Ed must have been feeling something similar because his breathing grew ragged and shuddery.
‘Uh-uh,’ carolled a voice.
We jumped apart as if someone had shouted ‘Bomb!’ Slim stood in the doorway, hands on hips. ‘I don’t get no action, baby girl, you don’t get no action either.’ He went off back to his room, chuckling to himself.
CHAPTER 18
I slept on the couch with the spare pillows and doona I found in the cupboard. It should have been okay—I mean, the couch was a four-seater and wider than most single beds—but I woke up feeling like garden mulch.
My jaw was still tender and my neck and back seemed to have snuck out to a gymnastics competition without me during the night and fallen off the bar. I wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed and eat food from my mother’s fridge.
Suck it up, princess, I told myself. This is far from over. So I got up, peeked in on Slim softly snoring and went to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I donned yesterday’s clothes and made a cup of tea.
The view from Slim’s room took in an expanse of Brisbane River and two of its many bridges. Settling into an armchair in front of the window, I watched the ferries getting busy, a cruiser or two heading out to the harbour and some little dinghies packing up and puttering towards their moorings after a night of fishing. The sky was a silky grey and lightening by the second. Soon it would be brilliant Brisbane blue. I thought about slipping out for a swim in the hotel pool but, knowing my luck, Dickle would find a way through the air-conditioning vent while I was gone. Plus I would’ve had to swim in my underwear.
I had an ominous feeling about the day. So much hinged on Slim giving a good concert tonight—Stuart’s livelihood and Slim’s career, not to mention me getting paid. But more than that, I couldn’t rid myself of the notion that I knew too little to keep things right.
The river view faded as I put the big puzzle pieces in the front of my mind: ASIO, Viaspa, Machete, Slim Sledge, Stuart. How were they connected?
I turned on the hotel desktop again and gave myself a crash course on the LA gangs. There was no shortage of information. Jeez, they even had an educational website to enlighten local youth about the realities of being a banger.
The self-education did nothing to allay my nerves, which were stretched beyond tight by the time Stuart arrived. I dispensed with pleasantries and pulled another armchair over to the window.
‘Sit. Talk.’
He sipped his takeaway cappuccino, refusing to be hurried, savouring something. His aura was calm and had a sheen that made me jealous.
‘You spent the night with Sofia,’ I said. ‘What did she tell you?’
His face reddened. ‘Well, it’s not like Jade would be broken-hearted.’
‘Stuart, I don’t care who you sleep with either. But I want to know if you found out anything about Andreas.’
The serenity faded and his aura started to pick up speed. ‘You were right. Andreas’s brother, Sofia’s other uncle, talked him into putting up money for a big development in the Valley. It’s caused a big rift in the family. Sofia’s dad wants nothing to do with it; says it’s wrong and likely to fail. But Sofia thinks some of the other investors have the environment minister in their pocket. They’re planning to turn my street and three others into a huge office city.’ ‘So it could have been Andreas who tried to start a fire in your fuse box?’
‘No . . . Andreas wouldn’t do anything that radical.’
I frowned at him. ‘You’re the one who said he might be sabotaging your tour. Why wouldn’t he do the same to your home?’
‘He just wouldn’t. He’s not a criminal.’
‘You’re talking about the man who told his niece you weren’t good enough,’ I said with exasperation.
Stuart waved his free hand in the air. ‘I know, I know. But that’s family. I still don’t think he’d try to torch my place.’
‘Who then?’
‘Sofia said he and his brother were fronts for some overseas investors. She said there were big guys putting up serious money.’
‘Who?’ I repeated.
‘She didn’t know—but she might be able to help us find out.’
‘How?’
‘There’s an investors meeting today. She heard Andreas and her papa talking about it.’
‘Where? When?’
‘She’s going to text me when she finds out.’
‘Do you trust her?’
A little of the sheen reappeared. ‘After Jade, I don’t know. I think so. She came to me to tell me about it. She got worried after you came and talked about becoming my partner.’
