‘Maybe he needs Narcan,’ said the young intern who came cruising out to look at Frantik.
‘And maybe he needs the antidote to whatever’s been pumped into his veins,’ snapped Larceny. ‘It’s not a heroin OD; it’s a bad hit. Adulterated speed. You know, amphetamines.’
Then another doctor arrived. He was older and seemed to understand what was going on with Frantik. Things got moving at last. Frantik was wheeled away into a cubicle. Just as well, as he was choking and turning blue.
‘Let’s get outa here,’ said Larceny. ‘Hospitals give me the creeps.’
‘Wait a minute — shouldn’t we hang about? Frantik might need us,’ Lynx argued.
‘What for?’
Larceny was striding for the door, her long red hair whipping round her shoulders. Lynx hesitated, then followed her out into the street.
‘How do you know all that stuff?’ he asked when he caught up to her. ‘I’ve been on the street and seen bad whacks, but nothing like that.’
‘Yeah, well … I know anaphylactic reactions because I’ve had one,’ said Larceny shortly. ‘Not from speed. From prescribed drugs when I was in hospital. And I’ve seen someone go completely numb from speed. Now, shut up and keep walking.’
‘Will that woman call the cops?’
‘Dunno. Maybe. I can’t risk it. That’s why I’m outa here.’
‘I’m with you,’ said Lynx.
They walked quickly away from the hospital and round the corner into St Kilda Road. In their hurry to put some distance behind themselves and the Alfred Hospital neither of them spoke
‘I feel bad about leaving Frantik,’ Lynx said finally when they were several blocks away, still walking fast. ‘He’s my mate. But I don’t need cop trouble. I’m on a good behaviour bond.’
‘Yeah? What for?’
‘Stealing a car. My old man paid big bail to get me off, but I’ve got to stay clean or I’ll get sent down. Why don’t you want to get tangled with the cops?’
She faced him under a street light, her large green eyes glowing like a cat’s in her white face.
‘I killed a guy.’
‘ What?’
She shrugged. ‘I killed a guy. Do you want to make something of it?’ The tone was angry, challenging.
‘What happened?’
‘He was gonna double cross me so I killed him. Come on, my feet are freezing.’ She took off fast across the road, dodging the traffic and narrowly missing getting run over several times. Lynx darted after her.
‘Wait up, will ya?’
But Larceny kept striding. She broke into a half trot and then a jog. Lynx pounded alongside her.
‘Hey,’ he puffed. ‘Slow down, will ya?’
Larceny went faster, as if by running like hell she could rid herself of her own devils that rode in her head. But though she ran till her lungs felt as if they would burst, she couldn’t run away from the one thing that terrified her the most: herself.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When they got back Bex and Comma were asleep in the double bed. Larceny turned her back on Lynx and stripped off her wet things, leaving them on the floor. She’d sort them out in the morning. She pulled out a clean t-shirt from the pile of laundry and lay down on the sofa, pulling the rug up to her chin. Lynx pulled the mattress over beside the sofa. He’d also stripped off his wet gear and found a blanket.
‘Larce?’
‘What?’
‘You’ve got funny feet.’
Larceny look down at her toes. The little toe on each foot was bigger than its companions and curled over. She was the only person she’d ever met who had these weird toes.
‘So?’
‘Nothin’. Um … do you feel like some company?’
‘No.’
‘We’d be warmer if we shared this mattress.’
‘I’m warm enough.’
‘I’m not.’
She heard him move towards her on his hands and knees. She lay rigid beneath the blanket. She’d kill him if he touched her. The grey mist came swirling, swirling … The sofa sagged as he sat down beside her.
‘Larce? You’re beautiful.’
‘Piss off,’ she hissed between clenched teeth.
‘I thought you liked me.’
‘Yeah? Well, you thought wrong.’
The rage took over. She jackknifed upright, pushing him hard in the chest. He fell off the sofa onto the floor.
‘Do I have to spell it out? LEAVE ME ALONE!’
‘All right, all right, don’t get so shitty.’
