by Scot Gardner
‘What the . . . ?’ Julian said. He rubbed sleep from his eyes. ‘You guys okay?’
Duane held his forehead and stormed inside.
‘You okay?’ Julian asked. ‘Whoa, nice lovebites! You must have had a big . . .’
I held up my palms. ‘I’m sorry, Julian. I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.’
He breathed loud through his nose and hung there, fizzing, as if detonation was only seconds away.
‘I’m leaving,’ I said. ‘I’ll find another place to stay.’
‘You can’t just keep running,’ he growled. ‘Grow some balls.’
I wanted to point out that balls had got me into this predicament in the first place. Hormonal poison had messed with my brain and made it okay to sleep with his girlfriend. Some people can cope with that. Some people do it for kinks. I’m not them.
He grabbed the front of my shirt and dragged me up the drive to the bungalow.
‘Leave your bag here,’ he ordered.
I slid it off my shoulders onto the porch.
He didn’t let go. Something wasn’t right with his eyes. Even with a fist full of my hi-vis, there was still no fire in there. He shoved me backwards through the doorway and followed me in. He slammed the door and the windows rattled.
The girls, still perched on the couch, jumped.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
Julian covered his face. I couldn’t see his mouth, but the sides of his eyes wrinkled.
He grunted, and then burst out laughing. ‘Hey, I’m sorry’ he said. ‘I’m useless at this shit.’
The girls were snickering too.
‘What?’
‘It was supposed to be a joke,’ Jenny said.
Julian held up his hand. ‘I gave you the lovebites.’
‘You what?’
‘You were wiped out, man. Jenny spewed all over you.’
Jenny looked at her feet.
‘You don’t remember Jenny barfing on you?’ Nishi asked.
I shook my head.
‘That’s definitely a good thing,’ Jenny said.
‘Where are my clothes?’
‘Probably still in the shower,’ Julian said.
I stepped into the bathroom and drew back the shower curtain. My runners and socks, work shirt and jeans sat, spew-flecked, in a pile over the plughole. I gagged. I saw myself in the mirror as I left.
‘Lovebites?’
Julian shrugged. ‘Bit of a prank. You know, you wake up a bit seedy and we pretend you’re a stud.’
‘Didn’t quite go as planned,’ Nishi said. ‘Sorry about this morning. I didn’t realise what I was—’
‘You were in my bed.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘You were naked.’
‘Nothing happened,’ she said. ‘Well, nothing—’
‘Nothing except for half a hand job,’ Julian said.
‘I thought you were Julian,’ Nishi pleaded. ‘I realised something wasn’t right—’
‘Yeah, his junk felt like a penis, only smaller,’ Julian said.
‘I realised something wasn’t right, then remembered I’d bailed from Julian’s bed during the night because of the snoring.’
‘Hoh! I don’t snore.’
‘You snore, Jules,’ Jenny said. ‘Like a kid with a big industrial zipper, back and forth, only so much louder. I thought about smothering you.’
‘It doesn’t work,’ Nishi said. ‘I’ve tried.’
‘Stop!’ I shouted.
They froze.
‘I didn’t sleep with Nishi?’
‘No,’ Nishi said. ‘Well, yes, but we didn’t have sex.’
‘You’d remember that,’ Julian said. ‘And then I’d have to kill you.’
I shoved him. Hard. He spun and hit the wall with a crack. He toppled a tower of DVDs and ended up on his arse on the floor.
‘What the hell?’
I charged into the yard.
‘Will?’ Jenny called.
I grabbed my pack. Jenny appeared in the doorway. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘It’s fine. I just have to—’
‘It’s not fine. You look like you’re having a panic attack.’
I dropped my pack again. ‘I’m fine. I just need to run.’
‘You haven’t got any shoes,’ she said.
I ran anyway, only I wasn’t running away this time: I was burning off the excess freak in me. The thought that I’d slept with Nishi and betrayed Julian had swept through me like a road train. Shook my guts until the confusion made me pant. Bare feet on the footpath felt like the right medicine.
