‘Hello, Harlin,’ said Tasso. He stepped away from the girls.
‘I was real sorry to read about Hiskey,’ said Harlin, taking Tasso’s hand in a shake that was almost absent-minded. ‘He was a good man.’ He had a gentle voice, almost a whisper. He looked at me and Tasso introduced us. He offered his hand to me in the same off-hand way, and I shook it. It was difficult to get a read on his eyes; they were hard but not empty. The tough-guys who had been standing around had moved closer to us.
‘He owed you money,’ said Tasso. ‘I bet you’re sorry he’s dead.’
Harlin’s face was very still. ‘He owed me a little.’
‘I heard it was plenty.’
‘Where did you hear that?’
‘Hiskey told me all about your drug empire.’
Harlin’s hands closed, slowly, until they were fists. He looked left and right in a measured way and stepped in very close to Tasso, who didn’t move. The neon sign pulsed red. ‘Jesus, Tasso, you take a chance.’
‘Is it true?’
Harlin swallowed, and his Adam’s apple jerked up and down under his skin, sharp as a knife. ‘Hiskey was a friend of mine,’ he said. ‘But he was a fucken liar, and he didn’t repay his debts.’ His voice had risen. ‘You shouldn’t believe anything he told you.’ He stepped back. He took a couple of breaths. He grinned. It was a tense grin. ‘Come on, Tasso. Relax. It’s Friday night.’ He patted Tasso’s arm.
‘It was bad luck for you that Hiskey was murdered,’ said Tasso.
‘How’s that?’
‘He was about to come into money. Lots of money. He could have paid you what he owed.’ For a moment a look that might have been knowing passed across Harlin’s face, but it was gone before I could be sure. ‘That is bad luck,’ he said. Then he shrugged and gestured towards the entrance of White Pointer. ‘Have fun. My club is yours.’ He nodded to Tiny, who was still manning the door. ‘Look after them,’ he called.
‘Sure,’ said Tiny, but there was no smile.
5
By now Juliana and Caitlin were at the head of the queue. They were looking at us, eyes wide. We joined them, and Tiny tried to usher us past the pay booth.
‘No, I want to pay,’ said Tasso. ‘Here’s some advice,’ he said to the two girls. ‘Never get in debt to a drug dealer.’ They thought it was funny. He put two hundred-dollar notes on the counter. ‘I assume that will buy us our first drinks, too,’ he said to the cashier. ‘Beer and champagne, two of each.’
Our wrists were stamped and Tiny led us upstairs. We walked through a large, sound-insulated door into the main room of the club. Manic, flashing lasers were searchlighting the room in no apparent pattern, and there was a deafening noise that I guessed was music. A jagged, fluorescent silhouette of sharks’ teeth was painted on the wall. A dance floor that seemed too small was packed with people, most of them in extreme, jerky motion. Tiny led us around the edge of the floor as if we were negotiating a swamp. We made it to an elevated lounge, which Tiny cleared of a group of teenagers with a wave of his hand. Once we were seated he nodded to us and waddled back towards the front of the club. The drinks arrived. Tasso toasted the girls with his beer. They sipped their champagne.
‘Let’s dance,’ said Juliana, her eyes happy. She and Tasso departed for the dance floor and were lost in the melee. I looked at Caitlin, sitting in a state of bliss next to me with her knees together. She leaned into me and looked into my eyes with a smile on her face as wide as a king-sized bed.
‘Isn’t this great?’
‘Fantastic.’
‘Do you want to dance?’
‘No.’
‘I feel great.’
‘You look great.’
‘Do you want to touch me?’
‘No I don’t, sweetheart.’ It was just the pill talking. Her smile narrowed a little and a look of disappointment crossed her pretty face. Then she seemed to have a good idea because she brightened and straightened. ‘I’m going to find Juliana.’
‘Alright. Have fun.’ I watched her strobe her way onto the dance floor. I cradled my beer. I was tired, I told myself, jetlagged. Not old. Not drunk. Not heartbroken. I drank my beer and rocked it some more. The music never seemed to end and never seemed to change. I contemplated leaving but didn’t move.
