Raw

by Scott Monk

  Caitlyn disappeared round the far corner of the house and Brett didn’t know whether to wait until she returned or to rock up to her parents first and say hello. He’d have to meet them eventually. And now was a good time. He took several deep breaths, wiped his hands on his jeans and practised what he was about to say. With a final sigh, he stepped forward — and nearly browned his daks when a hand grabbed him from behind.

  ‘G’day!’ Caitlyn laughed. ‘I didn’t scare you, did I?’

  ‘Nah,’ Brett said, hoping it was only his tongue and not his heart which had leapt out of his throat. ‘I’ll have to change my jocks though.’

  Caitlyn smiled. ‘Well, you surprised me. I didn’t expect you to come till nine.’

  Brett looked at his watch. It read 9:04. ‘Hey?’

  ‘You’re an hour early.’

  Brett looked at his watch again. Yep, he was on time.

  Then Caitlyn finally understood. ‘Sorry, it’s my fault. I should have told you nine o’clock Queensland time. Your side of the border is an hour ahead of us because of daylight saving.’ Then, smirking, she added, ‘Typical Newsouthwelshman. Always in a rush to get somewhere.’

  ‘Typical Queenslander,’ Brett shot back. ‘Always behind the times.’

  She laughed. ‘Did you have any trouble getting here?’

  ‘No, I hitchhiked. But I’ll be in trouble if Sam finds out I’m gone. He’ll probably ring the cops and I’ll be sent back to Sydney to a real jail.’

  ‘So you’re on the run, huh?’

  ‘For a couple of hours at least.’

  They smiled before Brett asked cheekily, ‘So what are we going to do today?’ He knew what he felt like doing.

  ‘Some work. You think you’re up to it?’

  ‘Of course,’ he said, if a little hesitantly. When Caitlyn had said the other day that he could come over and help her and her dad round the property, he’d thought he would be opening a gate or two, or chucking feed off the back of a ute. But from what he’d seen already, Caitlyn had meant real work. The hard stuff. The stuff you broke a sweat over. Or your back. ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘First, come and see my parents. Dad’ll tell you what to do.’

  ‘Is it safe?’ Brett joked, half-serious.

  ‘Of course. C’mon.’

  They walked round the back of the house. Mr and Mrs Douglas were where Caitlyn had left them by the tractor, taking a breather.

  ‘Mum, Dad, this is my friend, Brett — the one who’s here to help us out.’

  There was silence for a few seconds as both Mr and Mrs Douglas realised exactly who Brett was.

  ‘You!’ Mr Douglas spat. ‘What are you doing on my property?’

  ‘I’m here to work, sir.’

  ‘Work? There’s no work here for you, young man.’

  ‘But Caitlyn said —’

  ‘I don’t care what my daughter said. We’re a hardworking family and we don’t need the help of lowlifes like you.’

  ‘Dad! Don’t talk to Brett that way!’

  ‘I’ll talk to him however I like, Cait.’

  ‘What have I ever done to you to make you call me a lowlife?’

  ‘Coming here for a start. You’re not here to work. You’re here for my daughter to do who-knows-what!’

  ‘Dad!’

  ‘It’s true, Cait. Do you think he honestly came here to work? It was either because of you or because he wants to case the joint.’

  ‘I don’t have to take this,’ Brett said. Then, turning to leave, he said, ‘Nice parents you have, Caitlyn.’

  ‘We’re better than yours, I reckon,’ Mr Douglas shot back. ‘What are they? Alcoholic dole bludgers too?’

  ‘Hey! You leave my parents out of this!’ Brett shouted. ‘They’re ten times better than you, old man. At least they give me a chance.’

  ‘Yes, and look where that’s got you.’

  Brett felt his temper getting out of control. This old goat was asking for it, paying out his parents like that. It was the second time Mr Douglas had had a go at him for no reason. A fat lip might shut him up.

  But before he could do anything crazy, Caitlyn stepped in.

  ‘Brett, you better go home. I’ll see you sometime else, okay?’

  ‘No you won’t, young lady. You’re not to see this boy again.’

  ‘But Brett’s my friend!’

  ‘Not anymore. You’re never to see him again, do you understand?’

