Mum downed the rest of her wine. ‘I’m going to go get another.’
I stifled a sigh and shifted the corpse of my burrito around my plate with my fork. It had gone cold. Within minutes Mum sat back down with her glass of wine and, without saying anything, picked up her fork and continued to eat.
‘Aren’t you going to finish that?’ Mum gestured to my plate.
‘Had enough.’
‘You hardly ate anything.’
‘Had a big lunch.’
Mum raised her eyebrows slightly but didn’t say anything. I folded my arms over my stomach defiantly. I was still a little hungry, but I didn’t want to get fat.
‘Hey, isn’t that Lukey’s brother?’ Mum said suddenly and pointed over my shoulder with her fork. ‘He’s three sheets. Fuckin’ hell.’
I looked behind me, through the glass windows to the bar service area. Lukey’s older brother, Mark, was standing, swaying, almost bent over double, one hand on his schooner glass that was sitting on the bar counter.
‘He’s been kicked out of here more times than any other member, I’d reckon,’ Mum observed. ‘He’ll be banned soon.’
‘Hang on a sec.’ I was glad for an excuse to get up from my seat. ‘I’m just gunna go see if he’s alright.’
‘Maybe you should stay out of it, Jez,’ Mum said.
‘One sec!’ I insisted.
When I reached Mark’s side he was having an argument with Jeremy, one of the bartenders.
‘You’re cut off, Mark,’ Jeremy was saying. ‘That’s it for tonight. Go home or I’ll have security escort you off the premises.’
‘Oi’m nah drunk,’ Mark slurred, struggling to hold himself upright. ‘Oi’ve had about . . . four beers all night.’
‘How many did you have before you got here?’ Jeremy folded his arms.
‘Faaaarkk oooffff. Oi’m nah drunk!’ Mark pounded his schooner glass on the bar.
‘Mark!’ I interrupted. ‘How’s it going?’
Mark slowly swivelled to face me, his face slack and eyes unfocused. ‘Jez. Wass ya doin’ here?’ Mark stumbled towards me and I caught him by the shoulder.
‘Having dinner with my mum. Just thought I’d come say g’day,’ I said, trying to push his weight off me.
‘Friend of yours, Jez?’ Jeremy raised his eyebrows at me.
‘Friend’s brother,’ I told him, still grappling with Mark.
‘He’s had enough for tonight. You want to get him in a taxi?’
‘Oi’mnahgettininnahfarkintaxi! I wan anudder farkin’ beer!’ Mark bellowed, spitting his words.
‘Mark, you want me to call somebody to come get ya?’ I asked him.
The club’s security guard, a gigantic Samoan man dressed in black pants and a white shirt, came over to the bar and grabbed Mark by the elbow.
‘That’s it, mate. You’re out of here. Come with me.’ The security guard prodded him towards the door like a farmer herding a cow into a milking shed.
‘Fark youse all, ya farkin’ poofter cunts! Kick me out fa what? What’d I do?!’ Mark could be heard screaming all the way to the front doors of the club.
I reached in my pocket for my mobile.
‘’Sup?’ Lukey answered.
‘Hey. Just saw your brother, he’s getting kicked out of the club.’
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
‘Thanks for the heads up,’ Lukey said.
‘No worries.’
‘You doin’ much tonight?’
‘Dinner with Mum. You?’
‘Nothing much at all, hey. You want to come over after dinner?’
I hesitated. ‘Hmmmm . . . yeah, okay. See you round nine.’
‘Sweet.’
Mum appeared by my side in the bar area and nodded towards the bartender and gave him this gross flirty smile, and to my disgust, he winked back.
‘Another house white, thanks, Jeremy.’ She turned to me. ‘What’re your plans for tonight, Jez? You right to walk home? I think I’m going to stay here and play the pokies for a while.’
‘I’m gunna head over to Lukey’s. I guess I’ll walk.’
‘Okay, well I’ll see you at home, then.’
‘What are you going to do with the car?’ I wanted to know.
‘This will be my last drink.’ Mum seemed irritated that I’d asked. ‘Just Coke after this.’
‘Yeah, cool,’ I said wearily. ‘Well, I’ll see you later.’
‘Here.’ Mum fished in her handbag for her purse. ‘Why don’t you go past Woolies and get some choccies or something?’
I took the twenty dollars and gave Mum a kiss on the cheek. ‘Thanks.’
On the way out of the club I passed a skinny platinum blonde, frizzy hair pulled tight back into a bun, in too-tight high-waisted blue jeans and cropped suede boots. She was leaning over the counter, flirting with the bodyguard who had just kicked out Mark. I would have recognised those late eighties duds a zillion miles away.
