Salt and Pepper Short Stories and Poems

by Susan Sowerby

Stuck in the Pound

  Joel felt cold. He didn’t know if he could control JD in public. How the heck could he find out with him stuck in the pound? He had absolutely nowhere to keep him even if he could get him out. Anger prickled on the back of his neck. Life seemed over fond of harassing the down trodden. It loved presenting them with impossible hoops to jump through. He did not have a phone number for Jason Lander and waiting for him to make a move rankled hugely. Joel saw himself as a man of action and the waiting game had never suited him. He decided to walk to the pound during school time to visit JD. Poor JD. None of this was his fault. The pound was kilometres away and his skateboard was broken. At times like this he wished he had a bike. Of course he could ‘borrow’ an idle one he saw along the way, but a picture of Sally Grey came up in his mind. These days, he tried not to do that sort of thing.

  Sweat ran down his back by the time he got there. When he asked to see JD the girl in charge said,

  ‘I don’t know about that. He’s in the restricted area.’ Still puffing hard from the very long jog, Joel managed to hold his temper. Restricted, did that mean death row?

  ‘Not yet. It just means he’s vicious.’ she explained. ‘If someone wants a watch dog and can prove they can handle him, then perhaps he’ll get a reprieve.

  Who could do that? wondered Joel. He knew JD presented a very unlovable face to everyone else but him. Squeezing the pork crackle in his pocket, he begged.

  ‘Can’t I just say hello? JD was a hero in a police investigation.’ The young woman raised her eyebrows. He hoped he’d find her a soft touch.

  ‘Alright but I can’t let you take him out, OK?’

  JD howled and shrieked when he saw his friend. He ran around in tight circles.

  ‘Oh no!’ said the girl. ‘He’s only just quietened down. Tell him to shut up or we’ll have neighbourhood complaints all over again.’ Joel told him to shut up which he did. The girl looked surprised. He whined softly through clenched teeth and pawed the fence, his big brown eyes gazing lovingly at his lord and master, begging, 'Take me out of here!' Joel cased the lock. It looked very sturdy. If he tried to bust him out at night, all the dogs there would raise hell. Even if he did, where would he hide him? With a voice like his, JD would betray himself at every turn. Death row was full of beautiful, mean dogs, much more appealing than JD. Did his friend stand any chance for adoption at all?

  ‘I’d take them all home if I could,’ confessed the employee softly.

  I’m in! thought Joel.

  She smiled ‘You can get through to most of them after a while. Treat them nice and they become nice.’

  Yeah! thought Joel, All dogs and some kids! He stared at the other JD’s on death row who looked back at him with what he saw as hope in their eyes. He couldn’t let himself think about it and he couldn’t allow himself to do anything wrong now. He was stuck, having to depend on this Jason Lander fellow.

  ‘I want him back,’ He stated flatly. The girl’s brown eyes were soft, quite like a dog’s. She said ‘My name’s Sophie, what’s yours?’

  ‘Joel.’

  ‘OK Joel, I’ll pretend I didn’t see you. Hang out, spend some time. If you hear anyone coming, it might be my boss. Hide around the back or I’ll be in big trouble.’ she winked and walked away.

  Even when you can’t see the full plan, you have to start somewhere, thought Joel. JD’s wise eyes were on his master. ‘Sit!’ he said. JD seemed to sense his urgency and did so. He’d learned that somewhere. ‘Lie down,’ proved a little more difficult, Joel had to put his hand through the wire and push him down. After a while JD got it. He wagged as though he quite liked the game. ‘Fetch,’ was easy he’d already learned that too. The question was; could he control him if he wanted to rip a member of the public apart?

  At closing time Sophie returned,

  ‘Golly,’ she said, ‘That was a long stretch. I nearly forgot you and locked you in.’

  Story of my life thought Joel. ‘Can I come back?’

  ‘I don’t want this to break your heart.’ She replied, it mightn’t work you know.’

  ‘I got to try.’

  She sighed. ‘OK. I work Monday Thursday and Friday.’ Joel wanted to hug her. He thanked god for people like Sophie and maybe Jason - people in the world who allowed him to breathe and be alive.

