Behind the Hood (Behind the Lives)

by Hansen, Marita A.

  Tama bobbed down in front of her. “Where’s Mum?”

  “He-He-ven.”

  “What?”

  Caitlin let go of the handle. “Mummy’s in heaven,” she said, without stuttering.

  “No,” Tama said, panicked. “This isn’t a game, Caitlin. Where’s Mum?”

  “Besy said...” Caitlin started crying. “M-Mummy’s w-w-with God.”

  42

  Nike

  Nike’s mother shielded her eyes from the early morning sun as she peered out the windscreen. “Wow! This place is huge.”

  Nike’s gaze shifted back to his mother’s legs. On the car ride over to Craven’s place, he’d been winding himself up over how unwell she looked. She didn’t like him getting on her case about her health, but shit, he had to say something.

  “Mum, are you takin’ care of yourself?”

  Her expression changed from awe to annoyance. “Of course I am.”

  What a crock of shit. Although she was wearing a long skirt, he’d seen her swollen legs as she’d gotten into the car. And combined with the dark circles under her eyes and her eczema, she looked anything but healthy.

  “Your legs don’t look good, Mum. I know weight problems and lack of exercise can cause it.” He’d googled it after she’d thrown out the word oedema like it was the root of all evil.

  Her face broke into a scowl. “I’m trying to exercise, but don’t have enough time, and my legs make it hard to do anything.” Her lips pulled tight. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? You just make one excuse after another. It’s bullshit, Mum. And you know it. You need to cut back on work and tell Rory to get a fuckin’ job. Cut back on the junk food too.” Yeah, he wasn’t the most diplomatic, but it was all true.

  Her cheeks reddened. “Don’t speak to me like that. You’ve got the foulest mouth. And lay off Rory, he is working and I lost a whole kilo last week.”

  “He isn’t gettin’ paid for that,” Nike said. “Why the fuck can’t he get a job that pays, and write in his free time?”

  “Look! It’s none of your business, plus I told ja to stop with the bad language. God, Son, show some respect.”

  “Sorry, but I’m worried you’re gonna have a heart attack—”

  “You’re being paranoid. So, stoppit.”

  “I’m gonna have a talk with Rory about this.”

  “Don’t you dare. I don’t pester you about the things you do.”

  “What do I do that’s so wrong?”

  “I know you’re searching for Tama. This has gone on long enough. You hafta stop this before someone gets killed.”

  Nike flinched. “Are you sayin’ it’s my fault that Maia got stabbed?”

  “Don’t be silly, Nike, I never said that.”

  He got out of the car. “I’ve gotta go.”

  “Son, don’t be like that.” She leaned over, looking at him through the passenger window. “Call me when you need a lift.”

  He grunted and opened the back door to give Jake a kiss. Jake poked him in the forehead with his rusk. Nike wiped his brow and closed the door. He headed towards Craven’s front door. Shit, he was in a foul mood now. Not a good start for his first day on the job.

  He pressed the doorbell. The sound of hooves caught his attention. A woman came around the corner on a tan-coloured horse, and stopped in front of him. She was wearing riding pants the same colour as the mare, along with a black jacket and helmet.

  She smiled down at him. “Who are you?”

  Nike’s gaze moved from the small whip in her left hand, then back up at her. She looked a few years older than him. He wondered whether she was the boss’s daughter.

  “I’m the new chauffeur,” he replied.

  Her smile widened. “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  She slid off the horse. She was a fraction shorter than him, with the face and body of a model. Christ, she’s skinny, he thought. If anyone pounded her she’d break in two. Snap, crackle, and floppy cock. A slight grin broke out on his face.

  She held out a hand. “I’m Talia Craven.”

  He shook it. “Nice to meet you. I’m Nike Daniels.”

  “Interesting name.”

  He shrugged, used to people’s amusement over it. “It’s Indian.”

  “You don’t look Indian,” she said, her expression surprised.

  “I’m not. My mother saw it in a book and liked it.”

  “Well, I like it too.” She grinned and looked down at his feet. “No little Nikes?”

  He forced a smile, not letting the annoying comment get to him. Best not piss off the boss’s daughter, he thought.

  “It’s also a girl’s name,” Talia said.

