Winner

by Belle Brooks

  My eyes roam from her head to her toes and back up again. Hmm. She’s wearing a uniform. “You’re a nurse here, aren’t you?” It’s a mindless question given she’s dressed in a nurse’s uniform.

  “Yes.” She smiles with lips I can now see are freshly glossed before swinging a set of keys from her finger. “Told you they were here. See? Handbags are like Bermuda triangles.” She smiles at me once more.

  “Are you sure you want to give me a lift? I mean, I can catch a cab. You don’t … Actually, I don’t think it’s a wise idea to be offering strange men a lift home, do you?”

  “Men! Firstly, you are just one man. I can’t see a line of the opposite sex busting to clamber into my car. And secondly, fine, don’t take the lift. Have a good day.” She dips her shoulder, and with a gentle click the door is unlocked. There’s a slight screech when the door is opened wide.

  “No. I’ll take the lift … if it’s still on offer, that is.”

  She climbs into the driver’s seat. “Well, hurry up. I don’t have all day to do this.”

  “Thanks.” Walking around to the passenger side, I grab the door handle and slink down to look through the window as she reaches across the passenger seat and pulls up the lock so I have access.

  “Hey, thanks for doing this.” I smile, pulling the seatbelt across my chest.

  “No worries. I’m Lesley,” she blurts out when she turns over the key.

  “Tank,” I reply.

  “Tank. That’s unusual.”

  “Yeah,” I mumble as she reverses the car out of the park.

  “So, Tank, where am I taking you, again?”

  “You can drop me on the corner of Hollaway and Greet, if you don’t mind.”

  “Hollaway and Greet it is.” Fiddling with the knob controlling the radio channels, she locates a station she seems happy with before relaxing back into the chair. Lesley shifts her gaze in my direction, only momentarily, but it’s long enough for me to process the baby blue eyes she has been blessed with.

  “Long day.” I try to at least be polite by starting a conversation as we travel through moderate traffic.

  “Sure.”

  “Okay.” I’m oddly uncomfortable as I turn my eyes to the lock Lesley pulled up for me to gain entry. Old car. Chirpy nurse. There must be a topic of conversation here. “You don’t like central locking or—”

  “Can’t afford it. This is my dad’s old car. He bought it the year I was born, he says.” The corner of her lip tugs upwards as she keeps her eyes firmly planted to the road.

  “Nice,” I counter without thought.

  “You know, Tank, one day I’m going to win the lottery and buy a sail boat and sail around the world.”

  “Sounds pretty neat.”

  “Oh, it will be. Could you even imagine all the secluded places you’d find along the way?” Her voice heightens with excitability, or is it contentment? I can’t be sure.

  “Never really thought about it like that.”

  “It’s my dream. I love helping people, I do, but what I wouldn’t give to leave this awful town and explore and just ...” She stops mid-sentence, and I watch as she bites down on her lip.

  “Cool.” And it dawns on me in this one moment what my life could be like.

  Pulling over to the gutter, Lesley projects an innocent smile in my direction before she says with a little giggle, “That will be twenty-three dollars, sir.”

  “Oh. Okay. Ummm …” I pat at my pockets. “I don’t actually have my wallet on me. I left it at the workshop it seems. It was a bit of an emergency my leaving, but if you give me your number I’ll ring you and hand deliver you twenty-three dollars.”

  “So how would you have caught a taxi?” She snickers.

  “Exactly—I wouldn’t have been able to. I’ll double your twenty-three dollars. It seems like the reasonable thing to do here.”

  Her giggle grows stronger as she shakes her head. “I’m yanking your chain. Have a good night, Tank.”

  “Okay,” I say, offering a wave and exiting the car. She doesn’t offer any other form of goodbye in return, driving off without another glance.

  That was fucking strange. Lesley turning up out of the blue right when I needed a hand. Fate never works in this way for me. Who was that woman? And why did I enjoy being in her company? I kick at a discarded bottle littering the footpath and can’t stop myself from smiling.

  She wants to sail around the world, hey? I mean, it’s a possibility. Anything is.