  On Thursday, he skated to the pound. He’d spent all night repairing his old skate board. When he got there, he found Sophie was sick and had been replaced by her very officious boss. Though tempted to punch him squarely on his dogged chin, Joel settled for calling ‘good bye!’ to him in a very loud voice, so JD heard and set the whole menagerie howling like the hounds of Baskerville. As he took off he decided to detour to the police station. Where was Jason Lander? He had to contact him somehow, this was intolerable. When he got there, of course, the guy wasn’t around, and when he asked for his phone number, of course it was denied,

  ‘Oh well if he didn’t he give it to you, it's not for us to do.

  ‘When’s he back?’

  ‘Dunno. He has his own schedule.’

  ‘Could you tell him Joel Denby wants to see him?’ Would that work? Would they bother? He didn’t think so.

  Joel cursed under his breath as he left. Life was tough. Still, it had taught him not to let anything beat him, so he decided to do his own sleuthing and find out where Lander lived. Thinking of telephone addresses, he cruised into a phone box and was surprised to find there were five J Landers in nearby suburbs, though he sensed not one of them was Jason. A guy who worked with delinquents would probably have a silent number. He considered the youth group. It would probably be as difficult to wrangle the number off them as it was off the police station.

  Suddenly, he hit on a great idea. Joey Ainsworth’s dad’s Pizza delivery! He hoped Jason liked pizza. If he liked hot dogs, without a wife to cook, there was a good chance he’d be into fast foods and would get pizza deliveries quite regularly. Joel was off like a rocket on his skate board, trying to think of a valid reason why he should be given Jason’s phone number, let alone be taken there by the delivery van. When he reached the pizza parlour, he found Joey’s dad overwhelmed, fighting a sea of dough and molten cheese.

  ‘Hi Mr Ainsworth. I found Jason Landers credit card in the parking lot. Do you have his number so I can return it asap?’

  ‘Whoops!’ said Joey's dad, ‘He’ll want to know about that.’ Ted Ainsworth was too busy to think much about it and flipped open a diary near his phone.

  ‘Look under L, and give him a bell.’ There was a line of hungry, impatient punters stretching out his door.

  Of course, Jason wasn’t home. When-ever was he? Never-the-less, Joel scribbled the number on his wrist.

  ‘He’s not home,’ he said. ‘It’s urgent. Will the delivery van take me there? I’ll post the card under his door or wait till he comes home.’

  ‘Possibly.’ replied Joey’s sweating dad, ‘Do you need to see him personally?’

  ‘Yeah,’ smirked Joel. ‘Actually, I need to see the man about a dog.’

  ‘OK. Be here in an hour. We’ve got seventeen Pizzas over that way tonight.

  ‘Bulls-eye! thought Joel, and amended it to ‘maybe’ bulls-eye. He’d learned well that life can be contrary. It was a plus that the boss didn’t know Jason’s was a silent number.

  At six-thirty the delivery van dropped him at Jason Landers. No one was there - of course! The tucked away house looked like an ordinary, friendly suburban home with a nice peaked roof, much better than anything Joel had ever lived in. It looked as though it had been made to house a woman. He poked around as evening crickets sang. A fence encircled the back yard as though in preparation for children, or, maybe, thought Joel - a dog? But why would Jason want a scruffy, vicious mongrel in his back yard? Obviously, it would be very different from his original plan.

  Joel knew he shouldn’t poke around someone else’s property too much, so he waited on the step for a long time. In deep disappointment, he stood up
to leave, just as Lander’s car appeared in the drive-way.

  The cop stared at him hard, as he closed his car door. ‘How’d you find me Joel? Most don’t unless I want ‘em to.’

  Joel stared back just as hard. ‘Since you eat hot dogs, I thought you might order Pa’s Pizzas now and again. I told them I’d found your credit card, and that I know you so they let me come with the delivery van to return it. They don’t know you have a private number by the way.’ He was worming to get on the right side of Jason.

  Lander raised his eyebrows, assessing him. ‘Thanks, maybe I’d better fix that. You’re not stupid, are you kid!’ He looked tired. Joel guessed that he’d probably been dealing with difficult kids all day and here was another one right on his doorstep, but he continued. ‘Now you’re here, you’d better come in.’ He opened his door and laid some files on the table. The place seemed clean but a bit of a mess. Joel could see a woman didn’t live there anymore, just a busy man.

  ‘What do you want? I see you’ve missed a lot of school this week,’ he said.