  Nike grimaced. No way was it a girl’s name.

  “It’s the Greek goddess of Victory’s name,” she continued. “It’s what the shoes are named after.”

  Nike shook his head. “It’s a guy’s name.”

  “Don’t worry I’m not insulting you, just stating a fact.”

  Behind him the door creaked open. It was the huge assistant he’d met yesterday. He was wearing the same black suit and tie, minus the sunglasses.

  The man nodded at Nike, then smiled at Talia. “Morning, Tal ... Mrs. Craven.”

  Nike’s eyebrows shot up. Mrs? For fuck’s sake, Craven was a dirty old man. She must be at least thirty years younger than the old fart.

  She grinned back, her expression telling him she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Morning, Saul. Can I have Nike for the day? I need to do a few things across town.”

  “As long as he’s back by two,” Saul answered gruffly.

  “Cool,” Talia said. “I’ll go get changed. I’ll see you soon, Nike.” With a clicking of her tongue, the horse trotted off beside her.

  Nike watched her walk off, his gaze falling onto her arse packed tight into her jodhpurs. She needs more meat, he thought.

  “A word of caution…” Saul said.

  Nike’s attention returned to the assistant.

  “Don’t touch the Mrs. and you’ll do fine here.”

  Like I bloody would, Nike thought, but instead replied, “I’m married.”

  Saul continued, “Also, if she touches you say my name and tell me ASAP. Understand?”

  “I understand perfectly.”

  “Good. I’ll show you where the uniform room is.”

  Nike followed him inside and down the left passageway. Like the entrance, white marble lined the floors. Abstract paintings hung from the walls. Nike stared at a brown splotch on a white canvas as he walked past, thinking it looked like shit—literally.

  Saul led Nike through a door. The small room was sparse, only containing a wardrobe, dresser and a table with a sewing machine and chair.

  “You’ll find your uniform in there,” Saul said, pointing at the wardrobe. “It also contains shoes, hats, ties, and gloves. There are different sizes, so just pick what fits. Each day when you come to work, you get changed in and out of your uniform here. Nothing gets taken home. Understand?”

  “Sweet,” Nike said, happy that Jess didn’t have to do the washing and ironing.

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Saul closed the door behind him.

  Nike undressed and opened up the wardrobe. Several black jackets, coupled with matching pants and white shirts hung inside. He found his size and threw it on, fiddled with the tie for a while then slipped on the black shoes, cap, and gloves. Once he was finished, he looked in the long mirror next to the wardrobe and sniggered.

  “James, bring the car round,” he said, doing his best imitation of a British accent.

  A knock on the door made him jump. “You ready?” Saul called out.

  Nike opened the door.

  Saul nodded at him. “Good ... I’ll take you to the car now.”

  Nike followed Saul outside and across the driveway. His eyes locked onto the Cortina as they walked past it. The sound of one of the garage doors being opened caught his attention. He
turned and stopped just in time before banging into the back of Saul.

  “You’ll be driving this when taking Mrs. Craven out,” Saul said, handing him the keys.

  It was a sleek black Rolls Royce, one of the old models, with a long snout-like front and bulbous roofline. The car was opulently magnificent, but a major soft-on. He’d wanted the Cortina or the Maserati.

  “Ashley Rata said I’d be gettin’ a car to take home. Is that true?”

  “Yes, the Cortina.”

  Nike’s head snapped around. “You’re pulling my chain?”

  “Nope.”

  Nike’s face lit up. “I love Cortinas.”

  Saul smiled. “I realised that yesterday with the way you were pawing it.”

  Beaming from ear to ear, Nike went to the car and ran a finger across the silver stripe. “Pinch me. I thought I’d just get a used Jap car.”

  “I don’t think the boss would like you picking him up in a dump. Anyway, cost is relative.”

  “Relative?”

  “Next to the Maserati it’s a bomb. Just bring the Rolls round to the front. The Mrs. doesn’t like waiting.” Saul handed over a bunch of papers and a pen. “Fill these out by the end of the day.”