‘Andreas wouldn’t have put her up to it?’
‘No. I don’t think so. She respects him but she says she loves me.’
I sat back in the chair and let go of my breath. ‘Okay. I’m sorry to push you on this, Stu, but things are getting weird. I recognised a guy at the Paolo’s press call. A guy I knew, from the west. He pretended not to know me. It was strange, so I asked a friend to make some enquiries about him.’
‘And?’
‘My mate thinks he works for the government.’
Stuart snorted some coffee and gave a choking laugh. ‘Tax?’
‘No. Secret service kind of thing.’
‘ASIO? Bullshit!’
‘I wish,’ I said quietly.
A long silence fell between us as he absorbed what that might mean.
‘But even if these developers were pulling some dirty tricks, trying to mess me round, that’s all domestic shit. ASIO’s the watchdog for international terrorism—why would they be interested?’
I nodded. ‘That’s the bit I don’t understand either. Though I’m starting to get a feeling.’
‘Care to explain?’
‘You know much about gang crime in the US?’
‘No more than the TV shows. Why?’
‘I dunno. I’ll get back to you on it.’
Stuart rubbed his forehead like he had a headache. ‘Listen, whatever the case, this is getting way off the dial. If you want to pull the plug, I understand.’
I appreciated his consideration, but I wasn’t quitting on him yet. ‘Let’s just get through tonight. We’ll talk about it again after that.’ He sighed. ‘Thanks, Tara. Have you heard from Wal?’
‘Not a thing,’ I said.
‘Me neither.’ He looked at me. ‘He’ll be alright. He’s like a cockroach.’
‘Survive anything?’
‘Pretty much.’
‘The drug thing with Viaspa—you got any idea why he would be agitated about it now?’
‘Keep going over it in my head. Can’t think of a reason, except if he needs the money and still thinks we’re hiding it.’
‘But you said he let you go because you stuck to your story.’
Stuart shrugged. ‘That’s what we thought. But who knows?’
My phone rang and I answered automatically. ‘Tara.’
‘Missy?’
‘Hoshi?’ I wanted to cry with relief at the sound of his voice. ‘’Sup?’
‘Been following that fellow. Not looking so good for his missus.’
I waved a finger at Stuart, excusing myself, and walked over to the other side of the room. ‘You think he’s sleeping with her?’
‘Can’t see through walls, you know. But we tag him at her place three times this week.’
‘How long was he there each time?’
‘One time, one hour. Two times, half hour.’
‘Where did he go when he left?’
‘One time to work. Two times he go there after work on way home.’
‘Shit. Where did he park?’
‘Him park on the street. Go down side of the house and in back door.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Last time he stop at ATM and take money out ’fore he visit woman.’
Belle’s blackmailing him for sex was my first thought.
‘Crap!’
‘You want me to do more?’
‘No, Hoshi. That’s enough. I’m coming home tomorrow. I’ll take it from there. How did Cass work out?’
‘That girl as psychic as a plank of wood but she street smart. I pick her for my team.’
‘I thought she would be. What about Wal? You find out anything?’
‘I ask around. He sure gone to ground. Word is he not even here.’
‘Not where? Perth?’
‘No in whole state. Other word is . . . he in deep this time.’
I swallowed. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear at the start of what was shaping up to be the longest day of my life.
‘Hoshi,’ I whispered, ‘I’m . . .’ Scared? Freaked?
‘You smart girl, Missy. Trust yourself. Trust your gift.’
‘Thanks.’ I turned my back on Stuart and cupped my hand around my mouth so my voice was muffled. ‘Have you heard of a bikie called Bon Ames?’
‘Not so much. Hoshi stay away from thems.’
‘Can you find out his reputation for me?’
‘Say name again?’
‘Bon Ames—he’s sergeant-at-arms for the West Coast Cheaters in Perth. See if he has any connection to Johnny Viaspa.’
‘What you think? Hoshi is walking crime pictionary?’