The Asian woman who had been with Harlin slipped onto the lounge next to me. She glowed and waned in the flash of the lighting. Maybe my heart beat a little harder. She leaned in close.
‘You looked so sad I thought I’d better come over.’ I strained to hear her. Her accent was as Australian as mine.
‘My plan worked.’
She didn’t overdo the smile. ‘It was an evil plan.’
‘Like a drink?’
‘Vodka and tonic.’ It wasn’t easy to catch the attention of a drinks’ waiter. She let me try for a minute.
‘What’s your name?’ I said.
‘Melody.’
‘I like the sound of it.’
That joke didn’t crack her up either. ‘And you?’
‘Steve. Maybe I need to go to the bar.’
‘No.’ She held up her hand. A young woman came to us, almost running. I gave her the order.
‘Strong,’ said Melody. ‘No ice.’ The waitress nodded and looked ready to bolt, but Melody held up her hand again. ‘And another beer.’
‘She’s scared of you,’ I said, after the waitress had fled.
‘She’s not scared of me.’ I studied her for a while. I liked studying her. She had an oval face with a squarish chin flanked with long black hair. Gentle eyebrows. The music thumped.
‘You were with Harlin, right?’
‘And you were with Tasso.’
‘I don’t think they’re friends. Should you be talking to me?’
She made a gesture with her hand, opening her fist and spreading her fingers. ‘Harlin doesn’t hold the copyright on me.’ Her vodka and tonic arrived, no ice. She took a sip, seemed to like the taste, and sipped again. Then she got serious and took a proper mouthful.
‘How do you know Tasso?’ I said.
‘I don’t, not much. I met him a couple of times with Hiskey.’
‘So you knew Hiskey?’ I had to lean in close to the side of her head every time I spoke to her. I could smell her breath. I liked the smell of her breath. It smelled of risk, or vodka and tonic.
‘Yes. I liked him. When he was high.’
‘Harlin says he liked him, too.’
‘I actually think he did.’
My phone vibrated. I looked at the screen. It was a text from Bert. ‘Bikes outside club’ it read. ‘Looks nasty. You and Tasso should leave.’
On impulse I showed the text to Melody. A tiny frown creased her brow. I liked her tiny frown. I liked a lot about her. She was looking across the dance floor towards the entrance. The lighting made it difficult to see what was happening.
‘Go get Tasso,’ she said. ‘Bring him here.’
‘I should take him out.’
‘Yes, but we can go out the back.’ I waded my way onto the dance floor among the dancers. Most were oblivious to me. I couldn’t put a name to the dancing style. I held my forearms in front of my face to ward off their flinging arms. Juliana and Caitlin, when I found them, were hammering the floor with their feet like maniacs. Tasso was sweating and apparently enjoying himself. The two girls were grinning and had their arms in the air. They were rubbing against Tasso and he wasn’t objecting. I grabbed him by the arm and shouted in his ear.
‘A gang war’s about to happen. We need to get out of here.’ He nodded and grabbed Juliana and Caitlin by the shoulders. They came along, still dancing. I led the way across the dance floor to Melody, who was standing. She had drained her glass. As our eyes met there was a gunshot, and she dropped the glass. People screamed, and dancers scattered from the dance floor, a tangle of flickering movement. Some of the tough-guys I had seen outside were now inside, foremost among them Tiny. In front of them were a dozen leather-clad men, some bearded
, some carrying baseball bats. A handsome man with longish, swept-back hair strode onto the dance floor with his right hand held high, pointing a pistol to the ceiling. He and Tiny met in the middle of the dance floor. Tiny gesticulated excitedly, looking a bit like a fridge door opening and closing. He was yelling, but he was also wary of the pistol. After a few moments the good-looking one shrugged and fired again, provoking more screaming. He seemed to enjoy the effect. A little dust fell in the jerky light, and the young folk clambered over each other in a panic to get to the door. The gang started swinging their baseball bats and Tiny’s men moved towards them, some armed with chairs they used as shields. A couple had knives, but I wasn’t sure they’d ever get close enough to use them. One of the men in leather swung so hard with his bat he smashed the chair out of a man’s hands. The next blow broke his arms. The third knocked him unconscious or killed him.
