by Paul Haines
'I don't need to.' Turk removed the gun from Charlie's head, and raised both his hands in the air in front of him.
Charlie leapt from the couch and sprinted towards the back exit near the toilets. She moved fast, but not as fast as one of the heavies who now brandished a pistol. A shot followed that shattered their eardrums. Charlie hit the floor, sprawling, face down. A plume of smoke drifted up from a hole in the back of her clothing.
'Just another slut.' The heavy repositioned himself behind the couch, gun on display, and blocked any further exit. 'Plenty more where that came from.'
'Oh Jesus,' Dave whispered into his hands.
Jimbo sat very still, his heart hammering in his chest.
Turk reached out one long arm. The barrel of the gun pressed against Sara's temple. She shut her eyes.
'Let's settle the bill.'
'Please, Jimbo. Don't let him kill me.'
It felt like every spring thunderstorm Jimbo had ever seen now breaking inside him, rushing up to burst his chest. His face felt flushed and he struggled to think. My first day in the City and I'm getting fucked over. Somewhere, deep in his marrow, anger began to build, knitting his bones and holding him together. They'd just killed someone and for what? Money? It's five grand! Five fucken grand!
'Please, Jimbo.' Sara tried to swallow a sob.
'It ain't worth getting killed,' said Bop.
Dave's eyes bulged like a dying roo. 'Fer fuck's sake, Jimbo.'
No! No! No! No!
'Okay.' Jimbo picked up the terminal. It felt as light as rain and as magic-like. 'How do I work this?'
Turk grinned again, and leant forward.
Then a sneeze came from the back of the room. Turk and Bop exchanged a furtive glance.
'Sorry,' said Charlie.
Adrenalin surged through Jimbo's veins. Everything so clear, so slow, so instant. That look between Bop and the Turk. These cunts are all in on this. These aren't no Cartel, just thugs, like the cunts who come in from the orchards down The Aussie looking for a go. He swallowed hard. I can take these wogs. I'll give 'em a fucken go. His hand was already moving ...
Turk's face reddened, the set of his jaw evolving into a brick. 'You stupid fucking bitch!'
... and the terminal smashed into that brick, driving Turk's head backwards, bouncing it off the top of the couch.
'Dave!' Jimbo yelled, his other hand already pulling the hunting knife from the sheath in the bag.
The sound of smashing glass, then a scream. Bop stumbled away from the couch, his face a wet mess of bloodied flesh. One of the heavies ducked as the broken pint glass hurled towards his head. Sara clawed at Dave as he grabbed his pack.
'Give us ya fucken money!' she screamed.
Dave punched her in the nose, the bone cracking under his fist. She screamed again, this time in pain, as blood spurted over the table. One of the heavies ran back to the bar, the other clambering over the couch to drag Dave down.
Jimbo had the knife against Turk's throat. One of the heavies made to move. Jimbo pressed the blade into the skin, drawing a bead of blood.
'One step closer, cunt, and ya mate gets it.'
Turk said, 'Easy, boys.'
One of the heavies laughed. Turk smirked.
'What's so fucken funny, cunt?' Jimbo applied pressure to the blade.
'Think you're going to get down those stairs in one piece, country boy?'
Jimbo thrust the tip of the knife so it pierced the skin beneath Turk's chin. 'What makes you think you will?'
Jimbo forced Turk off the couch. They backed slowly towards the front door. Dave grabbed the packs, watching for any sudden movement by the heavies. Bop crouched on his knees, sobbing, blood dripping through the fingers he clasped to his face. Sara nursed her broken nose, her eyes swimming with hate. The guy behind the bar moved slowly, something large and heavy held in his hands.
'Tell the cunt behind the bar to stay there!'
Dave threw back the bolts on the door and pushed it open. They backed out onto the staircase that led down to the street.
'Jimbo!' Charlie's voice.
Jimbo paused in the doorway, the knife biting into Turk's throat. She stood near the bar. 'I just wanted to say sorry.'
He saw too late something in her hand.
Turk threw his head back, the tip of the blade slicing his chin open, and dropped to his knees. Charlie fired. An electric discharge sizzled the air. A mess of wires bit into Jimbo's hand, a shock racing up his arm into his skull. The knife dropped from twitching fingers. He convulsed and tumbled down the stairs. The world turned, thumping him with every year it had spun him on its orbit, bruising bones for every birthday he'd ever woken to.
