With that, he actually turned away from me and headed over towards the TAB machines to cash his winning ticket. Like nothing we were discussing was important, and like Bree wasn't really upset, and like the whole discussion was just a waste of his time.
I shook my head at him as he walked away from us.
Bree sighed deeply, and I looked down at her beside me. She bowed her head, defeated. “Let's just go,” she said tiredly to me. “There's no fucking point. There's never any fucking point with him.”
I tilted her chin up so I could brush some hair off her face, and she looked up at me with those big puffy eyes and a pink nose. Fifteen minutes ago we’d been on top of the world and she’d been laughing and smiling and bouncing along beside me and talking excitedly about the future… and now? Now she'd just shut down.
Fuck, what was wrong with him? The way he was talking over her, talking down to her, saying awful things about her. Who could say those things about their own sister like it was nothing? Bree was such an easy target. And instead of being a proper big brother and protecting her, instead of standing up for her against anyone who dared to hurt her, and being a safe haven for her against the world, he was the one hurting her. His own little sister. And as much as she desperately wanted to imagine things could be different, she'd just given up. She'd given up on having a big brother.
It was messed up. He shouldn't be able to do this, and I couldn't let him. “No,” I told her emphatically, and she blinked at me. “No. There is a fucking point to fighting with him. There is a point, and I'm looking right at her.” I touched her cheek. “What he is doing to you is not okay, Bree. It's not. And I'm not going to just stand here and let him get away with it.”
She swallowed, but she didn’t say anything. She just looked sad, like she’d abandoned all hope that standing up to him would achieve anything. Fuck him for taking that from her. Fuck him.
If I could stand up to my senior manager and two billionaire CEOs, I could stand up to Bree's messed up brother.
Riding high on my ballsy pitch heist from earlier, I straightened and marched after Andrej. “Hey,” I said, calling out to him. “We weren't done.”
He hardly glanced at me as he kept walking. “We are if you were going to try and convince me Bree is anything but a liar.”
I pulled up next to him, hands in my pockets. “Actually, I'd like to talk about the stuff you stole from me.”
He rolled his eyes and kept walking. “I don't know what you're talking about,” he said. “But whatever it is, I had nothing to do with it. You should ask Bree, she's the one who took it.”
“You know it interfered with my work, right? And I got in a lot of trouble?”
“Well, maybe you should have backed up your files before you took in strays.”
Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes. “Why should I have backed up my files, Andrej?” I said clearly, stopping him. “I didn't tell you what had been stolen. How did you know it was a computer?”
He faltered for a moment. “Yes, you did, you said it was a laptop.”
For about a fraction of a second, I started to go over what I'd said before I realised he was bluffing. Well, two could play that game.
“You know we have security cameras up at my place, yeah?” I asked him. “What do you think was on mine? Would you like me to show you?” I went to take my phone out of my pocket and go to my gallery as if I had a video of it. “Let's watch you damaging my front door and stealing my stuff, shall we? Or do you want to keep pretending everything is Bree's fault?”
He refused to look at my phone, and started walking briskly away from me. “I don't know what you think you saw,” he said over his shoulder. “But harassment is a crime, too, and this place is also full of cameras. And you following me around like this, that's stalking.”
I didn't buy in to his deflection. I just jogged up next to him and waggled my phone. “What I have is a video of you damaging my property and taking my laptop and my tablet. That is a fact. I have that. What is also a fact is that you said just a minute ago, 'Ask Bree, she's the one who stole it'.”
We arrived at the TAB machine, and he took out his wallet. It was completely empty except for his ID, and he looked flustered by me being there. “Leave me alone,” he said. “I'm going to call security if you keep harassing me.”
To hammer the point home, I stepped in between him and the TAB machine, blocking it. “Bree didn't steal my stuff to bet on the horses, did she, Andrej?” He tried to step around me, and every time he did, I moved so I was still blocking the machine. “And Bree didn't sign those credit card applications either.” I shook my head at him. “She's your sister, Andrej. And she has debt collectors chasing her around Sydney and strangers have to give her money to get home.”
He didn't react to anything I'd said. “Get out of the fucking way,” he demanded.
I didn't. “She doesn't even have a phone anymore because she 'lost' that, didn't she? And I bet it slipped right into your pocket and fell out again at the pawn store...?”
“Get out of the fucking way,” he repeated, looking me in the eyes.
He was shorter than me, and it was my absolute pleasure to look down on him. “I'd buy Bree a new phone, but it would end up in here, wouldn't it, like all the other money?” I tapped the machine behind me. “So the way I figure it, I should just cut out the middle man and give it straight to you now.” I took a few notes out of my pocket and thrust them at him. “Here,” I said. “Go on.”
He kept trying to get around me to the machine, and there was something a bit desperate about his movements. “I will call security and have you dragged out of here if you don't get out of the way.”
I just pushed the notes at his chest. “Go on, take all my money. It saves me from needing to waste time buying your sister nice things so you can steal them and gamble the proceeds.”
He took a deep breath and was about to blast me, when instead he double-took and shouted, “Hey!” and there was a flurry of movement beside us. It was Bree who'd darted over here for some reason and now was running full pelt across the floor of the bar.