  Chapter Three

  It’s been three days since Alan had his accident and here I am rummaging through an old dusty chest of draws, in an attempt to find a half-decent T-shirt to wear. There’s nothing but a button-up Hawaiian shirt. I have no recollection as to how it found its way in here to begin with, but it will have to do.

  I managed to get a hold of Haldon Burns last night, and even though I used a fake name and attempted my best impersonation of an uppity snob, he still seemed sceptical on the phone about showing me any housing options. However, he did agree to take me on a tour of a few properties currently available, at 11:00 a.m., today. I’m not sure why I’m compelled to even look at this point, but I am. I need to see what such a dream looks like.

  Glancing at my watch as I wrap it around my wrist, I’m quick to note it’s 10:30 a.m. I need to get on the road. Hillside Estate is my destination.

  “Roxie, where are you? We’re going out.” The soft whimpers coming from behind the couch alert me to one of her regular bitchy moods. “You can either lie behind the couch or you can come for a drive … I’m not coming to get you.”

  The front door bangs against the wall as I fling it open, and it’s all the encouragement Roxie needs to leave her hideout and start her zig-zagging between my legs. “Moody today, girl?”

  Stepping down the concrete stairs has Roxie nearly barrelling me over, so I take her into my arms and jolt my neck away from her wayward tongue. “You’re a pest. You know this about yourself, right?”

  “Fin. Where are you going?” Ms Simon croaks from the window above.

  “Drive,” I reply simply.

  “No work again today?”

  “Not today, Tessa.”

  “Two days in a row. This is not like you.”

  Tessa’s nosey, I’ll give her that. Stopping, I turn my attention skyward until we clap eyes. “Yeah. I don’t work at the steel mill no more.”

  Her sudden bugged glare causes me to chuckle before she gasps and splatters. “You quit, Finlay?”

  “Yep.”

  “Feeling bad about what happened to the kid? The one you were telling me about the other night?”

  “Nope,” I lie.

  There’s a long pause, while Tessa adjusts the oxygen prongs in her nostrils and fiddles with something on the floor beside her. “How will you afford to eat?” she finally continues, leaning farther out of the window’s opening.

  “I can. I’ll be all right. You know me. I’m a loser, but I’m tough.”

  “How will you live?” She’s curious, and this doesn’t surprise me one bit.

  “Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly nosey you are?”

  “Yes,” she heckles. “You.”

  “Well, you are. I have to go.” I grin, taking the last two steps to the footpath.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing, Finlay.”

  “Yep.” I wave whilst striding towards my rusty old utility.

  “Drive safe,” she calls out.

  “Will do,” I reply, unlocking the ute’s door with the key and setting Roxie down on the driver’s seat. “Move over. I’m pretty sure you can’t drive.”

  Her tongue hangs out of her mouth as she pants.

  “Roxie, shove over.”

  Once seated, I open the glovebox and search for the slither of paper that will alter my life. It’s tucked in the log book where I left it on the night I learnt my fate would change. I couldn’t exactly leave it in my apartment since it’s been broken into more times than I can c
ount on both hands. Or in my wallet. I’ve been pick pocketed more times than I care to remember. Surprisingly, though, this heap of shit ute of mine has not once been targeted … it seemed logical. And since I wasn’t, and I’m still not ready to take the ticket to the newsagency, I had to come up with the safest place I have. That’s my glove box.

  Running my hand over the prickles now covering my chin, I puff out my cheeks before placing the log book back where I retrieved it from. “It’s just a house, Fin.” I reassure myself before turning the ignition over and swiftly shifting into the flowing traffic.

  The roads are fraught with potholes and stranded garbage. I find myself swerving every hundred or so metres to avoid a collision of some kind, and as I manoeuvre around a scooter missing both its wheels, I ask myself why I just don’t turn this ticket in to the newsagency and claim my prize. Maybe it’s because in the back of my mind I feel as though I’m going to be wrong and they’ll tell me I’m still as broke as fuck. Or maybe it’s because I’m frightened of the chance to become something more than I’ve ever been. One thing I know for sure is I need time to process these thoughts. I’ve never been one to go into certain situations all guns blazing, and I’ve always managed to stay calm and level-headed about things beyond my control. Today, I’m allowing myself a glimpse of a possibility. Tomorrow, I might just turn that ticket in. But, as I swerve left in avoiding another oversize pothole I take a moment to be honest with myself. There’s something about this ticket that has my guts turning inside out and flipping upside down.