And then the world stopped spinning.
He lay, limbs twisted with Dave, at the bottom of the stairs. Up above the sun burnt blue through a thin grey haze and he was alive and breathing.
'Dave?'
'Jimbo? Fuck.'
'You okay?'
'Yeah, I think so.'
'She fucken tasered me!'
Dave struggled to get up. His teeth were chipped and blood rouged his lips. 'Can ya get up? Ya gotta get up quick!'
'I can't move. She tasered me. That slut fucken tasered me!'
'Come on, Jimbo!' Dave tried to pull Jimbo up from the footpath. It was spattered with bright red droplets.
Jimbo managed to raise his hand against the sky. The skin on the back of his hand had peeled back in thick strips, like raw bacon, where the wires had torn from his flesh as he fell.
The blue sky was torn away. The last thing Jimbo heard as his head was yanked up by the hair was Dave pleading not to kill them. Turk grinned, one tooth gold and shining with spit, blood smeared across his throat. A fist smashed into Jimbo's jaw.
#
Jimbo poised his finger above the doorbell to Niki's apartment. Go on, do it. If she answers within ten seconds, tell her you love her. As he pressed it a horn sounded somewhere, distant and fuzzy. The door opened immediately. Niki stood there in a black lace nightie, her hair ruffled and tumbling past her shoulders, her eyes a little puffy from sleep. She smiled.
'Jimmy! So good to see you. Come in.'
He walked into her apartment and she closed the door behind him. The room was a dank windowless square. On the floor pushed up against the far wall lay a stained mattress.
'What do you think?' she said, still standing behind him. Her voice sounded stretched.
Droplets of blood spattered the wall near the mattress. Jimbo's head ached. It felt like his jaw was trying to squeeze out his teeth.
'You can fuck me if you want.' Niki's voice was all wrong.
Slowly, Jimbo turned, his body moving through glue. Fitzy leaned against the door dressed in Niki's nightie. Make-up smeared his face. He pulled the nightie down over one full breast, the nipple large and pink. Coarse black hair sprouted from the circumference of the areola.
'What are you doing here?' Jimbo's mouth filled with blood. 'Where's Niki?'
'I dunno man, but we're gunna be all right.' Fitzy slipped his arms beneath Jimbo's armpits and hugged him tight. He still had Niki's long, lean legs.
Jimbo screamed.
'It's okay, man, I'm here, I'm here.' Dave's face blurred into view. One eye had swollen shut and his nose dripped a thin bloody mucus.
Dave dragged Jimbo down an alley. Jimbo struggled to his feet, spitting out a mouthful of gunk. His head pounded. He ran his tongue round his mouth, cleaning out thickened saliva. A tooth was missing.
'We're almost there.' Dave pointed into the distance, down into murk and shadow. 'That way, I think.'
'What?' Jimbo swayed, trying to get his bearings.
'Bridal Services is that way. Maybe a block. We can get fixed up, go into hibernation.'
'Where the fuck is Niki?' Jimbo shoved Dave away.
'I dunno, man. Come on, what are you doing?
'I need to find Niki. Where's our stuff? I gotta give her something. I gotta tell her something.'
'Niki's not here. We lost our daypacks. Come on, Jimbo, you're fucked up.' Dave reached out for Jimbo's arm. Jimbo swatted it away.
'What the fuck happened?'
Dave grimaced, eyes watering. He snorted snot and swallowed. 'Come on, Jimbo. Let's go.'
'The girls. We gotta help the girls! Where's Niki?'
'Jimbo, listen to me, man, you're not making any sense. Those girls fucked us over. Bop, too. The chinks helped us outta there. Bad blood between those fuckers.'
'Ya fucken wrong. She wanted me. She was rubbing ma cock! I gotta find her. She loves me.'
'Niki ain't here.'
'What the fuck would you know about anything, Dave?' Jimbo thrust Dave up against the alley wall, squeezing the shirt collar around his neck. 'You ain't never been in love. Not like me. Not like Niki.' And what had happened all came back to him, crushing his anger, taking a little more of his soul with it.
'Sure, Jimbo, sure.' Tears streaked Dave's cheeks. A bubble of bloodied snot burst from his nose. 'I believe ya, man. I know ya love her. We all do.'