I didn't know what had happened until Andrej took off after her, yelling, “You fucking thief! Give that back to me, it's mine!” His hands were empty as he ran after her, and Bree had his ticket clutched in one of hers.
Shit. That was a bad move, this guy was not in a balanced frame of mind.
“Bree!” I shouted, taking off after both of them. Over at the door, I could see the bouncer on his radio, his eyes fixed on us. He was calling for backup.
Andrej easily caught up to her because his legs were longer and when he did, he roughly swung her around and began trying to pry her arms open. “Give it back!” he shouted, “Someone call the police! This girl stole my ticket!”
Bree looked terrified. “It's not yours!” she was shrieking as he wrenched at her arms and grabbed at her hands and she curled around the ticket so he couldn't get to it. “It's not your money! It's Min's! It belongs to Min! Stop saying it's yours!”
When he couldn't get it from her, he just shook her really aggressively, his voice raw with desperation. “Give it back to me!” he screamed through her. “Give it back to me!”
I caught up to them and grabbed him, trying to use my weight to pull him away from her. Unfortunately he was stronger, so he shoved me away and I stumbled.
Other people were turning away from the TVs around the bar to see what was going on, and I heard a number of voices shouting in alarm. All I could think about was Bree, though.
Bree was trembling, and as I came back to try and free her again, she scrunched up the ticket and threw it on the floor away from us. For just a second Andrej and I stared at each other, and then we both dove on the floor and scrambled for it.
I was faster and stood up with it in my hand, triumphant. “You want this so much?” I yelled at him. “You want this enough to hurt your sister and send your family to ruin? Here! Have it, then!”
I held it up between us,
and then very slowly and very deliberately, I tore it right through that precious bar code. I didn't stop there, either, I tore it again and again until it was nothing but confetti in the air.
For a second I was looking into the eyes of a wild animal who'd just watched his last meal escape, and then he lunged towards me and I heard a really loud, dull thump and I... I wasn't sure what happened next.
My face hit something, then my back hit something, but I couldn't see anything and all I could hear was loud ringing and whistling in my ears. My head was spinning like water draining down a plughole. Somewhere in the distance Bree was screaming, but right up close all I could hear was my laboured breathing and my pulse hammering in my ears. I tried to get up, but I couldn't. The whole side of my head was throbbing.
He must have punched me, I realised. He must have punched me really hard.
“Shit, look at that blood, call an ambulance!” someone was shouting, and, actually, I could taste blood in my mouth.
“What have you done, Andrej?” Bree was wailing. I could feel her draped across my stomach. “What have you done...? No! No, no, no... Min...”
“Good fucking work, mate,” A gruff voice shouted. “You might have just killed someone over a punt.” Then, I think he spoke to someone else. “Put that idiot in one of the interview rooms and call the cops, I'll get management. Jesus, that guy's hardly breathing, get that girl off him and do CPR.”
It was only when I felt someone undo my jacket and start to unbutton my shirt that I remembered my binder and pushed the hands off me. Then, I turned onto my side and coughed. My mouth was full of blood and it was getting up my nose and down my throat and making me gag. When I opened my eyes and looked down at the plush carpet and my blood dripping onto it, though, I discovered it was coming from the side of my face and not my mouth at all. I put my fingers to my cheekbone and looked at them: yup, I was bleeding. That was probably something I should have worried about, but my first thought was 'oh no, Henry's suit!'
Whoever had pulled Bree off me let her go, and she came crawling across the carpet to me, sobbing. “Min,” she said, looking aghast as she touched my face, presumably where the blood was coming from. “I'm sorry,” she said raggedly. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry...”
I went to shake my head at her, but when I moved it, it swam and I nearly passed out again.
“There, look at what you did,” one of the bouncers who was restraining Andrej said to him. “Look at what you did to two people over a few hundred bucks, mate. You need help.”
I looked at Andrej, expecting to see defiance, or derision, or pleasure at the fact my face was all smashed up and Bree and I were both cowering on the carpet in front of him, but that wasn't the case at all.
It was shock.
Complete shock, as if he'd suddenly snapped out of a drug-addled high and was finally grasping the enormity of what he’d done.
After we'd watched him be carted off, someone gave Bree a tea towel from the bar, and she held it against my cheek to stop the bleeding. She was still a bit teary. “Are you okay?” she asked, her eyes running over my face as if she was looking for more injuries. “Really?”
I touched her hand on my stomach. “Yeah. I'm not the one who was being shaken.” I looked her up and down; she seemed alright. “Did he hurt you?”
She laughed through her tears. “Oh my god, you're lying on the carpet and there's blood pouring out of your face and you're like, 'hey, Bree, are you okay?'.”
I chuckled very gently, because my head was killing me. “Well, I'd like to think I sacrificed myself for a noble cause.”
Her smile faded. “Gambling...” she said, eyes glazed. “It's just... like, I can't even get my head around it, you know? I mean, you always see those 'think about what you're really gambling with' ads, but... I don’t know if I really thought people do that. But they wouldn’t spend money on those ads to warn people about it if it didn’t happen, would they? And Andrej did do it. And it's just... it’s gambling. I don’t get it. I thought for sure it was drugs or crime or something seriously hard-core.” She shook her head, looking overwhelmed. “Like, sometimes when I stay up late I hear Mum crying quietly in bed because we might lose the house and she loves it. It's her dream house. He hears that, too.”
