by Chris Flynn
‘Um, let’s see. I’ve been to the Big Ant, the Big Diplodocus, the Big Pavlova, the Big Prawn of course, the Big Dugong, the Big Scotsman and a couple of others.’
‘How many of these cultural icons are there, anyway?’
‘About a hundred and fifty, I think. Be funny to see them all.’
‘The road trip of a fucken lifetime.’ I consulted the clock on the dashboard. It was almost eleven. The show wouldn’t be open for another couple of hours. ‘I could go a big pie,’ I told Steph, who groaned and agreed that it was probably time for second breakfast.
We drove to one of the town pubs and parked right outside. The street was mostly empty. The heat was enough to put off any pedestrians. Old men at the bar looked up from their pots of beer as we entered. Other than a few obligatory double takes at my neck, no one paid us much attention. The old men resumed contemplation of their beers as Steph and I slid into a booth.
The place had been fitted out to resemble an Irish pub, with snugs lining one wall allowing small groups to drink in relative privacy. A flat-screen television dominated the main wall, showing an old rugby match. Apart from the quartet of old farts propping up the bar, the only other patron was a bloke in his twenties staring into his drink in the booth behind ours.
‘You know, I don’t usually do it, but I gave myself a card reading last night.’
‘Yeah? What’d you find out? Tall dark stranger on the horizon?’
‘No. I hope you’re not going to make fun of this. It’s serious.’
‘Is it? You better go ahead and tell me, then.’
‘It’s pretty much what I suspected anyway. The Four of Swords came out, as did the High Priestess. Those are both pretty appropriate, given our situation.’
‘Your situation, you mean.’
‘Yeah, right, exactly. So the Four of Swords is an eye-of-the-hurricane card. That means an ordeal has ended and for the moment I will have a period of quiet, some time to reflect before potential danger returns.’
‘I don’t get it. How does that apply?’
‘Well, we got my car back and I’m helping you expand the business. Two ticks there. And as for the High Priestess—well, I’m going to interpret that as a sign of the Shadow, the whispering inner voice that is about to emerge in order to transform my personality into something more powerful.’
‘Righto. What do you think: steak and bacon pie, or steak and mushroom? Anything about that in there?’
I don’t think she even heard me. She was on one of her rolls.
‘Add to that the Eight of Cups, which generally indicates the need to move on emotionally, and the Page of Pentacles, which almost never comes out in a reading, and it’s pretty clear what my immediate future holds. The Page of Pentacles is a wealth card, more precisely suggesting that I will soon have the opportunity to manage a lot of money.’
‘I like that one. What’s this about moving on emotionally, though? Am I getting the boot here?’
She snapped out of her train of thought and stared at me as if she’d forgotten I was there.
‘God no. Don’t worry, babe, you’re safe. What I think that means is that all the other men I’ve known are going to start fading from my memory.’
I snorted. ‘You think about these blokes often, do you?’
‘The thing is, I only spent time with them because part of me knew that they were just temporary. What I remember about them should start to fragment now, to fall apart and crumble.’
I’d seen that faraway expression on her face a thousand times. It was time for me to tune out.
‘I’ll forget their foxy scent, their sharp stubble against my neck, their calloused hands, the way they frowned or rolled their eyes when I explained how I make a living. They’ll be like jigsaw pieces being put back in the box. Their faces will melt into one distinct male form, their chests and backs and legs and dicks will all shrink or expand to become one standard-size chunk of masculinity. I’ll forget the details—the scars, the tattoos, the kinks, the annoying laughs, the bad breath and petty obsessions. I’ll struggle to recall their accents, the size of their feet, the colour of their eyes. All traces of their individuality will be slowly erased until all that remains is a single man, my Benji. His burns, his muscly forearms, his cynicism, his loaded silences, all folded into a concrete force as powerful and real as the pleasure he brings me every night. He is wondrous, this man, a marvel, a thing of great beauty, and he is all mine.’
‘He’s right here, you know.’
