‘That’s me Nev!’ I shout back with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. Close call. Friggin close. They all think he’s jokin. They think it’s a big laugh, gee.
Booty struts round doin his best tough-fella act while throwin Nevil real deadly looks. The pig dogs, all barked n howled out, crouch back gainst the fence, scarred ears pricked for master’s orders.
Sittin on the step, drinkin beer, shovin a joint in his mouth n laughin up is Trevor. Probably so nerve-wracked he needs it.
I pass Gracie. ‘Mum, ain’t he loony, eh?’ She points at Nevil, who by now is surrounded by team mates.
‘More n you know,’ I mumble, then go inside and make a fast dash to the kitchen window.
Missus Warby motions Booty towards her and I watch as her mouth moves ten to the dozen. Geez, a woman can’t take any more a this.
I slam the window shut and go into the loungeroom. I flick the TV on. Ricki Lake laughs loud and clear. ‘That’s life,’ she smiles, real satisfied.
TEN
Bare Knucklin
Chad Morgan croons loud and miserable from the stereo speakers; cars are parked cross every centimetre a yard. People lay back on the grass drinkin, smokin yarndi n placin bets as the sun goes down. They’re all geared up for the knucklin.
The Blackouts huddle together in a tight knot at the side a the shed, talkin n laughin. They’re here for me boy. Jus hope he don’t let em down. Anythin could come a this. Me boy is their hero—n sometimes heroes get their arses kicked. A woman reckons this is gonna happen here tonight.
Booty strolls out of the doorway shirtless, shoeless, holdin a notepad and a beer. He walks round talkin to people and scribblin into his book. He looks hyped-up.
‘Think a somethin, Gwenny.’ I nudge her in the ribs as we stand hidden behind the bushes.
‘I’m thinkin, woman. Jus settle down n don’t panic. You’d think Booty’d have more sense, wouldn’t ya. He’s womba, Mave, that what the man is. Mad.’ She hauls a beer outta the box at our feet.
‘Should never have let em come over. That bloody Booty, I’m gonna do him over tamarra if it’s the last thing a woman do. Yeah, ya right, he mad. But ya know I can’t tell him anythin’. Oh no, Booty’s always right. I pull back the branches and peer into the near darkness.
‘Mavis, look! There, over there in the corner.’ Gwen points to the lit up shed.
‘Shittin hell! Who’s that?’ I feel me teeth ache as I take in the tall, wide, muscle-packed figure flexin his arms as he stands before Booty. He’s a man that seed plenty a dry creekbeds. Lookin at him tells me that. A man that uses his fists for fun. Yep, jus the type Booty gets along whit. Painin for the thrill a it. Hurtin young fellas, that be his game. Yep, Mavis Dooley can spot a wile horse ten feet away, n this ol brumby be rearin at the bit.
‘That’s Mongrel Brandon from Bullya. He plays for the Rammers. Jeesus Christ, get a load of them arms! Oowwhh, Mave, reckon I don’t like this much,’ Gwen whispers, her voice crackin.
‘Friggin hell! Trevor can’t fight that!’ Oh, Trev. I stand up to get a better look.
‘Get ya arse down, Mave! They’ll see ya.’ Gwen yanks on the hem a me dress.
I crouch back down in the bushes n peer out through the leaves. Booty’ll bust his guts if he see us here. Do his block good n proper.
‘They’re going in!’
I jump up. ‘Could we like sneak up the side a the shed n watch from there?’
‘Rightyo, let’s run cross.’ Gwen starts to move out, then suddenly freezes. ‘Listen for a minute. Mave, do you hear anything in that bush over there? Shh, shh, hear it? Like somethin’s movin,’ she whispers then takes small careful steps forward and peers hard into a nearby bush.
I look into the darkness but can’t see anything. Suddenly I hear the shakin of branches real close. ‘Somebody’s here, Gwen,’ I whisper, mouth dry.
‘I jus knew it would be bad luck to come here spyin,’ Gwen sounds ready to give up.
‘Who’s there? Come out,’ I growl, in me loudest don’tfuck-round-whit-me voice.
The bush rustles near Gwen and with one fast move and a yelp the branches part and out steps a figure. I stumble back, fear racin up me spine.
‘Fucken hell!’ Gwen squeals out. Tryin to keep her balance she grabs hold a the nearest gum tree but misses and ends up on her arse in the burrs. ‘Jeesus Christ!’
‘Mum? Mum Dooley, is that you?’ Gracie’s broken voice fills the darkness.
‘Gee, gee Gracie whatcha doin, girl?’ I follow the sound of her voice.
‘Thought I’d come and have a gawk at the fight. Booty barred women from comin,’ she says, keepin her voice low.
