Cait walked out of the kitchen looking visibly shaken.
Shocked, dazed, numbed. The gentle breeze that until a few minutes ago had been gently kissing her skin suddenly turned icy, as if she was enveloped by her own cool change.
Seeing her best buddy Rishi like that, battered and bruised, stitched and grimacing in pain, had upset her terribly.
And it’s all my fault! she thought to herself. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. Damn, damn, damn. I have to learn to hold my tongue sometimes.
Cait was totally confused and full of the guilts. Her mind was rushing, thoughts bouncing around inside her head like a rubber duck in a bath. She had to tell her friends outside at the BBQ. And talk to Jason. Little bro. He always had a sympathetic, if sometimes dumb, ear.
They all had to know! This wasn’t fair!
Oh my God, Rishi. I’m just so sorry.
Her face was ashen white and her usually vibrant blue eyes were distant and welling with tears, about to let loose with a waterfall of worry and concern. Moving heavily as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she made her way to the backyard. Jason, Justin, Declan, Wendy, and now Sammy were in a huddle, laughing and joking with each other. With the exception of Wendy, they had all grown up together in Elwood, literally being next-door neighbors for the best part of their lives until Paul and Kaz sold their property three years ago and moved to a large townhouse in St Kilda for themselves, and bought their kids an apartment around the corner to live in. Sammy still lived at home as she was finishing Year 12 at a private school that her parents jokingly referred to as”School Club Med” because the students were always being offered overseas trips as part of their curriculum.
Declan was telling the story of how a”very pretty” drunk guy last night had tried to come on to him in the toilets of the Espy.
“Fucking gay. Here I am, minding my own business having a piss when this old guy walks in. All the urinals were free, but no, he has to walk right up to the one next to me and flops his dick out, pretending to have a piss and stroking his sausage. I could feel him trying to look at my package. He kept glancing over between shakes and pulls of his own piece as he’s trying to piss.”
“Shit, Dec. I would have decked him if he’d gone near me,” commented Jus, full of the bravado of hindsight. “How old was he?”
“Real old. Had to be at least thirty.”
“Yuck. How gross is that,” said Sammy. “Like, he needs to get a life or something.”
Cait joined them. Looking over, Jason noticed immediately that something was up.
“Hey Cait, what’s wrong? You look like . . . well, not good.”
“It’s Rishi,” she replied in an almost inaudible, concerned tone. “He got beaten up last night.” Cait’s eyes began to glaze over, a lonely tear creeping out of the corner of her left eye and rolling down her cheek as she spoke about her close friend. She turned to gaze over in his direction.
They all collectively looked up but could only see Rishi’s outline through their reflection in the window.
“He’s inside on the couch talking to Mum. He looks bad, really bad. He’s got a black eye and stitches and everything.”
As a group, they all started to move inside to see Rishi for themselves.
“Hey guys, it’s probably not cool if you all rush in to see him at once. Take it gently, okay. He was only discharged from the hospital a few hours ago. Like, I’m really worried about him,” Cait said.
“Oh my God,” said Dec, drawing out the words as he cast a concerned glance inside at Rishi. He might have been Cait’s friend, but still, Rishi was cool. “How’d it happen? He left us at the Espy and he was fine.”
“He’s all right, isn’t he, Cait?” chipped in Jason’s sister Sammy. “Like, he’s not going to die or anything, is he?”
“Sammy! Don’t be silly. If he was that bad they’d have kept him in the hospital. He’s here isn’t he, so he’s got to be okay,” said Jason to his younger sister. “That’s true, isn’t it, Cait?”
Cait burst into tears. Sammy picked up on Cait’s concern and started crying in sympathy.
“Hey, stop that, you guys. I’m sure Rishi’s okay,” said Dec, sensing the growing angst in the group. “The last thing he wants to see is you two bawling your eyes out.
“Now, let’s all go inside quietly and say hi. All right?” Dec wasn’t sure if he was saying the right thing to his sister and Sammy, but it seemed to do the trick because they both stopped crying and instead, sniffling heavily, they wiped their eyes in unison with the backs of their hands.