  A loud honking of a horn, no doubt coming from a usual impatient prick, brings me out of my thoughts and as I reach for the knob that controls the volume I breathe.

  “You’re listening to Jasper and Clarke on Hoffman’s 106.2.”

  I turn up the sound before dropping my hand to shift gears.

  “So, Jasper, the mystery still remains. Four days later, and we still don’t know who the winner of the lottery is.”

  “No,” Clarke replies.

  “We know they live in Hoffman and we know the ticket was purchased on Monday from a newsagency in the west side of town.” Jasper is loving the mystery; you can hear it in his inquisitive tone.

  “The question still remains, though, who is it? And why haven’t they claimed their winnings?”

  “Because, Clarke, some people need time, mate,” I mutter.

  “I agree with you, Clarke.” Jasper also seems besotted by this lotto ticket.

  “It’s rather surprising for it not to have been claimed. I know if I was the sole winner of sixty-two million dollars I would’ve been there the moment the newsagency opened.” Clarke has a point, I guess.

  “Oh, me too. It makes you wonder if the winner is even aware at this point they are so lucky.” Jasper sighs. “The things I’d do with such wealth.”

  “Okay, listeners, let’s light up these lines. Why do you think the winner of Tuesday night’s lotto is yet to claim the grand prize? We’d love to hear your thoughts. And if you are the winner and you’re listening, maybe you’d like to shed some light as to why you’re yet to present the ticket. Clarke, now wouldn’t a call from the winner be amazing?”

  “Yes. But, Jasper, didn’t you think he or she is currently out of town and has no idea they’ve actually won?”

  “Well, yes, but a man can dream he or she is listening right now.”

  “It’s a possibility. I’m still sticking to my belief, which is that the ticket has been lost. Maybe it’s at the dump. Nobody would find it there.”

  Stopping at a traffic light, I find myself laughing at these two goons, that is until a Harley Davidson motorcycle, jet-black in colour, pulls up in the lane beside me. She rumbles like a beast and steals my attention at first glance. What a beauty.

  “People are searching the streets. Did you see the news broadcast this morning?” Clarke continues as I admire the shine on the paint job and the curved structure of this incredible bike.

  “I did.”

  “The streets. Can you believe it?” Clarke says, as the Harley shifts into gear and speeds off into the distance.

  “What I wouldn’t give for a bike like that,” I mumble to myself, turning the volume down on the radio until it’s barely audible and shifting my ute into gear.

  The farther I travel into the upper-class district of Hoffman, the cleaner the air becomes. The wind rushes through the wound-down window and seems crisper and fresher. It could be because this part of town is built into rolling mountains and works its way down to the sea level, or it could be because the streets are clean and well maintained. I reach for a roll of peppermint lollies sitting on the dash. I pry one from the packet and slip it into my mouth before throwing it back on the dash. Taking my attention from the road momentarily, I switch my sight to Roxie and roll my eyes at how far her head is currently hanging out of the open passenger window. I hope she won’t try and jump out. It’s the last thought I have as the sound of screeching tyres has my eyes darting back to the road just in time to watch an SUV plough into the front of my utility.

  Metal screeches. I squeeze my eyes shut. My hand jerks out to find Roxie. By a clump of her mangy hair, I’m able to pull her onto my lap and curl my body over hers in protection. The hard thud of my head on the steering column knocks the wind from my lungs. It takes a moment for me to catch my breath and when I do I realise the pick-up is tilting. Not a second more passes before we flip sideways.

  “Fuuuuuuuck!” I don’t count how many times the roof of the ute hits bitumen, but we land back on the wheels with another loud crunching sound followed by a smashing conclusion.

