kill herself and ended up in the hospital,” Smed spoke sadly.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Anita sounded heartbroken. “I didn’t mean for that to happen, I swear I didn’t.” She started crying.

“Don’t blame yourself. It was my fault, totally my fault. But regardless of what happens with Tart and I, that’s why I wanted to set things straight with you. I think there’s been enough unpleasantness in these past few days to last me a lifetime.”

“Of course,” Anita said, sounding calmer now, “and I won’t make things anymore difficult for you. Of course you can still see Katherine. When things are a bit more normal, come around and see me and we can talk things over. You’ve hurt me, Smed, but I’m prepared to be reasonable. If I’m honest, I knew things weren’t working between us. But I just didn’t want to see it. Why don’t you come round tomorrow?”

“I will. And thank you, Anita. You’ve been far more reasonable than I deserve.” Smed sighed with relief.

“I know. And, for what it’s worth, good luck with Tart.”

“Thank you,” Smed smiled, and hung up.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“Hey, Candude,” Smash grinned at Candoor as he entered the room. “How are things?”

“Good, good,” Candoor attempted a smile, and fell at the first hurdle. “Not so good, actually. Are you up for a little chat?”

“Sure thing bro. Grab a chair.” Smash gestured weakly to the chair at the side of the bed. “Now,” he said when Candoor was seated. “What can I do for you?”

“You remember that night when we got drunk and I stayed at your place?”

“How can I forget? It’s the first time I’ve seen you drunk, I think.”

“Well, yes. Remember the morning after when we were discussing the person I had recently met and I said you would hate me when it all came out?”

“Yeah…”

“Well I think it’s about to. All come out. You see, the married person I’ve been seeing, am still seeing… is Barista.” Candoor looked away.

“What? You’re shitting me!” Smash tried to sit up, and found he couldn’t so instead had to make do with a wide eyed look of shock. “Oh man, Hubbyman will be devastated when he finds out.”

“He has found out. Barista has told him. So I think when he gets out of here I’m going to have an angry husband to deal with.”

“I’ll say, dude.”

“I suppose you want me to leave now?”

“Why would I want you to do that?”

“Well, because of what I’ve just told you. Hubbyman is your friend and I’ve hurt him. Don’t you want to get up and smack me in the face too?”

“Look, Candude. Hub is my bro, and I love the dude. And yeah, you’ve shit on his doorstep, which pisses me the fuck off, but you know, you’re my buddy too and I’m not going to just write you off because of it. I’ll be a buddy to him while he’s going through this, and I’ll try to be a buddy to you, too. But don’t think I’m taking sides in any battles going on. Use me as a sounding board, sure, but I’m not going to bitch about either of you, and I won’t be getting involved in any schemes you dudes cook up to try and get the girl. You did a fucking low thing, dude, but you know, none of us is perfect, so I’m not going to get all superior about it.” Smash was exhausted after his little speech, and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Hey, Smash,” Candoor got up, worried, “are you okay?”

“Hell yeah, I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

“I’ll leave you to get some rest. And I want to thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a better friend to me than I deserve.”

“Aww get the fuck outta here with your schmaltzy shit.”

Candoor grinned. “See you.”

As Candoor walked down the corridor, he marvelled at the conversation he had just had. Of course, he knew Smash wouldn’t be quite so accommodating if he knew that he had told Mystic to tell Zon that Hubbyman was a drug pusher. And though he half wished he hadn’t asked her to do that – he wasn’t at all sure it was necessary – he couldn’t back out now.

Candoor paused as he reached the other end of the ward. He looked through the door, and saw Hubbyman asleep in his bed. There was no one else in the room.

Candoor took a deep breath, and knew that at some point, he was going to have to face the consequences of his actions. He took a deep breath, and softly pushed open the door.

The door creaked shut, and Hubbyman woke up, his eyes unable to focus for a moment. When they did, he was not pleased with the sight before him.

“What the fuck do you want, you bastard?” he growled.

“I think we need to talk,” Candoor stood his ground, despite feeling very nervous.

“Sit down then, fucker,” Hubbyman snarled. “Let’s talk.”