Should Have Killed The Kid

by Frederick Hamilton, R.

  Dave slugged from his own pint as Monty degenerated into indecipherable mumbling for a second. He stared around the room over the rim of his glass, certain that every eye in the place must be on them but everyone still chattered away, ignoring them.

  He had to wonder how often this particular scene with Monty had been repeated.

  'And it's getting worse and worse, every single day.' Monty suddenly rallied as Dave placed his pint back on the bench and was shocked to find that it was empty. He waved to get Marcus's attention and then pointed at the pint as Monty continued to hiss at him. 'Klara was always saying that it was inevitable, that nowhere can stay untouched forever but I always said that here was different. I always told her that I could keep it safe. Should have known better, she never was wrong...' Monty's whisper suddenly turned to a mumble and he mercifully dropped his gaze from Dave and returned to staring at the bench.

  Dave breathed a sigh of relief as Marcus appeared with a fresh pint and plonked it down in front of him.

  'How are we going here?' he asked as Dave went to the fresh pint with gusto. 'The usual lament, Monty? Why's everything got to change. Woe is me. Huh?'

  Dave felt his stomach go into free fall at the mocking tone of Marcus's voice. He awkwardly swallowed and with a shaking hand placed his pint back on the bar while Monty glared at Marcus. Dave didn't know how he did it but Marcus didn't seem at all fazed by Monty's stare. Instead of wilting and slinking away like Dave would have done, he instead winked at the old man. Then, as Dave stared in disbelief, blew him a kiss before heading back down the other end of the bar.

  Dave didn't really find the action at all humorous so he was confused by the snort of mirth he let out in response. Maybe it was an effect of the nervous tension that had built up in him? Dave didn't know but whatever it was, he instantly knew it was a mistake.

  Monty's eyes pinned him in place as they fixed on Dave. Locked onto his own, they felt like they were burning into the very depths of his being. Seeing everything he was. No secrets. Everything stripped away by the gaze. Even the slight buzz the beer had given him seemed to have vanished. As Monty snarled, Dave had never felt more sober in his life.

  'What the fuck would you know anyway?'

  'WHAT THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW?' Monty succeeded in getting the crowd's attention when he repeated it. Much louder the second time. As he roared at Dave, all conversation around them halted and as one, Dave felt their eyes swivel around to focus on him and the old man.

  Clearly Monty noticed the attention too.

  'NONE OF YOU HAVE SEEN SHIT!' He wheeled around, tipping over the stool and roared as best as his lisping voice would allow. The clatter echoed through the room. 'NONE OF YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT I'VE HAD TO DO TO PROTECT YOU.'

  Marcus came scooting down the bar toward them.

  'Now, Monty, that's enough–'

  'NONE OF YOU KNOW WHAT I'M GOING TO HAVE TO DO AGAIN.'

  'HEY, MATE. ENOUGH!' Marcus's voice rose in volume to match Monty's and the old man stopped spinning and yelling and turned to glower at him instead. 'Here, have a pint on the house. Just calm down.' Marcus's voice returned to its usual level as he worked the taps.

  Monty was already scrabbling for his coat, though, toppling another bar stool as he yanked it free. The clatter and his muttering filled the air as the crowd watched the old man spend an awkwardly long time yanking the coat on. Behind the bar Marcus stood holding the full pint as he shook his head.

  'Stupid bunch of fucking cunts,' Monty muttered as he stormed to the door.

  The crowd parted obediently to let him go. Dave was glad he was already seated once the jittery adrenaline flooded in. He doubted his legs would have been able to support him. It felt like all the blood had drained from his face. He heard the screen door slam and immediately reached for his pint. His hand was shaking too badly to risk lifting it though so he merely spun it a few times on the top of the bar.

  Silence briefly reigned in Monty's wake. Dave didn't know if they were – he didn't want to check – but it felt like every eye in the place swivelled from the door to fix on him. Dave felt his cheeks reddening as he made a show of studying his pint.

  'Fair enough.' Someone finally broke the silence and the few chuckles the comment garnered segued back into the usual chatter.

  Dave drew a shuddering breath and set about controlling his racing heart. Outwardly, he tried not to let his shock show too badly but clearly it was a poor cover up.