‘Shaz . . .’ I nodded at her, coolly.
‘Jeeeez!’ Shaz cooed and leaned over to kiss my cheek. I flinched at the feeling of her pock-marked skin against mine. She stank of cigarettes and cheap perfume. ‘Just meetin’ ya Mum for a couple.’
‘She’s cut off after this one, okay?’ I sidestepped Shaz on my way to the front doors. ‘If she’s driving, she can’t drink.’
‘Oh, sure, honey. We’re all adults here,’ Shaz whined in a nasal drawl, hands on hips. I met her gaze levelly. You brainless bimbo, I thought, and turned and left without saying goodbye.
TEN
It was still hot as I walked to Lukey’s. The sun had only just set and the air was thick, not even the slightest breeze. I could feel the sweat dripping down the back of my knees inside my black jeans and I just wanted to rip them off and walk in my undies. I got to Lukey’s house and let myself in through the front door. Mark was on the couch in through the living room, shirtless, clutching a VB tinny to his chest, his huge hairy beer gut hanging over the front of his footy shorts. The electric fan was on full blast. He didn’t look up as I passed him to go to Lukey’s room.
‘Hey, how’s it going?’ I shut Lukey’s bedroom door behind me.
Lukey was sitting on his blue check-sheeted bed, several pillows propped up behind him, eyes glued to his little boxy analogue telly, playing Grand Theft Auto, a mini desk fan propped on his chalky stomach. I flopped onto the bed beside him and helped myself to one of his cigarettes.
‘Hey,’ Lukey greeted me. ‘Put the towel under the door before you smoke that. Dad’s been trying to get us to smoke outside.’
I sighed then got up and jammed a towel in the crack under the door.
‘What’s been goin’ on?’ I asked him.
‘Not much. Fucking hot. I wish we had air con.’
‘Totally,’ I agreed. ‘Last night I had to wet a tea towel and stick it over me.’
‘Ha,’ Lukey grunted appreciatively. ‘Up here for thinking. I’m dregging hardcore. Smoked about a quarter today, I reckon.’
‘Been hanging out with Laura?’
‘Yeah, a bit.’
‘I’ve been hanging out with Casey a bit.’
‘She’s a nut job.’
I laughed. ‘In the best way.’
‘Cash is cool, though.’ Lukey paused his game and leaned over and took the lit cigarette from between my fingers.
‘Yeah, Cash is awesome,’ I agreed.
Lukey examined my face for a moment. ‘You got the hots for Cash?’
I shrugged, trying to stop myself from smiling. ‘He’s okay.’
‘Laura reckons you do.’
‘Laura should shut her fat pie hole.’
‘You do.’ Lukey took a drag of the smoke and handed it back to me.
‘Fuck off,’ I said. ‘I don’t.’
‘No point anyway. He’s about ten years older than you.’
‘Six years older . . . Maybe seven.’
‘Illegal.’
‘What’s it
to you, anyway?’ I asked, annoyed.
‘Nothing. Do what you want. Cash will be the one who ends up in jail. Folsom Prison.’
‘Nobody is going to jail. I’m not gunna . . . Oh, lame joke, arsehole.’
‘Meh.’ Lukey shrugged. ‘I was just sayin —’
‘I’m seventeen, idiot. It’s not illegal.’
I finished the cigarette and stubbed it into the ashtray on Lukey’s bedside table. I lay back against his pillows, my eyes wandering over his postered walls and shelves full of junky knick-knacks. Old chains, melted wax candles stuck in wine bottles, a stuffed gorilla wearing boxing gloves that Lukey had won at the Canberra Show and named Mike Tyson.
‘You got anything to drink?’ I asked him.
‘Yeah, there’s a six-pack of tinnies in the fridge,’ Lukey said. ‘C’mon, let’s go sit out back. It’s too hot in here.’
We went down the carpeted hall to the small kitchen. The layout of Lukey’s house was almost identical to mine except it was slightly bigger, a four-bedroom whereas my house was a three-bedder. There was a combined kitchen and dining with a sliding door to the backyard. Lukey’s house smelled like fried eggs and sausages; there were plates piled high in the sink and crumbs and toast crusts on the countertops. Lukey went to the fridge and bent over to look inside.
‘Fuckin’ hell.’ He looked up at me. ‘I had a six-pack of tinnies in here. There’s two left.’
‘Were they VB?’ I asked.
‘Yeah.’ He reached in and held up two cans still stuck in the plastic ring holders.
‘Your brother was drinking VB tinnies when I got here.’
Lukey’s face darkened. He slammed the fridge shut and marched through the dining to the living room with me following at his heels. Mark had stretched out along the length of the couch and was propped up on one elbow, sipping from a tinny. Three other empty cans were on the coffee table in front of him.
