K Road

by Ted Dawe

  ‘You know what I mean.’

  He nodded. It was impossible to argue with her. About anything. He loved her too much for that.

  Jazz went out mid afternoon to try his luck on K. Road. Pick up the people who finish work early. He was making OK money, but he was anxious and didn’t enjoy it. All he could think about were bad scenarios for Roxy.

  Roxy getting caught in a shop.

  Roxy getting wasted with the sisters and them making a move on her.

  Roxy meeting another guy.

  It affected his music, too. He no longer played out to the people walking by, he played inwards, to some devil eating away at his guts, trying to pacify it. He hardly noticed this guy staring at him about ten metres away. When he finished his set, instead of being exhilarated like he usually was, he felt wasted and hollow. He crouched down to scoop up a bunch of coins from the case at his feet. He didn’t like to leave too much in there; it meant people would think he had been well enough paid already.

  The guy walked over to him and tossed a small bag of dak into the case. Jazz took it out and looked up.

  The guy was about his age, longish hair, green eyes, earring. It was a bit of a Gypsy look.

  ‘What’s with this?’ Jazz held up the bag in full view of the people going past.

  ‘It’s for you. I’ve always liked that one. “Angie”.’

  ‘Can’t even remember doing it, eh.’ Jazz was still edgy, not sure how to play this scene. It was like some sort of test.

  ‘You a pro?’

  ‘I guess. This is what I do.’

  The other guy flicked a look up and down the street. ‘This is what I do.’

  ‘I’m off dope. Trying to stay straight.’

  ‘Staying straight, eh? That’s a new one. Trade it then. It’s better than money.’ He stretched out his hand. ‘I’m Diego.’

  ‘Jazz.’

  ‘I know people. Player like you should be heard somewhere decent. This is for street bums.’

  ‘Maybe that’s what I am.’

  ‘That’s cool, if that’s what you want.’

  Jazz said nothing.

  ‘Well, is it, man?’

  This guy was getting to him. It was like he knew Jazz already. ‘Dunno. I get by.’

  ‘You should get more than by. Way more. Got a manager?’

  ‘I’m my manager.’

  ‘You can’t play and manage at the same time. Different talents anyway.’

  ‘You a manager?’

  ‘Oh yes.’ Diego grinned. ‘I see a … a situation. I manage it. It’s what I do.’

  ‘Musicians?’

  ‘More than that. I see chances. And I grab them. Other people, they walk on by just like these people.’ He pointed to a new burst of pedestrians, a stream of them pouring down from the lights. ‘They could trip over diamonds and never know it. They’ve got eyes but they don’t see.’

  ‘What do you see?’

  Diego looked at him intensely, the green eyes a bit freaky. It wasn’t a staunch ‘bring it on’ stare, it was a ‘looking deep into you’ stare. Made you feel he was seeing things you didn’t want him to see. Private things.

  ‘I see someone a bit like me. Born in the wrong place maybe. Someone who’s never had the chances to reach their level. Someone who’s never been connected. Tell me. Who taught you to play like that?’

  Jazz had been asked this plenty, but it was never an easy one to answer. ‘I guess my uncle … he started me off anyway. I s’pose I just taught myself but not really.’

  ‘Who then?’

  Jazz held out his guitar. ‘Diablo. He taught me. He like, makes me play … play to the limit. Any less and it hurts … here.’ He touched the centre of his chest. ‘I guess that sounds a bit fucked up, huh?’

  Diego shook his head. ‘Nah. I totally know what you mean. Same with me. It’s a gift man. And a gift has its demands, there’s no choice. That’s why I stopped to talk to you now. I can’t just walk past, otherwise it will eat away at me for days.’

  Jazz didn’t follow. ‘What will eat away?’

  ‘The chance to hook you up. See how far you get.’

  ‘You got connections in the music biz?’

  ‘I got connections in every biz.’

  This guy was so sure of himself, Jazz felt a bit overpowered. The only thing he was sure of was the guitar … the rest of it was just lucky guessing.

  ‘Where you staying?’

  ‘Near here.’ Jazz wasn’t giving anything away.

  ‘I want to talk to some people … then I’ll come back to you. Got a phone?’

  Jazz grinned and shook his head.