He crawled back onto his mattress. After a while his gentle snores told her that he was asleep. But she couldn’t sleep. She lay staring into the darkness, her stomach in knots at the thought of him holding her, touching her. He was a nice guy. Why couldn’t she unfreeze enough to let him have sex with her? Was there something seriously abnormally wrong with her? All those bloody shrinks hadn’t been able to help —
‘Why did you feel the need to burn the school down?’ one had asked when she was in therapy.
How the hell did she know? The teachers had been on her case for smoking in the dunnies. They’d got in some woman from Quit Smoking to run a course to get her and some of the other girls to quit. But she didn’t want to quit, that was the whole point. Who cared if her lungs were full of cancer in twenty years’ time? She’d been so angry that they’d imposed their school rules on her she’d gathered dry grass near the school fence and set it on fire with her cigarette lighter. She hadn’t been burning the school down, just the bloody fence, for shit’s sake.
‘Why are you so angry? Why don’t you like yourself?’ another shrink had asked her, staring at her through his thick glasses like she was an alien species from another planet.
‘I do like myself,’ she’d spat at him. ‘Do you?’
‘Like you, or myself?’ he’d said smoothly. She’d felt like smashing his glasses into his face. Smug little prick.
‘Oh, who cares? Go to hell,’ she’d said, turning her back and refusing to answer any more of his dumb questions.
‘Uncooperative,’ she’d seen written on her card. Yeah, well. The few times she’d tried to cooperate it had been the pits. As soon as she’d revealed a weakness the shrink had gone for her jugular. To reveal that you were weak, scared or confused gave them power. And once they had power they could manipulate you, control you. It was all Shit! Who the hell did they think they were anyway, trying to pry into her soul: God?
Finally she slept and was woken by Bex crashing through on her way to the bathroom. She was thirsty, and decided to make herself a cup of coffee.
Getting out of bed she padded over to the sink and put enough water in the jug for one coffee. She spooned Nescafe into a mug and found some milk. She was sitting sipping it when Bex came back.
‘Where’s the rest of the hot water?’ Bex asked, lifting the jug. ‘That’d be right. Only make enough for yourself. You wouldn’t think that anyone else would want a coffee, would you? And where’s Frantik?’
‘No, I don’t ever think of anyone except myself, and Frantik could be anywhere,’ snapped Larceny.
‘What did you do with him last night?’
Bex stood, hands on hips, glaring. Her face was pinched, ugly and tight.
‘We left him at Emergency,’ said Larceny shortly.
‘You left him?’
Bex looked incredulous. Then she narrowed her eyes. ‘You bitch. Lynx would never leave Frantik on his own. They’re buddies, best mates. It was you. You couldn’t be bothered staying, could you? You just walked off, didn’t you? And Lynx was torn between you pissing off and Frantik in hospital, and he chose to go with you!’
‘Get this,’ said Larceny. ‘Lynx walked outa there of his own free will. I didn’t ask him to come with me.’
‘You —’ Bex lunged. Larceny picked up the coffee mug and threw it at her. The hot coffee splashed on Bex’s arms and bare feet. She gave a howl and fell back against the sink.
‘What the hell �
��’ Lynx rolled off the mattress wearing only his jocks. His eyes went from one girl to the other. Larceny looked at him. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a movement from the double bed. Comma had woken up and was rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was trying to get her brain into gear. She was definitely not a morning person, thought Larceny, though it was probably nearer to lunchtime. She turned back to Bex who was trying to wipe coffee off her arms. The mug lay shattered at her feet where it had ricocheted off the cupboard onto the floor.
‘I’ve had a gutful of you,’ said Larceny calmly to Bex. ‘You’re a twisted bitch and I don’t need to be near your space. I’m outa here.’
She walked over to her clothes and dragged on clean underwear, jeans and a top. She found her sneakers and jammed them on her feet. Then she picked up her wet things and stuffed them into a plastic bag.
‘You’re bad,’ sobbed Comma, who was comforting Bex.
‘Bad and mad, that’s me,’ said Larceny, ‘and don’t you forget it.’