Dec looked over at Justin and Jason and said, “Come on guys, better go and see if Rishi’s okay.” They all followed Cait and Dec obediently into the house to greet Rishi.
“Jeee-sus. They really worked you over. Glad to see you’re okay though. Pity Jus and I weren’t there to help you out,” said Dec, full of well-meaning and boldness. His mouth engaged before his brain took over, so what he said didn’t really come out with a sympathetic inflection.
“Dec, I don’t remember much about it. He was one bad mother who hit me, that’s all I know. You and Jus wouldn’t have been able to protect yourselves against him, let alone help me. He was mean. Like, really mean.”
“So what happened then? How’d you get out of it?” Justin butted in urgently.
“Well I was really lucky that a group of people walked around the corner when they did, or God knows what would have happened.”
“What do you mean? Did they thump them,” said Justin excitedly, replaying Rishi’s story in his head as if he had been there.
“No Jus, apparently when these guys arrived the thugs who were laying into me bolted.”
Rishi leaned back into the couch and went quiet. It was all becoming too much as images of last night’s beating returned in flashes of painful horror, upsetting him. An ache started to take over his muddled brain, and he needed a break. He was confused and felt like he wasn’t quite in the here and now; instead he felt a bit light-headed and spaced out.
An awkward silence momentarily dominated the space around them all as each of Rishi’s friends became lost in their own thoughts and interpretations of what had just transpired.
All the kids instinctively realized that they couldn’t grill Rishi anymore, so instead they just gathered around him quietly, reassuring him as best they knew how. Their feverish questioning ceased as the shock of seeing their injured friend in front of them—someone who only fourteen hours ago had been partying with them at the Espy—began to sink in.
“Why don’t you all take Rishi outside and sit him over there in that quiet corner in the sun. It’s such a perfect afternoon. It’d be hard to feel anything but good on a day like today,” said Jools. Where Rishi was currently sitting was a bit like being in the middle of a massive food hall, especially as the multitudes were about to descend on the platters of food being lined up on the kitchen table, so it was best if he was out of harm’s way outside.
Best if he’s out of the main thoroughfare where he’s currently sitting, right next to the food. G will be serving the fish and lamb in a minute, thought Jools. Plus, I need a place where I can keep an eye on him away from the madding crowd.
“Dad, why’s Sammy crying?” Rory, Sean’s eleven-year-old son, was tugging at his father’s arm trying to get his attention. Sammy was his favorite babysitter because she wasn’t like the others. She was fun and she’d play games and did cool stuff with him and she used to let him stay up until eleven o’clock and she used to play Wii with him and sometimes he’d beat her. And now she was crying and Rory was scared for his special friend.
Also, Rory was bored as the place was full of grown-ups and there was no one to play with, so he’d been hanging around with Sammy on and off. He took after his father and was a cherubic, thickset, freckled kid with a mop of plentiful red hair and a cheeky attitude to match. He had his father’s Irish green eyes and really was a delightful child, but like all kids he wasn’t perfect and he
could be a handful. But Sean ruled the roost and although he thought the sun rose and set just to keep Rory alive, he also set strict boundaries for his son that once crossed, incurred his wrath.
“She’s crying, Dad, and I’m scared for her. Dad, please . . . come over and see Sammy.” Rory was insistent and so Sean let his son drag him over to where Sammy and the other kids were.
“Excuse me, guys,” Sean said to Paul and Steve, who he was still talking to. “Got to go and sort a few things out with Rory.”
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, who’d you get into an argument with?” Sean exclaimed when he saw Rishi. For once he was lost for words as he took in Rishi’s injuries. Sean had seen the result of more than a few street fights in his youth in Ireland, and he immediately picked up on the telltale signs of a decent bashing.
“Jesus, I hope the other guy’s worse off than you.”