  Damn. How did he know? ‘I was visiting JD.’ Joel returned with a stubborn glare.

  Lander stopped, ‘Oh god. JD! Look, I’ll ring about him first thing in the morning.’

  Joel’ heart sank. His hopes sank. How long did JD have? With that horrible boss guy in charge, he might be gone already.

  Looking Lander in the eye, his voice caught in his throat, ‘I want him back!’ His mentor’s track record was not looking good.

  ‘I’ll try,’ replied Jason somewhat weakly. He felt bad. No matter how much he did, they always showed him up. Just now there were too many serious things going on to get everything right. He needed a break.

  You said that before, thought Joel accusingly, but he held his tongue and fiddled with a segmented wooden fish on Jason’s side-board. After all it was a favour. He knew street kids and junk-yard dogs don’t rank high on most people’s list of importance, but he hoped they’d score little better with a youth worker.

  ‘I got you a job,’ said Lander, in a consoling tone.

  ‘I’ve already got a job,’ snapped Joel, abruptly, as he thought, don’t you dare change the subject on me.

  ‘Not like this one. It’s a commission to paint a large sign above the hot dog shop. The guy was impressed with what I showed him. He’ll pay you well, too.’

  ‘I can’t do it.’ Joel muttered, tight lipped.

  ‘You holding me to ransom? What do you want?

  ‘JD! How can I concentrate with him on death row?’

  ‘That bad is it?’

  ‘I don’t let friends down.’ stated Joel firmly. Joey Ainsworth floated across his mind with that crooked smile of his and an eye blackened on his account.

  Jason Lander smiled. He had to admit that he quite liked this kid. ‘If I don’t manage to get this dog for you, will you write me off?’

  ‘I’ll just walk out of your life. It’s not the worst thing that could happen to you.’

  ‘It might be for you.’

  ‘I don’t need anybody, I just want JD.’

  ‘You might need someone to head you off in the right direction.’

  ‘You get me JD and I’ll do anything you want.’ Joel replied. He hoped Jason saw it as a fair bargain.

  ‘Will you!’ Jason relaxed into a grin. The kid was bargaining for the dog, not really intending to hold him to ransom., He saw him basically as a boy worth salvaging - lousy back ground, but fine, strong character. Talent too. These kids were worth the effort. It usually didn’t take much for the borderlines - a bit of attention and a shove in the right direction. Often they didn’t get it because the real hard core kids took up all his time, ending with little change. Unfortunately, Management worked that way.

  If the dog is what it takes, then that’s what it takes, Jason decided. ‘Alright. He can live in my yard for a while. Unfortunately, there’s nothing else going on here.’

  Joel wanted to leap up on him like an elated pup and hug him, but instead he paced stiffly up and down.

  ‘You feed him though,’ warned his mentor, who in Joel’s eyes, had taken a sudden promotion from dung-heap worm to hero. ‘Remember, you’re the one who has to care for him.’ Jason added’

  ‘Yes’ replied Joel meekly, then his hopes took another dive. ‘But how can I do it? I’ll have to give up my job because I can’t get here, and there, at the same time after school and then I won’t have any money to buy our food.’ Joel stood frowning. Another impossible hoop loomed in front of him. Life really was a circus, full of ridiculous stunts.

  Jason raised a brow, making note of Joel’s ‘our food,’ comment. ‘You forget. I already got you another job that can be done in your own time. Changed your mind about that one yet?’

  ‘You bet, but it’s only one short job. I’ll have to find others. What else do you want me to do? I’ll do anything for you if you save JD.’

  Jason laughed, ‘I’m not bargaining for a slave you know.’

  Joel smiled apologetically. ‘I might have to stay in the yard with him till he learns to shut up at night or your neighbours will get him thrown out, maybe you too. He sounds like twenty hell hounds at a football match when he gets going.’

  ‘Wow! Didn’t think of that. Actually, there is a sleep-out at the back. You can go in there for a couple of weeks. Both of you are on trial though, remember that.’ Lander led him through and showed him the yard and the sleep out. Suddenly, everything seemed too good to be true. Then Joel heard something even more remarkable. ‘Would you like to watch the police dogs being trained? Leave JD home though. Just watch and learn.’