She scooped up her tote bag, jacket, and the plastic bag full of wet clothing and sauntered towards the door.
‘Wait!’
Lynx had put on his jeans and t-shirt. He pulled on his black Gurus top, and some socks, shoved his feet into his boots, and reached for his jacket.
‘Where are you goin’?’ wailed Comma frantically.
‘With her.’
‘I don’t need no minder, man.’
‘Yeah? That’s what you think.’
He followed behind her, slamming the door. Larceny was striding down the stairs.
‘Wait up!’
She kept walking.
‘WAIT!’
She turned and faced him at the bottom of the stairs.
‘Why?’
Lynx sighed.
‘I dunno. Thought I might come with you.’
‘You thought wrong.’
‘Thought you might like a nice hot bath and something to eat.’
‘Yeah? What are you offering, a room at the Hilton?’ she said sarcastically.
‘We could go to my place.’
‘Your place?’ Larceny stared at him incredulously.
‘My folks’ place in Toorak.’
‘Oh, sure. Your mother’s a school teacher and they have a place in Toorak?’
‘They’re rich,’ Lynx explained patiently. ‘Old money. I told you, she teaches because she’s got to be good at something she sees as useful. And my old man’s a dentist. There’s big money in teeth.’
‘I don’t get it. You could be home in the comfort, warmth and safety of your own lounge room watching tv and you choose to hang about with low life like Comma and Bex? And me?’
‘You’re not low life, Larce. You’re just confused.’
‘Yeah. Right.’
Suddenly, Larceny felt tired. Bone-weary. A hot bath would have been nice. She shrugged.
‘What about your folks?’
‘At work. Come on …’
It was a long walk through the sleeting rain, along St Kilda Road, up Toorak Road and down a side street. It was old money all right: big, stately homes brooding between new money — high rise apartments with high price tags. Huge trees dripped forlornly and it was very quiet.
‘In here.’
Lynx stopped outside a big two-storeyed brick house with mammoth trees, high walls and security gates that made Pentridge Prison look like an escapee’s paradise. He punched some numbers into a security system built into the side of one of the brick pillars and the gates swung open.
Larceny hesitated. She didn’t like being behind high walls and security gates. It gave her a feeling of insecurity: what if she couldn’t get out?
‘Come on!’
Lynx was waiting impatiently inside the gates. Once she was in he went to close them.
‘No!’ Larceny panicked. ‘Can you leave them open?’
‘The neighbours’ll get suss.’ Then seeing her tension he relented. ‘Okay, I’ll just pull them together. I won’t activate the locks.’
They walked up the driveway.
‘Keep to the side, then the security camera won’t activate the alarm,’ he said casually when they reached the door.
‘Oh, shit. I hate alarms.’ Larceny froze.
‘It’s cool. I’ve got a key. I’ll turn it off.’
He opened the front door, walked inside and deactivated the alarm system.
‘Come in. It’s okay now.’
The place made Nick Farino’s apartment look like a shit-box. It was very big. And old. Larceny stood dripping all over a lovely carpet patterned with red, blue and green swirls.
‘Nice rug!’
‘It’s Persian. I’ll show you where the bathroom is. You can take a spa while I throw your clothes in the drier.’
Larceny faced him, her arms folded.
‘I want to take a bath alone.’
‘Okay, okay, keep cool. I won’t touch you.’
‘Or perv on me?’
‘What do you think I am?’ Lynx was quite indignant. ‘You are my guest! The bathroom’s up the stairs, on the right. Or there’s another one further down the hall, if you prefer that. I’ll get you a bathrobe.’
Here in his own surroundings Lynx was a different person. He was the rich kid from a privileged family: private school, education, all manners and charm. Larceny didn’t like it. She preferred Lynx the street kid, not Marcus J Manchester, rich snot. In this place, surrounded by the trappings of the wealthy she felt like a useless piece of shit. Still, it wouldn’t have hurt to take a bath, eat some food, hang about for a while, then she’d bail and get back where she belonged, on the streets.