  ‘Here’s my card. You can ring me any time. How can I reach you?’

  Jazz looked at the card; it had a picture of a joint on it.

  ‘Shit, bro. That’s laying it on the line. The feds get hold of this and you’re in deep shit.’

  Diego gave him a wink. ‘Yeah, but I know who to give it to. That’s why I give it to you.’

  Jazz felt a bit stink about not taking this guy back to the castle, but there was something a bit too smooth about him. You couldn’t tell what he was up to. He was a bit unstoppable. And to tell the truth, he was worried about Roxy.

  ‘I’m here most afternoons. You just swing by.’

  ‘I will, Jazz. Depend on it.’ Diego grinned, as if he knew everything that was going on in Jazz’s head. ‘Spot ya.’

  Jazz watched him saunter off down the road. He could tell even from the back that he was reading all the people he passed on the footpath. Diego stopped next to a red Holden, the sort salesmen drive, and shot a look back at him. It was like he knew Jazz would be watching him. He grinned, raised his hand, then climbed into the car. Jazz crouched by the guitar case, picking out the rest of the money. It was like this guy had known him for years. Knew him better than anyone. Even Roxy. Freaky.

  When Jazz got back to the castle it was still quiet. Everyone was out doing their day stuff, even Shorty and Six. He climbed the tower to their room. Roxy had done good. What a little home-maker. Dragged all this gear up the ladder, made it quite comfortable. The flattened fridge box covered the open doorway during the night, kept the cold air out. They had a mattress and even a table and a chair. During the night they pulled a big piece of ply over the hole and put their mattress over it.

  Protection.

  That guy Sione, who’d been chucked out of the Klan’s space, he’d come around one night, blitzed on P, looking for stuff to rip off, because Sonny wouldn’t give him any more. He tried to get up into their tower. After Diablo, Jazz guessed. Rox had hit him on the head with a hunk of wood. Just as his Big Bad Wolf head came up through the hole. No ‘how do you dos’ or ‘do you minds’, just a whack on the nut. You had to love her. She had a man’s heart in an angel’s body. Beautiful and fearless.

  Jazz pulled the chair up to the doorway and sent out music to the grey city. The heavy mass of cloud hovered over the tall buildings like the canopy of a tent he used to camp in when he was small. He loved camping. None of the rules that came with houses. No-one seemed to own anything.

  Some time later, perhaps an hour, maybe three, he heard voices. It was Roxy and the sisters. All excited. He put the guitar aside and climbed down the ladder. It was a relief to see them back safely. He was suddenly aware of how worried he had been.

  The three of them were unpacking in the sisters’ room. Roxy was wearing these designer clothes and had bags covered with the names of the most expensive shops. The sisters were wearing the same track pants and sweaters that they had left in but both of them were wearing brand new sports shoes. Sione was with them, which seemed weird: but he was straight now, and seemed none the worse for the whack on the head. ‘No brain, no pain,’ Jazz thought.

  They all turned when he walked in the door. Everyone was pumped and grinning with the excitement of it all. Jazz knew he was in for a long story. Roxy came to him, her arms out, showing off the new threads. The other three watched his reaction.
/>   ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Very nice. The Warehouse?’

  She gave him a little punch. ‘Style is wasted on you. This is Suzanne Gregory. My blouse, Versace. These trousers … I forget.’ She tried to look at the label on the back but couldn’t twist around far enough. ‘Well?’

  ‘Yeah. You look like a princess.’

  ‘You shoulda seen her, Jazz,’ said Ruby, ‘you woulda been prouda her. She got balls, man.’

  ‘You make her sound like Gigi,’ said Api, and they both laughed.

  ‘Anyway, she could get into all the shops we can’t get into any more,’ Ruby continued. ‘Places where our rep means we get turned around at the door. Or worse. But she knows how to get the five finger discount. I reckon she’s not as innocent as she looks eh?’

  ‘Yeah? Anything I did back in the Bay was small stuff. Food mostly. These two are organised.’ She was so excited. ‘Sorry Sione, three.’

  ‘I would’ve thought that Sione might’ve had trouble getting in places too.’ He had one of those bewildered faces you see in police mug shots.

