Determined to know just how far this liaison had developed. He dropped back off the fence, preparing to leap over its six feet of height. A few quick breaths and he went for it, easily reaching the summit of the thin wooden panels. He was already beginning his descent when he quickly scrambled at its peak, hanging on to it for dear life. In all his night-time surveillance. He had failed to notice the large koi pond placed directly beneath his position on the fence. He exhaled, sniggering at what could have been the world’s most shallow scuba dive.
Seeing the pond, though large and well decorated, was only a four or five feet in length. A makeable distance. He opted to vault over it, using the fence as a springboard. He placed both feet underneath his rear and squatted down, gearing himself for a big leap. The thin, weak fence wobbled under the weight but held. The physics of the move was there, it all hung in the execution.
‘Okay. One, two...’ He mumbled in self-motivation, thrusting himself forward.
To his misfortune. The force of the take-off caused his right foot to blast through the fence panelling and arrive out through to the other side. With all his momentum foiled, he felt the weight of his physique come plummeting down and back towards the fence. Crashing and bouncing into it before falling headfirst into the koi pond.
Frank sat wide awake on the edge of the sofa, scrutinising the pictures across the wall. He wondered how John would feel seeing his deliberate absence from the images. How he would feel if he saw Grace in ecstasy, wrapped tight around his younger brother’s waist. He smiled a small, wry smile. Hearing a splash from the back garden, he turned to the back door for a second before ignoring it to get some sleep.
Outside, now well clear of the property, its pond and occupying koi fish. A drenched John retreated to the car, his head sunk into his shoulders. His body freezing with his brain dismantled. He didn’t look back. A forgettable night. He jumped in the car and dampened the seat. Igniting the engine, trying his damnedest to repress his temperament.
From a view above, Grace observed the vehicle’s exit from her bedroom window. Closing the curtains as it faded into the night.
✽
Later in the week, across a grand landscape of green grass and beige sand. Isaac Kane stood on the fairway of his golf course, eyeing up the putting green ahead. Conforming to conventional golf attire, he wore a light pink shirt underneath an indigo v-neck jumper. The colours did nothing to inhibit his intimidating demeanour. His appearance a blend of both a welcoming grandpa and a haka-delivering warrior.
As he drove a golf-ball hard into the sky, watching as it landed almost dead centre of the course. He slowly lowered and rotated his club, directing it towards Mads and Molar.
‘So you believe Frank’s planning something?’ Kane asked his son.
‘I don’t know. He’s ushering in Heracles’s boys every which way. All the while keeping buddy-buddy with us, I applaud the man’s audacity.’ Mads quipped, causing Molar to turn to him, taking exception to his peer’s choice of words. Kane himself found the lexicon something to contemplate.
‘Audacity.’ Kane groaned to himself. ‘Weapon of choice for the young and the ambitious. No doubt the kid’s got zeal, got it from his father.’ He noted, handing his club to Mads as they began to stroll down the fairway. ‘Vinyar boys have a habit of doing the unexpected, often in the form of going through a door marked private. Keep an eye on things Mads, build on your relationship with him.’
‘Yes, sir.’ His son replied, waiting patiently for further command.
Mads could feel Molar’s stare upon him once more. The henchman didn’t appreciate his ways and was always very evident to the fact. Something Isaac would both monitor and worryingly enjoy.
‘That’s all Mads.’ Kane announced, nodding for his son to make his exit. Molar stood in his wake, awaiting a different, more genuine perspective from Kane.
‘You’re sure it was him?’ The employer asked his employee.
‘Boys from Kingsland Transport said they caught what looked like Vinyar arriving at the central city station. Same week your boy claimed to have seen him. I haven’t seen the CCTV myself but I can...’
‘He’s here. It makes sense. Frank somehow gets hold of Levy’s prized shit-hole and suddenly his big bro re-appears. This is James fucking with me. Even after he’s gone, still pulls it off. They all think I’m too legitimate now to retaliate.’ he muttered. Molar wanted nothing more than to unleash hell on the Vinyar brothers, especially his old foe. With Kane indecisive, he saw an opportunity to provoke his boss into action.