Jimbo released Dave. 'I gotta find her, Dave. I gotta save her from all this shit.'
Dave sank to his haunches, slumped against a wall in a piss-soaked alley, as the night swallowed Jimbo whole.
#
Floodlights lit up the Mederos building, chasing shadows out into the street. The doors opened and Jimbo strode into the lush interior, the air-con and smell of leaf fuelling his courage.
A different woman sat at reception. Two Cartel men stood nearby. Jimbo headed towards the elevators, trying to keep his battered face down. The receptionist looked up. The Cartel men began to move.
Jimbo broke into a trot, then sprinted towards the elevator banks. He stabbed the up button with his finger. One of the Cartel men, smooth head and metal eyes, rounded the corner.
'Hey! Stop!'
The elevator chimed softly and a door slid open.
Jimbo ducked inside, pressed close then floor sixty-four. The doors shut, just as the Cartel arrived. Jimbo laughed.
'Fuck ya's all. Can't stop a man on a mission.'
The elevator didn't move.
He pressed the floor button again. Nothing. A key slot on the access panel. Shit.
The elevator chimed and the doors opened.
Two Cartel men: one resting a hand on a holstered gun, the other a hand outstretched.
'Come on, mate. Looks like you've been hurt enough today. Time to go home.'
'Ya don't understand. I'm here to see my cousin. She lives ...'
'We know, mate.'
A guiding hand on Jimbo's elbow. Gently led from the elevator.
'I've come all this way.' Jimbo's voice hitched. Somewhere deep inside, all the pain was rising. 'I need to see her.'
They led him out into the foyer. One of them signalled to the receptionist and she nodded.
'She's not here, Jimbo,' said one of the Cartel. 'You need to go home. We'll get you a cab.'
'But I love her.' Jimbo sobbed. Tears fell from his eyes.
An electric buggy detached from the rank outside the Mederos building and pulled up alongside them as they exited.
They eased him into the back seat.
'He's staying at Bridal Services in Chinatown.' The Cartel man pressed a bill into the driver's hand.
'But how do you know ...' said Jimbo.
'Here's some advice, mate. She doesn't want to see you.' Metal eyes reflected floodlights, a dull grey that sank into Jimbo's core. 'Nicole White has moved on. You need to, too.'
'No, no ... I need to see her.'
'I know how you feel, mate, I do, but if you come back here again, we will hurt you.'
The buggy door closed, and the cab jerked off with a hum.
'So, where you from?' said the driver.
Eyes with Asiatic folds regarded Jimbo from the rear-view mirror.
Jimbo didn't answer, instead wiping his damp cheeks with the back of his hand. Nosey fucken chink.
#
Part IV: Pronouncement of Marriage
The tracks rumbled beneath the Marriage Carriage. They passed a tumble of roo corpses festering in the sun, the hot fetid air reaching in through the windows. Jimbo shoved the window shut. He wondered if the bushrangers were watching.
Dave cracked open another beer from the chiller, laughing and offering it to the four Cartel men who sat guarding the carriage. Froth had spilt on Dave's suit.
'There's champers in here, if she wants some,' said Dave.
Jimbo nursed his warm beer, too nervous to drink, struggling to find things to say to the woman who sat opposite him. High cheekbones, firm jaw. Kylie. That was her name. Same as Wazza's truck. Her wedding dress curved around full breasts down the slight of her waist. The veil had been pushed back over her long brown hair. She wouldn't need to wear it until they disembarked in Shepp.
'You want one, Kylie?'
'Sure,' she said, her voice light. Her brown eyes seemed glazed. Red lipstick had smeared one of her front teeth, otherwise her teeth were white and straight, and Jimbo was happy about that.
'You'll need to limit her alcohol,' said one of the Cartel.
'Why?'
'Don't want any mishaps on the journey home, Mr White.' The Cartel man smiled. 'Then she can have as much as she likes.'
'That's okay,' said Kylie.
Jimbo nodded and studied his beer, sneaking glimpses of her calves, the way the dress stretched tight over her thighs. He wished Dave wasn't here with him, that the Cartel men were elsewhere. Just him and this stranger, the new Kylie White, so he could tell her about himself, reassure her that he would treat her right, that they would love each other, raise kids and grow old together. And she would tell him about herself and how she was looking forward to being with him, looking forward to living in Shepp, giving him sons. But he couldn't say these things with the others here in the carriage.