  ‘Yeah, I do, man. I seen so much action in Newmarket there’s only about three shops left for me. I’m even banned from MacDonald’s.’

  ‘I don’t know how you can nick stuff from McD’s’ said Jazz.

  ‘You lift people’s burgers when they’re not looking. Risky but. You’ve gotta be hungry.’

  Roxy stepped between them, bursting to talk. ‘They’re a team, Jazz. Ruby and Api told me where to go and what to get. Sometimes one of them went in to the shop while I was there, that made it easy. The minute Api walks in the shop everyone stares at her, watching her moves. Can’t take their eyes off her for a second.’

  Api cut in. ‘Yeah, Rubes foots it through the racks holdin’ up stuff like she’s checking out the quality, meanwhile Roxy’s filling her bag.’

  ‘What happens when you go past those sensor posts by the door?’ Jazz was having none of it.

  ‘We showed her how to do it.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s simple. Like this. Here, you be one of those posts.’ Roxy strolled around with her big fancy store bag, pretending to be looking at clothes, all the time having sneaky looks left and right. Then without warning she walked past Jazz at speed reaching up and passing the bag behind his head. She did this cheeky little arse wiggle and air punch as she went through the door.

  When she re-entered she had this super casual manner on, the big ‘how was that?’

  ‘Very smooth,’ said Jazz, ‘but I would’ve thought this,’ and he mimicked the arse action, ‘would be spotted right across the shop.’

  ‘Uh-uh. It’s in the timing. You do it and they would see you. Me, no way.’

  ‘Except the last one,’ said Sione.

  ‘Oh yes. I don’t forget the last one. I was tired. Got a bit slack.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Didn’t lift my arm up high enough. Alarm went off. Every mother on the floor spins around to look at me. I keep right on going thinking, fuck ’em what can they do? Then this young guy comes out, about your age, Jazz, he’s going to do the hero bit.

  ‘I see Rube and Api halfway down Broadway waiting for me. I was thinking, thanks for the support girls, I want you outside the shop, not down the other end of the strip.

  ‘This guy’s gaining on me, no way I can get clear. Had visions of me fighting him in the middle of Broadway.’ She saw Jazz grinning. ‘I’d hook him, don’t you worry.’

  ‘I believe it.’

  ‘Next time I look back, the guy’s on the footpath, holding his face in both hands. Blood, the works. It’s a mystery.’

  ‘What happened?’ asked Jazz. ‘I guess this is where Sione comes in.’

  Sione smiled; he had a sweet face when he did that. ‘I used to play league for my school, eh? I was the enforcer.’ He pointed to his elbow. ‘Fulla hits this at speed, he’s out for the count. I jus’ scratch my head like this.’ He demonstrated the casual head scratch. ‘No swing. Arm never moves. Then you say, “Sorry bro, How’d that happen?”’ He burst into his machine gun laugh.

  ‘So what happens now?’ asked Jazz. ‘Roxy gets to wear label clothes from here on.’

  ‘No way!’ said Roxy. ‘This is old lady stuff. Api’s got someone who buys it off her.’

  ‘Yeah, she runs this shop in Ponsonby for women who wanta look the goods but can’t afford it.’

  ‘Happy endings all round,’ said Jazz.

  Everyone grinned. They liked this idea. No-one was interested in what he’d been doing, not even Roxy.

  That night everyone was dead keen on getting out. Time to kick back after a day’s graft. The girls wanted to go and hook up with the DTKs (Down Town Kru). They were the ones who had first spotted Jazz and Roxy the day they arrived, had tracked them as they were moved on by each new cop. Told the KRK about them. They were all young and wild. No telling what they would get up to.

  Through all this, Jazz had become quiet and more distant – the ousider. ‘Might sit this one out, eh? I got something on tomorrow. Need to be my best.’

  Roxy turned to him. ‘What’s up?’

  He told her about Diego.

  She was sceptical. ‘This town’s full of fullas like that. Bullshitters.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’ He knew it sounded a bit weak, but you had to be there.

  ‘Come on, Jazz. Party time!’ Roxy grabbed the front of his shirt.

  ‘I want to …’

  ‘Yeah, I know, you want to stay straight. You can be our protector.’

  Jazz looked around the group. ‘Hey, do I look like a fighting man?’

