by Jared Thomas
‘Yeah mahn,’ I said, ‘Jamaica! But I got nothing.’ The blokes cracked up and moved on, leaving us alone.
‘I’ve finally got my own West Indian cricketer,’ Clare said as we pushed through a pack of people to get to where I wanted to go on the hill. ‘And I reckon you might be a rich Nukunu fella soon too when your business takes off.’
Her comment made me a bit nervous. I thought Clare was alright about me not having a car and that you know but I started thinking I might have been wrong.
Some pissed fellas called out, ‘I don’t like cricket, oh no, I love it,’ when they saw me walking around the boundary. Clare cracked up at all of the attention I was getting from people as we walked over to a spot on the hill where I knew all the West Indies supporters would be standing. I’d made friends with a few of them and it was best hanging out with them at the cricket. Not just because they’re West Indies supporters but because most Aussies on the hill just spend their time getting pissed instead of really watching the game. ‘It’s usually only girls in bikinis that cause so much fuss, you know Calypso,’ Clare said.
‘Ah you know what they’re like, they love having something to poke a bit of fun at,’ I told her.
‘I love you,’ Clare said.
It freaked me out. She just came out with it just like that. I leaned in close to her and said ‘I love you too’ before giving her the smallest of kisses because I knew getting stuck into her would rev up the mob on the hill. But someone yelled out, ‘Get a room you two,’ and a mob of hooligans started wolf-whistling. As we walked on I told her, ‘I’ve never told anyone that before you know. Never. True as god.’
My Caribbean friends Liston, Cephus and Mardi were sitting down by the boundary in line with the scoreboard where they always sat, even at Australian matches when they weren’t playing the Windies. Liston was beating on his steel drum and when he saw me they asked, ‘How you doing mahn?’ and gave me high fives. I introduced Clare to my Jamaican friends who had been living and working in Australia for a while. I didn’t really understand why they’d want to leave Jamaica but they reckon it’s not all cruise ships and sandy beaches.
A roar went up around the ground when the West Indies, led by their captain Veerasammy Permaul, walked onto the oval for a warm up. ‘Look, there’s Kraigg Brathwaite,’ Clare said, bouncing on her toes and pointing in his direction. ‘Yeah, I see him,’ I said, watching him walking along side Delorn Johnson and Devon Thomas who was slapping his keeping gloves together. ‘I better get some shots,’ Clare said as she pulled her camera out of her bag. It looked flash as, with a big lens and all. I was impressed as, watching her snap away, and then she turned around and took a shot of me.
Liston began beating out a tune on his steel drum to the delight of the crowd. ‘I can’t wait for the game to start,’ Clare said, letting her camera hang on its strap and rubbing her hands together. ‘Can’t wait,’ I said, looking around the crowd for Run and Robbie. Wasn’t even worth trying because the Australian side stepped onto the oval and the Australian fans rose to their feet and began cheering … ‘Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oy oy oy.’
‘Look, there’s Clarke,’ Clare said, tugging on my shirt. ‘Do you reckon he will make some runs?’ I was doubtful, given his recent string of ducks.
‘Well, like I said to that old man, if they win the toss and bat first, let’s hope that one of the Australians makes runs or we’ll be home well before dinnertime.’
But Clarke did win the toss and sent the Australians in to bat. There was a hush around the ground and I reckon the Aussie crowd were shitting themselves.
As both of the teams made their way back into the change rooms I turned and peered up into the crowd on the hill again. Clare asked, ‘You looking for Run?’
‘Yeah, I thought he would be here. Evelyn bought him his ticket for Christmas and all,’ I told her, shaking my head.
‘I’m sure he’s here somewhere.’
Liston held out his drumsticks and asked Clare, ‘You want to have a hit sister?’ Clare looked at me a little uncertain and I said, ‘Go on, play some Bob Marley,’ before I cracked up.
Clare took the drumsticks and asked Liston, ‘What do I do?’
‘Yuh jus hit di drum in difren sections to get difren tones,’ he replied, taking a stick from Clare and showing her.
