K Road

by Ted Dawe

  She got this crestfallen look. He felt lousy, like he had hit some little kid. He kept forgetting that she was only 14. Didn’t know much. He stopped and put his arms around her. ‘We got the chance to make a new start. Get clear away from all the shit. You think what it would be like if we stayed on.’

  ‘I’m tired, Jazz. I want to lie down for about a week.’

  ‘Hey you guys! Want a lift?’

  It was some surfers in a Holden.

  Jazz walked over and dropped his head down by the window.

  ‘Where you headed?’

  ‘Auckland.’

  There were two of them. Both blondies. A big one and a small one. The driver, who was the smaller one, flashed a grin at him, ‘So are we, get in man.’

  Jazz looked back at Roxy. It was one of those lucky breaks you had to take. Ignoring it would be bad karma. They both piled in.

  The bigger guy turned to them as the smaller one fed the car back into traffic. ‘I’m Rabbit, this is Flash. We was watching you from over at that burger bar. You both looked dead beat.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks. We are eh, Rox?’

  Jazz introduced them both and there were handshakes all round.

  Rabbit talked to them as Flash threaded his way through the Hamilton traffic.

  ‘Hey, what you got in that guitar case? Machine gun?’

  ‘Guitar actually.’

  ‘You play a bit?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘What do you play?

  ‘What do ya want?’

  ‘Nirvana?’

  ‘“Come as You Are?”’

  ‘Cool!’

  Because he was tired and they were in a small space, Jazz didn’t give it the rough treatment, but picked his way carefully through the notes as if each one had its own separate message.

  ‘I never heard it played like that before.’ That was Rabbit, obviously impressed.

  ‘Me neither,’ said Jazz.

  ‘What do ya mean?’

  ‘I never know how something is going to sound until I play it. And it never sounds the same twice. Last time I did it, it sounded like this.’ He thrashed it out and sang at the same time. ‘But that time I was playing at this party and I was a bit wasted on dak.’

  Flash looked over. ‘You got a good voice. Play in a band?’

  Jazz shook his head. ‘Strictly solo. I can’t work in with other people, they have to work with me. Haven’t found anyone who could, yet.’

  ‘How about you, Roxy?’

  ‘I’m his manager.’

  ‘Tough job?’

  ‘The pay’s crap. You know what they say, dirty work but someone’s got to do it.’

  ‘Work!’ The two guys in the front seat chorused, then held up crossed fingers in front of their faces. It was one of those routines.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Rabbit. ‘Don’t mention the W word. We’ve been on the road for nearly a month and now we’re staring down the barrel of it.’

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Roxy.

  ‘We’ve been everywhere, man … a bit here, a bit there. Zigging and zagging. Raglan. Opotiki, over to Oakura, back to Whitianga and then back to Whale Bay.’

  ‘That’s some miles.’

  ‘We stayed about four or five days at each place. It was cool. After a while it’s like you’ve evolved to a higher state. Each day it’s just the waves and the weather. Nothing else matters. You get out there on your board, beyond the break line and you look back at the land and you wonder why you ever have to come in. I felt I could just hang there forever.’

  ‘I didn’t,’ said Flash. ‘I used to get too cold, but this dude he doesn’t feel it, eh?’

  ‘Yeah, when I die I want them to name a wave after me: the Rabbit. A wave that never breaks, that just goes on and on…’

  ‘Endless wave,’ said Jazz. ‘That’s cool. I want an endless riff named after me … this one.’

  He picked out a short sequence so sweet that no-one could talk for a while afterwards.

  ‘Shit, Jazz, where did that come from?’ Roxy was as surprised as anyone else.

  ‘No idea. I woke up one morning, scrambled about for Diablo, hands started to play, this came out. End of story.’

  ‘I never heard anything like that before.’ Rabbit’s voice was soft. Subdued.

  ‘I guess that’s why we’re headed to Aucks. See what I can make of it. How about youse?’

  ‘We are heading to Auckland to get a research grant from Rabbit’s father.’

  ‘Sperm donor,’ Rabbit asserted.