'You look beautiful,' he said instead.
'Thanks.' She smiled too much. 'It's so warm.'
'Is it?' The red lipstick smear cheapened her. Jimbo reminded himself to wipe it off before they stepped out into the crowd.
Awkward silence enveloped the carriage again. The clacking of tracks. Dave slurping on his beer.
Why doesn't she fucken talk? Jimbo looked out the window, watching the cracked earth and burnt eucalypts roll by. 'You'll like ma mum, she's real nice.'
Kylie's glazed brown eyes stared through him. Her head rocked with the rhythm of the train. Smiling to herself.
'Sure,' her voice distant, lost in syrup. 'That's okay.'
Jimbo looked to Dave for support. Dave raised his eyebrows, shrugged then raised his beer. Jimbo returned the salute and took a swig of warm flat lager. He stole a glance at her hands folded in her lap. A little too big, those hands. She's no Niki. Still, she'll do.
#
As the train pulled into Shepp Station, one of the Cartel men placed his finger on Kylie's forearm. She flinched. A droplet of blood oozed to the surface of her skin. The Cartel man wiped it away, leaving a shiny patch.
'Blood levels are okay,' he said to the other Cartel. He produced a vial and sprayed something into her nostrils.
Kylie sat up straight. Her lips parted in a huge smile. The Cartel man wiped the lipstick from her teeth. She stood. The Cartel man adjusted her dress and pulled the veil down over her face. Another Cartel man offered her a bouquet of flowers. Dave grabbed the champagne from the chiller and gave it a shake before he unwound the stopper, keeping pressure on the cork as he did so.
The steel doors ground open. Hot air swarmed into the carriage. Sweat dripped from Jimbo's armpits, trickling down his sides. His neck felt damp, sticky, the suit too tight, suddenly constricting.
Kylie held out her arm, and he took it. Dave stepped into the light and the crowd roared. The cork popped and champagne spurted into the air and Dave strode out, laughing, spraying the bottle over the people lining the edge of the red carpet.
Jimbo stretched a smile across his fa
ce, his gut churning, and stepped out with his new wife on his arm.
#
The band belted out the old classic 'What About Me?' and the dance floor heaved. Sweat had already formed on the ceiling of The Aussie and it wouldn't be long before it started to rain.
'I thought the Old Man would have at least made it down to the do, Mum.'
Mel hugged her son and kissed him on the cheek, her own flushed with cheap red wine. 'He's not well, James, and today, well, today is your day, not his.'
'Still ...'
'He'll be up waiting when we get home.' Mel squeezed his arm. 'Look, Kylie's back from the ladies. Now I'll get a chance to have a real chat with her.'
Jimbo took another slug of bourbon, watching his mother limp over to the bridal table as Kylie sat next to Aunty Lana, her face pale.
Keats sauntered up, jabbing his fist playfully into Jimbo's ribs. His head was shaved clean and shiny, the scar bulging like a dead vein across the scalp. 'Hey, Jimbo! Good party, mate.'
'Hey, Keats.'
'Tidy, mate. Thumbs up from the boys.' Keats tipped his bottle towards the bridal table. 'She having a bit of cry like Brian's missus did?'
'Yeah, I think so. She's just a bit overwhelmed is all.'
'Probably coming down.'
'Eh?'
'Yeah.' Keats nodded. 'She's been on a high all day. Hey, have you heard?'
'What, you scored a job with the Cartel now?'
Keats laughed, and drained his stubbie. 'Soon, Jimbo, soon. But yeah nah, Brian's missus is up the duff.'
Jimbo followed Keats's unsteady arm. Against the far wall sat Belle with a couple of the other ladies. She wasn't saying much, but the other two's mouths were flapping like flags in a storm.
'She don't look it.'
'Early days, mate, she'll start to show. Who'd have thought, eh?'
On the dance floor, Brian jumped and jostled with the other guys, throwing his head back and forth to the beat. Keats laughed again. 'She won't be doing any a that anymore either.'
Jimbo stared at Keats, then Brian. He turned towards Belle, sitting on the chair. 'No! He did her?'