We couldn’t get to the front entrance of the club without negotiating the brawl. Melody yelled in my ear. ‘Come with me.’ She led the four of us to a door at the back marked ‘Private’. She used a security card to open it and we slipped through. There was a pot plant inside the door and she dragged it so that it propped the door open. Others followed, girls screaming and boys yelling in fear and excitement. We half-ran down a lit hall, with doors on either side, to what might once have been a kitchen. No one was there. There was a door that looked like an exit, and Melody used the security card on it. We ran into a backstreet lit by a single light. Cars were parked along the street, but otherwise it was deserted. There was a distant sound of sirens. Soon, dozens of scared nightclubbers were milling around like strange, wide-eyed nocturnal creatures whose habitat had just been destroyed.
‘Oh my god, oh my god,’ a girl was chanting.
‘Call Bert,’ Tasso said to me. ‘I don’t have my phone.’
‘Tell him to come to Rosina Street,’ said Melody. Bert was there in less than a minute. I opened one of the car doors.
‘Are you coming with us?’ I said to Melody. She hesitated. Her face was flushed. ‘No point staying here. You can’t go back in until the brawl has played out. And if you go back inside you’ll be talking to cops all night. We’d be better company.’
She smiled but still hesitated. I didn’t think it was such a big decision. Then she nodded. ‘Alright.’
There weren’t enough seats to go round, but Tasso, Juliana and Caitlin didn’t seem to mind sharing. I was in the front passenger seat and Melody was behind me. We were all buzzing.
‘Where to, sir?’ said Bert.
We all laughed. ‘I simply love you, Bert,’ said Caitlin.
‘I love you, too, ma’am,’ said Bert. More laughs. Caitlin leaned forward and rubbed Bert’s neck with her hand. She was sweaty, but Bert didn’t seem to mind.
‘Very nice, thank you, ma’am,’ said Bert.
Juliana pulled Caitlin back into the seat.
‘Behave yourself,’ she said. ‘He’s driving.’
‘You behave yourself too, Bert, for fuck’s sake,’ said Tasso. ‘It’s just an act,’ he said to the rest of us. ‘He pretends to be Jeeves in public but in private he’s more like Sid Vicious. And he only calls me sir to irritate me.’ Bert smiled.
‘You’re high, aren’t you?’ said Melody to Caitlin.
‘So what?’
‘So nothing. Ecstasy, right?’
‘We’re just having a good time,’ said Juliana.
‘Take it easy, okay?’
‘HQ, let’s go to HQ,’ said Caitlin.
‘Good idea,’ said Tasso.
HQ was another large and loud venue at the north-western corner of the city mile. Tasso and the two girls were out of the car in a flash. I lowered my window.
‘I’m not coming in,’ I said to Tasso.
‘Suit yourself.’
‘I don’t think I will, either,’ said Melody.
I turned to look at her. ‘Can I buy you a drink?’
‘Sure.’
‘Mind if Bert drops us back in the city?’ I said to Tasso.
I got out of the car. Tasso studied me. ‘No problem at all,’ he said. He came in close and lowered his voice. ‘Be careful. Drug-dealer bikie chick. That’s all I’m saying.’
I grinned. ‘Have a good night, mate.’
‘I intend to.’
I got into the back seat with Melody. There was space between us.
‘A quiet bar, Bert, if you know one.’
He took us to the Ambar Lounge on King William Street and dropped us at the door. Then I supposed he returned to HQ to keep it under surveillance in case the gang war decided to move there. Inside the Ambar Lounge I asked for a booth and Melody ordered a vodka and tonic, strong, no ice, and I ordered a beer. We looked at each other for a while.
‘What’s Tasso doing with those two young girls?’ she said.
‘Having a good time, I suppose. I think it’s allowed. What are you doing with me?’
‘I guess I liked your face.’
‘My sad face.’
‘Yes, that one. Why are you here?’
‘I guess I like your face.’ The drinks arrived and she took a mouthful. A biggish mouthful. She smiled. Not much. She kept a tight grip on her glass. We did some more looking at each other. Her phone rang. She pulled it from her purse and looked at the screen. She didn’t answer it.