Clare hit the outer of the drum softly with her right drumstick and I could tell she was surprised by how deadly it sounded. She hit the drum again, followed with a strike of her left, and then continued hitting different parts of the drum. Almost sounded like she was getting a rhythm happening.
When Clare stopped, people started clapping, hey. She was smiling big-time when she handed Liston back his sticks. Liston, Cephus, Mardi and me laughed and nodded our heads in appreciation. ‘Yeah mahn,’ Cephus cheered. ‘You sirton you’re nuh Jamaican,’ Mardi asked Clare. She couldn’t help but giggle.
The West Indian team and the two Australian opening batsmen Clarke and and Warner made their way out onto the oval with the umpires and the crowd went crazy. Fathers put their kids up on their shoulders to get a good view.
A kid threw some beer cups into the air and I felt someone poke me in the back. I turned around and there was Run and Robbie. Their eyes were red and they were laughing. ‘Ey you fellas, where you been?’ I asked tapping our fists together.
‘We just had some business to take care of,’ Run smirked.
‘Yeah, some business to take care of,’ Robbie said looking around the oval. You could tell the crowd and atmosphere was spinning them boys right out.
‘Pretty obvious what you fellas have been up to,’ I said, leaning in close to them and looking straight into their bloodshot eyes.
‘Cut it out,’ Run said. ‘Like we’re not the only blackfellas here, everyone’s checking us out as it is.’ Run was right. Apart from the West Indians on the field and my Jamaican friends, we must have been the only other blackfellas there.
‘Robbie, this is Clare,’ I said, putting my hand on her shoulder.
‘Oh, hi Robbie,’ she said.
‘Hey Clare,’ Robbie said real quietly but Clare didn’t really notice, she was too interested in the West Indian cricket team who were limbering up and taking their positions in the field. I could tell Robbie was checking Clare out though. She was wearing this short little black dress over a bikini with these glittery sandals. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail. I wrapped my arm around her as the opener took his mark in preparation for his first delivery to Clarke.
Applause built as left-arm fast bowler Delorn Johnson ran in towards the crease to release his opening ball. And then there was an oooohhhh from the crowd as the ball beat the batsman and the wicketkeeper Thomas collected it in his safe hands.
‘This is the most exciting part, isn’t it Calypso?’ Clare said. ‘Anything can happen.’
‘Yeah, it is, but the Windies will clean up and I’ll have you in my bed in no time.’
Clare jabbed me in the ribs with her elbow. ‘There’s plenty of time for that Calypso, come on we’re watching the cricket,’ she said.
But it was hard concentrating on the cricket, thinking about getting Clare back home and having Gary test out the stuff the next day. Sure, it was deadly watching the game, especially when Kraigg Brathwaite belted two huge sixes in a row but, as expected, things went the West Indies way just a little too easily. The Australians only scored 165 and the Windies won easily with 29 balls remaining and six wickets to spare.
‘Viktry,’ I said when Jason Holder hit the winning run. Clare, Run, Robbie, Liston, Cephus, Mardi and I all gave each other high fives. We stayed to watch the West Indies walk around the boundary to show their appreciation to the crowd. Liston packed his steel drum away in a cardboard box and the Australian fans poured out of the ground, all disappointed and that. ‘So what you doing now bruz?’ I asked Run.
‘We’ll just find somewhere to smoke up and hang out in town a bit. You wanna come?’
‘Nah man, but Hap
py New Year, hey,’ I said.
‘Yeah, Happy New Year,’ Run said. Then he gave Clare a hug.
‘Nice to see you Run, and to meet you Robbie,’ Clare said and then we started making our way through the crowd.
‘I can’t wait to get back to your place,’ Clare said, grabbing me on the arse when we were out of the ground.
‘Where’s a bloody taxi when you need one?’
‘Let’s go to the Casino, usually plenty there,’ she said, pulling me by the arm.
°°°
We were walking so fast that we were almost running down King William Road to the taxi rank. My pulse was racing flat out, and when we were up near Festival Theatre we turned to each other and cracked up, realising how urgently we wanted to get back to my flat. There were still heaps of cricket fans around us and traffic was jamming up real bad on King William Road. We almost ran straight into three fellas with Australian flags draped over their backs who were singing ‘Waltzing Matilda’.