‘Why didn’t you say you were there? Scared the fuck right outta us, Gracie,’ Gwen snaps as she gets to her feet.
‘I didn’t even know youse was here til Gwen came up and looked in the bush here. Don’t shit yaself, Gwenny. I been sittin there for bout an hour now. Didn’t want Booty to suss on me. I knew what was goin on—Brayden Mengel told me yesterday. Reckoned Nevil was gonna get a floggin good and proper. I jus had to come over n check it out.’
‘Look, love,’ I wheeze, me breath catchin back, ‘we gonna go over to the side of the shed n see if we can get a better look. Booty’s got Nev lined up whit some Mad Dog from Bullya.’ I grab her by the arm and steer her up the fence line.
‘But Nev can’t fight. We all know that.’
‘That’s why I’m here. Ain’t no Mad Dog gonna hurt my boy!’ I grind me teeth. Bare knucklin, eh. Nev couldn’t fight his way outta brown paper bag. N Trevor, well, he easy meat no matter which way ya look at it. Geez, if I’d a known it was gonna all come to this ... Nah, violence no good for young fellas like em. It won’t make Nev a man, it’ll only get him a broken nose or worse.
‘Gwenny, you see anythin? Spot Nevil or Trevor anywhere?’ I watch her back as she peeks round the shed corner.
‘Fucken Jeesus! Mave, come here quick!’ She moves across and I stand beside her. ‘Look at that!’ she gasps, pointin inside.
Fellas sit on empty drums, on the dirt, some sit on their haunches, others stand round a wide circle drawn in the dirt n roped off with two strands of thick twine. The ring. Booty’s boxin ring.
On one side a the room sit four men, one of em Mongrel. But it’s not Mongrel me eyes are drawn to. Seated at the far end is a short, squat, almost bald-headed man. It’s only when he stands up that me gut turns to water. He’s built to demolish. His pump-iron arms ripple as he moves them back n forth. Legs like a side a beef. Head like one a Booty’s dogs n a face that’d turn milk sour. Runnin from his shoulder blade to the tips a his fingers is a snake tattoo and the words Death and Glory.
I take a small step back into the dark when I see Booty walk towards him. ‘Mad Dog, ya prick!’ Booty greets him whit a hard slap cross the back.
‘Oh’, I groan, then holdin onto my stomach I turn to Gwen and Gracie. ‘Nev’s sposed to fight him!’ I whisper, a roar startin somewhere in the back a me skull, me heart beats so fast it leaves me breathless, feelin lightheaded n sick I wanna kill Booty here n now. Gwen and Gracie look round the corner where I point.
‘Nah. Booty wouldn’t let Nev fight him, Mave?’ Gwen wrinkles her brow.
‘Nev can’t fight anybody! Nevil couldn’t fight me little sister! Why Booty gotta get Nev into all this?’ Gracie hisses, soundin fired up.
‘Think a somethin. Maybe we should jus barge in,’ I offer.
‘Don’t panic jus yet. Wait and see what happens.’ Gwen puts the stubbie to her mouth.
I take another look, sweepin the room whit me eyes. Draggin his bare feet in the dust, sweat beadin his lip n hair plastered to his scalp, Nevil shuffles slowly to the ring. Me gut heaves n clenches, I eyeball the crowd for Booty. Then I spot him, struttin into the centre a the ring. Holdin up one hairy arm he bellows, ‘Here in the right corner...’
I look round the room and see, with disbelief, Trevor walkin out from a dark corner. No shirt, no shoes. He looks
dead already. His hair falls cross his baby face, his eyes red n puffed n his legs look like they gonna seize up at any minute. The boy ain’t gonna do too well here tonight. By rights, he oughta drop dead right there on the spot.
I feel so bad n sorry for him that I promise if anybody gonna be punchin him bout I’ll be the one standin in front a him. Ain’t right, young fella like him. Wouldn’t ever have seen stuff like this in his life. These ol backyard boys been fightin since they could walk. They born that way. Trevor don’t have no chance here. He’s in wrong territory.
‘Mum, look at Nev!’ Gracie hits me on the arm.
‘Gee, Mave, it don’t look too good,’ Gwen sidles up beside me.
Nevil dances, prances and skips round the ring, arms windmillin in all directions as Mad Dog throws a few lefts n rights at him. Booty starts yellin, ‘That’s it Boy. Watch that fucka! Keep your head down, son.’
Nevil is startin to look sick n scared as he moves round dodgin Mad Dog’s callused knuckles as they drive in closer to his face.
Trevor sits on the molasses tin holdin a beer, watchin Nevil, bitin on his bottom lip so hard I see small dots of blood appear.