‘We don’t know each other,’ she said.
‘True.’
‘We only just met.’
‘True, too.’
‘This was a bad idea. Don’t know what I was thinking. I have to go.’
‘At least finish your drink.’
‘No.’ But she took a gulp and finished it. ‘This was a bad idea.’
‘Let me take you home.’
‘No, I’ll get a taxi.’ She shuffled her way out of the booth and stood up. I did the same, waving to the waitress to bring the bill.
‘It was nice to meet you,’ she said.
‘I thought it was a bad idea.’
‘It was. It is.’
‘Will I see you again?’
She shrugged.
‘Give me your phone number.’
‘No. Sorry.’
She walked away and I let her go. I didn’t hold the copyright, either.
6
That weekend I bought a second-hand car and cleaned my flat, which had been rented out while I’d been away. By Sunday afternoon I had replaced furniture, bought some decent whisky and built up a store of beer. I helped myself to one of the beers and read the Saturday newspaper. ‘WAR ON OUR STREETS!’ was the front-page headline, followed by an inaccurate account of the gangster brawl at White Pointer. It reported the arrest of the man who had fired the shots. His name was James Barenfanger, widely known as Fang, from a northern suburb I’d never heard of. He was president of the Mad Dogs, said the paper, with a history of violence and arrests for firearms and drug offences. He would face court on Monday.
There was conjecture that it was a turf war, a battle for the city’s drug trade. The brawl came after the recent torching of a tattoo parlour owned by the Mad Dogs. Harlin was mentioned by name, the ‘ex-member of the Mad Dogs who broke away to set up a rival gang’. The rival gang didn’t have a name, so the Advertiser had dubbed it, a little unimaginatively, Harlin’s Hoodlums. There were interviews with politicians from the two major parties, both of whom expressed outrage and how they planned to get tough on crime, specifically with a new law to outlaw gangs, while the other side was too spineless to act. Blah blah blah.
I put the paper in the bin. Then I called Luke, who I hadn’t seen since the day I arrived back. He said he was busy this weekend but we’d catch up soon. He had something he wanted to tell me. I told him to tell me now, but he said it could wait.
Tasso called.
‘The funeral’s tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’ve just been talking with Harlin. He wants a truce so he and his mates can turn up.’
‘A truce? Does he think we’re part of his gang war?’
/> ‘That’s what I said to him. I said I wasn’t at war with him, I just didn’t like him. I said it wasn’t for me to say who could or could not attend Hiskey’s funeral and that if he wanted to show up I wasn’t going to stop him, unless he was disrespectful.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He said Hiskey was his friend.’
‘He said that the other night, too. Do you believe him?’
‘Not really. The other night he also said that Hiskey was a liar.’
‘Which he was.’
‘Yeah, yeah. For all I know the prick killed him himself. Anyway, we’ll see how it plays out tomorrow. There’s one bit of good news, though.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Hardcastle won’t be there. I called him and told him if I saw him there I’d knock his fucken head off.’
‘You’ve never punched anyone in your life.’
‘True, but he seemed to believe me. Or maybe he was glad to have an excuse not to go. Anyway, he won’t be there.’
‘Want me to come into the office in the morning?’
‘Nah, why don’t you start on Tuesday?’
‘Okay, see you at the cemetery then.’
It was only after I hung up that I thought about how cheery that must have sounded.
7
Hiskey’s funeral was held late in the day at Smyth Chapel in the Catholic section at the northern end of the West Terrace Cemetery. I arrived on my own, declining Tasso’s invitation to go with him and a bunch of other ex-university friends. I was early, with only the funeral director standing outside the chapel. He looked like a hawker, so I found a kurrajong tree among the graves on the far side of the access road and stood in its shade for a while. It was a fine day for a funeral. The sky was the kind of blue that seems to go on forever and there were just a few wisps of cloud. The sun beat fiercely down and I sweated in my cheap suit. I was hemmed in by graves, some guarded by rusty iron fences, some with headstones that time had already wiped clean of their inscriptions, some broken by tree roots. The ground was littered with kurrajong seedpods, blackened, open and empty, like the mouths of the dead.
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