When we reached Parliament House there were heaps of people waiting at the Casino to catch taxis. Fuck it, I thought, if only they knew what I was in for they’d let me jump to the front of the queue.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Clare like she’d read my mind, ‘we have all night.’
We walked to the back of the taxi queue. I watched Clare’s every move. Three taxis pulled into the rank and it seemed like half of the queue were carried away in them.
‘If we don’t take off soon, I’m going to drag you into those bushes there,’ I told her, looking at the hedges out the front of Parliament House.
‘Don’t tempt me,’ she said.
Another couple of taxis pulled up to the rank and people opened their doors before they’d even come to a halt. I liked the way things were speeding along and before we knew it we were at the front of the queue. I stepped out onto the road whenever there was a break in the traffic, watching the road ahead like a hawk, waiting for a taxi to come our way. I wished we were speeding home in Clare’s car.
When a cab finally approached us, I went to the curb to grab Clare’s backpack. When the cab stopped, Clare jumped straight into the back seat and I slid in next to her. The driver turned around to ask where we were going and me and Clare and the driver got the shock of our lives. The driver was Gary. I just gawked at him flat out, in his taxi driver uniform.
‘What a bloody day to see you,’ Gary said. ‘I guess you two enjoyed the game?’ The taxi in the rear beeped at us and Gary pulled into the traffic on North Terrace.
‘What are you doing Gary, driving a cab?’ I asked.
‘Sorry mate, I thought I could work things out without telling you.’
‘Telling me what?’ I looked at Clare who was reclined in her seat and looking impatient.
‘Things haven’t been going so well.’
‘What do you mean things haven’t been going so well?’ I asked as Gary pulled up at the traffic lights. ‘Business has been alright.’
Clare shook her head in agreement with me. ‘Yeah, these days most of our customers are your customers.’
‘The business isn’t really the problem … ’
‘What is then?’
‘I’ve just got a few gambling debts, Calypso, nothing I can’t work out.’
‘But what about the Christmas bonus you gave me?’
‘I had a win … a good day.’ Gary pressed some buttons on the GPS and asked, ‘Where we going, anyway?’
‘My place … So how bad is it?’ I asked.
‘I’ve been down about six weeks’ rent since November,’ Gary said, trying to act as if it wasn’t that bad but his voice told another story.
‘Explains why you been late paying me.’
We were all silent for a while. I looked at Clare feeling ripped off. Apart from worrying about Gary, I was sure that the moment with Clare was lost. I leant back in the seat and watched the people waiting at bus stops and walking down the busy city footpaths. I couldn’t believe I was feeling so shit right after watching the West Indies win and thinking I was just about to get lucky with Clare.
Gary stopped at another set of traffic lights on the verge of Victoria Square. ‘If I don’t pay the rent in the next month, I might have to close up shop. I’m sorry mate.’
‘You don’t think you’ll have enough money by then?’
‘If I don’t blow any money, I’ll be a few hundred short but if I just beg a bit, they might give me another few weeks. Problem is mate, I’m a gambler … and who knows what could come and go in a few weeks?’
‘And what about the stuff with my family? What about the plants and the oils and that?’
‘I think that’ll be alright. That’s the reason I’m getting this other bloke to meet with us tomorrow. He manufactures native foods and products. He works with Aboriginal communities all the time. We will still be able to get things going with him.’
‘But what about my job?’
‘I’ve been thinking about going to get some help. It’s not like I don’t want to change, it’s just hard, mate … very, very bloody hard,’ explained Gary. ‘There’s always another win around the corner.’
‘It’ll be alright,’ Clare said reaching over the seat and patting Gary on the shoulder.
I realised that if Gary didn’t lose his business in a couple of weeks, it was only a matter of time … unless he turned things around quick smart. I knew how he took off to the pub every day to gamble, and have a drink too. He was all over the place. I took deep breaths thinking about all the hassles of finding another job.
‘Do you reckon I should start looking for another job then?’ I asked, real wild.