When my lungs and feet were burning, I wound my way back to West Tennant, showered in the empty bungalow, rinsed my spewy clothes and put my wet runners in the sunshine. I discovered the brew-room key in my wet jeans pocket.
They were all in the darkened lounge of the big house.
Duane sat next to his mother, holding her hand. The bump on his forehead glossed purple like a duck egg.
‘Here he is,’ Mandy said.
Jenny made space on the couch beside her. I sat.
‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered.
‘Better,’ I said. ‘Much better.’
Booboo leapt from Nishi’s lap. I braced myself for the attack, but it never came. She sniffed my bare toes and looked me square in the face. I made room on my lap and she sprang aboard without hesitation, her tail fanning.
‘Well, I’ll be,’ Mandy said. ‘I believe you’re officially part of the family, Will.’
‘She’s a cheap slut,’ Duane said. ‘Falls in love with everybody eventually.’
Julian chuckled, opened his mouth to say something and closed it again.
Pressed against Jenny, with Booboo warm on my lap, I felt a new sensation; I was part of something. I wanted to drink it in and then take a photograph with my mind. I’d been hunting for this moment. Didn’t recognise it until I was in it, but it felt like coming home.
Jenny glanced at me, her brow wrinkled. ‘What?’
‘What what?’
‘You’re smiling.’
‘Am I? Sorry.’
She shouldered me.
When the storm eventually hit that sparkling moment, it was a category five.
The movie finished and Duane muted the TV and channel-surfed. The girls discussed lunch options.
Julian froze mid-stretch. ‘Oh my holy . . .’ he said.
‘What the . . .’ Duane began, staring at the TV.
‘It’s YOU!’ Julian bawled, pointing at the screen.
Duane squeaked and punched the remote.
‘That’s right, Janelle. He left home in trying circumstances some time back and while we have been looking for him that whole time, we’ve had no luck. So we’re appealing to anybody who might have some information about William’s whereabouts to call the Missing Persons Unit. There’s a substantial reward if you can help us find him.’
Every drop of blood I owned left my body.
The image cut to a newsreader behind a desk, her face grim.
‘That’s so sad and troubling, Ian, and we all here at the 24 news desk. . . and I’m sure all the viewers at home. . . wish you luck on your search.’
‘Thanks very much, Jenelle. Thanks for your time.’ ‘The host of 24’s own Gale Force, sporting legend and commentator Ian Gale there with that impassioned call for help. And if you have seen William Rushton, please phone Missing Persons. . .’
I couldn’t breathe. I had a price on my head.
As my pulse returned, I found five pairs of eyes staring at me. Inquiring eyes.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I lowered Booboo to the floor and stood. ‘I have to go.’
Mandy stood in the doorway.
Julian crossed his arms. ‘You’re shit at hide-and-seek,’ he said. ‘Didn’t even change your name.’
‘I . . . I never thought he’d make it public. Not like this.’
‘Who?’ Jenny as
ked.
‘My father,’ I said.
She pointed at the screen. ‘Ian Gale?’
I nodded. She put her hand over her mouth.
‘Hang on a minute,’ Julian grumbled. ‘Did that chick on the news just say your old man was that commentator dude?’
I nodded again.
Duane sucked a breath. ‘Oh. My. God. Your father is a legend! He was awesome on Dancing with the Stars. He’s so smooth. I want to be him when I grow up.’
I snorted involuntarily.
‘You run away from home and you don’t think your father will come looking for you?’ Nishi said. ‘That’s messed up.’
‘Doesn’t make sense,’ Jenny said.
‘He’s not . . . family-minded,’ I said.
‘What doesn’t make sense to me,’ Mandy said, ‘is that the five people with you here might be the only ones on the planet who wouldn’t give you up, and you want to run from us.’
‘You’ve been more than kind,’ I said. ‘But this is my mess.’
‘Nobody’s arguing about that,’ Julian said. ‘We’re offering to help clean it up.’
An uneasy silence settled on the room. They stared. Inside, I squirmed. So, this was what it’s like to find yourself naked in a crowd. My father’s appeal on national television had stripped me bare.