  Joel felt elated. He wanted to shriek, but managed to control the impulse. Lately, when his emotions were high, strange, rather inelegant sounds escaped his mouth. Just when he wanted to sound cool in front of Sally Grey, he honked like a crate full of demented drakes.

  ‘Can I come with you to pick him up?’ He kept his voice low and tentative, hardly believing he would be allowed.

  The classic expression on Jason’s face let him know how dumb the question was. ‘What do you mean can you come? Do you think I want to get my gawd-durned head ripped orf?’

  Joel laughed. Why was the guy doing this for him? Perhaps he’d let himself like this Jason Lander fellow after all – just a little bit.

  Hot Dags

  After a very happy boy had left, the tired policeman sat on his back veranda with a cold beer, wondering if he should pour it over his own head. Instead, he gave himself a severe lecture. ‘Just what do you think you’re doing, Lander? You know damned well you shouldn’t let these kids into your space. This might be the last time you can relax in your own fav. spot. It’ll be out of bounds with a hairy, sharp toothed, half psychotic tenant here. He meant the dog, not the boy, though he thought about the wayward youth he had been and still cringed at some of the things he'd done. Since he'd changed, life was better in some ways and worse in others. Back then, he'd thought his friendships in crime were close, but now he could see they were illusions caused by the risks they took together. They vanished whenever his presence didn't serve them anymore. He knew the gangs sealed the mouths of their young recruits by making betrayal heavy with shame, so few had the courage to speak up when they thought things had gone too far. Human nature was still the same in the police force, though hopefully on the right side of the law. Here too, friendships increased with risks. Having experienced these scenarios had made Jason Lander cynical about friendship.

  In the morning light, he was as equally doubtful as he had been the night before. He wanted to change his mind, but he nobly kept his word and picked Joel up at his house at nine. Joel had spent the whole night worrying that Jason would back out. He knew the decision hung by a thread. The boy flew into the seat beside the policeman, relieved and excited as a puppy going a holiday, trying hard not to show it. Jason was wise enough to know that with these kids, you didn’t break your word, unless you wanted to lose them altogether. This dog meant everyt
hing to the skinny urchin. He knew Joel had to deal with double alcoholism in his home. He would not be used to people keeping their word. Lander knew that what the kid thought of him could make or break his young life, but he felt weary of all the responsibility. Usually the good workers burnt out, but he knew someone had hung on long enough for him, so he’d try to hang on as long as he could.

  Because of the police business, the red tape seemed endless, but finally the pound released JD into Jason Lander’s care. Officially, he still belonged to Jack Hatch who had been charged and arrested, but not yet convicted.

  The savage junkyard dog sat with Joel in the back seat of Jason’s car, trembling all over. The boy placed his hand on the broad head. ‘Stop shaking, you big whoos. Remember you’re on probation, so you’d better behave yourself.’

  Jason didn’t miss Joel's imitation of his voice and sighed silently. OK kid, I won’t let you down if you don’t let me down. Jason was used to being let down by them, used to disappointment, though there seemed to be something different about this one, something he couldn’t quite figure.

  Joel diligently attended the police dog training. He had a special pass that made him feel important and carefully transferred all that he learned to JD. Finally, he was allowed to bring JD to be tested, and the junkyard mongrel came through well at least he didn't to eat any policemen.

  With this positive social progress, Joel took him down to the Hot Dog shop along with his spray cans and his father’s extension ladder. It was imperative that he keep this relationship with Jason Lander sweet, not because it was important to him in itself, but because of JD.

  He showed the shop owner his sketches. It struck Joel as weird that Mr Ainsworth, an Englishman did pizza and an Italian did hot dogs. Was it some kind of cultural exchange?

  With the enthusiasm of his race, Mario had him up the ladder and painting right away, amid ecstatic shouts. ‘Muma Mia! D’ drawing looks so gooda! I could bring sauce and eata d’ paper.’

  It took Joel some time to feel comfortable painting in front of the public eye. At first, he felt rather rude exposing his talent, so to speak. His art had always been practiced illegally and in the dark with only the stars to watch. He felt almost as though he was streaking naked in broad daylight, or something equally antisocial. He also knew he had to finish the masterpiece before sundown when the Junk-yard Dogs would come skulking around. Even with JD on guard, being perched on top of a ladder made him a sitting duck for an attack from below. It wasn’t the most secure position.