She went up the wide staircase, along a passage and found the bathroom. It was huge and had been modernised, with a sunken spa bath, mirrors, fluffy white towels on heated rails and luxuriant pot-plants hanging from the ceiling.
‘Whoa!’
Larceny turned on the taps and sat on the edge of the tub watching the water swirl into its marbled depths. There were some bath salts in a glass jar on a shelf so she tossed in a handful. The water turned green, and there was a fresh, pine smell. Through the steam it looked like a churning river pool below a waterfall. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. She tensed.
‘Yes?’
‘Toss out your wet clothes.’
‘Okay.’
She peeled them off in a hurry then wrapped herself in one of the towels. Padding to the door she opened it.
‘Here.’
Lynx took them and passed her a thick white towelling robe.
‘Enjoy,’ he said.
Larceny shut the door and leaned against it for a moment, staring through the steam at the bath. She had to trust him, and she never trusted anyone. Could she really trust him? She saw a heavy silver hand mirror lying on the shelf and picked it up. If he came near her she’d hit him with it. She laid it on the edge of the bath. The tub was nearly full. Leaning over, she turned off the taps and tested the water with one toe. Just right. She dropped the towel and went to climb in. There was another knock at the door.
‘Shit.’
She grabbed the robe, put it on and, holding the mirror like a club, she walked over and opened the door.
‘What?’
Lynx was standing there with a silver tray on which sat a glass containing a bubbling liquid and some slivers of biscuity-looking stuff.
‘Champagne and almond bread,’ he said, passing her the tray. ‘A snack while you have a bath.’
‘Thanks.’
She took the tray with one hand and shut the door. Well, this was something new. She’d never drunk champagne and eaten almond bread while taking a spa bath. Okay, so she’d never drunk champagne. Eaten almond bread. Or taken a spa bath. She put the tray on the floor near the bath, took off the robe, and climbed in. The bubbles caressed her like a lovely warm hug that didn’t compromise her in any way. Reaching over, she lifted up the glass and took a swig. The bubbles made her sneeze. It tasted good. Warmth flo
oded through her and she giggled. This was better than goony juice or beer. Nibbling on a piece of almond bread she settled back in the tub, her thoughts wandering all over the place.
It was crazy. If she had a home like this she’d be in heaven. Two doting parents, all this wealth and luxury. Lynx had to be a full-on idiot to abandon all this and get psychotic about being a Fijianl/Indian. Who cared if he was dark brown and from another culture.
He cared; that was his problem.
Mentally she went through the list of foster homes she’d had. Maybe if she’d had a rich family from the start she’d have turned out normal. She’d been fostered out when she was a baby, a nice family in a small country town. Vaguely she could remember being cuddled on her foster mum’s lap, read to, rocked to sleep. And her foster dad tickling her and playing this game where he’d toss her into the air and pretend to drop her. But he always caught her. She trusted him. And her foster mum. But then they’d let her down. Dropped her. They had to go to the States and they didn’t take her with them. At the time she’d felt unwanted, hurt and abandoned, too young to understand why her foster family had dumped her like an unwanted dog. She learned much later that her dad couldn’t be found to sign the papers to let them take her, or wouldn’t sign them, she wasn’t sure. But the emotional damage had been done.
She was put back into residential care and then with another foster family. They’d been very strict because she was hard to control, ripping things up, throwing things, and behaving like a monster because she didn’t want to like them or them to like her. There were no guarantees that if she was lovable they’d keep her. Her first family hadn’t, had they? She’d become a biter; had bitten everyone who came near her, bitten all the other kids at the kindergarten. They couldn’t handle her. Back into a residential. Fostered again, too hard to handle, they’d said, back into residential. Out and back, out and back like a boomerang, getting angrier, more untrusting, and more violent.
Another knock on the door.
‘What now?’ she yelled.
‘You’ve been in there for an hour. I thought you might’ve drowned or something.’
The water was cold and she hadn’t even noticed. She was all wrinkled like a prune and goosebumpy.
Care Factor Zero Page 7