Rich Riot

by Henry, Max

  “How considerate of her,” Dad quips, eyeing the small stack of cartons. “You hungry?” he asks us both. “I think I might raid the pantry and make us something to chow on while you tell me what the heck is going on with your face, Colt.”

  “I’m okay,” I say. The sushi roll I had after the appointment was enough to sate my topsy-turvy stomach.

  Emotions roil in there, waiting for an outlet. I’m not ready to let that mish-mash of anger and sadness spew just yet.

  “Pick something easy to chew,” Colt instructs. “Anything crunchy hurts my head.”

  Dad sighs once more before heading toward the kitchen. We used to holiday in this two-storey townhouse when Colt and I were little. I have memories of the wooden bannister decorated with ivy and tinsel for the holidays, a huge, perfectly conical Christmas tree displayed in the front window so that all who passed on the street could see it lit up at night.

  Standing in the same home and seeing it so barren and sparsely decorated… it’s strange. It makes my memories seem impossible. Unreal.

  Imagined.

  “What started it?” I ask as Colt and I head into the sitting room. “I mean you had another fight, right?”

  He tentatively takes a seat in a cream wingback with white wood accents and props his arms on the sides. “I may have poked the bear.”

  I roll my eyes. “What did the school do about it?”

  “Gave us both a pardon.” He chews the inside of his cheek. “I need to talk to you about something.” His gaze darts to the door before he whispers, “When Dad’s not around.”

  My tumultuous tummy gives a firm kick. “What about?”

  “Your phone is in the stuff there.” He nods to the boxes. “So is your laptop. Message me when you have it hooked up.”

  “Colt.” I check the door too. “Don’t leave me stewing. What’s happened?”

  He lifts a dismissive hand. “Nothing bad. Well, not really. It’s about the charges against you.”

  I sigh, leaning back when Dad enters the room.

  “I found as many of your mother’s favourites as I could,” he states with a cheeky grin. “Don’t stress if you can’t eat it all. I’ll put the leftovers in the bin where she’ll see them.”

  “You’re nasty,” I say with a smile. “I’ve never seen this side of you.”

  “Never had cause to.” He winks. “It’s been a while.”

  The room falls silent as Dad offloads the stash onto the glass-topped coffee table and then takes a seat. He peels back the wrapper of a cheese wheel, studying his hands while he speaks.

  “Who was it that gave you the initial black eye?”

  Colt hesitates. “Arthur.”

  “Why?”

  Any trace of humour has vacated the room, the remaining air rife with tension.

  “Argument about a girl.”

  Dad sets the cheese down and then proceeds to slice it delicately with the knife he brought in. “What happened?”

  Colt pulls in a deep breath, running his top teeth across his bottom lip. “I touched what wasn’t mine.”

  Dad grumbles. “And the fresh injuries?”

  “You can tell?” I say.

  Dad lifts his head to look me square in the eye. “I was young once too.”

  “Richard,” Colt mumbles.

  Dad snarls, leaning back with a wedge of cheese on a grain cracker. “Always disliked that little prick.”

  “Dad!”

  He shrugs at my shock. “If I expect you to both be honest with me, then I best do the same, right?”

  Colt smiles. I get the feeling he enjoys our motherless reunion. It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen him in weeks.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” I ask him.

  Dad stalls, second cracker halfway to his mouth to watch for the answer.

  The mirth fades from Colt’s face. “Not yet, little sis. I have things I need to square away first.”

  I don’t press any further. I have the distinct feeling that whatever he speaks of is directly related to what he wants to discuss in private.

  “I’ll never turn you away,” Dad says firmly. “Any time of day or night, if you’ve had enough of this, you pack your things and get in your car. Okay?”

  “Don’t worry about me.” Colt scoots to the front of the chair. “I know when enough’s enough.”

  He reaches for a snack from the table, wincing a little as he moves.

  I take the opportunity while he’s distracted to study him, to find the certainty behind his glazed eyes.

  He’s as unconvinced of his words as I am. Otherwise, we both know he would have walked away a long time ago.