‘Are you, though? Too legitimate? What would you have me do for example? Sit muted and grinning, holding your golf clubs?’ Molar moaned, attempting to arouse an impulsive decision.
‘That’s not a pretty colour on you Gordon. Your skills lie elsewhere.’ Kane replied, silencing him. He pulled out his putter and examined it for dents. ‘I respect your agenda and your rather archaic methods, but there is a time and a place. And I decide both.’
‘John being in the city alone hampers your plans. If he is willing to return after what he did, it gives you a clear indicator of what he is prepared to do next.’ Molar warned. Kane halted for a moment to study his semi-insubordinate subordinate, impressed by his tenacity.
‘I take it back, this is a new colour for you, it’s almost impressive.’ he commented, walking back towards the prize-fighter. ‘It’s a miracle. You’ve convinced me. Find John, bring him to the garage.’ He ordered to Molar’s inner delight. The thug nodded with a composed expression before walking back to the main house. ‘Gordon’ Kane yelled out to him, ‘Alive.’
✽
With December near its end, Grace had, much to Frank’s angst, moved on from their brief affair. Much quicker than she had with John years before. It ate away at him, the notion that he was less enduring than his predecessor. For such a popular character, he was often found alone on his VIP balcony, staring down at the ant farm below. His thoughts drifted to his family, his relationships, neither all that positive. He loved to focus on his ambitions, his entrepreneurial affairs. His hopes and dreams were where he escaped reality and the injustices he suffered.
And with such focus, Heracles, Mads and Red to name a few, were all individuals he would need to consider on a regular basis. Every relationship was a strategy. Every shaken hand, a chess move. He was well aware of the extremity of his goals, the weight and potential costs of the game he planned to play. No one knew, not even his twin brother, what he planned to do with this city. The crowd danced their troubles away. The club was like a shiny object, he had constructed to distract them as he took all their money. They would dance to their short-term desires, while he would formulate an empire. It was his turn, and they would all see it eventually. The charismatic genius that was Frank Vinyar.
Awakening from his daydream, he reviewed the bar area. To his disdain, John sat by it, drinking himself into a tragic state. Frank didn’t care to work out why. Instead choosing to encourage it with a hefty family discount. A subsidy he hoped would be the fuse to John doing something stupid, sending him into exile once more.
Comic Sans was all he was to John. A joke, a passing fad. Even with Indy and him identical. John would always know which from which, calling Indy by his birth name, and Frank, Comic Sans.
Walking into the club through the corner of his eye. His reflection arrived with his partner Eva in hand. He would have dismissed the couple’s entrance if they weren’t followed by Grace and an unknown date. He recognised the face. Kendrick Jones, a popular jock from the high school days.
Frank’s ego would have taken a hit if his mind hadn’t been so calculative. He flickered his view to John and then back to Grace, a smile blossomed across his face. Rather than experience jealousy, his subconscious rubbed its hands together. He pictured the moment a drunken and self-pitying John would notice his dearly beloved, being eagerly groped by another man. A problem solved without his intervention, he’d merely take a seat and enjoy the show.
Indy as enthusiastic for Que Pasa as ever, headed for drinks. Tussling through the large crowd. He quickly spotted John grasping hold of the bar, barely able to right himself.
‘John?’
‘Indy!’ John said both excited and sedated. The man was an endearing drunk. ‘What are you drinking? My boy Saxon here will sort you out a discount.’
‘My name’s Tim.’ the bartender chipped in.
‘Saxon, a beer for my brother.’ John commanded, slamming his hand on the bar surface.’
‘What kind of discount are you getting? Frank makes me pay the standard price?’
‘Fifty percent according to Saxon, family discount, or maybe payment for jobs rendered. Jobs, get it?’ John replied sniggering.
‘No.’ Indy replied. Immediately understanding the purpose of the discount through the twin connection. He could calculate all of Frank’s twisted intent. ‘Let’s get you upstairs. You can crash in Frank’s office.’ he advised, attempting to lift his brother up, only to be shafted back.
‘I don’t want to crash in Frank’s office.’ John replied, mumbling his words. ‘You know why? You know why? Oh, you know why young Indy. You all know why.’ He continued to mumble. Indy looked up and away with a pained expression. Knowing witnesses were growing in number.
