The Summer of Kicks

by Dave Hackett

  ‘Yeah, I kind of like him,’ Ellie says and the look of shock has gone from her face. Her hand finds my thigh again. ‘And speaking of like, my mum used to be totally hot for your band.’

  ‘Really?’ says Dad.

  ‘Yeah. Tragic groupie, it turns out. She handed me a potato on my way out the door, hoping you’d autograph it for her. Naturally we’re having her locked up for her own protection.’

  Dad laughs, smiles at Ellie, then looks at me. It’s obvious that he likes her and I’m pretty sure that this is one of those moments where the father is proud of the son for choosing well. Because that’s what I’m all about – good choices.

  ‘I mean it,’ says Dad, returning to his original theme. ‘Starrphyre’s the real deal. You’d have to go a long way to find a more genuine guy.’

  Is Dad trying to pimp me out here? Is he the spokesperson for Responsible Teenage Dudes dot com? Who knows. It’s kind of weird, but right now I’m happy to have anyone in my corner. A few extra points really can’t hurt.

  ‘And you know, if there’s one quality I’ve always admired in Starrphyre,’ Dad says, ‘it’s his honesty.’ He takes another forkful of coleslaw to his mouth and swallows it down. ‘His sister, she would lie through her teeth, given the chance, but you’ll always know where you stand with Starrphyre,’ Dad says. ‘Some guys you can pick it. With Warren you could pick it a mile off. But Starrphyre? I’d say you’re pretty safe there. This little bloke will be faithful to the core.’ And just like that, Dad’s entire sales pitch is rendered obsolete.

  ‘Did you see that ring, though?’ And thank you, Ellie, for changing the subject. ‘Oh my God.’

  ‘I’d say there was more than a few hundred bucks thrown at that little trinket,’ Dad says, and he slaws again.

  ‘And a bit more, maybe,’ Ellie says. ‘That was a hellish nice ring.’

  ‘It would have cost that much? Really?’ I ask.

  ‘Easily,’ says Ellie. ‘He must be one committed guy.’

  ‘But that’s just it – he’s not,’ I say, but I can’t say anything more to Dad or Ellie about what Warren told me – at least not before I talk to Rue.

  ‘The guy doesn’t even have a job,’ I say. ‘He’s been out of work for, like, three months. From what Rue says, he’s totally broke. She’s even been paying for the petrol in his car because he can’t afford to.’

  ‘Gotta love a V8,’ Dad says. ‘Stupidest cars ever built. Destroying the planet one burnout at a time.’

  ‘So, if he has no money,’ Ellie says, ‘how can he afford to buy your sister a ring like that?’

  On paper it doesn’t add up. Plain and simple.

  ‘Maybe he took his shitty little Commodore to Cash Converters,’ Dad laughs. ‘That would at least account for the first hundred bucks.’

  But Warren’s not the personal sacrifice kind of guy. Warren’s number one priority is and always will be Warren. There’s no way he’d even entertain the idea of selling his precious car. Or anything else he owned. But he didn’t need to sell something he owned to come up with the money. Just something he had access to. Someone else’s stuff. Something that was worth an absolute shitload.

  Chapter 32

  Ashes to ashes

  ‘Compost, darling?’ Mum says and hands me a bowl overflowing with wilted salad. The post pre-Christmas lunch clean-up is in full swing, and by full swing I mean Mum’s doing it. At least the bulk of it.

  ‘How’s your sister?’

  ‘I think Warren’s an ass,’ I say. I’m looking at Mum and she’s intercepted my look and deciphered it perfectly.

  ‘You think I was wrong, don’t you, darling?’ she says.

  ‘I just don’t get why you even suggested it,’ I say. ‘You knew the guy was an asshole. Why’d you ever think it was a good idea to let him move in here?’

  Mum stops wiping, sets the dinner plate and tea towel onto the bench beside her and turns to me.