Booty starts circlin the ring, throwin his fists in all directions and screamin at Nevil to take Mad Dog down. ‘Kill the fucka! Get him, get him!’ he rages. Bloodlust.
With one short, sharp jab, Mad Dog catches Nevil on the chin and sends him flyin backward with such force the noise of him hittin the dirt reaches me ears.
‘Take that, you fuckin queen!’ Mad Dog roars at Nevil, then standin over him he puts the boot into his guts.
Nevil, sweat pissin down his face, blood runnin down his chin, tries to get to his feet when Whack! Mad Dog puts him back on his arse.
I see red. That Mad Dog fucker! Hittin me boy like that! Whitout thinkin I burst into the ring, screamin, fists flyin as I charge towards Mad Dog. Hittinmeboyhittinmeboybastardbastardbastard! I feel the crowd fall back away. I hear laughter, hoots n above all Booty yellin: ‘Mavis, get back! I doned fucken tole you, woman!’
Suddenly in that wild moment I meet Mad Dog’s black eyes. They fly wide open. His mouth drops, like the man can’t believe what he sees.
‘Ya leave me son alone! Hear that! Leave Nevil alone! I’ll do ya over!’ I bust me guts full-force. Then I’m flyin through the air. Booty’s arms are wrapped round me waist, pullin me back.
‘Keep goin, boys!’ he yells as he hauls me off to the back a the crowd. ‘Settle down, Mave. Come on, Sis, he ain’t gonna get hurt. I tole ya not to come here,’ he spits.
‘Bullshit, he killin him, Boot. He gonna kill him!’I struggle to free myself from his arms.
‘Mavis, shut up and listen! Nev got more guts than any one here! He’ll prove himself, Mave. He don’t need you comin in shamin the fuck outta him. This is man’s business. I fucken tole ya to stay away!’ Booty shouts in me face.
It’s then I know that I’ve gone and done it; me brother ain’t never yelled me down in alla me life. I feel vomited.
‘Just sit down n shut up. Whatcha think, I’m gonna let Mad Dog hurt him, eh?’
I can’t keep me trap shut now, things gettin right outta control. I swing on him. ‘Ya better not! Nevil gets hurt in there then that’s it, ya not gonna be me brother no more. That’s right, Booty, I’ll wipe me hands of ya. I’ll never talk to ya again! I fucken mean it!’ I collapse down on the dirt, out of breath n feelin gut sick. It’s all Booty’s fault this business. N there no need for him to be shoutin at a woman like that.
Booty returns to the ring. I spot Gracie n Gwen sneakin along the side wall.
‘Sit down.’ I pat the ground. ‘Things don’t look too flash. I jus told Booty that if anyone hurt me boy I’m never gonna talk to him again. Booty’s tryin to make Nev somethin he’s not. Nev’ll never be like em fellas. A woman wouldn’t want him to be.’ We turn back to the ring as Booty yells ‘Round Two!’
Nevil steps back into the circle, breathin like he got asthma, swollen eyes snaked down, chin gashed wide open, chest sportin cuts n bruises. He’s taken a floggin. He’ll go down any minute now. Any minute. A woman should get in there n get that Dog before he murders the boy.
Mad Dog jumps into the circle n starts dancin round Nevil. ‘Mummy boy. Can’t fight ya own battles? Yeaaahhh, little motherfucker,’ he taunts with loud bursts of laughter, throwin fists at the crowd.
The crowd love it. They start chantin: ‘Madogmadogmadogmadogbusthimbusthim!’
I cast a look towards Booty but he ignores me and watches the ring whit hooded eyes n tight mouth.
Trevor spots me, lookin sideways, he creeps behind the mob to plonk himself down next to me.
‘Gee, Missus Dooley, he’s killing Nevil. Maybe we should ask Booty to cancel it, what do you think?’ he asks, wringing his hands and lookin like he wants to curl up into the dirt.
‘Son, Booty’d rather die n call this off.’ I watch as Nevil moves round the ring. This time he moves whit more cunning, bobbin n weavin as Mad Dog’s fists search for a hit.
Mad Dog weaves, struts n jumps round the ring like he’s some sorta Anthony Mundine. Sweat rolls down his face and runs into his eyes, his knuckles piss blood as he punches em into Nevil’s face.
‘Dodge him, dodge him, son!’ I scramble to my feet, screamin.
‘In the guts. That fucken big gut a his!’ Gwen yells.
‘Put him down, lovey!’ Gracie’s voice louder n everybody else’s, so that the men in front a us turn round and give us a look like we just called em a dirty name.
‘You women want to get outta here,’ one of them snaps at us.