  ‘Correction. Sperm donor.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Roxy looked perplexed.

  ‘I reckon father’s a title you earn by doing something more than just screwing someone.’ Behind the gung-ho there was a touch of bitterness this time.

  No-one said anything for a while; the comment had struck a note.

  Roxy broke the silence. ‘You guys students?’

  ‘How do you get that?’ asked Flash.

  ‘Research grant.’

  ‘That’s our joke. Basically we plan to sting him for some dough to finance a surf up North.’

  ‘Where are you going, up North?’

  Rabbit, who had been brooding, said, ‘We have covered most of the beaches south of Auckland. The ones that are worth going to. Now it’s time to tackle Northland. All the way from Tawharanui to Cape Reinga. That’s a shitload of beaches. It’s going to take a bit of money to keep it all happening.’

  ‘So you’re going to soak your old man for it?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘Can’t tell how. He’s rich but he’s a wily coyote. We’ll need a couple of grand for this so it’s going to take a bit of planning.’

  ‘Good luck. Money. What a fucking drag.’

  ‘I reckon.’

  They drove on for while all looking out the windows, lost in their own worlds. Then Roxy piped up.

  ‘You guys going anywhere near Spirits Bay?’

  ‘My word yes,’ said Flash, with raised eyebrow, stuck out jaw. ‘That’s the northern most beach. Right up by the Cape. We’ll have to give that a go, just to say we’ve done it.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go there. My nana used to tell me about it when I was small. It’s where all the spirits jump off on their way back to Hawai-iki.’

  ‘You believe in that stuff?’

  She looked reflective for a moment, as if not sure whether to take it further. ‘Not sure … just that …’ she paused. ‘Just that, if there’s nothing after this then, what’s the point?’

  ‘I believe it,’ said Jazz.

  Roxy looked at him, surprised, trying to check out whether he was dead straight. ‘How’s that, Jazz?’

  ‘Don’t know. Just always have. I believe in God and I believe in the devil.’

  ‘Horny bastard with a pitchfork?’ Rabbit was grinning.

  ‘None of that kid’s shit … he’s like a force and like God he’s everywhere, in everything.’

  ‘You go to one of those strict churches when you were young?’

  ‘Uh-uh. No, it’s sort of basic. Like it’s always been there. Helps me make sense of shit, eh?’

  ‘I’m an atheist,’ said Rabbit.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I believe there’s no God. When we die, we die. I reckon you gotta live your own life, ’cause one day, you gonna die your own death.’

  ‘How can you believe in no God? It’s like believing in no tomorrow.’

  ‘How do you get that?’

  ‘It’s like …’ Jazz paused, ‘It’s like believing in a negative.’

  ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. To each his own, it’s all unknown, when dogs run free.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’

  ‘No idea. It’s just a few lines of a song I heard once. Once I heard it I could never get it out of my head. I reckon I’m stuck with it now, till the day I die.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘How about you, Flash? You like Rabbit?’ as
ked Jazz.

  ‘I’m like a “don’t know”. But I have these thoughts sometimes, usually at the beach. Where everything comes together and makes sense. It doesn’t last, but it’s a blast, I tell you.’

  ‘He worships the wave,’ said Rabbit, who found this stuff a bit hard to take.

  Roxy spoke softly and looked out the window. ‘Well I know that when I die, my spirit is going to take that journey, all the way up to Spirits Bay, and when it gets there it’ll slide down the roots of this tree, head back to Hawai-iki … where they all come from.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind heading off to Hawaii myself,’ said Rabbit. ‘I always wanted to surf Waimea Bay. It’s like the ultimate eh?’

  Roxy opened her mouth to correct him, then thought better of it and snuggled in under Jazz’s arm.

  ‘Where are youse staying in Auckland?’ asked Flash.

  ‘Don’t know yet. Don’t know Auckland.’ Even though he hadn’t thought about it, Jazz didn’t seem too worried.

  ‘You can stay with us if you like. We’re crashing at this mate’s place. He’s got this big garage. There’s always room.’