I stroked the back of her hand, and tried to mimic the way Andrej spoke. “But don't you know, Bree? She's crying because she can't believe what a bad daughter she has.”
She sighed deeply. “Well... at least you know what he's like now,” she said. “I don't want to go home.”
“I don't want to go back to work, either. Canada’s looking pretty great right now. Let’s do it.”
She hugged me. “You're crazy,” she said, and then immediately looked upset again when she remembered why she was holding a cloth against my face. “Fuck, I can't believe I dragged you into this,” she said. “This is all my fault. I always do this. I'm so sorry, Min. Like, I'm really, really sorry.”
I didn't want her to worry about me. “Nonsense,” I said. “That was my first proper fistfight in a bar. By Aussie standards, I'm a real man now. I should send your brother a thank you card and shout everyone in here a round.”
We were laughing about that, when a gloved hand touched my arm and someone put a huge medical kit beside of me. The person who knelt down had a green paramedic uniform on. “Hey, there,” he said. “Min, isn't it?” I nodded, and then winced at the movement. He noticed. “That looks nasty. Can you tell me what happened?”
I was a bit confused about what had happened, so Bree told them instead: Andrej had punched me out like a light, and then when I'd fallen I'd smacked my face on a table and ended up on my back on the carpet.
The paramedics were particularly concerned about the fact I'd been unconscious for a short period of time, and had to run through a whole series of questions I needed to answer and actions I needed to do while they repeatedly shone torches in my eyes just to double-check I wasn't dying.
The whole assessment process lasted for a few minutes—I needed to quietly inform them I was female when they went to undo my shirt—and in the end, after they'd patched up my cheek and stopped the bleeding, they actually gave me a choice about whether or not to go with them to the hospital for head scans, MRIs and proper stitches.
I was trying to figure out how to avoid going to hospital when a pair of uniformed police officers came over to me. I think they'd been speaking to Andrej first, because they were talking about him under their breath and when I was telling them what happened, they kept looking at each other.
When I was done making a statement about how I ended up bleeding on a casino floor, the police officer who'd been leading the interview sat back on her haunches. “So, here's the question,” she began. “Do you want to press charges? If you do, we'll have to pull the security footage, and you might need to testify in court if he pleads not guilty. Are you prepared to do that? Court can be very stressful and you'll need a lawyer.”
My immediate response was that I didn't want to make that big a deal out of it. All that hassle on top of everything else that was going on for me? And I wasn't actually sure how I was going to afford a lawyer in the future, either. I'd opened my mouth to say exactly that when I looked across at Bree. She was waiting with bated breath for me to answer.
'He belongs in jail', she'd told me. She's said that a few times, and when I thought about her descriptions of what he'd done to her, how he took her stuff and bullied her and terrorised her and stole her things and forged her parents' signatures... Her parents probably thought they were doing the right thing by Andrej trying to keep it private. Maybe they thought he'd get over whatever was going on, I didn't know. I didn't think addiction really worked like that, though, did it? It just escalated until something terrible happened or the person got help.
In any case, her parents didn't know what to do with him, and they hadn't done anything to protect Bree so far, anything.
But I could.
“Yes, I'll press charges and
do all those things,” I said resolutely. “And he also stole property that belongs to me. Can I report that to you guys now, too?”
Looking across at Bree as the officers got ready to take another statement from me, I could see her lip quivering and her eyes swimming with gratitude. She was going to cry.
It was over. Andrej's reign of terror was starting to crumble, and they could finally start to rebuild their family.
I hugged Bree. “Come on,” I said as she and one of the police officers helped me up. My ears rang a little now that I was upright, but I didn’t fall over again and I was feeling vastly better than I had been twenty or so minutes ago. “Let’s get me stitched up and then go home. I need to get this so-called power suit off before it gives me any more bright ideas.”
THIRTY
Short of me actually being in the process of dying, nothing in the world was going to get me into one of those transparent hospital gowns. So instead of going into the hospital to get stitched up, Bree and I just dropped past a medical centre and got the doctor on duty to do it. Bree spent the whole time profusely apologising for everything and it got to the point where the doctor asked me, “Did she do this to you?”
“Basically,” Bree had said darkly.
“I think to punch me in the face, you probably need to be able to actually reach my face,” I pointed out with a grin.
Bree shoved me and interrupted the doctor's work on my cheek. “It's not funny, Min! This is all my fault!”
She'd mostly run out of steam by that point, though, so afterward she just sat and held my hand and watched the doctor finish stitching me up.
I had a pretty nasty headache, so the doctor wouldn't let me go straight home. She sent me upstairs to get a CT scan beforehand, but the clinic was packed and there was some ridiculous wait time.
This place smelt like a hospital. “Let's just go home,” I said to Bree as we sat on one of the long benches in the corner of the waiting room. “I'm obviously okay.”
Under My Skin Page 70