I ignore him and concentrate on Nevil’s steady form. The boy like one of em ballerina dancers. Yeah, probably a good thing like.
Mad Dog offers Nevil a big, smirkin grin n says real loud, ‘I fucked ya mother.’
I hear it but before it sinks in, Booty strides out fast toward me and holds my arms down. ‘Settle down, Sissy. He’s tryin to rile Nev up. It’s gammon. He’s tryin to get Nevil stirred up is all.’
Then it jus happens me—Nevil isn’t me Nevil anymore. The yella-faced fella in the ring ain’t me boy. He swings hisself round on one foot, his face raged. His whole body look like it growed up from nowhere. He’s a lunatic.
Mad Dog takes a step back. Not fast enough. Nevil drives at him like a big whirly wind comin in off the dry flats. His fists fly with such speed, so deadly that it takes a second to realise they are Nevil’s fists. Mad Dog don’t have a hope.
His punches split open Mad Dog’s face like a watermelon. Everything falls in on him, his nose squashes back, his lips twist to one side a his face, his eyes bulge, as he hits the ground with a whump. He don’t move. Me boy busted him good. I see Mad Dog in bad pain. Good job.
Nevil stands over him and looks down. ‘No one talks about my mother that way. You piece a fucken garbage. Next time I’ll kill you!’ He spits it out then walks from the ring, his shoulders bruised n straight.
Somewhere inside a me I can’t take it all in. Me boy ain’t a boy any more. He’s somebody to be reckoned whit. Booty lets go a me arms. ‘I knew he’d lift him,’ he says. ‘Nev got more guts than any a us will ever know.’ He walks away, his chest puffed out.
I stare after him, not believin my ears. He was always the one sayin Nevil was a pussy!
‘Missus Dooley, can you tell Booty I don’t want to fight?’ Trevor hangs off me arm. Someone will have to pry him off.
‘You don’t have to, son.’ I reach across and pat him on the back, just as Booty returns with Mongrel Brandon.
‘You up next. Move ya arse, I got money ridin on ya, Sonny Jim.’ Booty grabs Trevor by the arms and pulls him from me.
‘Missus Dooley, please explain to him. Missus Dooley, tell him! Mister Booty, I can’t fight, I don’t know how to!’ He shouts, as Booty pushes him toward the ring.
‘Too late for that, sonny. Ya gotta go whit ya instincts. Do what I tell ya and ya’ll be right.’ Booty shoves him. I go to say somethi
n, but right then I see Nevil comin toward me.
‘Did all right, eh?’ he asks, a bright smile on his busted face.
‘Sorta hoped ya would. Ya did well, son. But you better do somethin bout poor ol Trevor. Mongrel’ll bust the boy a new face.’ I point to the ring.
Trevor sits on the ground, his head between his knees as Mongrel towers over him shoutin, ‘Get up, white boy!’
Bringin his head up, Trevor gets to his feet n falls backwards on wobbly legs, his hands coverin his face as he peers out through his fingers.
‘Don’t fuck about! Trevor, get him! Show him whatcha made a, boy!’ Booty yells, runnin in n outta the ring, tryin to shove Trevor towards Mongrel.
‘Please, mate, I don’t want to fight. I don’t,’ Trevor pleads. Then just as Mongrel rushes in at him, something happens. I hear the noise first, dogs yelpin and barkin, then spotlights blaze in the doorway. It’s a bust.
Everyone runs towards the back door, screamin, ‘Gungies! Fucken cops! The purrleecce. Boys in blue! The boys in blue!’ The mob scatters in all directions. Some cut it through the back door, others chance the front. I swivel round on me feet and look about for the boys. In the corner I spot me Nev. I grab him by the arm and steer him out the back door then race back in to grab the others. But as I eyeball the room I can’t find Trevor anywhere.
‘Trevor, Trevor! Son, where ya at? Gotta move your butt, boy, the cops’re here!’ I yell into the now empty room. No one answers. I feel a sickness in the bottom a me gut. Trevor’s disappeared.
Back in the bushes we stand watchin as Booty is led off by the copper, Max Brown, and shoved into the back of the gungie cab. Then, as one of the police cars speed past I catch a glimpse of Trevor, screamin wordlessly as he tries to claw his way out through the back window. I keep watchin as the cop car speeds off into the night.
Oh no, not Trev, I groan. Of all the people in the shed, they had to haul his sorry arse off. What sorta luck does that to a boy like him?
Feelin gut sick n weary we all head back to my place, Gwen’s swearin about all coppers. Nevil, head bent, walks along as though he’s lost in his own world. Gracie walks behind him, ‘Couldn’t do much more, Nevil. No one would expect that. Ya done what ya could.’ She reaches out n grabs hold a his hand.
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