  Another pint plonked down on the bar next to the one in front of him.

  'Looks like you might need this.' Marcus winked at him and Dave drew another shuddering breath.

  'Yeah, I think you're right there.

  8.

  You've been drinking again, haven't you? Naomi's voice followed him the whole way from the shower down to the bar. That tone she got that always let Dave know he'd fucked up again. Really fucked up. The blend of anger and sadness that never failed to tear into him, straight to the core. Why, David, why? It's pathetic...

  Most of the previous evening was lost to an alcoholic haze. As he eased himself down on a bar stool, Dave tried to think back but it was gone. He remembered Monty storming out. Remembered Marcus plonking an extra pint down in front of him but beyond that...

  It's not just you that you're making a fool of, David...

  Dave rubbed his crusted eyes, his stomach somersaulting. He propped his head onto his arms and leant against the bar to rest for a second. He had no idea if he'd eaten the previous evening. Judging by the noises his stomach was making probably not.

  Rookie mistake, he thought as another burst of sawing sounded from the other room and he winced. The contractor's had already been well into it by the time Dave managed to stumble down the stairs. Shit it's lucky I even made it to the bedroom last night, he added as he remembered how confused he'd been when he awoke in the strange bed, drenched in sweat. Definitely the worst session for a good long while. Definitely should have eaten.

  There's always an excuse isn't there, David? Of course it couldn't possibly be your fault.

  Dave raised his head again, seeking a distraction from Naomi's voice in his head. He briefly eyed the gleaming tap that was the cause of all his current woes but knew that was just asking for trouble. Need to get some more water into me first. A job easier said than done, Dave already knew – when he'd first awoken, he'd sculled a decent amount from the tap in the bathroom and nearly vomited at the brackish and foul liquid that had emerged. It was not an experience he cared to repeat.

  Need some bottled–

  You need to admit you have a problem, Naomi interrupted his thoughts, I'm worried David, worried and a little bit scared...

  Dave rubbed his temples as he felt a surge of frustration.

  Smoke then, he thought, deliberately ignoring Naomi's words. He dug in his pocket for the crumpled pack and placed it on the bench before rubbing his face again. He didn't know exactly how many smokes he'd had the previous evening, only that the nearly full pack of fifties he'd started with was now down to ten. Explains why my mouth tastes like an ashtray, he mused, caught in the morning after dilemma: his brain screaming for nicotine but his tortured throat screaming for respite.

  So was it at least worth it, David? Huh? Was it everything you wanted?

  'Ah, there you are!' Bruno's voice provided a welcome distraction from Naomi's but Dave winced at how cheerful it sounded. He dropped his hands from his face and turned to see the man heading his way, holding a tray. 'Must have just missed you,' Bruno continued and clanged the tray down next to Dave. 'Brought you some lunch. Imagine you must be quite famished. Big night and all, eh?' Dave stared down dolefully at the peanut butter smeared Saladas that topped the tray. 'But that's what you get when you take on Jim. Man's got hollow legs.' Bruno settled onto the stool next to Dave and laughed.

  Dave had no idea who Jim was so chose to focus on the biscuits instead. Though they didn't look particularly appetising, he was famished enough to take a crack at them.
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br />   'Thanks.' He raised one in a toast to Bruno then took a bite.

  The peanut butter coated his mouth like a fungus worsening his thirst, but the first mouthful didn't go down too badly. Bruno kept silent until he'd swallowed.

  'So how'd you pull up?'

  Dave opted for honesty.

  'I feel like shit.'

  Bruno barked laughter and Dave flinched as the man moved – though the slap on the back he expected thankfully never eventuated.

  'Ha! Well, eat up. Sorry about the fare, but. Marcus's headed into town to stock up. Make up for it. Dinner's gonna knock your socks off, yeah. Gotta get you your money's worth.'

  'Thanks.' Dave muttered around another mouthful of biscuit. Though he was pretty sure the number of free pints Marcus had sent his way the previous evening had more than compensated for the lacklustre meal.

  'Not a problem. My pleasure, mate. Anyway, I need to get in motion. Time's a wasting and all. Can't all sleep the day away, hey?'