She climbed down from her flying unicorn then and waved a hand under her chin. She was close to tears. Sometimes, she almost scares me with this shit.
‘God. Sorry, was that a bit much?’
‘Just a tad. That was some reading.’
‘Incredible. I know.’
She calmed down and studied the menu. I considered reminding her of what she said about people reading what they want to hear into the cards, but thought better of it. I should have known it was all leading somewhere. She closed the menu and hit me with her latest proposal.
‘You know that course I’ve been wanting to do in Melbourne?’
‘Remind me.’
‘The kinesiology one, at the College of Natural Medicine.’
‘Which is what again?’
She tutted. ‘It’s diagnosing long-term physical problems by assessing if the chakras are out of balance. It’s amazing stuff. You remember that neck pain I was having? A kinesiologist told me it was because of unresolved issues with my mum. She was so on the money.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Sounds scientific.’
‘Don’t be so cynical all the time. You should try it. Honestly, it might help you with your issues.’
‘You know what would help me with my issues? A cold beer. What do you want to order?’
At the bar I opted for the steak and bacon pie with chips. Steph wanted a salad. She was on yet another weird diet. This time she had convinced herself she was allergic to gluten. Last month it was dairy. I supposed next month it would be oxygen. Didn’t stop her having a glass of Sauv Blanc, I noticed. As I paid the haggard-looking barmaid, the door to the pub swung open to admit a gaunt young fella wearing a baseball cap that was way too big for his pinhead.
I watched him in the mirror behind the bar. He stood by the door for a minute, scanning the room to see who was there, then proceeded to the booth where the other young bloke was sitting. He tugged at the crotch of his loose jeans as he sat opposite, nodding a cursory greeting and pulling the rim of his hat down over his eyes. Fucken ridiculous. He might as well have been wearing a badge that said DEALER.
I carried the glasses back to our booth. The young bloke who’d just arrived looked me up and down as I neared, but I blanked him and sat just out of sight. He was right behind us, which suited me fine.
‘The only thing about this course in Melbourne is that it’s pretty exy,’ Steph said as she sipped her wine.
‘How much we talking?’
‘Eight thousand.’
I waved my hand. ‘Don’t worry about it. Book yourself in and I’ll shout you.’
‘Really? Just like that?’
‘Whatever makes you happy.’ I was about to ask her how much time she’d need off from the Kingdom when she abruptly raised a finger to shush me. The blokes in the booth behind were deep in conversation and some detail had caught her attention. I sipped my beer and listened.
‘Look, I could only get seventy-five.’
‘I told you it was a fucken hundred.’
‘That’s all I have. Sorry.’
‘Fuck. You’re such a little bitch, homes. You know this is good glass, right? You gets what you pays for.’
‘Sorry, Matt. I’ll have the rest by Saturday, promise.’
‘You fucken better. Here. Now buy me a pot, ya cunt.’
We drank in silence as the first guy went to the bar. I tapped my fingers on the table and raised my eyebrows at Steph.
‘Does he work for you?’ she w
hispered.
I shook my head. ‘Not that I know of. Not yet, anyway.’
‘We should follow them.’
‘You’re getting into this, eh?’
‘You got something else on this arvo?’
‘True. And I did just spend eight grand on knievelology, so…’
‘Kinesiology. Jeez, you’re such a dickhead.’
‘A dickhead with deep pockets.’ I leaned across the table and spoke quietly. ‘You want to see how this works? We’ll go after him when he leaves, see where he’s holed up. Probably just a backyard lab, but still. Worth a look.’
Our lunch came, and the dealer seemed content to continue humiliating his client for a while with barbs about his uselessness. He was just asking for someone to step in and take over his business. I’d come across a hundred like him, small-time entrepreneurs who thought that just because they could cook a decent batch they were Walter fucken White. The two blokes left together and I had to gather up the remaining half of my pie in a napkin. Steph shoved a few of my chips in her mouth as we got up to leave.