  ‘I did it because I knew it was just a matter of time,’ she says. ‘Ruey couldn’t see it, bless her, but I’ve known boys like Warren – good God, have I ever. They’re a dime a dozen – the treat ’em mean, keep ’em keen type. It still boggles my mind how the mechanics of it works. What Rue ever saw in a fool like him is truly beyond me, but as they say, love is blind, and no amount of motherly advice was going to get through to her.’ She picks up the plate, shoves it into the wrong cupboard and reaches for another that needs a lick of the towel. ‘The hard fact is that he was always going to hurt her. Your nan said that right from the start,’ she half laughs. ‘I just wanted the two of us to be here for her when he did. Remember the roller-coaster?’

  I do.

  ‘Heartbreak is a devastating business,’ Mum says. ‘It’s one of life’s lowest lows.’

  ‘Right alongside having to take out the compost,’ I say, turning towards the back door.

  ‘You’re a good boy,’ she says, motioning me over for a hug.

  ‘I think I’ll dump this first, then see if I can find Rue,’ I say.

  Mum nods her approval before returning her focus to the soap-kissed rack of freshly washed crockery.

  It’s the sleepy end of the afternoon and if we had a hammock or some kind of Balinese day-bed, that’s where I’d want to be heading, but instead I’m two hands on the scrap bowl, following the back path to the compost heap by the side fence. Normally I’d divide the bits up – some for the worm farm, the rest for the compost – but I make an executive decision that the worms can wait till tomorrow.

  ‘Hey,’ I say.

  Rue turns her head. She’s by the wheelie bins, piling stuff in. A black shirt. Jeans. More jeans. A pair of shoes, followed by another.

  ‘Christmas clean-out?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she says. She doesn’t look up, but I can see, even from this angle, that her cheeks are puffed, the pinkness of her skin exaggerated from too many tears. Rue uncaps a spray can of deodorant and holds it at arm’s length while pressing down the squirt button, spraying Warren-musk into the air until there’s nothing but an empty can. The can clanks hard against the side of the bin when she throws it in. There’s plenty more Warren in a box at her feet.

  ‘I know you all think I’m stupid,’ she says, wiping at her nose with the heel of her hand. ‘I put up with so much of his crap for so long,’ she says. ‘But I’m done.’

  ‘Done done?’

  Rue responds by holding out her phone to me. On the screen is her latest text to Warren.

  Hi honey. Just heard the wonderful news. So happy that you screwed some random scrag at the footy party. Good life choice, darling. I’m sure she was as underwhelmed with your performance as I often am. Feel free to come around anytime and collect your belongings – no, wait, scratch that. I’ve just destroyed everything of yours I could find, so there’s really no need to bother. Now, if you ever show your face around me or my family again, I’ll hire somebody to remove your testicles. Oh, and just in case you’re too stupid to understand what I’m saying, it’s over. Completely over. Forever over.

  xxx

  ‘Wow,’ I say.

  ‘Mmm. I was angry. Still am.’ She takes the scrap bowl from me, yells, ‘Asshole!’ and upends the contents into the bin – soggy salad, some hummus, manky leek soup and so much more – all over Warren’s former belongings.

  ‘Feel better?’

  ‘Surprisingly … yes,’ she says. ‘And good goddamn riddance.’

  I can see her face and her anger, but there’s a hint of relief in her voice as well.

  ‘Hey, look,’ I say. I figure it’s OK to let this one out now. ‘About Dad’s records …’

  ‘It was Warren,’ she says. ‘I know.’

  ‘They just turned up at work,’ I say. ‘All his old records, and now … I didn’t think he’d ever do something like that.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ s
ays Rue, like it was somehow her fault.

  ‘Hey, don’t be sorry to me,’ I say. ‘But Dad? He might be a little pissed when he finds out.’

  ‘True. But …’ she says, ‘… he might not have to find out.’

  ‘How’s that?’ I ask. ‘Do you have a spare pile of cash at your disposal?’

  ‘Almost,’ she says, holding out her left hand to me. ‘The dickhead left the receipt in the box,’ and she smiles.

  We talk a little longer and it’s been too long since we have. I tell Rue about Ellie and Candace. I tell her everything and so far she’s the only person I’ve told the whole story to. She listens. She doesn’t judge. And when the conversation turns back to her and to Warren, I tell her that I didn’t really understand why she was even with him. That none of us did.

  ‘I guess, little brother,’ she says, ‘sometimes when you like someone or love them, there’s no logical reason behind it. It’s just because you do. Something clicks inside your brain and it’s on.’