  He sprayed the finishing touches on his hot dog extravanza. As he worked, fat sausage letters appeared and curved enticingly, sizzling with promised flavour, dripping with luscious sauce. He even painted globules of sauce running along the veranda guttering and drooling down the upright poles. The effect was sensational. He felt warm and proud, even better than he did about his graffiti. Just as he gathered up his cans and brushes to climb down, he heard a triumphant roar.

  ‘You’re dead, Denby.’ Tom Pratt! JD’s hackles stood up, but with great effort, he stayed down. He was doing as he had been taught - being a good dog. The rest of the gang appeared from around various street corners, gloating, feeling safe with their seven to one odds. They didn’t even notice JD.

  Pratt bumped the ladder hard with his shoulder, unbalancing Joel. ’Oops!’ he yelled. ‘Oh I am sorry!’

  Joel knew the only way to break a devastating fall would be to land directly on Pratt. He assessed which way the ladder was about to fall and leaped, landing nimbly on his opponent’s shoulders, knocking him to the ground. Another of the gang raced up, and grabbed Joel by the hair. Another kicked him. Instantly, JD buzzed himself up like an ogre and flew at the aggressor from behind, ripping the seat clear out of his pants. Strands of fabric and traces of flesh came away on his teeth. The boy screamed and ran off with JD hot after him, his bloody buttocks working hard, diminishing rapidly with distance.

  Pratt sat on the pavement stunned and confused. With JD safely off after their mate, the rest of his gang bravely converged on Joel. They pushed the smaller boy back against the wall and punched him in the face.

  ‘Pulp him!’ slurred Pratt stupidly, rubbing his head and staggering to his feet. Just then Jason Lander happened to cruise by to check on Joel. He was in plain clothes. Jumping out of the car, he slammed the door and roared,

  ‘I’m a cop, so nic orf before I shove ya all in the clink.’

  Strangely they did not recognise him without his uniform, and believing it was all bluff, they began to bait him. Joel wondered if all policemen in uniform looked the same to them, kind of like cows, horses and of course, pigs.

  ‘So what, big boy,’ said one large, heftily built member. ‘There’s six of us and one of you,’

  ‘Get him,’ said the next, attempting a dangerously tough stance that bordered on the ridiculous. Jason casually put his back to the wall. They had no idea who they were dealing with - the long legged Tie Kwan Do mogul who taught all the great moves at the Police Boys club. Just then JD returned, tongue lolling out, puffing with satisfaction at the success of his little venture. Then he saw Joel. Completely ignoring Jason’s plight, he raced over to lick the blood from his young master’s nose. Meanwhile Jason managed to hold the gang at bay. He kept them away without hurting them much, teasing and playing with them. The infuriated gang flailed wildly. Them one bent to pick up a stone. Joel came to his senses in time and yelled in alarm,

  ‘J D, Git ‘em,!’

  JD powered in like a crazy Ferrari, scattering boys in all directions.

  One of them yowled as he beat a hasty retreat, ‘We’ll get that thing put down, you wait and see.’

  ‘Not smart, was Jason’s retort. 'The dog’s record is much better than yours.’

  Joel reluctantly called JD off. Miraculously, he obeyed, satisfying his fury by ripping up an abandoned sand-shoe. After the scrap, having carefully avoided the action, Mario invited them in and gave Joel some tissues for his nose.

  ‘Da boys eata mucha hot doga, so I let dem hang up here.’ he apologised.

  Joel thought, Don’t put me off. Hot dogs must pickle their brains.

  Mario paid Joel well for a young non professional and apologised again for not yet having installed lights to offset his wonderful signage. Because it had become too dark to see, neither Joel nor Jason saw the glaring mistake. They were offered a free hot dog each and left for home, oblivious of what Joel had written for the world to see.

  To protect his privacy, Jason changed his phone number. A few days previously, he’d upgraded to a new phone and passed his old one on to Joel. The boy noticed he didn’t give him his new number, but still he felt he’d come up in the world. He had a phone number to give to Sally Grey, which he did immediately. Now they could talk without a Junk-yard Dog eaves-dropping on every word. He waited, wondering how long it would take to get a call from her. He felt fearful that he may have lost her. Conducting their relationship under such traumatic circumstances had not been easy for him.