  “What in the world?” I slur, trying to focus my vision. All I see are cracks, lots of cracks, and then three dancing windscreens. I’m dazed, there’s no doubting it. A suffocating throttle to my neck has my hands desperately trying to remove the source, only to find Roxie attempting to wrap herself under my chin. “Itt’ss otttay guuurl,” I slur as a harsh throb to my head has me wincing.

  “Holy … are … Can you hear me? Sir, are you okay?”

  “Huuuuhh?”

  “You need to get out of the car.” Although muffled, I can tell this voice is feminine in nature. “Quickly, you need to get out of the car.” The muffled sound grows more intense. “Holy shit! You need to get out. Get out!” she screams.

  Shaking my head, I try to focus. Frantic banging has me following the direction it’s coming from. A soft light glows around bright red lips. “Your car is on fire. Get out!” The door handle rattles. “I can’t get it open. It’s stuck.” Her voice trembles.

  “It’s okay,” I finally reply. “Here, take Roxie.” I hold Roxie up to the opened window, and the woman snatches her from my grip. “Move back.”

  I groan as a piercing pain runs the length of my shoulder blade, sprinting down my spine. Pressing past this agony, I yank my body sideways and slam my shoulder against the door at the same time as I lift the internal handle. It doesn’t open. It doesn’t budge at all.

  High-pitched screaming follows, and when I shift my attention towards it, I’m met with warmth to either cheek. She cradles my face in her palms, and her eyes burn with intense fear. “You need to get out. Do you understand? You’re going to burn to death. I can’t get you out.” Her unsteady voice sends adrenaline pulsing through my veins. “Please, you need to get out,” she whispers in despair as tears fall from her eyes.

  Placing my hands to the backs of hers, I take one moment to stare into her wet bottle green eyes before I push her away. Digging my fingers into the window track, I pull my body through the opening, using my knee to launch myself up. The thick smoke has me coughing as my foot thumps against the last bit of the frame and I fall outwards. I hit the pavement with a thump.

  “I’m here. I have you. Oh, thank God. Oh, thank fucking God. You need to get up, okay?” She takes my arm and begins reefing it.

  I hear her strained grunts. I’m not moving an inch, but this woman isn’t giving up.

  “Let go
,” I choke out as I cough. Rolling onto my stomach, I begin army crawling before I get into a kneeling position.

  She pinches my arm.

  “Come on. Find your feet.” She’s tugging at me once more.

  I’m on my feet, with a little help from the mystery woman.

  “Are you okay? Here, let me look.” Soft hands travel over my arms as she runs her fingers from the back of my neck, over my shoulders, and plants them on my chest. “There are cuts and there will be bruises, but I think you’re okay … I think you’re okay.” She begins to laugh, and she laughs so hard it almost disguises her sobbing.

  “Hey, I’m okay,” I croak, running my hands into her flowing red hair before cupping them to either side of her face. “I’m okay. You saved me.”

  “I saved you,” she whispers, with her gaze fixed hard to mine.

  “I’ve called the emergency services,” a deep voice yells, not far from where I hold my saviour in my hands.

  “You’re going to be okay. Your dog is going to be okay. I’m going to be okay.” She continues sobbing, and when she takes a deep breath, she allows her cheek to nestle firmly into my right palm.

  “Thank you, for …”

  Before I can even finish the sentence, a glimpse of a sliver of paper flashes in my memory. “Holy shit!” I roar. My heart sprints as I throw my body in the direction of the ute. “Shiiiiiit!” I growl, watching bright orange flames spew out from under the crushed hood.

  I run. It almost feels as though I’m moving in slow motion, but I can’t risk my only chance of a brighter future going up in smoke. I estimate I’ve only minutes for a chance of claiming it back.

  “What are you doing?” follows in a screech behind me when I make it to the passenger side of the utility.

  I flick my head over my shoulder only to find the lunatic of a redhead coming after me. “Where’s Roxie?” I shout. She’s no longer holding her. Come to think of it she hasn’t been holding Roxie for a while. Her hands were on my chest. Her fingers brushed my neck. Shit! Where’s Roxie? “Stay back,” I instruct with dominance.