  ‘It just sucks that you put all your effort into him,’ I say. ‘Even when you probably knew that it wasn’t a hundred per cent right. I mean, there could have been someone else out there who you might have met if you hadn’t been so wrapped up in him, maybe someone who would’ve treated you better. Someone who’d do anything for you. Guys like that exist, you know.’

  ‘Really. And where do I find these guys?’

  ‘Beats the hell outta me,’ I say and we both laugh.

  ‘You got off lightly,’ I say, and she’s listening again. ‘He’s a jerk, a total douchebag, but it’s OK because once you sort this out, you get to move on. Find someone else.’

  ‘But so does he and he will,’ Rue says. ‘He’ll have a replacement by the end of the day – where’s the justice in that?’

  ‘But that’s just it, Rue,’ I say. ‘Warren can go out and find a new girl, every night of the week if he wants to, he can do whatever he likes, but he’s still going to be an asshole. No matter what he does or where he goes for the rest of his life, every single day he’s still going to wake up and be Warren the Tool. Who do you think is coming out of this with the worse half of the deal?’ I say.

  Rue places an arm around my shoulder and big-sister hugs me. ‘When did you become so smart?’ she says.

  ‘It’s been a big week,’ I say and she smiles again.

  ‘So, you wanna help me torch this stuff? There’s a big container of something flammable in the shed,’ she jokes, kicking at the remainder of Warren’s clothes.

  ‘Nah, you do it,’ I say. ‘I don’t want to steal your fun. But if you need someone to build you an effigy or a life-sized voodoo doll, just give me a yell.’

  Chapter 33

  The vinyl conflict

  ‘Hey, Chocolate Starrphish.’ It’s Warren, loose in the mall with two of his meathead friends flanking him. I’m at the counter, sifting through a pile of LPs as the trifecta of idiots approaches me. I don’t want to say anything to him. Don’t want to interact with this asshole on any level.

  He grabs at the name tag pinned to my shirt. ‘Well, look at you in your nice little job as a check-out chick,’ he says.

  On cue, his accomplices chuckle. Trained baboons with the combined intelligence of a cabbage.

  ‘So I s’pose you heard that I dumped your sister yesterday.’

  ‘Really?’ I say. ‘Because what I heard was that she dumped you.’

  ‘Makes no difference. She was a useless bitch anyway,’ he says with a smirk.

  I want to hit him, want to jump across the counter and pound him, but I can’t.

  ‘Holy shit,’ Warren says. His gaze leaves me and he’s looking towards the collection of customers in the coffee hemisphere. Warren steps away from the counter, squints a little, then brings his attention back to me. ‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Remember that chick I told you about? That waitress chick on the cruise?’ I don’t say anything. ‘Well, she’s over there. That’s her.’ He points and his fellow meatheads stare, making inappropriate comments about her. I really have no interest in who he shagged that night. There are fifteen or twenty people in the store with their coffees, conversations and light snacks. He could be pointing to any one of them.

  ‘I remember her telling me some crap about her boyfriend – how he cheated on her or whatever. Who cares, I just agreed with her that he sounded like a total prick and, hey, turns out it was enough to get her skirt off.’

  ‘Check it out,’ Warren says. ‘Here she comes.’

  I look up, purely out of morbid curiosity, but there’s not a single customer in my half of the store. They’re all still seated. All still drinking their coffees. Not one of them is coming over. The only person walking towards us is Ellie.

  ‘Hey, groover, can I get the storeroom key? I need another bag of beans,’ she says to me, coming straight up to the counter, not noticing the three morons in front of me.

  ‘Woah,’ says one of Warren’s mates, ‘you seriously bagged that?’

  Ellie turns around and I see all expression fall from her face.

  ‘Snap!’ says the other.

  ‘So,’ Warren says, his hands moving towards Ellie. ‘What say we get out of here and pick up where we left off?’ He tries to put an arm around Ellie’s waist, but she hits it away.

  ‘Ellie?’ is all I can manage.

  ‘Starrphyre,’ she says and now she’s looking straight at Warren. ‘It was nothing. It … it didn’t mean anything.’