As we emerged into the harsh sunlight, a filthy old Toyota was pulling away from the kerb, smoke pluming from its exhaust. The recipient of the deal was walking away down the street in the opposite direction. I didn’t care about him—the dealer was my focus. We climbed casually into the ute.
‘Keep your distance,’ Steph told me as I struggled to eat the remains of the pie while steering.
‘I know how to follow someone.’
‘You’re getting crumbs on everything.’
‘It’s my car.’
‘He’s turning left.’
‘Since he’s driving the only car on the road other than ours, I noticed that, yes, thank you.’
‘Where do you think he’s going?’
I sighed as I made the turn. ‘Crank World, maybe. Or the Big Meth Pipe. How the fuck would I know? Home, probably.’
The Toyota limped into a dead-end street, smoke still belching from its rear. There were two dilapidated weatherboard houses on either side of the road and he pulled into the driveway of the one at the end on the left. I slowed down for a second to get a look, then drove on. I turned back towards the main street and pulled in to park out of the line of sight of the house, killing the engine.
I was out of the car in a flash, crouching at the rear wheel to watch the dealer unlock the front door of his house and disappear inside. My hands instinctively clutched for the ghost rifle and I shook my fingers out in irritation. I couldn’t seem to stop that tic.
Filthy, tattered curtains hung in the windows of the house, and they were pulled shut. The lawn was baked yellow in the few spots where it had somehow managed to survive—the front was a dustbowl. The building had been painted sky blue at some point but most of the colour was gone now, the paint faded and peeling in the sun. The stumps had sunk on one side, giving the house a distinct lean. Home sweet fucken home.
I spent a few more minutes watching for further movements but saw nothing. I made a note of the street name and climbed back into the driver’s seat. Steph had been watching the house in the rear-view mirror.
‘What do you think? Are we going to pay him a visit?’
‘Oh, it’s “we” now, is it? You’re game all of a sudden.’
‘You’ve got one of those metal rod thingos you use to change tyres. I could hit him with that.’
‘A tyre iron. Well, you could, but it’s probably not advisable. Baby steps. We’ll come back tonight and have a poke around if he’s not home.’
‘This is not as much fun as I expected.’
‘You’ll get your chance.’
The crowds were beginning to form by the time we got back to the Kingdom. Despite the baking afternoon heat, over-enthusiastic kids had managed to persuade their parents to drag them around the carnival, looking forward to plastering fairy floss all over their faces and going home with overpriced show bags filled with crap. Steph and I watched a dozen different family units struggling to extricate strollers from the boots of cars while trying not to lose their temper at impatient toddlers.
‘Still keen on popping out a couple of sprogs?’ I asked Steph as we trundled slowly through the car park towards the staff parking area.
‘Gives you pause, doesn’t it? Look at those angry, sweaty faces. Some of these couples are probably five years younger than us and they look ten years older.’ She turned back to me and placed a hand on my thigh. ‘I don’t want us to end up like that, Ben. We’ll do things different, eh?’
‘My oath we will.’
‘I never imagined myself having a child until I met you. Now I can’t imagine anything else. I always dreamed of saving enough money telling fortunes and giving massages to be able to open a little kinesiology and yoga studio on the Gold Coast. I could rent out the space for life drawing and Pilates classes, teach Ayurvedic massage and align the chakras of people who need my help, go home at night to a man who is glad to see me, maybe a couple of kids who’ll show me the drawings they’ve done at school. I could stick them to the refrigerator using magnets shaped like dinosaurs and ask them if they want Vegemite or Promite in tomorrow’s sandwiches. We could share baths and maybe fool around a little until the kids burst in and we have to disguise what we’re doing under the bubbles.’