Julian watched me expectantly.
In truth, I had nowhere to run to. I had morphed into the bowling-alley cat again, but I didn’t want to bolt. Scaling the fence was only one kind of escape. Plus these guys had left me bowls of tuna and UHT milk. I owed them something.
Julian leaned forward. Nishi rubbed her face with both hands.
‘I have to . . . I have to show you something,’ I said. ‘I’ll be back.’
Mandy stepped out of the doorway to let me pass.
My backpack sat on the porch of the bungalow where I’d dumped it. The zippered pocket on the top was open. It was empty. I scoured the other pockets and eventually turned the pack inside out.
‘Is this what you’re looking for?’ Duane said. He and the others had followed me into the yard. He held the white iPhone between his thumb and forefinger.
‘Yesss,’ I breathed. ‘Where did you—?’
‘I found it on the driveway this morning.’
‘I thought you said you didn’t own a phone?’ Julian said.
‘It’s not mine,’ I said.
Duane palmed the phone. It clicked when he pressed the home button. ‘Can I have it?’
I snatched it from him. ‘You didn’t turn it on, did you?’
‘I plugged it in to charge it. It turned on by itself.’
I swore under my breath.
‘Relax,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t work out the passcode anyway, so your—’
‘It’s not that,’ I said, looking down at the phone and seeing Claire’s familiar screensaver. No messages. No alerts. ‘It’s traceable.’
‘Traceable?’ Julian said, with a sneer.
I flicked the phone to aeroplane mode. ‘I have to leave.’
A collective moan bounced off the walls of the bungalow. Jenny ran her fingers through her hair.
‘Now!’ I bawled. ‘I need to move right now.’
Duane stepped back.
I pocketed the phone and shoved my bare feet into my damp runners.
Loud knocking echoed from the house. Booboo barked savagely.
Julian’s eyes widened. ‘Back fence,’ he whispered. ‘Remember how to get to Dad’s place? I’ll meet you there.’
With alley-cat speed, I shot over the piss-rank fence into the back neighbour’s yard. The grass was certainly greener on this side, and trimmed like a golf course. I made for the side exit. On a piece of carpet in front of the gate lay the back neighbour’s groundskeeper and security guard – a black-faced goat with crazy eyes and a short but formidable set of horns.
I jumped and startled it. It shot to its feet. I waved my arms. It stood its ground for a moment, then trotted at me, head lowered. I turned and ran for the side fence. The goat burst into a canter and I kept running. At the pedestrian gate, I fumbled the latch and fully expected a goat-shaped lightning bolt in the arse, but it pulled up short. I held out my hand for mercy. It sniffed and mouthed my fingers. It rubbed its body against my leg. It wasn’t the security guard at all. I scratched its back and patted its neck before slipping through the gate and into the street.
Sandy answered the door with his phone pressed to his ear. He inspected the street behind me and then held the door wide. Inside, he handed me the phone.
‘Made it okay?’ Julian asked.
‘There’s a goat,’ I said.
Julian chuckled. ‘That’s Cec,’ he said. ‘He’s as old as me.’
‘Who was at the door?’
‘Cops. You were right, they were looking for you. Said something about a stolen phone.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said.
‘They came around to the bungalow and perved in the window. Nishi went ballistic and took photos of them and their patrol car. She’s good at that shit, hey? Mum played it cool and said she didn’t know you, which she reckons wasn’t a lie. Sent them on their way.’
‘You’re welcome to stay here, Will,’ Sandy said.
‘I heard that,’ Julian said on the phone. ‘Hang there. I’ll be over soon. Oh, and your sister phoned.’
‘Sofie?’
‘Yep. I think that was her name.’
‘What did she want?’
‘Someone told her you were missing. She wanted to know if you were okay.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘That you’re dead. Killed by a mad goat.’
‘Serious?’
Julian snorted. ‘You’re an idiot. Stay there.’
VIDEO
JULIAN ARRIVED WITH Nishi, on the back of her scooter. His black helmet looked like the ones worn by German soldiers in World War II and might have seemed more formidable if the bike had been a Harley. He wore sunglasses and a blue-and-white bandana over his nose and mouth. I kept my laughter to myself.