  ‘You can protect us with your wicked notes. Keep away the evils.’ It was Sione. Jazz was surprised. He hadn’t realised Sione rated music.

  They all met up near Aotea Square. All the trees surrounding it had coloured lights strung through them. There was someone important passing through town soon. In a dark corner, where someone had smashed many of the lights, the KRKs joined up with the DTKs. There were a lot of them. The DTKs were just kids; no old people like you see in most of the gangs. The oldest can’t have been more than 16. The youngest, he only looked about nine but he smoked hard out and he had this attitude. Two of the girls had caught this chink at an ATM. Made her draw out $500, the limit. Scared the shit out of her they said, so they beat her up too. Couldn’t help it, she gave in too easy. They had her credit card too, so it was a spend-against-the-clock shopping spree till the chick managed to get the card shut down. Roxy went off with them. She wanted to see how this scam worked. Jazz stayed with the other group on the steps below the Town Hall. He played softly while the others buzzed about doing their stuff. Some begged smokes off passers by, others looked for school kids out on the town to shake down. Business as usual, Jazz guessed.

  One kid came over and sat with him, can’t have been more than 11. Liked music, you could tell. Had a nice voice, too.

  ‘Where you from?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘Down the line.’ Standard answer.

  ‘How long you been with the DTKs?’

  ‘Two nights this time. But I known them a while eh?’

  ‘Having a good time?’ Jazz grinned at him as he picked the high notes at the bottom of the fret board.

  ‘Better than being at home with my old man.’

  ‘Haven’t got a mum?’

  He shook his head.

  ‘Old man give you the smash?’

  He nodded.

  Same old story, Jazz thought. The song goes on forever, the party never ends. ‘What’s going to happen when you go back this time?’

  ‘Nuthin. Never goin’ back.’ He looked like he meant it too.

  ‘Got someone looking out for you?’

  He nodded. ‘Got my man, Cujo.’

  ‘Which one’s he?’

  ‘He’s comin’. Who’s that girl you with?’

  ‘That’s my lady.’

  ‘She’s pretty.’

  ‘Reckon.’

  ‘Cujo says yo
use stay up at the castle. With the KRKs.’

  Jazz started. ‘He knows us, eh?’

  ‘He knows everything.’

  ‘Sounds like a dealer.’

  ‘True.’

  They fell silent. Jazz felt this mounting worry, about Roxy mainly, but this Cujo, he was there too. Jazz liked being an unknown, but that was disappearing.

  After a while a little band of kids came across the square. The kid stood up.

  ‘See ya, Jazz.’

  ‘Hey, what are ya called?’

  ‘Wings.’

  ‘What? Wings?’

  The kid shot him a toothy one and pulled out his ears. They were big, too.

  ‘Kay. See ya Wings.’

  The night thickened and Jazz had to walk about to keep out the cold. Time dragged. It must have been an hour before Jazz heard the sound of the girls coming back. One of them had one of those screechy laughs that set your teeth on edge. The girls were weighed down with bags. It had been a successful raid. Roxy came over and sat next to him.

  ‘You shoulda come. Might learn something. These girls are pros.’

  ‘Don’t call me a pro! I’m no ho,’ the short one said, then the redhead screeched again. The big joke.

  ‘You don’t have to pay me.’ In case they didn’t get it.

  More screeches.

  ‘This is Sharday and Rusty.’ She grabbed his arm. ‘This is my music man, Jazz.’

  More laughs. He was getting used to it.

  ‘Look at our stuff. Sixteen hundred bucks worth and then beep, card declined. “If you’ll just wait here, Madam, I’ll make a phone call.” No thank you. Bus to catch. See ya.’

  More laughs.

  ‘You gotta admit it, Rox, it was good while it lasted. Beats liftin’.’

  ‘“Would you like me to wrap that, Miss Chang?” How d’ya figure that?’

  ‘I know,’ said Sharday. ‘Do I look like a Chinese?’ Then she slitted her eyes. ‘Make that two flied lice.’

  More laughs.

  ‘No questions huh?’ asked Jazz.

  ‘Those flash shops, full of up-themselves old tarts, when they’re making money they don’t ask questions. “Will that be all, Madam?” And “Would you like it wrapped?”’