  ‘Hang on, hang on,’ Warren says. ‘This is priceless.’ He looks at Ellie and a wicked smile spreads across his face. ‘You and Starrphyre?’ he laughs. ‘This little streak of shit is the guy you were talking about? My girlfriend’s pain-in-the-ass little brother?’

  ‘Ellie?’ I say again and she turns back to me, her face confirming everything.

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’ Warren says. ‘Haha! Perfect.’

  ‘Get lost,’ Ellie says to him. ‘Get out of here.’

  ‘It’s a public place,’ Warren says, grabbing her by the arm. ‘I’m just in here shopping like everyone else. And I think I’ve found something I like.’ He pulls Ellie towards him and forces a kiss onto her face.

  ‘Hey! Leave her alone, ass-wipe!’ It’s Scene, taking control of the situation. Standing up for Ellie while I stand back, nothing more than a spectator to all of this. ‘Get your shit-ugly face the hell outta my store – and take your dickhead mates with you!’ Scene’s not backing down, and I look at Warren, the old-school expression ‘all steam and no piss’ comes to mind, as he and his football thug mates retreat and head for the door.

  ‘I’ll see you around,’ Warren says as they leave, but it’s not me he’s talking to. Ellie turns to me with a look of immense hurt and shame. She’s seeking forgiveness but I don’t offer her any. Not right now.

  I head out to the back room and grab the bathroom key from the hook.

  ‘Toilet,’ I say to Scene and he nods permission.

  I step out into the mall and I can see him. The three of them are way up near the food court. They’re laughing, pushing each other like idiots, and my chest is hot, my stomach feels tight, and I don’t remember when I decided to, but I’m running. I’m running towards them, faster and faster, and they don’t see me at all. Warren has no way to prepare and both my feet have left the ground, my head in his back, knocking him to the tiles. He rolls over and I’m pinning him down with strength that’s come from a new place.

  ‘Why the hell did you do it?’ I scream at him. ‘Anyone! It could have been anyone, but you had to do that to her!’ I hit him. Hit him hard in the face and his mates now have me under the arms, pulling me off him, and I can’t really tell if it was a punch or more of an open-handed slap, but even though he’s laughing now, laughing in my face, I know that it connected enough to let him know that I’ve had enough of taking his shit, and somewhere in the blur of a
ll this I hear him say that Rue owes him a ring, that he’ll get it back one way or another, and I want to hit him again and again. Centre security arrives and I’m standing up and they’re talking to me. I don’t know what they’re saying, though. All I can focus on is Warren. He’s still on the ground and he’s laughing. Laughing harder than ever.

  I’m staring down the nine squares and I need a big hitter. A big gun. David Hasselhoff? Don’t think so. The wheelchair kid from Glee? Nope. I bypass Ben Affleck and Dame Edna, settling on a fresh face.

  ‘Mr T?’ I begin. ‘Can I call you T?’

  ‘You call me Mr T,’ he shouts. ‘Friends call me T. We ain’t friends yet. Now spill yo guts.’

  ‘OK. It’s like this,’ I say. ‘There’s a girl who’s kind of my girlfriend and she slept with someone else.’

  ‘Now hold up – you was datin’ at the time?’

  ‘Well, sort of,’ I explain.

  Mr T looks confused and a little like he might punch me in the head if I don’t get on with it. ‘This happened when we were officially only kind of dating, but it was after she found out that I’d hooked up with the hottest girl in school, which I wouldn’t have done if our first kiss hadn’t been as bad as it was. As you can see, Mr T, it’s a bit of a grey area.’

  ‘Answer me this, fool,’ he says. Actually he shouts it. It seems that Mr T shouts everything. ‘You like this woman?’

  ‘Yeah, of course,’ I say.

  ‘Then stop wastin’ my time. You don’t need Mr T,’ he says. ‘You need to get yo butt back to that woman and tell her what’s up.’

  And he’s done.

  And it’s as simple as that.

  The security guys walk me back to the store. It’s only because I’m a centre employee that I’m getting off with a warning.

  In the store it’s just Scene at the counter. A girl I know as Steph but have never spoken to before is manning the coffee section.

  ‘Where’s Ellie?’ I say to Scene. ‘Where did she go? Is she still here?’