  ‘No!’ she shouted. ‘You can’t tell me what to do!’

  ‘Go to your room!’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Go!’

  Caitlyn ran up the steps and slammed a door behind her, her mother chasing after her.

  ‘And as for you —’ Mr Douglas added.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Brett said. ‘I’m leaving.’

  ‘Yes! Go on! Walk away! Make sure you stay away this time because if you come near my property or my daughter again, I’ll call the cops! Hear me? Do you hear me!’

  ‘Caitlyn?’ a voice called softly from her bedroom doorway.

  ‘Get lost!’ she shouted.

  There was silence for a couple of seconds before the stranger reluctantly sat on the side of the bed where she lay. He reached out and brushed her fringe gently to one side — something Caitlyn took offence at!

  ‘I said get lost, Dad!’

  She lashed out with her pillow then both fists. The man fell off the bed and onto the ground. Worried about a second attack, he quickly scurried backwards, trying to get away from her.

  ‘Oh, Brett?’ she said, finally seeing who it was. ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!’

  She rushed to his side as he rubbed his shoulders and chest. ‘I’m glad I’m not a relative,’ he joked.

  ‘How’d you get in here?’ she whispered.

  Brett smiled uncertainly and ran a hand over the back of his scalp. ‘I am doing three months for break-and-enter, you know.’

  ‘Did Mum or Dad see you?’

  ‘Do you think I’d be sitting here if they did?’

  ‘Why’d you come back?’

  ‘To see you. You still owe me a favour, remember?’

  ‘Oh yes? And what do you have in mind?’ she teased.

  Brett read Caitlyn’s eyes. Man, how much longer could they keep fooling each other? She liked him. He liked her. Why couldn’t they both just say it?

  ‘Caitlyn!’ her father’s voice rang out again. ‘Go and help your mother in the laundry, please.’

  Caitlyn rolled her eyes and sighed. She took one step to go inside but Brett grabbed her hand. ‘C’mon,’ he said.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘To the river.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘C’mon!’ he urged, opening the window.

  Caitlyn hesitated then relented.

  ‘Dad’s going to kill me!’ she shouted outside.

  ‘You and me both!’

  They ran across the yellow-green plain, only their shadows chasing them. She laughed and he howled. They were free!

  Past a row of trees, they pulled up short of the river and collapsed under a huge gum. They smiled between puffs, their eyes lingering on each other. Brett didn’t know what to do next. Their feelings for each other were still raw. So he crawled over to Caitlyn and sat beside her. Their arms touched but neither he nor she flinched.

  ‘What’ll your father think?’

  ‘I don’t care. Since my brothers moved away he never lets me do anything.’

  ‘And that includes seeing criminals?’

  ‘You’re not a criminal.’

  Brett flushed with relief. He was worried that his past was one of the reasons for Caitlyn holding back.

  ‘You think you’re tough but you’re not,’ she added.

  ‘Do I now?’ he smiled.

  ‘Of course. It’s all an act. Even I can beat you up.’

  ‘Yer?’

  ‘Yer!’

  Caitlyn tickled him and he tried to defend himself. Eventually, he s
tarted to get the upper hand and she broke away, leapt to her feet and ran through the trees, Brett chasing after her. Rabbiting one way then another, she laughed as she looked back at him. Brett kept saying, ‘I’ll get you!’ but held off from doing so for a little while longer to enjoy the game.

  Finally, he caught her and slipped his arms round her waist. She resisted and, taking Brett totally by surprise, flipped him and herself onto the ground. A mess of arms, legs and hair, they laughed and cried out in mock pain as they rumbled like a pair of puppies.

  Defeated, he looked up at Caitlyn from the bed of long green grass. She smiled back at him, her face shadowed from the sun, and her hands pinning his wrists to the ground as she sat on top of him, determined to keep him down. She needn’t have worried. He was determined never to get up.

  ‘Beat you,’ she said. ‘Pay up.’

  ‘But I haven’t got anything to give you.’

  ‘Then you’ll have to find something,’ she grinned, leaning forward and bringing her face close to his.