‘You mean dictionary.’
‘Humph,’ he said, and hung up.
I stared at the watercolour on the wall in front of me. It was a yacht on a river. You could just make out the red life jackets and windblown hair of the two people sailing it. Why couldn’t I be one of them?
‘Everything alright?’ asked Stuart.
I returned to my chair by the window. ‘Sure. Just some stuff going on at home while I’m away.’
‘You think Bon might be connected to Johnny Viaspa?’ he asked.
‘Oh, you heard that. Well, maybe, but not in a bad way. He can’t stand Viaspa, I know that. I just wanted to know a bit more about his background.’
‘Can we trust him? Should I cut him loose?’
I shook my head.
There was a brief, heavy knock at the door.
‘That’ll be him now.’ I got up and looked through the peephole. Bon Ames through a fish-eye lens at 7.30 am was a more unpleasant sight than I needed. I opened the door quickly.
Today he was wearing leather, the first time I’d seen him out of denim. He also had on his dark glasses and a pair of metal-heavy boots. His aura rolled energetically around his body and the colour seemed more intense than normal.
‘Dressed to kill,’ I said lightly, and instantly regretted it. ‘Morning, Bon,’ said Stuart. ‘We’re just planning the day.’
Bon took my seat without apology, letting his legs sprawl out and his belly flow over the chair arms.
I rolled the desk chair over and perched on it. Now that I was awake and my brain was firing, I wanted to move. Sitting here felt wrong, like I was wasting time.
‘Problems last night?’ asked Bon.
‘Nope.’ I wanted to ask him where he’d been and why he’d left so abruptly but I wasn’t game. ‘All quiet.’
He nodded. ‘Well, that’s something.’
‘You expecting trouble?’
He shot me a suspicious look. ‘You aren’t?’
‘Well . . . I thought we should talk about yesterday with Stuart. You and I were both followed. Your guy was sent by Johnny Viaspa and Ash Machete. You got any clues what that might mean?’ I neglected to add that Bon had pulverised his guy and I wasn’t sure he hadn’t committed murder.
He didn’t answer me but gave Stuart a stare. At least, I think he did—he still had his sunnies on. ‘You got some old shit going on with Viaspa?’
Stuart sighed. ‘Maybe. Though nothing’s been said to me directly.’
‘I’m bringing in some help for the gig tonight. In case Viaspa brings it on.’
‘Who?’ I asked bluntly.
‘Brothers in arms,’ he said noncommittally.
‘Thanks for the offer, but I can’t afford to pay for more protection,’ said Stuart. ‘I was thinking of going to the police, maybe saying we’d had a death threat or something to get them watching the place.’
‘No police,’ said Bon. ‘We’ll do the job as a favour.’
Brothers in arms. Yikes. ‘Don’t you think it’s time you shared information?’
Bon looked at me like I’d grown a second head.
‘Do you think the guy following me was working for Viaspa as well?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
Frustration welled up in me. The kind of annoyance that usually only faded when I played a game of basketball or beat the crap out of a gym bag. Bon Ames knew something and he wasn’t talking.
Breathe. Breathe. You can’t get into it with this guy.
You’ll lose. ‘Okay. Well, extra security would be good.’
He nodded.
Stuart nodded.
We fell to talking about times and methods of transport. Slim had a sound check and rehearsal just before lunch followed by a few free hours before the gig.
‘Count me out of the security detail,’ I said. ‘I’ve got to attend to some business.’
Bon curled his lip in an unimpressed manner but Stuart came to my rescue. ‘I’ve asked Tara to do something for me.’
‘Who’s keeping the crazy fucker under control then?’ asked Bon, jerking his thumb at the bedroom door.
‘Juanita,’ said Stuart. ‘She’ll be here soon.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘Chilled out as—’
‘Aaaaarghhhh!’ The scream that emanated from Slim’s bedroom cut me dead. I leaped from my chair and beat Stuart across the room by a nose.