  I thought Colt stayed in Riverbourne for his own selfish reasons. But as I watch him edge back onto the chair and slowly chew his soft food, I realise the damning truth.

  My brother—my protector—is in even deeper than I am.

  And what’s worse? He’s lost his way out.

  TUCK

  “How was your rugby break-up yesterday?” I glance across to Maggie while we walk the side of the road.

  Major lopes behind me, head slung low and his eyes half-lidded in the warm afternoon sun.

  “Yeah. Good.” She nods.

  “But?”

  Her chin lifts, mouth twisted as she scouts the road ahead of us. A couple of cars pass by on the main street at the intersection, but our side road is relatively quiet.

  “But I’m not sure if I’ll do it next year.”

  “What?” I frown. “You’ve played for years, haven’t you?” Pretty sure she was kicking the ball around when we were in primary school.

  “I have. I just … I dunno. The time it takes away from socialising annoys me more and more as I get older.”

  “Afraid you’re going to miss out?” I tease, one eyebrow lifted.

  She peers up at me, squinting a little to read my face in the shade of my hat. “You think I’m being stupid.”

  “I just think that after school finishes, you won’t care so much about being social, but maybe you’ll care if you’re behind with rugby.”

  “I don’t want to make a career out of it,” she hedges. “So it doesn’t matter that much.”

  “Neither does missing out on the petty bullshit that goes down on the weekend.” I frown a little. “I thought you liked doing your own thing, anyway?”

  She shrugs, slowing down for a car that indicates its intention to turn into a park ahead of us. “I do. But I did more when I didn’t have any friends.” She gives me a weak smile after we stop to wait for the way to clear. “Now, I have friends … I think.”

  I chuckle.

  “Jesus,” Mags moans, eyeing the car as it lines up in its spot. “Can we change the subject now? What went down with your crew yesterday?”

  I sigh, giving Major a slight tug to get him moving again. His hooves clack loudly against the tar-sealed road. “They aren’t my crew.”

  “Still…”

  “Yeah. I spoke to them. Everyone but Johnson and Amber.”

  Maggie gives an exaggerated shiver. “Creeps.”

  I snort. “Maybe. But those creeps ended up being pivotal to our plan.”

  “Oh. Get stuffed,” she groans. “Really?”

  “Mm-hmm.” I lead Major down the side of the saddler on the corner where they have a hitching rail and trough of water in the shade.

  Council tried to get the area closed off years ago, but Bruce, who runs the saddlers, gathered a petition from customers like myself who still bring their horses in on occasion.

  The fact I’m not here for his store today is irrelevant. I’m proving a point by utilising the area, so he’s happy. Free publicity, if you like.

  “You thirsty?” I gesture to the corner dairy on the opposite side of the street. “I’ll get us a bottle of something if you want.”

  Mags shakes her head, patting the schoolbag at her side. “I’ve got water. But you go ahead if you need to.”

  “Nah.” I lean a shoulder on Bruce’s
back wall. “I’ll keep.”

  Maggie climbs onto the large boulder decorating the entry to the alley, taking a seat among the grassy natives. “Tell me then. Why do we need Amber?”

  I give Maggie a rundown of the conversation I had yesterday and our idea to send Amber into the city as a Trojan horse of sorts.

  “Do you seriously think they’ll let her in, though?” Maggie scoffs. “They’d tear her to shreds.”

  “This is Amber we’re talking about,” I remind her. “They’ll need protection from her.”

  “I suppose.” She presses her lips tight, leaning forward while she thinks. “Won’t she want to know the whole backstory, though, if we ask her to do it?”

  I grin, tugging my hat a little lower. “See, that’s the thing. We won’t ask her outright.”

  Maggie frowns.

  “We plant the seed and let her think she’s doing the dirty work. If she thinks we want to keep her out of our fictional plans in Riverbourne, she’ll go out of her way to get there.”

  “It seems like it would work.”

  “But?” I glance behind me to check on Major.