  As Saul walked off, Nike hopped into the Rolls Royce. He glanced at the Cortina, then drove out of the garage and parked in front of the house. He picked up the papers and read them thoroughly, making sure everything was legit. Nothing out of the ordinary jumped out with giant warning signs screaming, “If you sign here you’ll end up in the Waikato River.” He scribbled his signature at the bottom, wondering why Ash had been so paranoid. Everything was going unbelievably sweet.

  The backdoor opened and a soft scent of perfume filled the car. Nike looked in the rear view mirror at Mrs. Craven and nodded a hello. She pulled off her coat, displaying ample flesh in a low-cut green woollen dress. A large black jewel, surrounded by diamonds, hung from a chain against her sun-kissed skin. She pushed back her blonde hair and smiled at him.

  He looked away, embarrassed that she’d caught him perving. Not like he’d touch them anyway. Nice and pert, but nothing compared to Jess’s. He dropped the papers and pen on the seat next to him, and fired up the engine.

  “Where shall I take ya?” he asked.

  She sniggered, then mumbled something under her breath.

  “Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he said, glancing back.

  She grinned. “Remuera will do for now.”

  “No probs,” he said, wondering what was so funny.

  43

  Tama

  Tama cracked open his eyes and sat up in bed. On the floor, his sister lay sprawled out across a mattress. He had no idea how he’d managed to get to Naf and Corey’s house last night without smashing everything apart, but he’d done it for Caitlin. The Connors had taken them in without a word, Mrs. Connor hugging him and Mr. Connor picking up Caitlin. All Tama had wanted at that point was to curl up and go to sleep or get so wasted he wasn’t conscious. He’d taken the first option even though he ached to be pumped full of booze and drugs ... anything to numb the pain.

  A whimper came from Caitlin as she turned over in her sleep. She started talking about school, her words clear as day, no repetition or stuttering evident in her dream talk. Tama’s frown deepened, finding it strange.

  He hoped his bitch aunty didn’t hit her like he was sure she did to Mikey. Fuck! He’d been in so much shock to even ask how Mikey was doing. There were too many questions he needed answered. Was Mikey still alive? And how did his mother die? She may not have been right in the head, but she was physically healthy.

  What the hell was happening to his family?

  Tama pushed the blankets off and swung his feet out of bed. Blood stains discoloured his jeans, and he still had his boots on. He stood up and shuffled to the door, heading for the shower. As he cut across the passage, he could hear dishes clinking and voices. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he stripped and turned on the shower. Spray shot over the back of his head, the heat making his cold limbs warm.

  A loud scuffle and swearing started up on the other side of the wall—Corey and Naf fighting over something.

  “Be quiet you two or you’ll wake them up,” Mrs. Connor said, from down the passage. “And stop mucking around, Corey. Get ready for school.”

  “But I feel sick,” Corey complained. “Can’t I stay home today?”

  “No. I’ve had enough of your excuses—”

  “But I’m not lying.”

  “Corey,” she growled.

  “You never believe me!” Feet thumped down the passage, followed by a door slamming.

  Tama’s shoulders began to shake. He had no mother now. She was gone. He slid down the shower wall and curled up. He hadn’t allowed himself to cry when his dad had died, he was just too mad, but now he couldn’t stop. Shit, he would never see her again. And Mikey? He couldn’t deal with this anymore.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here,” Naf said.

  Tama looked up in surprise. He hadn’t heard the door open. He stared at Naf speechless.

  “You alright?” Naf asked.

  “How’s Mikey?” Tama said, before he lost the courage.

  “He died last night, but they brought him back.”

  Tama’s eyes widened. God, his cuz had died!

  Naf continued, “He wuz dead for a minute before they got his heart pumpin’ again. They reckon he’s stable at the moment.”

  Tama stood up and turned off the shower. He pushed open the door and grabbed the blue towel off the heating rail and wiped his face. “I wanna see him.”

  Naf shook his head. “You can’t. You’re too recognisable.”

  Tama didn’t give a flying fuck whether the pigs dragged him kicking and screaming from the hospital this time; he wanted to see his cousin. He closed his eyes to stop from shouting. “I don’t care, I’m goin’.”

  Naf placed a hand on Tama’s arm. “But the pigs will—”

  Tama’s eyes snapped open. “Don’t fuckin’ touch me!”

