The Unspoken

by Don Zelma

  Chapter Four

  Thirteen years earlier, Jay Amos, aged twenty-two, stepped out of the Rabbit Flats roadhouse. It was a bright Saturday morning in late spring and while others his age were bonding with friends, developing into men, he was spending his time alone. Approaching his Kingswood station wagon he heard a loud distant yell from a nearby paddock then saw a shallow ravine and several teenagers queuing at a waterhole. A boy swung out on a rope and Jay watched him with his friends, yearning.

  Not far from where he stood, old-style motorcycles were lined up, side by side, in a corner of the car park. Their polished tanks and chromed tailpipes were gleaming in the sun. He noted one in particular – the closest one – its rear wheel as wide as a car tyre and a saucer-sized speedometer on the tank. His feet stepped closer. Suddenly, he heard a distant, urgent banging. He spun around and saw bikers, dressed in denim, standing in a window of the roadhouse. A fat one had knocked his fist on the glass and now, as Jay watched, headed for the door.

  The man appeared from the shop, into the sunlight, with a hamburger in his hand.

  ‘You right, mate?’ he growled from a distance. He had a hefty paunch and an elaborate, snake-like tattoo running all the way down one arm. Jay swallowed and, for reasons unknown, the man started towards him wearing a black bandana around his head.

  Jay stepped back, his heart racing. ‘I was just looking,’ he said.

  ‘Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?’ the fat man said, pulling up. He was not much older – perhaps twenty-three or four. He glanced at the bikes then, satisfied all was in place, scrutinised Jay. His eyes fell down on his collared shirt and he took a bite of his burger and chewed.

  ‘You’re a funny-looking kid, aren’t ya?’ he said with his mouth full. He wiped his lips and Jay saw his long, tardy ponytail. ‘So, what are ya up to, little fella?’

  ‘Nothing…’ Jay said. He pointed over his shoulder at his Kingswood. ‘I was just filling up.’

  Another man and a girl stepped out, a little urgently, from the shop door. This second biker was tall, wearing grubby jeans that had clearly never been washed.

  ‘Ned!’ he shouted.

  The fat man looked around. ‘What?’ He seemed annoyed, like a child whose toy had been snatched from him.

  ‘What’s he want?’

  ‘He’s just some kid.’

  ‘Oh, not again, Ned!’ the tall one said. ‘Leave him alone.’

  The couple headed towards them and Jay’s heart started beating – it was trouble. He took an imperceptible step back behind the bikes. The tall man pulled up and the fat man pointed with his burger.

  ‘I think he likes our bikes,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, will you stop doing this,’ the woman said. ‘Let him go.’

  Jay remained still, his eyes moved from one man to the other. The fat man stopped chewing and glanced at him. It was suddenly silent and very tense.

  The tall one started walking back to the shop. ‘Come on, Ned.’

  ‘Na, wait,’ Ned said. He looked at Jay and nodded at the shop. ‘Come inside, little fella,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about a thing. I’ll even let ya talk to the girl.’

  Jay felt a surge of panic as he sat down at their table. He knew he should negotiate to leave but, such was the overwhelming presence of these men, especially of Ned, he dare not refuse the demand. He had no clue as to Ned’s intention – but it was clear that it wasn’t in his interest. He took the bottle of cola Ned had bought him and, after hesitating, began to sip the straw. Five or six bikers were talking amongst themselves at a table across the room. The tall man approached and threw a green packet onto the table.

  ‘Snapper says to buy your own,’ he mumbled. It was rolling tobacco and Ned reached out and opened it.

  He looked up at Jay. ‘Do ya mind if I smoke?’ he said, straight-faced.

  Jay was silent.

  Ned smirked. ‘Hey, relax,’ he said, pushing a basket of fries across the table towards him. ‘Eat up.’

  Jay glanced at the tall man then reluctantly took a chip. He slowly chewed and Ned glanced at him with amusement. He removed a small packet of papers from his pocket. He took a pinch of tobacco from the packet, sprinkled it onto the paper and began rolling his cigarette. Joe sat down at the table and took a small handful of chips. Jay glanced over his shoulder at the door.

  ‘Come on, mate,’ Ned said. ‘Loosen up. Don’t be such a chicken.’ He licked the cigarette paper. ‘You’ll be all right. Where do you live?’

  Jay glanced at Joe, whom he guessed more reasonable. ‘Grandville, with my parents,’ he said.

  Ned smiled as he rolled. ‘Nice big house with a white picket fence?’

  ‘Kind of.’

  ‘Really, mate?’ he said.

  The girl from outside approached the table, frowning. She glanced at Ned. ‘Why did ya bring him in ‘ere for?’ she said.

  ‘Oh, shut up,’ he said, gesturing at the group. ‘Go back and sit over there.’ He reached out and slapped her buttocks, she kicked his leg then started back for the group. ‘The truth is they love to be treated rough,’ he said.

  Jay glanced at the girl and saw her shapely, thin figure – she was really, really lovely. He looked at Ned and saw him smiling.

  ‘I noticed you looking at her in the car park,’ he said. ‘See something you like?’

  Jay looked down at the table and felt his face turning hot. ‘Hey,’ Ned said, glancing at Joe. ‘He’s turning red.’

  Jay looked up and saw Ned smiling wildly. It was time; Jay sat up straight, lifted his chin, and stared Ned in the eye for a few seconds.

  Ned chuckled and looked down. ‘Funny little bastard, aren’t ya?’

  Joe shook his head and looked at his watch. ‘Right, it’s time to push off. We gotta get there before dark.’ He turned and called to the group. ‘Come on, you lot. Let’s go.’ He stood and glanced at Jay. ‘See ya, mate.’ He looked at Ned.

  ‘Yeah… OK…’ he said, putting the cigarette in his mouth. He spoke to Jay. ‘Fun’s over, mate.’ He stood and seemed to ponder. ‘Me name’s Ned,’ he said, reaching out. Jay shook his hand and felt his handshake seemed suddenly genuine. Ned nodded at his friend. ‘That’s Joe.’

  ‘Sure,’ Jay said, relieved. He watched Joe pick up his leather jacket from the back of the chair. Ned took a pen from his pocket, found a napkin and began writing on it.

  ‘If ya want to see those bikes again,’ he said, ‘or anything else… just give us a call, alright?’ He handed him the napkin. ‘I know you’ll like it.’ He grasped the remaining chips from the basket and turned towards the door.

  Jay watched the group of fragmenting denim heading across the car park, feeling the first youthful, tumultuous stir of his life. He stared as they put on their half-faced helmets and, one by one, started their engines. The glass in the window rattled as they began passing the shop, heading for the highway. The girl on a pillion smiled and waved at Jay as she passed by.

  Fat Ned was the last to leave, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He looked at Jay sitting alone in the shop and nodded, riding away. Jay watched him accelerate onto the highway, as if continuing an unrestricted life, free of rules. He could see the road ahead all the way to the horizon and there was nothing hampering his journey. There were green fields either side of the stretch and the bikers looked truly liberated riding away. Jay gazed longingly at them as they disappeared slowly and silently into the distance.