  “But I think you underestimate the influence she has on Johnson.”

  “You think he would stop her?”

  She shrugs, corner of her mouth turned up. “Or go too.”

  I roll on my shoulder, so my back rests flat against the wall of the shop, arms banded across my chest. “I’m clutching at straws, Mags. I haven’t heard from Lace since the weekend, and Colt didn’t answer the message I sent him last night, or my call this morning.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine. Just dealing with a lot, I reckon.”

  “I guess.” Makes me feel like shit, though, when I’m not there to be with her through it all.

  What does that make us? If I step back and abandon her when life gets toughest? Fuck.

  “What are you brewing on?” Maggie asks with a smile.

  I open my mouth to answer her, yet promptly shut it when the flash of clean, reflective chrome wheels snags my attention. Nobody around here is stupid enough to have them.

  Maggie turns to see what distracted me and frowns. “Who the fuck is that?”

  A pristine white BMW hatchback crawls around the corner of the intersection, out of place in a town where most people carry half the dust off their driveway on the paintwork of their car.

  “I think…” I push off the wall and take a step onto the footpath. “It’s Greer.”

  “Who?” Maggie slides off the rock.

  The car comes to a complete halt in the middle of the street. The window rolls smoothly down into the driver’s door.

  “Hey!” Greer sticks a hand out the window, giving that stupid finger wave thing girls do. “Let me park up. I need to talk to you.”

  “What the hell?” Maggie mutters behind me.

  “She’s Lacey’s friend from Riverbourne.” I frown, wondering what the hell she’s doing out here as I watch the girl slip the compact car into a parking space.

  Maggie’s arm bumps my own, and I glance down to find her shoulder to shoulder with me. She shares the same perplexed look on her face as I’m sure I have.

  “Jesus, fuck,” Mags mutters through a stiff jaw.

  I swing my gaze back around and stiffen from the unexpected shock of what I find. That’s what the girls wear to fucking school? The girl has a tight, semi-transparent white blouse on, her hair held back off her shoulders with a flashy ribbon, and black high-heel ankle boots. But the skirt. Can I even call it that? The fucking pleated strip coasts the crease of her butt. If she had to bend down to pick something up… “It has to be modified.” No way a school would knowingly let their students flash their arse around town like that.

  Would they?

  “Hi.” Greer smiles, a shadow of the meek girl that I met last Saturday.

  It’s hard to take her the same way when she has twice as much skin on show.

  “What brings you out here?” I clear my throat and frown.

  Maggie huffs a sigh beside me.

  “I was hoping you could give me directions to Lacey’s house.” She looks at each of us in turn, clearly hopeful.

  Maggie echoes my thoughts. “Her dad’s house, you mean?”

  “If that’s where she’s staying, then yeah.”

  I look at Maggie. She looks at me.

  “What do you mean she’s staying there?” I narrow my gaze on Ms Clueless.

  Although, right now, she seems to have more clue than Maggie and I combined.

  Greer’s brow pinches, painted fingertips touching her bottom lip gently. “Did you not hear? Her mum kicked her out. She’s back here in Arcadia.”

  I can’t be fucked wasting time with an answer; I turn for Major.

  “Tuck,” Mags calls. “Hold up.”

  I wave her off without breaking stride. “Not right now, Maggie. For fuck’s sake.”

  Her sigh echoes off the walls of the alley as I toss Major’s reins back over his neck. He perks up, ears swivelling left and right when he senses my agitation.

  “Don’t suppose I can get a lift?” Maggie asks Greer while I mount up.

  “Sure.” Lacey’s city buddy cranes her neck to look up at me when I hesitate at the end of the alley. “What about you?”

  I give Major a nudge in the ribs, jaw aching from the tension I hold inside. “I’ll meet you there.”

  GREER

  “We’ll wait for him here,” the dark-haired girl states as I pull off to the side of the road. “He won’t let Major past a canter while he’s on sealed roads.”

  “Why?”