Running the aircon all the time made my eyes dry up so I switched it off and cracked the window. It was like a furnace out there. Why these parents didn’t just wait until evening was beyond me. I guess they thought being out at the show with their screaming offspring was a better option than being stuck in the house with them. Steph was right about that much. No way we were going down that road, no way. I’d be hiring a fucken nanny to do all that shit for me. And if the kids wanted to play, well, we’d just step off the front deck onto the beach. You won’t see me being dragged around Big Dubs on a Sunday afternoon. I’ll be kicking back in a hammock, beer in my hand, watching the kids splash in the surf while I mentally count my money. A house on the Gold Coast, a couple of dirt bikes in the garage and a big fuck-off four-wheel-drive parked outside? Fucken perfect. If Steph was up for playing the dutiful wife and mother, well, maybe it was worth the hassle. I could pretend to be a good family man, sit on the local council or some shit. No one would suspect a fucken thing.
‘I don’t think it’s unrealistic, this dream.’ She wasn’t talking to me anymore now. ‘It’s not out of reach like the ones I hear from all those women who seek me out on the Kingdom. This one is possible, and best of all it’s up to us. We’ll have a son one day, you and me. You wait and see. His little neck will smell like my pop’s hair pomade, and he’ll squeeze me tighter than anyone ever has.’
A hot wind blew in through the window. I closed my eyes and winced. We were locked in a queue of traffic, waiting to get through the entrance. With the feel of warm air on my neck and Steph’s soft voice imagining some chakra-aligned future we might or might not have, I began to drift.
I was in the back of a truck rolling down some desert road. The heat was heavy and suffocating, pressing down on my torso. A burning sensation pulsed in my chest, making me think the dressing needed changing. I sat up painfully, groggy from the heat and medication. I carefully peeled back the edge of the bandage to peer underneath. The wounds were still raw and inflamed, still made my stomach churn. I stuck the dressing down and leaned my temple against the cool metal frame of the truck, feeling the vibrations of the engine drilling into my skull.
Another man lay on a stretcher opposite me. He was absorbed in reading something on his Kindle, seemingly oblivious to the fact his right leg was missing below the knee. Woozily, I shuffled along the bench to the rear, where a soldier in combat gear sat quietly smoking as he looked out at the Humvee travelling behind us, just visible in the darkness. His M4 lay unsecured across his lap, bouncing with the movement of the vehicle like it might fall out onto the dusty road at any minute. Without speaking, he offered me a cigarette. I desperately wanted one but I had to refuse. Doctor
’s orders.
I stared out at the black desert, glad for a cool breeze on my skin. The sky lit up briefly in the distance, off to the east. The sound of a faraway explosion reached our ears a moment later, a low rumbling echo, comforting in its familiarity. Several more bright streaks punctured the horizon: Hydra rockets released from the belly of an Apache gunship. They vanished into the darkness only to be replaced a second later by a starburst of fire as they found their target. Another enemy destroyed, or maybe one of our own. We could never be certain.
‘Ben. Ben, are you even listening?’
Steph clicked her fingers. I snapped back and nodded.
‘Yeah, yeah. The Gold Coast. Something about dinosaurs.’
Irritated, she pointed to the gap that had opened up between us and the car in front. I slipped the gearstick into drive and we rolled forward another twenty metres. In the distance the engine brakes of an eighteen-wheeler moaned from the highway, a great monster taking a breath.
Two of the six streetlamps in the row were out, creating a shadowy umbrella at the end of the road. I leaned against one that wasn’t fizzing as it strained to blink back into life. Even with decent lighting, I would have been difficult to spot. I was wearing dark clothes and standing perfectly still. This was the sort of sentry duty I was used to, quietly watching and waiting for signs of movement.
My ears became attuned to the background noise and I could hear various animals in the distance. Two cats were standing off somewhere in the neighbourhood, a territorial struggle punctuated by low growls and banshee-like screaming as they went at each other. A dog barked, his rough howl curtailed by a sharp word from his master. Above me, a family of possums walked the tightrope of telephone lines from one side of the street to the other.
The screen of my phone lit up. I cupped my hand to hide the glare and read Steph’s text message.
Coast is clear. Looks lk pizza and xbox on menu. Glad I brought a magazine.
I quickly typed a reply.
Let me know when he’s OM.