  The softness of her small breasts buried themselves warmly into Brett’s chest and pure thrill shivered throughout his body. Conscious of the forbidden touch, neither of them drew away, excited yet scared. His heart beat rapidly, but not alone. Caitlyn’s too went wild.

  Their eyes met. And for long seconds all was silent.

  Then it happened.

  They kissed.

  And Brett fell hopelessly in love.

  For the next three weeks they couldn’t see enough of each other. They tried whenever they could to spend time together. When Caitlyn delivered supplies to The Farm, Brett would steal a kiss in the kitchen or while helping her unload the truck. When Sam allowed him to tag along into town, Brett would slip into the backroom of Mr Thompson’s store with Caitlyn to make out until her boss yelled, ‘What’s taking you so long!’ They took a lot of risks too. Brett would wait until lights-out then meet Caitlyn on her bike down the road. (The other guys no longer posted guards on his door now that he knew the rules.) Together they would go down to the Barwon and “their” spot a few k’s out of Mungindi. There they’d make out, wrestle, tell stories or go for a midnight dip. Swimming was always Brett’s favourite because next to the small campfire they always lit, Caitlyn looked so hot in her blue bikini.

  ‘Don’t even think about it,’ she said one Tuesday evening through a sly grin. She was wet and slippery in Brett’s arms as she hung off his neck.

  Busted, he paused while undoing her top. ‘C’mon,’ he smiled. ‘I’ll take my clothes off first if you’re shy.’

  ‘That’s what I’m afraid of. Don’t you think I’ve laughed at you enough today?’

  For that, Brett swam after her then chased her up the riverbank. In a mess of limbs they tumbled to the ground and their bodies melted into one.

  Another time, Caitlyn’s father nearly caught them in town as Brett waited for Sam to pick up a parcel for Mary. They were walking down the street hand-in-hand when Mr Douglas pulled up in his station wagon. Luckily, they saw him first and quickly hid in the back of a nearby parked ute. Covered with a musty tarpaulin, they watched as her father walked past them only to be stopped by another local. The two men chatted before the stranger asked, ‘Was that your daughter I saw walking past with that young fella a minute ago?’ Mr Douglas paused, said Caitlyn was in school, then waved goodbye. But it continued to bug him and he marched towards the school to double-check if he was right. Frantically, Caitlyn bolted back to school the long way and beat her father by literally five seconds.

  Sam tapped Brett on the shoulder. ‘C’mon, mate. It’s time for bed.’

  ‘Can’t I just talk to her for one more minute?’

  ‘That’s what you said half-an-hour ago. Say goodbye and hang up. She’ll be there tomorrow.’

  ‘Sam.’

  ‘No, Brett. If you don’t hang up, I’ll do it for you.’

  The old man headed outside towards The House. Brett watched him go as he lifted the phone back to his ear.

  ‘I gotta go for real this time. It’s a date on Saturday, okay? Good … Me too. Bye.’

  ‘What are you so happy about?’ Frog asked him later.

  Lying on the grass outside their window, Brett looked up at the night sky. ‘Everything,’ he said.

  ‘You going out with her again soon?’

  ‘Yer, Saturday. We’re going fishing.’

  ‘Better not let Sam find out.’

  ‘He won’t.’

  Frog went quiet and Brett sat up. The kid still possessed the same haunted look he’d had since the rodeo.

  ‘Hey, what’s up?’

  Robbie kicked the grass. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘C’mon. Something’s up. What is it?’

  Frog sighed. ‘Are you angry with me?’

  ‘Who me? No. Why?’

  ‘Because you don’t hang out with me anymore.’

  ‘I’ve been busy. It’s not that I don’t want to hang out with you.’

  ‘Yer, but that doesn’t mean you have to forget me.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten you. If I had more time I’d muck round with you. But now I’ve got a girlfriend, I try and spend as much time as I can with Caitlyn.’

  Frog hung his head. ‘Yer, I guess,’ he said then started walking back towards the window.

  ‘Robbie,’ Brett called out. ‘What’s really wrong? You’ve been like this for weeks now. It’s got to do with Smiling Joe doesn’t it?’

  ‘No.’

  Brett stood up and brushed the grass from his clothes. ‘Yes it does. You’ve been quiet ever since that cop came asking questions.’