  Early on the Saturday morning, on a rare night he'd stayed at his parents, his phone rang. It was Sally Grey! In surprise, Joel made to sit down on his bed, missing the edge completely and falling with a heavily onto his skate board. It behaved noisily. He heard a growl from JD whom he had sneaked in the night before, and who lay snoring under his bed, his watchful nose sticking out like a gun barrel. Joel had wanted to test how quiet he could keep him while his parents slept after a bender the night before. They’d be very grumpy. He was grateful when JD only grumbled, pulled his nose in and redistributed his considerable weight, bumping around softly under the bed.

  ‘You alright?’ Sally asked with a giggle. ‘It sounded like you fell and then growled like an animal.’

  ‘Just the man practising his stunts,’ Joel replied as coolly as he could, grinding his teeth and rubbing his backside. It really hurt.

  ‘You did a funny stunt on the Hot Dog shop.’ Sally chuckled with delight.

&n
bsp; ‘Funny?’ Joel froze. What the heck did she mean - funny? It was meant to be stunning!

  ‘Looks great, but who told you to write ‘Hot Dags. It’s classic. Every-one is laughing.’

  Joel’s bubble burst, almost audibly. He felt all his pride in his work splat all over the four walls of his bedroom and drool dejectedly down. So it wasn’t a sweetheart’s call at all, but worse, he’d botched the job. He could feel his face sizzle like a sausage. Hot dags. Oh no, oh god! He’d done it again, just when it meant everything to impress Sally and the world with his first legitimate sign. He’d have to fix it soon as possible. His eyes swivelled towards the clock which showed eight-thirty.

  ‘Oh, ….er…. I’ve got to go. I’ll … er … ring soon.’ Her first call and he sounded so lame, but he knew he had barely half an hour before Mario opened for special weekend breakfasts.

  Joel grabbed his paints, skate-board and ladder. Avoiding pedestrians on a skate-board with a swaying ladder proved extremely difficult. He hoped there weren’t too many casualties littered in his wake. With monkey-like agility, he scaled the shop front, held the card-board in place and aimed his spray can. Just then another explosion erupted from across the street.

  ‘Naw, Naw! Donta you touch!’ There was no mistaking Mario’s frantic call. Joel froze. What now?

  ‘I grab you stop!’ puffed Mario, jogging up, his ample stomach swinging from side to side. ‘Since you do signage, every one come in to tell me. Dey laugh and dena dey buy! Don’ta change nothing. I do very happy!’

  Joel perched on the top of the ladder feeling quite confused. His elbow bumped his knee, causing him to depress the nozzle and spray a large hot dog coloured blotch behind his ear. Never before had praises been sung for his spelling mistakes - certainly not at school. They had been a terrible blot on his life, high among the other blots allotted to him, rather unfairly, he felt.

  Though he had other plans for the night’s meal, Mario plied him with some frozen junk food he couldn’t refuse. Actually, he’d purchased ingredients for a tasty Thai dinner which he wanted to make as a thank you for Jason. He would not say thank-you directly, it wasn’t his style, but in truth, he could not thank him enough. He’d found the recipe poking out from under a rubbish bin lid. Jason had made comments about the bad diet he ate ever since Shaz had left him and Joel noted it was the same as what he himself had grown up on. Jason mentioned that junk food stunts growth, yet still manages to make folk fat. Well it certainly hadn’t stunted Jason’s growth, but he wasn’t so sure about himself. Actually he was worried. Lately his own legs seemed to have grown alarmingly, while his body stayed the same, making him look like a pea on top of a couple of bean stalks. It bothered him mildly, so, hoping it wasn’t too late, he resolved to eat a better diet if his luck held out with jobs and money.

  Recently to his surprise, his mentor had shown him where the house key lived. He’d said, ‘If you need to go in and make a hot choc after school, feel free.’ That to the street kid showed a great deal of trust. Though Jason liked to take risks, he’d also noticed that Joel had a mouth like a locked vault. He wouldn’t brag about the key to the other boys. Also, with JD in his back yard he could be reasonably sure the boy wouldn’t pull any silly stunts. The kid's heart was stamped on that dog.

  Joel let himself in. He rummaged the cupboards and found all the spices he needed. Having already guessed that the woman of the house would have left things like oil, curry etc behind, he’d budgeted fairly well. After almost mistaking detergent for cooking oil, he read everything twice and wrote it down as well, double checking on himself to prevent any horrendous culinary disasters. Jason would be at the Police boys club tonight, so he could be quite late. Joel had already observed in the markets how they half cook food and finish it off later. The result proved tangy and tasty, filling the room with enticing odours.