Slim was half off the bed, his arms working like paddles as he tried to pull himself headfirst onto the floor.
Dickle held one of his feet in a death grip, stopping him.
The door to the adjoining room was open. How the hell did she get hold of the key to that?
‘Let go!’ I bellowed.
‘I—just—want—him—to—sign—my—CD.’ Her mouth was puckered with peevish determination.
Without a thought to the consequences, I dived headlong at her legs. My tackle tumbled us both into the bedside table.
‘Owwww!’ she cried. ‘Help! Help!’ Peripheral vision told me that Slim was in the foetal position by the bottom of the bed. Stuart was bending over him, making awkward soothing noises.
‘Get him out of here,’ I called.
My concern with Slim cost me. Dickle blindsided me with a punch.
‘Bitch!’ she screamed in my ear. Her hair had come out of its bun and her T-shirt had ridden up high, revealing a bosom of gigantic proportions.
Death by bosoms flashed through my mind. Ewwww.
I threw my arms around her and managed to pin her underneath me. ‘Who let you in here?’ I shouted in her face. ‘Who?’
‘Bitch!’ she squealed again.
I raised my fist and aimed it at her face.
Her expression filled with fear. ‘Don’t touch my nose.
I’m getting married soon.’
Married? A shadow appeared over my shoulder.
‘Coming, Fran!’ Dickle’s tall, skinny boyfriend fell at me, arms pumping like a windmill on speed.
I rolled sideways and kicked him in the knackers for the second time. He crumpled into a ball. While Dickle tried to comfort him, I grabbed the bedside phone from the floor to ring security.
‘Already done!’ said Bon. He was leaning against the opposite doorway with his mobile in his hand. ‘Speed dial.’
Before I could comment, hotel security charged into the room. In a matter of minutes, after some stern words, Dickle and her skinny, bent-over fiancé had been marched out. The staff relocked the offending door behind them with profuse apologies and an offer of a complimentary banquet breakfast.
I sagged onto the bed, holding the side of my face. ‘Thanks for the help,’ I snapped at Bon, not caring right now that he was much bigger and scarier than the p
air I’d just wrestled.
‘Never get into it when women are fighting,’ he said.
‘What was that guy then? Dog meat?’
‘Him? Looked pretty girlie to me. Quit whining. You can handle yourself.’ He walked back into the other room.
If he meant it as a compliment, I wasn’t feeling it.
It took a few minutes to get my head together.
I straightened the bedside lamp and the bed sheets, washed my face in the ensuite and finally rejoined the others.
Slim was still shivering, his hands cupped around a mug of tea.
Stuart stood next to him with a look of near-despair on his face. ‘Juanita’s nearly here.’
‘Where’s Bon?’
‘In the corridor.’
I kneeled down in front of Slim. His aura was lumpy and shredded as though it might fall apart. He raised his head from his hands to look at me and the terror was still there.
‘It’s okay, Slim.’
‘Tara?’
‘They’ve gone. Bon Ames is bringing in extra security for the rest of the Brisbane tour.’
His eyes shimmered with unshed tears and his breathing was tight. What on earth had happened to this guy that contact with strangers inspired such fear in him?
‘Can’t do this,’ he said.
‘They won’t hurt you, Slim. Even if they get close, we’ll always be there to stop them.’
‘Nooooo,’ he moaned.
I quashed my impatience and kept my tone gentle.
‘What are you afraid of? What do you think they’ll do?’
He began to rock back and forth. ‘You don’t know what it’s like being touched by them. They don’ see me.
They see a thing. Meat.’
I took another tack. ‘How long have you been rapping for?’
It was a while before he answered, as though he was accessing a distant memory. ‘Since I could talk,’ he said eventually.
‘You still love the music?’
He nodded like a child being asked if he liked riding his bike.
‘You going to let a crazy dropkick like Fran Dickle stop you from being the best at what you love? You going to let her stop you from doing the right thing by your aunt and your cousin?’
He lifted his chin.
Stage Fright Page 19