“Dad, why does that man look like that?” asked Rory. Sean wasn’t one to overly protect his eleven-year-old son from the harsh realities of life as he had grown up the hard way in Cork and it had made a man out of him, so he answered Rory without a second thought.
“He got into a fight with another man, Rory.” As far as Sean was concerned, you’re never too young to learn about life in the raw.
“Sometimes son, you have to fight to make your point. You can’t let people walk over you. I’ve told you that before.”
“Yes, Dad. Like Jean-Claude Van Damme in Street Fighter? He had to fight lots of people.”
“Well sort of, Rory, but that’s a movie and things don’t quite always happen like that. In real life, people get hurt, like Rishi here. So if you’re ever going to get into a fight, remember you may get hurt, so always make sure that the fight you’re in is worth it.”
Rory went quiet and thought about what his father had just said. As if in need of reinforcement, he stared at Rishi’s injuries, and as only a child can do, checked him out in minute detail.
Turning toward Rory, Rishi looked into his eyes and his heart melted. He understood the confusion that must have been running through the poor child’s mind after his father’s pep talk. He knew his younger sister Naveena would be equally upset in the same circumstances, so kneeling down in front of him he tried to reassure Rory.
“Hey Rory, I may look a bit ugly at the moment, but I’m all good.” Though difficult, Rishi attempted a smile, spears of electric pain shooting up his jaw as he pursed his lips.
Rory smiled in return. “Can I touch your eye?”
“Sure, big boy. But just be gentle.”
With a movement as delicate as a fleeting brush of silk, Rory gingerly reached up and gently touched the edge of Rishi’s swollen eye, then quickly withdrew his hand.
“Hey, it’s okay, Rory. You didn’t hurt me. See, I’m all right.”
Sammy was looking on with total admiration. She had a real soft spot for Rory.
You poor guy, she thought quietly to herself. You’ve been beaten up, and in the hospital; you must feel like shit but still you’re being so nice to Rory. You’re such a lovely person.
The girls in her biology class used to go on about how gross it would be to go out with an ethnic—I mean, they’re just sooo dark and they must smell of curry, how gross—but now, looking at how poor Rishi, injured as he was, was being so kind to her favorite charge made her think otherwise.
Sammy also picked up on Rory’s confusion about rationalizing reality with the movies: Jean-Claude Van Damme versus the real-life situation of ten stitches in the forehead and a battered and bruised face—so, slipping her hand into his she led him away to where Bec, his mother, was standing talking with Jools, Kaz, and Jo.
“Hey, you guys checked out Rishi?” Sean had returned to where Paul and Steve were standing. They were so entrenched in talking shop that they had totally missed the goings-on with the kids. Besides, Paul had just opened his third bottle of red and he was about as aware as a blind night watchman of the comings and goings of his children, so he totally missed the drama with Rishi. And Steve was so focused on his conversation with Paul that a bomb could have gone off and he probably wouldn’t have flinched.
“Not important, mate. We’ve just been discussing the China deal. The good news is, it looks like it’s going to come off,” said Steve.
“Do you ever get your fookin’ head out of your arse for long enough to comprehend what’s going on around you? The poor kid had the living bejesus beaten out of him last night. Paul, Sammy’s in tears. And Rishi looks like shite. Like, maybe we should sit up and take a bit of notice. These Indian kids are our bread and butter. Come down to reality guys and look what’s happening around us. The fookin’ wogs are beating up our clients.”
Sean was upset. In fact, Rishi’s beating had touched a raw nerve with him: it made the problem of the”curry bashing” that was being reported on and off in the newspapers so close. So real, you could almost reach out and touch it, just like Rory had done with Rishi’s bruises.
“Mate, is this Rishi guy one of our clients? No,” Steve interjected. “Yeah, I feel sorry for him. I’m sure everybody here does, but so what? He’s not important. And will the fact that he, what did you say, got beaten up last night by some wogs affect our business? No. End of story.”
“Yeah, but . . .”