  Naf jumped back. “Easy, mate.”

  Corey ran into the bathroom dressed in his black and blue school uniform. “What the fuck’s happenin’?”

  Tama wrapped the towel around his waist. “Will ya take me to see Mikey?”

  “The pigs will...” Corey dropped his gaze.

  Tama clenched a fist. He was going to pound someone if they mentioned the pigs again. All he wanted was to see his cuz and these fuckers kept blocking him.

  “What about Caitlin?” Naf asked.

  “Yeah ... what about her?” Tama snapped, not seeing his point.

  “You can’t leave her until my mum sorts out this mess with Mikey,” Corey cut in.

  “I can’t look after Caitlin, the pigs won’t allow it. And why would your mum sort things out with Mikey? My aunty will do that.”

  Corey rubbed the back of his neck, his expression taut. He glanced at Naf, who appeared equally tense. “Don’t cha know what your aunty did to him?” he asked.

  “No. What did she do?”

  “Mikey told us yesterday that she abuses him.”

  Tama’s face dropped. “What?”

  “Yeah, I know, it wuz a real shock. We thought she just hit him, with his bruises and all, but he said she does more.” Corey looked uncomfortable. “Sexual stuff. He broke down yesterday after he learnt she wuz gonna be Caitlin’s guardian.”

  Tama jammed his palms into his eyes. How could his aunty do that to her own son? He knew she wasn’t right, that she was a nasty cow, but he never suspected this. But now it all made sense. The strange way Mikey acted around girls wasn’t shyness it was fear, and those bruises on his arms...

  Oh God, he felt like chucking up. Leaning over, he placed his hands on his knees and took in gulps of air. He’d heard from a few of the slappers he’d passed off onto Mikey about how his cuz got upset if they tried to touch his dick or kiss him. But shit, he’d never thought about why Mikey did that.

&nbs
p; “Mum’s reported your aunty to the pigs,” Corey said.

  Tama stood up. He wanted to hurt his aunty and the bastard who’d shot Mikey. His cuz needed justice. He clenched a fist and slammed it into the wall.

  “Shit!” Corey jumped to the side, stepping on Naf’s toes. Naf yelped and grabbed his foot.

  “I wanna fuckin’ hurt someone.” Tama ignored the pain in his hand and punched the wall again. “I wanna slice that mofucka Zane up and bash that bastard Nike. Fuck, I could gut them both, along with that fuckin’ sick bitch.”

  “You can’t get Zane now, the pigs have him,” Naf said.

  “Fuck!” Tama slammed another fist into the wall, imagining it going through Zane’s skull. Blood started seeping from his knuckles.

  “Calm down, man,” Naf said. “No use bustin’ yourself up.

  Tama glared at him. Naf took a step back. Tama didn’t care anymore. The rage he’d felt at ten had come back. All he wanted to do was to hit something until it caved in. He wanted to do that to his aunty then gut her, but the bitch would be at the hospital. Right now she was probably by his cuz’s bed, touching him with her disgusting fat hands. He should be there, not her. Shit, he wanted to scream.

  Tama shoved the brothers out of the way and headed for Naf’s room. Like hell he was going to let her get away with it, but first he had to deal to Nike, because once he went for his aunty he doubted he would make it out of the hospital without getting caught.

  Naf followed him. “What’re ya gonna do?”

  Tama stopped at the doorway, the memory of Nike bashing him flashing through his mind. “You got a softball bat?”

  “I’ve got a baseball bat.”

  “Same diff, retard. Get it for me.”

  Naf looked confused. “What for?”

  “Time to pay back Nike for what he did to me as a kid.”

  “But he’ll probably be at work.”

  Tama sneered. “Then Jess can keep me company while I wait.”

  44

  Jess

  Jess stood in the doorway to Rory’s study, watching him tapping away at his computer. He was completely focused on the screen, seemingly unaware that she was there. Memories resurfaced as she took in the rest of Nike’s old bedroom. The single bed she’d lost her virginity in was gone, replaced by a filing cabinet and a wooden desk. The walls, now stripped of Nike’s Cortina posters, looked barren. Books were jammed into shelves in the far corner, and a standalone wardrobe stuck out from the wall by the door.