  ‘Sounds cool. Done.’

  Jazz got out his guitar again and began to play. As they crested the Bombay Hills suddenly it was there in the distance: the lights of Auckland, the dark shape of Rangitoto and the dull grey of the Hauraki Gulf.

  ‘Behold the promised land!’ exclaimed Flash.

  ‘Amen brother,’ answered Jazz, quietly, from the back.

  Flash’s mate was a guy he and Rabbit had gone to school with. They began to talk about old school crap as soon as they got out of the car. It took most of the night to work through it.

  ‘Do you remember old …’

  ‘What was with …’

  ‘How about …’

  ‘They used to reckon …’

  Jazz and Roxy slept on a couch in the corner. They were so done in that even the loudest laughter failed to keep them awake.

  They were late getting started in the morning on account of Roxy’s crook gut. Jazz thought they might busk in the downtown and see what came of it. Maybe they could track down a recording studio in the afternoon, see if he could score an audition.

  Rabbit and Flash went off to see the SD, as Rabbit referred to him, to see what sort of deal they could work out. ‘Maximum dough, minimum effort, that’s the story,’ said Rabbit.

  ‘True!’ said Flash, and they were gone.

  The first thing Jazz and Roxy learned about Auckland was that busking was not going to be as easy as they were used to. There seemed to be this general rule drilled into the heads of all the young cops: ‘If it’s not a worker or a shopper, give it a hard time.’

  They were moved on continually. And when the same pair of cops gave them their third warning, they thought it best to head up to K. Road.

  K. Road was different. It was a ‘hanging out’ street. It was cool. There were even seats halfway down to play at. It was almost like they had been put there with them in mind. At the end of the afternoon the coffee bars filled up with people starting to make their way home. Jazz picked out the more mellow notes: he was getting a bit sick of singing for his supper. Roxy just hung in next to him, watching the watchers and giving the eyebrow to people who threw money their way.

  As it got darker the street kids started to make their appearance. Word had got about quickly that there was this guitarist around so they all dropped by to check him out.

  Once they started to gather it was goodbye to any more dollars. All the other normal people gave them a wide berth.

  There was this really pretty tall girl who came over to sit by Roxy.

  ‘Where are youse from?’

  Roxy turned to swap looks with Jazz. It was a boy. Caught them out. She shrugged. ‘Down the line.’

  ‘Me too. Whereabouts?’

  ‘Hastings.’

  ‘True? You know people called Amos?’

  Roxy nodded.

  ‘They’re my whanau. We could be sisters!’

  They both laughed, Jazz thought it was funny too, but he was a bit wary.

  ‘What’s your name?’ the boy-girl asked.

  ‘Roxy.’

  ‘I’m Gigi. How about you, guitar man?’

  ‘Jazz.’ He took her offered hand.

  ‘Yeow! What a crusher. I’m just a delicate little thang!’ She held up her hand like it was the wounded paw of a dog.

  The others came forward at this point. They had been hanging back shyly, trying to look staunch. They all took turns to shake hands.

  There was Sonny, who was really tall, like a basketball player, and two girls who looked like sisters: Api and Ruby.

  ‘We’re the K. Road Klan. There’s others but they come and go.’

  ‘I seen your tags,’ said Roxy. ‘KRK.’

  It was Sonny’s turn to talk. ‘That was Maus. He was dedicated eh, some of the places where he put our mark. They’ll be there for years. Look at that one over there.’

  There was the KRK tag on the awning in front of a big new bank. ‘Climbed onto a security van while they were doing the ATM. Did the van at the same time.’

  ‘Bet they were pissed,’ said Jazz quietly, fingering chords.

  Two men walked by in suits, one big and red-faced, the smaller hurrying to keep up. For a moment Jazz thought more money was coming his way but he was wrong. Fatty made a comment and the little guy laughed.

  ‘They wanted to get him,’ Sonny continued, ‘but they had the front of the machine all open and the money out. We would’ve been in there, man. Quick as. They knew they were stuck. Had to just take it. He was really in ya face, man.’ He gave a quick smile and then fixed on the departing figures of the two men. It was the calm stare of a hunter.