  “Precious about his hooves,” she mutters, ducking her head to look in the wing mirror. Her head lifts, heavily shadowed eyes finding mine. “Major isn’t shod.”

  “Oh.” I have no idea why what she just said matters, but sure, whatever. Country things. “I’m Greer, by the way.”

  The girl turns her attention back to the mirror. “I know.”

  I watch her a moment before frowning as I take in our surroundings. She’s led me to the outskirts of the business district where the houses are close together and cute. Old cottages intermingle with slightly larger brick homes—a mix of the past, and even longer ago.

  There isn’t much modern out here in Arcadia. They seem to like things the way they are.

  “You know, I’ve never come out this far before,” I muse. “Not that I can remember, anyway.”

  “Fascinating,” the girl sasses.

  I twist in my seat to face her. “If you’d rather walk, or hitch a ride with your cowboy buddy back there, then be my guest.”

  She sighs, back turned to me still while she watches the mirror. “I’m sorry.” Her shoulders relax when she eases back into the seat. “I’m a little tense.”

  “Notably.” I lift an eyebrow at the odd-looking girl.

  She isn’t weird in an unusual features sort of way. Rather, she’s a slice of eighties punk rolled up in nineties grunge … in the middle of rural New Zealand. Square peg in a round hole.

  “Again,” I state with a smile. “I’m Greer.”

  She looks at me as though I’ve lost my mind.

  “And you are?” I prompt.

  “Oh, shit.” The girl smiles. She’s quite pretty when she does. “Maggie.”

  A shift in colour draws my eye up to the rearview. “Here, he comes.”

  Maggie rechecks the mirror beside her. “Cool. Let him pass, and then I’ll direct you where to go.”

  “I thought he said he’d meet us there?” I wait as Lacey’s guy rides past, and then indicate to pull out after him.

  “Tuck will take the shortcut.”

  These people are so odd. “Still doesn’t explain why you made us stop back here.” I slow and glance left to track Tuck as he slips off the road and down a grassy alley between two houses.

  Maggie huffs a short laugh. “Because he needs to be the hero.” She turns her head my way and smiles as I get up to speed. “We may be quicker in a car, but
he’ll feel better if he gets there first.”

  We both laugh a little. “Men, right?”

  “They’re all the same,” she agrees. “Turn left here.”

  I cruise along a narrow street, catching a glimpse of where Tuck took his horse. A huge drainage ditch is clear as day when a space between two houses opens out into a small park. He blasts across the grassy area, the animal’s hooves pounding the dirt.

  It’s kind of sexy, seeing a man ride a horse like that. I should take trips out here more often.

  “You know, I honestly thought you guys would know she was back.” My fingers tighten on the wheel. “I didn’t mean to come barrelling in and drop a bomb or anything.”

  “You didn’t,” Maggie assures me. “We’ve just felt a bit lost since her mum cut off her contact with us.”

  “Not just you,” I correct. “Lacey hasn’t been able to speak to any of us outside of school, either.”

  Maggie gestures ahead to where a grey utility vehicle sits parked in front of a plain white cottage. “She’s that one.”

  “Do we still wait for Tuck?”

  Maggie grins. “Nah. He’ll be there already.”

  I ease my car behind the ute and kill the engine. “It’s adorable how much he cares about her. All the guys out here seem quite protective if what I saw on Saturday is any indication.”

  “They can be a bit old school like that.” Maggie reaches for the door.

  I get out as well, waiting until she’s clear before I lock the car. I have no idea how reliable the neighbourhood is. Best to play it safe.

  “Do you know Beau?”

  Maggie tenses, chewing her bottom lip as I fall in step beside her. “Yeah.”

  “He’s gorgeous. What about his brother? Do you know him?”

  She eyes me with a frown. “A little. Why?”

  “I met Caleb on Saturday night, and I spent the day with him on Sunday. Just wondering if you had some girl-to-girl advice for me.”

  Maggie’s eyes harden, her movements jerky when she crests the front steps of the house. “Pick one,” she snaps. “And don’t fuck them around.”