  This time Bruno did slap him on the back, catching Dave completely unaware, mid chew. He gagged and almost spat Salada all over the pristinely shiny bar. Bruno didn't seem to notice though and just headed back the way he'd come, chuckling away.

  Dave dumped the rest of the biscuit back onto the tray as he awkwardly swallowed the last mouthful. He winced as it scraped across his raw throat and decided that maybe the rest could wait till after a smoke. He swiped his pack from the bar and headed for the door.

  At least it wasn't raining anymore.

  Dave stepped outside and squinted against the bright sunlight that reflected from the scattered puddles across the car park. Wow. He dug his mobile from his pocket and blinked as he flicked the top up, saw that the clock in the corner of the screen read 2:00 and realised what Bruno had been talking about. He certainly didn't feel rested for the extra sleep though. He felt like he'd had all of an hour's rest, tops.

  Jeez, must have been a cracker of a night, he thought while he lit up and took his first drag. Shame I can't remember most of it. The first lungful burned but when it didn't trigger a coughing fit, Dave relaxed and settled in a little bit more, puffing away while he closed his eyes and tried to recall the previous evening...

  ...but they quickly flew open as his memory stalled on Monty's burning gaze and the man's lisping yell sounded in his head. 'YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT I'VE HAD TO DO!'

  Dave shuddered at the memory and quickly sucked down more smoke to calm the jittery feeling the memory unleashed in his guts

  Forget it. The man was just a loon, Dave tried to convince himself but doubt remained. Yeah? Then why's he got to you so bad?

  It's not like Dave wasn't used to nutters, either. Riding public transport in Melbourne, they were an everyday part of life. Not to mention the chap he walked past every day on the corner of Collins and King on his way to work, raving at the passing cars. None of them had ever bothered him quite as much as Monty had.

  It's the eyes, Dave shuddered again at his memory of them. They've... They've... He tried to pinpoint it but couldn't quite put what he was thinking of into words. They've... FUCK!

  Dave gagged as his last draw on the cigarette brought the horrendous taste of filter flooding into his mouth and he realised that while he'd stood thinking he'd let it burn down to the butt. He dropped it to the ground as he spluttered and stamped down hard. Probably a little harder than he had to. But that helped to banish the memory.

  Still gagging, Dave heard the purr of an engine. It sounded close but when he looked up there was no one turning into the car park. He was about to head back inside and search out some water when the flash of colour darted past the corner of his eye and the purr of the engine rose to a roar. He turned just as a the blur of colour skidded to an alarming abrupt stop and the engine died down enough that Dave could hear the reverberating thump of bass radiating from the bright yellow car in front of him.

  Through the window, dark sunglasses in place, Marcus saluted and Dave, still startled by the unexpected direction of the car’s appearance, shakily waved back.

  ‘Morning, mate. How are we?’ Marcus sounded even more cheerful than Bruno as the boot popped up and he clambered out and headed around to it.

  ‘I’ve been better.’ Dave opted for the truth again and Marcus gave a chuckle while he hefted bags from the boot.

  ‘Pulled up a little rough, did we?’

  ‘Just a touch. Do you need a hand there?’

  ‘That'd be swell, mate.’ Marcus grinned at him as bag after bag emerged from the boot and Dave stepped across to collect the ones he’d already put on the ground.

  ‘Nice car, by the way,’ Dave opined, walking back around to scan across the front end while Marcus finished collecting the bags. He should’ve known it was a mistake. Though the car gleamed and looked expensive, that was the limit of what he could tell about it and the GTS emblazoned on the front grill wasn’t anywhere near as helpful as he’d hoped. He winced as Marcus’s grin spread wider.

  ‘Monaro man, are you?’

  Dave knew he’d been caught out by the way Marcus cocked his head as he watched him fumble for a reply.

  Fortunately he didn’t push it when Dave mumbled, ‘Don’t know much about cars. Looks nice though,’ and allowed him to quickly change the subject. ‘Scared the crap out of me.’ Dave felt the flush infusing his cheeks but struggled on anyway though internally he decided that this would be the last time he ever attempted to instigate conversation with anyone. ‘Expected you to be coming in the drive and you came hurtling around…’ Dave petered out and finished up with a limp point toward the corner of the hotel as he realised how asinine his words were.