  ‘What happened to Maus?’ asked Jazz.

  ‘He got real beaten up a few weeks later. Went off to hospital. Then, ’cause he was only young, he was put in the Weymouth Boys’ Home.’

  ‘Shit, that’s harsh.’

  ‘He got caught with this chick, Tui, behind that wall over there. Did a real number on his face.’ You could see Sonny was picturing it. He spoke quietly, almost to himself.

  ‘There’s this guy, eh. He’s the one who does all the beatings round here. Him and his brother. It was him with a couple of securities. Get my chance I’ll settle with him one day.’

  Sonny looked like he meant it too. Jazz noted that he was one of those wiry dudes you wouldn’t want to mess with: lightly built but with wide shoulders, big hands and feet. He sat there, tapping out a rap, looking like he was reliving it all.

  ‘Can I have a play on your guitar?’ Api asked.

  Jazz handed it to her.

  She picked it up carefully and handled it in a way so you could tell she knew her way around it. She and Ruby exchanged a few quiet words and then they played and sang along together. It was church music and the song was in Samoan. They had the easy harmony of people who had known the music since they were children. Their voices blended effortlessly.

  Roxy watched these girls in awe. They looked so tough and mean when she first saw them, she was sure they were going to beat her up just for being pretty. As if she could help that. But once they sang, wow, it was like being wrapped in someone’s soul.

  When they finished they were breathless and smiling. Surprised at what they had accomplished.

  ‘Tumeke!’ said Jazz. ‘If I ever form a band, you two are in it.’

  ‘You play us something.’ It was Ruby. ‘I want to hear what you can do on that thing.’

  Jazz smiled. He began to pick his way through one tune after the other, changing as soon as recognition showed on their faces. Each piece slightly quicker than the last.

  ‘You play fast,’ said Api.

  ‘That wasn’t fast,’ said Jazz, ‘This is fast.’ He began a quick riff that saw his hand rushing up and down the fret board. He watched their awed faces for a bit and then he stopped.

  ‘And then there’s this. Devil’s music.’


  He surged into a series of blinding runs. It was music that none of them had ever heard. Very fierce, almost ugly. A bit scary. It was as if the guitar became a different instrument. As if somehow the simple wooden box, shaft and strings had become over-run by a storm of fingers.

  When he stopped there was silence for a while.

  ‘Awesome, bro!’ said Sonny.

  ‘What’s that called?’ asked Api.

  ‘I don’t know. It’s from Spain I reckon.’

  ‘Why you call it Devil’s music?’ Api was interested.

  ‘When you and Ruby were singing, you could tell it was God music, even though it was Samoan. You could sort of feel it. This one …’ he paused, ‘This one makes you feel a bit weird, a bit freaky. Like you want to do things that maybe aren’t the best.’

  They seemed to know what he meant.

  Gigi jumped up and stood in front of them, hand on hip. ‘So where are youse staying?’

  ‘In Onehunga … with these people,’ said Roxy. ‘I don’t like it, eh, we don’t know them and all they talk about is school days.’

  Gigi looked at the others. They each signalled their agreement.

  ‘Like to stay with us?’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Around here. We all hang at the castle.’

  They threaded their way through the early evening crowds: people who pounded down the footpath all on their way somewhere, their faces blank, their minds fixed only on their destinations. Roxy noted that most of them gave the Klan a wide berth. They checked them on their radars early and then either crossed the road or kept close to the edge of the footpath. It was good, being part of a group. There was power in it. You could see it in the strangers’ eyes, even the men. They didn’t give her the hard stare. They were a bit careful.

  Gigi was like the leader. She did all the talking, had an answer for anything. Made the others laugh, too, with her extreme girlie reactions to everything. When someone said anything she didn’t agree with she had this little routine. She would flick her blonde hair back with the back of her hand, and then go ‘Ha!’ and hit this pose. Arms back, nose in the air, frozen, just like those models in the windows of the ‘out there’ clothes shops. It lightened everyone up.