‘Tell me why’ Indy relented. John looked back at him, a painful look in his eyes.
‘Cause a man who looks just like you, has been sleeping with a woman who looks just like her’ he explained heartbroken, pointing to Grace. Indy wanted nothing more than to get his broken brother home to explain and console.
‘John, listen.’ He replied.
‘Go to your woman Indy. She’s beautiful, keep her away from Frank.’ he laughed to himself.
‘John, come on.’
‘Piss off Indy, seriously. We’ll chat tomorrow, but tonight I drink, I drink, what am I drinking? I’ve got no drink. Saxon, another drink. Go away Indy.’ he said with a firm voice.
Indy didn’t need to be told a third time. Walking away, he looked up to see one man standing above a hundred. Frank looked down towards him, with a face that for a freeze-frame in time, showed his true disposition. It was 9pm, and Indy had already had enough of his bloodline for the night. Returning to the gang with Eva forever peaches. She smiled at him with an inviting, seductive look.
‘I can see the pain in your eyes.’ she said.
‘What pain?’ Indy said alarmed, unaware she was being purposefully dramatic with her words.
‘You hate this place don’t you.’
‘Minus the chlamydia, it’s not that bad.’ he replied. About to reach for his drink, several young men fell toward the table with their fists flying. A classic bar floor scrap, bouncers descended as spectators including Eva and Grace retreated.
Indy stayed put, sipping his beer as the men scraped next to his feet. Eva looked at him bewildered as the bouncers rushed in, restraining and removing them with haste.
Eva sat back down, her mouth open in slight awe, worried by his lack of reaction to the altercation. Indy recorded the odd look and wondered what he had done wrong.
‘What?’ he asked puzzled. She squinted, struggling to receive whatever frame of mind he was in.
‘Let’s go upstairs’ she insisted, causing the gang to pick themselves up and head up. Watching the bouncers eject the two scrapping men, Grace saw a familiar face at the bar. Her ex-fiancé was now struggling to sit up straight.
Eventually finding his feet. John looked around and saw his brothers above exchanging pleasantries. To further his angst and heartbreak. He saw Grace further afield from the pair and on this occasion handsy with a man that was neither him or Frank. Mumbling faint drunken sounds, he moved his way through the crowd, trying to clock an exit. Unsure of how or why the club had managed to spin around him. He gripped the railing of the staircase that led to the staff-room. Slowly making his way up the steps and to a balcony opposite his family. He rested the majority of his mass against the balcony rail positioned above the bar area. Taking deep, paced breaths, trying with all his effort not to vomit.
With her friends distracted, Grace looked back to the dance floor, discovering John now almost at her eye level, opposite side of the arena. She studied his current state, pitying him slightly.
John studied the floor, nauseous and tired, resting his burning forehead on the cold metal railing. Saliva dripped down from the bottom of his top lip as he continued to exhale slowly.
Indy noticed Grace’s gaze, following it to see a defunct John. Co-pitying him, he whispered to Eva, causing her to exhibit a disappointed but understanding face. Taking his leave to assist John, Indy looked to the main entrance hoping there was space for the two of them.
About to descend the staircase, he noticed several of Isaac Kane’s men enter the vicinity. Nothing too alarming he thought at first until the final squad member made his entrance.
In his classic Saville Row suit with trademark gold pocket square. Goldmolar stood in front of the door, blocking a queue of people eager to get in. He surveyed the room, dropping his cheeky smile to a few onlookers. Nodding to his men to begin their manhunt.
Indy wasted no time in heading to John’s locale, who was now a limping gazelle in a room full of lions. Indy’s rushed pace stirred Grace’s curiosity, whose first instinct was to turn to John. She immediately recognised Molar from a time she had failed to forget.
‘Let’s head back to mine. It’s lame in here tonight.’ She announced to Eva and Kendrick, who both nodded.