  The kid stopped.

  ‘It’s been bothering you, hasn’t it?’

  Frog turned round. ‘I didn’t mean to take that stuff from him. I didn’t. Honest. And I didn’t mean for you to get in so much trouble. I —’

  ‘Robbie, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. The guy tried taking advantage of you.’

  ‘Did you tell Sam?’

  ‘No, and I don’t intend to. As far as I’m concerned, nothing happened. You made a mistake and I helped you get out of it. End of story.’

  Brett grabbed the kid in a headlock and knuckle-rubbed his hair. ‘Now cheer up, would you?’

  Frog’s smile grew. ‘Yes! Okay. That’s enough.’

  ‘Not until you cheer up.’

  ‘I’m happy, all right?’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘You better or I’ll tell everybody I caught you kissing your pillow the other night, saying: “I love you, Caitlyn. I looove you.”’

  Brett grinned. The old Frog was back.

  Brett closed the bathroom door behind him before heading back to his dorm. Lights out had been ordered over an hour earlier, so he thought it was strange when he saw one of the guys in the darkness pressed up against a corner, looking left-to-right, making sure no one was round. When he saw Brett however, everything changed. The guy frantically waved down the other corridor at an unseen mob. Brett knew it was a mob because the second the guy did that, the floorboards echoed with pounding feet.

  He sprinted for his bedroom, skidded to a stop then reached for the handle. He got as far as opening it and getting inside before five guys grabbed him.

  They twisted his arms behind his back before dragging him down the corridor into another guy’s room. The pain hurt so much he yelled. A door was slammed shut, the lights turned on and a blanket thrown over the windows. Brett knew who it was before he stared into Tyson’s dead black eyes.

  ‘Payback time, Pretty Boy.’

  Tyson crunched a fist into Brett’s stomach then another. He yelled out again. He steeled his fists but couldn’t hit back; his arms held by Tyson’s thugs. A third punch was followed by a fourth. This time his ribs burned. Tyson lined up a fifth but Brett fought back.

  Jumping off the ground, he kicked Tyson in the stomach. The big inmate tripped backwards over a bed and hit his head against the wall. The sudden movement threw the thugs off balanc
e and one let go. It was all Brett needed. He lashed out and knocked the redhead flying, then his mate. He yanked open the door and hit the corridor. It was his only chance to escape. Tyson saw him leave and crash tackled him. They both went down. Brett tried to wriggle free but Tyson snared his legs.

  ‘I’m going to kill you, Dalton!’

  Brett didn’t doubt it. He kicked out but Tyson had his legs tied up good.

  Tyson’s goons spilled out of the bedroom into the corridor, not to mention the rest of The House. It took only a second for the lights to be turned on and the halls to be filled with guys. Everyone chose sides and started shouting.

  ‘Finish him, Tyson!’

  ‘Get him back for all the trouble he’s caused!’

  ‘C’mon, Brett! Hit him, man! Hit him!’

  Brett broke free, got to his feet and made two clumsy swings. Tyson stepped back, dodging both. Retaliating, he hit Brett in the face. Blood flew and Brett crashed into the wall, lost all balance and collapsed onto the ground. Like a doll, he sat there.

  Tyson showed no mercy. He picked him up by the collar and slammed him face-first against a bedroom door. ‘Finished, huh?’ the big inmate breathed into his ear. ‘Well, I ain’t.’

  He banged Brett’s head against the door once again. Brett felt the world spinning and he knew this was it. He refocussed the last of his energy and slammed his elbow square into Tyson’s stomach. The big inmate doubled-up and Brett followed it with an upper cut.

  The crowd cheered loudly then stopped. Tyson clutched his gut and stood up again. One hit wouldn’t keep him down. He shook the pain from his face then reached into his pocket. Brett saw the flash of metal. A knife! His hand betrayed him by reaching for his hair.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Tyson spat. ‘Your hair is the last thing —’

  CRACK!

  A plank of wood snapped in half over Tyson’s outstretched arm. The blow was too much for him and he dropped the knife. He turned on the attacker and threw a punch. But Sam, despite his age, ducked and felled him with one carefully aimed hit. Tyson stayed down.