Nishi showed me the photos of the cops she’d taken with her phone.
Julian turned his attention to me, arms crossed.
‘The phone belongs to my ex-girlfriend,’ I began. I typed in her passcode. The home screen hadn’t changed. Nothing had been deleted.
‘Claire,’ Julian said, and Nishi shushed him.
‘Yes, Claire.’ I flicked through the phone and found the video, pressed play and handed it to Nishi. They crowded the screen.
‘This is Claire?’ she said. ‘In her underwear?’
I nodded.
‘She’s hot,’ Julian said. Nishi elbowed him.
‘Who’s the guy?’ she asked.
‘I know who that is,’ Sandy said. ‘That’s Ian Gale.’
Julian looked at his dad. ‘Bull. Shit.’
‘Certainly looks like it,’ Sandy said.
‘Yep. My father,’ I said. ‘The broken sportsman and host of Gale Force.’
‘You are shitting me,’ Julian breathed. ‘With your girlfriend?’
I looked at Sandy. ‘You don’t get to choose your parents.’
Julian rearranged Nishi’s wrist so he could better see the screen. ‘Whoa, here we go,’ he said. ‘Get them off!’
Nishi covered her mouth.
‘Jesus,’ Sandy said. ‘I think we’ve seen enough.’
Nishi stopped the movie.
‘Wait,’ Julian said. ‘I wanted to see—’
Nishi handed the phone back and punched Julian in the arm, hard.
Sandy ushered us into the lounge chairs.
‘Your names are different,’ Nishi said. ‘Is he your stepdad?’
I shook my head. ‘Rushton’s my mum’s name. And my sister’s.’
Julian rubbed his bicep. ‘Is it still rape if she’s on top?’
Sandy clipped him behind the ear.
‘Ow! What?’ he said. ‘I thought that was a reasonable question.’
Julian looked at his father, then at me. ‘He’s not a nice man,’ he said.
Nishi squeezed my fingers. ‘Sorry, Will. I can see why you mightn’t be in a hurry to get home.’
‘Running from it hasn’t really helped,’ I said.
‘That video,’ Sandy said, ‘would be worth a few bob.’
‘What sort of twisted unit films their sexploits?’ Nishi asked.
Julian put up his hand.
‘I don’t think wanking counts, son,’ Sandy said.
Nobody laughed.
‘It’s Claire’s phone, but I took the video,’ I said. ‘I’m the twisted unit. She didn’t even have a passcode until I set one up for her. She was always losing her phone. This was her third handset since we’d been together. I just sat it on the dressing table with the camera rolling. I had to know for certain.’
‘You are definitely a perv,’ Julian said.
‘That’s so sad,’ Nishi said.
‘I watched the video again and again.’
‘I can understand why,’ Julian said, and Nishi scowled at him.
‘I felt so stupid. So ignorant. It had been going on for months. Carter, that bloke you sprayed with noodles, filmed them together at one of his father’s restaurants and posted it on Facebook. I was the last one to know. I couldn’t shout, couldn’t even speak. I was scared I’d lose it and I did, eventually. With Carter.’
‘Arseholes,’ Julian spat. ‘You should take the video to the cops. Make him pay.’
‘Is that what you would do?’ I asked. ‘If it was Nishi and your dad in the video?’
‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘No. Wait. Maybe.’
‘Thanks,’ Sandy said.
‘What would the cops do?’ I said. ‘He didn’t break any laws. Claire’s eighteen. She . . .’
‘You still love her,’ Nishi said. It wasn’t a question.
‘I—’ I began, but the words abandoned me.
Was it really that obvious? How, exactly, do you stop loving someone?
I still loved Claire. I could deny it all I liked, but Nishi saying it flatly reminded me of all the withdrawal symptoms I’d had. I saw her across the food court at the centre maybe a hundred times, but it was never her. I smelled her and heard her voice coming from perfect strangers and my skin would tingle and my heart would pick up the pace. I was sick with her, but sicker without her.