“There’s no ‘but’ here,” Steve continued in his cold, calculating tone. “We’re dealing with millions of the pricks over there who want to send their kids here for a better life. And we’re just providing a service. So for fuck’s sake, some local Indian kid who got beaten up because he was probably in the wrong place at the wrong time is purely a statistic.”
Ten seconds of silence invaded the conversation, the atmosphere between them turning icy. Sean may have been a rough diamond, but he had a social conscience.
He took in what Steve had just said but he wasn’t in agreement, however in deference to the fact that they were at a casual Sunday afternoon BBQ, Sean kept his feelings to himself. He still felt uncomfortable about Rishi, but not so much for the kid himself—after all, back in Cork he had been subjected to more than a few beatings in his youth, and in his mind they had toughened him up and helped make a man out of him. Instead, it was more that from what he gathered about what Rishi had said, it appeared the poor lad had been singled out and picked on because he was Indian. And Paul, Steve, and Sean’s business depended on the Indians coming over here.
“Hey, I mightn’t be the sharpest tool in the box when it comes to business, but surely this still can’t be good for us. I mean, look at that article in the paper today. You know, where Paul had his say. Isn’t this exactly what that journo was talking about? Curry bashing? I know I just build the fookin’ apartments and you guys look after the business end, but we’ve still got to fill them and sell them.”
Steve looked over at Paul and was about to reply when Paul rather uncharacteristically said, “As Steve said, there’s plenty of them over there. Yeah, we all feel sorry for Rishi, and apparently my Sammy thinks the sun shines out of his arse after his heart-to-heart with Rory, but mate, he’s just not that important when it comes to the big picture. When this deal for the Chinese money comes off, we’ll all be sitting in clover counting our blessings.”
“You sure about that? Things still haven’t returned to what they were like before the property crash. Occupancy and sales in the industry are still down from what they were a few years ago.”
“Sean,” Paul continued, “with the money the Chinese are lending us, we’ll be able to ride out ten downturns.”
“So when does all this happen then? When do we see the money?” inquired Sean in a not-too-convincing tone.
“Soon. I’m just waiting on the formalities to be finalized, then we can sign off on the deal. They’re desperate to get the money out of China as soon as they can,” said Steve.
“So just chill, Sean. We’ve got it all in hand. All you have to be concerned with is building the accom on time and under budget. This one’s a monty. You t
hink we’ve done well so far. Well I’m here to tell you that you ain’t seen nothing yet. We’ll all make a shitload out of this once we finalize the funding. Rory’ll end up with one big inheritance.”
As he spoke, Steve started subtly changing his intonation from slow, serious, and reassuring to faster, lighter, and more upbeat. Steve was a master at controlling people and manipulating a conversation to his advantage.
“Yeah well, I suppose you haven’t been wrong so far,” said Sean. But regardless, he still had a nagging doubt in the deep recesses of his mind.
Sean’s so easy to manipulate, thought Steve. I just start playing the flute and he blindly follows.
As if Paul read Steve’s mind, he cut the conversation short. “I better go and see how Sammy is. Kaz has been giving me the evil eye over there.”
But he also had an ulterior motive: he intended checking out Rishi for himself.
“You girls must be in hormone heaven.” In his usual jocular fashion Sean had decided that”the girls” as he called them—Jools, Kaz, and Bec—needed a change of pace. They were off to one side talking Secret Women’s Business no doubt, and as far as he was concerned this justified stirring them up.
“Periods, kids, or shopping?”
“Eh?” they said almost collectively to Sean’s comment, which was slightly out of left field. He had a habit of starting off a conversation halfway through and just assumed that everyone knew what he was on about.
“Well, it’s got to be one of the three—you were no doubt talking about periods, kids, or shopping,” said Sean, laughing cheekily as only the Irish can do.
“Luckily for you we’ve done periods and we’ve already shopped ‘til we drop. So you reckon it’s got to be kids, right?” replied Bec in a mocking tone. She continued without waiting for him to reply.
“Well wrong again. We’ve actually been talking about something that concerns all of us, and you in particular.”
The Cait Lennox Box Set Page 7