Molar continued to scan the floor and balconies. Eventually spotting John some distance away. To his delight, his old nemesis was clinging, almost deliriously, onto the pacifist one of two brothers. Molar whistled to two of his men, directing them to apprehend the pair. The men stampeded through the crowd toward the staircase. Grace moved at double-speed towards the area as well, gripping hold of a puzzled Kendrick. As the men looked up to see a worried Indy hurrying John to the staff exit. Grace threw her body into one of them, collapsing on the floor, screaming in suggested pain. A displeased and drunken crowd quickly turned on the thugs, condemning the confused and bombarded pair. Grace herself wasted no time in berating them both, purposefully causing a scene. Indy felt John’s consciousness drift. His weight increasing as he carried his brother toward the staff room above. Knowing a road level fire-exit to be beyond it.
Grace watched on as the staff room door closed. Its clank shut was the signal she needed to pull both an irate Eva and Kendrick away from the conflict. She reached the main doors realising that Molar had studied her actions from afar. An acknowledging look on his face as they examined one another.
✽
John collapsed onto Indy’s sofa, almost missing it as he fell. With his eyes shut and the majority of his face immersed in cushioning, he mumbled to his more sober brother.
‘Why so urgent to get home?’
‘Molar was at the club.’ Indy warned.
‘So?’ John asked unruffled. Indy sighed at the drunk.
‘Down a pint of water and sleep it off. I’m heading to Grace’s.’ He advised, grabbing his keys and heading to check on Eva and company.
✽
Reaching Grace’s front door, Indy let himself in. The girls were already halfway through their kebabs. Now absent of Kendrick who had headed to the twenty-four-hour garage for supplies. Too drunk and hungry to consider basic etiquette. The sisters continued to rip into their takeaway like velociraptors, paying Indy little heed. He watched on as his beautiful, petite girlfriend consumed something approximately half her size.
‘Girls and post-night food.’ he said to himself.
‘Did you get John home okay?’ Eva asked, knowing Grace wouldn’t.
‘Yeah, he’s on the sofa at my place. Thanks by the way.’ He said, looking at her big sister.
‘What? I was trying to get to the bar, and that hog-roast of a man came barrelling into me.’ Grace replied, dismissive of any noble act.
‘Still, th
ank you.’ Indy dumped his coat down, hoping his girlfriend would at least leave him a scrap of meat. The odds were not in his favour as she continued to barrel through the kebab. The doorbell chimed, and Indy watched as the girls remained locked in their consumption.
‘No, no, I’ll get it, don’t want you girls coming up for air.’ He remarked, heading for the front door. He gripped the door’s handle and pushed it down. Before he could finish the act and pull it towards him. The heavy timber of the door came barrelling off its hinges at light-speed. Crashing into his forehead and knocking him out for the count. His unconscious body flew off the ground and slammed backwards into a nearby wall.
Molar’s men stampeded in. Quickly prospecting each room before capturing and restraining the confused and horrified girls. With his men announcing no sign of John. Molar casually entered the house. Turning to his right to see an unconscious Indy Vinyar resting on a pile of shoes.
‘Ah, the golden boy.’ he acknowledged before calmly strolling into the kitchen.
The girls struggled in their attempts to resist his increasingly aggressive goons. Ever the gentlemen, he ordered his boys to refrain. Eva’s cheek was cut and her nose bloody. He walked passed her to stand in front of Grace in the kitchen. The culpable sister, whose blouse was ripped around the chest and shoulder.
‘I remember you.’ he said with a warm tone and smile, ‘You’re the one he left behind.’ He remarked, studying her response. Angst in her eyes, he enjoyed knowing that he had correctly worked out her role in the fairy-tale.
‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ She replied defiant, standing her ground.
‘Where is he?’ Molar replied, now with a tone cooling in temperature. She mimicked it, standing up straight. He saw through her facade, losing patience. ‘I know what you think could happen here, but you’re wrong. I’m not going to hurt you’ he explained, turning to Eva. ‘I’m going to hurt her’ giving the nod to his goon who without warning backhanded Eva. Sending her flying into the dining table which then collapsed beneath her. As Grace went for her sister, Molar reached his hand out like a striking python and throttled her. Subdued, she felt her body lift up off the ground and slam almost head first onto the kitchen counter. Trying to pull him off, she felt his callus tight fingers slide firmer into a domineering grip. ‘I don’t know which world you think you’re living in darling, but in this one, you pay for his mistakes.’ He explained, her face flushed from both resisting and attempting to breathe.
Persona Non Grata: A Novel Page 8