  As Jason burst in late, Joel whacked the wok triumphantly on the gas. He prayed his mentor hadn’t already eaten. He’d learned early in life that it has a way of thwarting good intentions. Jason stood surprised for a moment, a bag from the hamburger shop dangling limply from his hand.

  ‘Wow, what’s the occasion?’ he said at last.

  ‘Non junk food,’ replied Joel glibly.

  ‘You’re on!’ he chuckled as he walked out the back, calling ‘JD!’ A yap of appreciation was heard, followed by a piggish gulp. At last the dog had taken a shine him. It occurred to Jason that the three of them did not find trust an easy number.

  He returned to a steaming plate of prawn and vegetable with noodle.

  ‘What a team!’ he enthused, ‘The triple J team. Joel cooks it, Jason eats it and Junk-yard Dog disposes of the junk food.’

  ‘Triple J sounds like the radio station.’ Joel loaded his fork, ‘Could use a bit stronger curry,’ he added. ‘I picked the one that says ‘wild.’

  ‘This tastes great. It’s perfect. I don’t like hot curry.’ replied Jason, examining the curry container. He laughed, ‘It says ‘mild,’ not ‘wild. You read the ‘m’ upside down.’ Joel could feel the old embarrassment colouring his jaw line.

  He didn’t really want to tell Jason about his goof up with the sign, but he cleared his throat courageously, ‘Mario says he likes it, but I accidentally wrote ‘Hot Dags’ on his shop.’

  Jason burst into laughter, barely managing to contain his mouthful. He grabbed some kitchen paper and wiped his mouth. ‘Well, your next job is at the hamburger joint. Perhaps you should write Hambuggers for him.’

  Joel’s own weird cacophonous laughter broke out, relieved.

  ‘Maybe I could start a craze!’ he honked. Goodness sake, he wished the dam voice would settle down.

  ‘Yeah! You could attract tourists like blowflies, just to read the funniest signs in slums-ville. They’d bring money in. You’d change the face of the place.’

  Always my intention thought Joel.

  Jason glanced at him, suddenly serious. ‘It’s not inconceivable, you know. I’ve seen your bedroom. We need to get some photos because now I’m looking at the Games Cave. First, to build a reputation, it had better be me who approaches the proprietors.’

  Wow. Games Cave! Joel marvelled and offered his hand ‘Team?’ asked tentatively.

  ‘Team!’ agreed Jason shaking the hand firmly.

  Joel was aware that Jason asked nothing for his help, except to see a boy go straight. Jason had changed his life, now he wanted to return the compliment.

  ‘What would you really like to do for your own job Jason?’

  Ignorant of Joel’s mindset he answered truthfully. ‘Aw. Finally I’d like to be a detective. I get a kick out of solving riddles. I guess I do it anyway.’

  Joel pulled a wry face. ‘But you want to be paid for it, for like, pinging the neighbourhood Graffitti King.’

  ‘It didn’t turn out so bad did it? Now you get paid for graffiti and all it required was a minor shift. You just had the wrong locations.’

  Says who? thought Joel, but his mind clicked like a calculator. This was the first adult he’d ever wanted to impress. Could he be as good for Jason as Jason had been for him?

  ‘You want a shift of position too? Like a promotion?’

  ‘Something like that. I’m stuck here with the whole mortgage and no Shaz. She and I were a team. Shaz and Jaz, we were.’ Joel glimpsed the sadness again. He’d noticed how Jason ignored other women. Wow, this Shaz took some getting over! He thought about Sally Grey, how she confused him. He didn’t know what to do with her, but his pride wouldn’t let him ask any advice.

  ‘How do you get a promotion?’

  ‘Out-standing performance is one way, though often it isn’t even recorded. Weedling and weaselling is probably more successful. Unfortunately I do a good job with young offenders, so I guess I’m stuck there, but I’d rather work with them in my own way. I reckon I’d be more effective.’

  So, thought Joel sagely, my friend needs his woman back, plus a better paid job. I’ll see what I can do.
Luckily, Jason Lander was blissfully ignorant of his charge’s secret intentions.