Gary didn’t say anything for a long while. He just stared straight ahead as he drove.
‘So what you reckon, boss?’
Gary exhaled. ‘If it wasn’t for you mate, we wouldn’t have got this far. I mean look at me, I’m just a burnt out old punter.’
I held back from kicking the back of the taxi seat. I could tell that Clare knew how serious things were. Clare grabbed my hand just before Gary pulled into my drive but it didn’t help things.
‘Just come meet this bloke tomorrow,’ Gary said. ‘And things might turn around, you know. It’s not like I don’t have money coming in, I just need to hang on to it.’
I pulled my hand free from Clare’s soft grip and reached for my wallet. Clare jumped out of the taxi and started walking toward the stairs. I rushed to find the right change. I just wanted to get out of the cab. When Gary saw what I was doing, he said, ‘Put it away, don’t worry about it mate, it’s the least I can do.’
‘You sure?’ I asked, watching Clare walk up to my flat.
‘I’ll see you tomorrow. Just have a good night. Happy New Year.’
°°°
Clare had taken my keys from her bag and was trying to open my door. ‘Do you want me to do it?’ I asked.
‘Think you better,’ she said handing me the keys.
My head was spinning from Gary’s news but as soon as we were inside Clare dropped her backpack and wrapped her arms around me. ‘It’ll be alright,’ she whispered.
‘I don’t reckon,’ I said, breaking free from Clare, turning on the light and grabbing a glass of water.
‘Do you want one?’
Clare shook her head.
‘I knew it was too good to be true,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘The work with Gary, I knew I couldn’t trust him. He’s always taking off somewhere or just being a slack bastard, you know?’
‘It’ll be alright Calypso,’ said Clare as she sat on my lounge and waved for me to sit down beside her.
I sculled the rest of the water and went and sat next to Clare, my confidence completely shot. It felt like I’d been kicked in the guts. As I held my head in my hands Clare put her arm around me. She smelled awesome and I knew it wasn’t the right time to get the sulks. I wished I could shake it. And then Clare pushed me back into the cushions and straddled me. She started kissing
my neck and it felt real good, hey. I put my hand up her skirt and placed it on her stomach but I could smell something. ‘Can you smell that?’
‘No,’ she whispered, and just kept kissing me.
I couldn’t believe that the shit with Gary had gone down and all I could think about was the smell of ganja when all I’d wanted for so long was to be alone with Clare … and I could definitely smell ganja. Clare broke away from me. ‘What’s wrong? Don’t you want this, Calypso?’ Clare asked.
‘I’m dying for it,’ I said and rolled her off me so that she was on her back. I held myself above her and kissed her neck. I reached up her back and undid her bikini top. I ran my hand along her side and took her boob in my hand. It was so perfect and firm and she gasped as I squeezed her nipple.
Then there was a fucking knock on the door. I thought it might be Run and Robbie. Clare pulled away from me and shook her head and started doing her bikini top back up. Then we heard the cops call out, ‘It’s the police.’
‘Oh shit,’ said Clare, getting up and straightening her dress. ‘What do we do?’
‘Fuck,’ I said, realising what I could smell. A whole heap of ganja that Run had bought into the house, probably so Robbie’s mum wouldn’t sell it off or something.
‘I gotta open the door,’ I whispered to Clare. ‘The smell, it’s Run’s ganja, got nothing to do with me. But I’m not going to snitch on Run, okay?’ Clare nodded her head and then clung closely behind me as I opened the door.
Two police officers towered over us and one of them said, ‘Mr Kyle Summers, I’m Constable Williams, this is Constable Wilmot. We have a warrant to search your property.’
‘Jesus Christ, can you smell that?’ said Constable Wilmot, barging into my flat. Constable Williams just pushed past us too.
Then Constable Wilmot turned to Williams and said, ‘I’ll grab the gear. Keep an eye on these two. We’ll get their details down at the station.’
‘Down at the station?’ Clare said and started crying. I put my arm around her but Constable Williams just pulled us apart, like real aggressive way. I wanted to just fucking slam him.