  Marcus chuckled anyway and Dave was immensely thankful as the awkward moment passed.

  ‘Local shortcut.’ Marcus finished gathering up the bags and, weighed down, Dave trundled after him back through the propped open screen door. ‘Track around back. If you follow it, you can cut through the Pryor’s… cut through the paddock next door. As long as you shut the gates behind, they don’t mind. Turns a thirty-five minute drive to town into a ten minute one. Amazing what a free pint or two can get you, hey.’

  Marcus paused just over the threshold as he finished his little speech and Dave started to rue his offer of help. The bags were dead weights on his arms. Through the plastic he could spot a big bottle of oil and an array of vegetables.

  As Marcus finally headed through the drop sheet, Dave staggered after him.

  ‘So what’s on the menu then?’

  ‘Mate, a feast,’ Marcus called over his shoulder, heading past the stairs where the tradesmen appeared to have congregated for smoko while Bruno stood in front of them waving his arms about like some sort of insane conductor. ‘Gonna knock your socks off, It’s just like me ma used to make.’

  ‘Are you cooking?’

  ‘Yeah, but don’t let that put you off. Haven’t gotten around to hiring a chef and all yet but I’m the next best thing. Was even an apprentice there for a while before mum got sick and I had to come and look after her. Love to cook, mate. Love it’

  They pushed through the door in the back wall, entering a kitchen that was so heavy with stainless steel Dave briefly had to squint against the glare when Marcus flicked the lights on. He gazed around the ultra modern interior of the room and could only think how out of place it looked when compared to the rest of the building.

  Marcus dumped the bags on the large metal bench that bisected the room and, gratefully, Dave followed suit. He sighed in relief as he unloaded his burden and tried not to focus on the fact he now felt infinitely worse than he had only two minutes before.

  ‘Coffee?’ Marcus asked, heading for a large stainless steel fridge in the corner.

  ‘I’m right, thanks, but I don’t suppose I could buy some water, could I?’

  ‘Free out of the tap, mate.’ Marcus chuckled at his own joke as he grabbed a bag of coffee from in the fridge and dumped it on the bench. He shot a look at Dave and must have seen the disappointmen
t written across his face. ‘Ha. Na, I’m just messing with you. Tastes like shit, don’t it? I’m sourcing quotes for purifiers and stuff at the moment. That should hopefully fix it. Till then though.’ The man leaned back into the fridge and hope bloomed inside Dave. ‘Here, on the house.’

  He almost felt like weeping for joy when Marcus lobbed the bottle of water across to him.

  Dave caught it, tore the cap free and downed half the bottle in the space of a second.

  It tasted every bit as sweet as he’d wanted the pints to the previous evening.

  ‘Better?’ Marcus asked while Dave gasped in relief.

  ‘Yeah,’ Dave answered before going back for a second slug.

  When he surfaced once more, Marcus was rifling through the shopping bags on the counter. ‘Aha!’ he called triumphantly and hefted what looked like a leg of lamb from one of the bags. ‘Well, I better get a move on,’ Marcus checked his wrist watch. ‘Gonna be an early dinner. How’s that grab you? We’ll aim for five. Need to bring it in before the rush is upon us.’

  ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘And you’re sure I can’t interest you that coffee? Need my caffeine buzz on if I’m going to Iron Chef this lot.’

  ‘Yeah, positive. Thanks for the offer though. See you at five.’

  Dave swilled the last dregs from the bottle and then placed it on the bench and headed for the door.

  He already had his time planned out nicely for the couple of hours until dinner.

  He was going back to bed.

  9.

  The first mouthful was delicious. The second even more so. And it had only got more exquisite from there. He’d been a little pissed when Marcus banged on the door and woke him earlier but he thought it was well worth it now. As he sat at the bar next to Bruno, mopping up the last of the gravy with some bread, Dave honestly thought he might have just consumed the single greatest meal of his life.

  ‘That was amazing,’ he told Marcus who was standing behind the bar with his own finished plate next to him. He’d spent the meal darting across to help the smattering of patrons that had crept in throughout.