‘Mark, you fat fuck!’ Lukey stood in Mark’s line of vision in front of the telly. ‘You’re drinking my fucking beer.’
Mark squinted at Lukey, one eye closed. ‘Wha?’
‘You’re drinking my fucking beer!’ Lukey leaned over and snatched the tinny out of his brother’s hand.
‘What da faaark!’ Mark slurred. ‘It’s my beer you lil’ poofter. Who bought it?’
‘I gave you the money.’
‘Who’s da one what bought it for you, you farkin’ fairy. Get da faaaark out of moi face.’
‘You bought it with my money, you fat fucking piece of shit!’
Mark swung his legs around and hauled himself up off the couch, staggering over until he stood toe to toe with Lukey. They stared each other down. Mark was about twice as wide as Lukey, and a head taller. I reached out and tugged Lukey’s elbow.
‘Forget it, Lukey,’ I urged. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘What’s goin’ on?’
I turned around. Ashleigh, Lukey’s thirteen-year-old sister, stood in the arch between the kitchen and living room in boxer shorts and a singlet, a mobile phone in her hand that had little plastic charms dangling off it.
‘Hey, Ash,’ I greeted her. ‘Nothing’s going on. Where’s your dad?’
‘At his mate’s. What’s goin’ on?’ she repeated, looking back and forth between Mark and Lukey, who were still staring each other down.
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Right, Lukey?’
‘LUKEY!? Lukey, Lukey . . . Are you a fucking FAGGOT, Lukey? Your name is Luke, you fucking homo.’ Mark laughed cruelly.
‘Chill the fuck out. Let’s call a truce.’ Lukey shrugged and took a step back. ‘No big deal.’
Mark paused, his face darkening. ‘Nah, nah, nah!’ he bellowed. ‘You called me a liar.’
‘What the fuck?! No I didn’t,’ Lukey protested.
‘Yeah, ya did,’ Mark insisted. ‘Ya came in here and called me a farkin’ liar.’ Mark swayed drunkenly, his lips wet with saliva.
‘He never called you anything,’ I tried to interject.
‘You’re a fuckin’ mental case, Mark.’ Lukey shook his head and tried to brush past his brother.
Mark put his palm on Lukey’s chest and gave him a shove. Lukey grabbed him by the wrist and with his free hand shoved Mark backwards; the back of Mark’s calves hit the coffee table and he fell over, crashing into the couch.
‘You’re gunna farkin’ regret that, you farkin’ pissant,’ Mark hissed and charged at Lukey, taking him around the waist and knocking him into an upright lamp. The stained-glass lamp-shade hit the window and smashed, showering the carpet with little fragments.
‘Jesus fucking Christ,’ I muttered, my teeth clenched in panic. ‘C’mon, Ash.’
I dragged the protesting girl down the hall to her bedroom, shoved her inside and pulled the door over.
‘Just stay here, dude, okay?’ I touched her arm briefly, to try to reassure her.
She looked at me wide-eyed and nodded, but didn’t seem too unsettled. I was guessing she had seen it all before.
When I got back to the living room, Mark was back on the couch, panting heavily, his gut heaving up and down. He looked at me and then back at the telly.
‘Nobody calls me a liar in moi farkin’ house.’
You fucking fat piece of shit! I fumed inwardly and raced through the kitchen, out the sliding door.
The backyard was dark, but I could see Lukey’s pale naked torso gleaming in the moonlight, where he was doubled over on his knees near the Hills Hoist, and I could hear him gasping for air, sucking it in and then letting it back out in ragged sobs.
‘Luke?’ I approached him slowly, trying to think of what to say.
‘Get the beers, Jez,’ he panted. ‘Please.’
I dashed back inside and got the last two beers. I stared at them dismally for a moment before heading back outside. I was sort of ashamed of myself for wanting one so badly after all the trouble the six-pack had caused. I cracked one for myself anyway, and handed the other to Lukey. He pressed it against his forehead and collapsed back on the grass, still breathing heavily. I sat cross-legged near his head and put one hand on his shoulder. He reached up and grabbed my hand and squeezed it hard, and then rolled over into a foetal position and started to cry silently.
‘Are you okay?’ I whispered.
Lukey didn’t say anything for ages. I sat quietly in the dark. I could smell the honeysuckle bush that grew along the fence. When we were younger, like thirteen or something, we’d get ripped in his backyard and pull the stamens out of the honeysuckle flowers and lick the sweet nectar.
Five or ten minutes passed before he sat upright, cracked his beer open and drank from it greedily. I could hear his lip ring gently tapping against the rim of the tinny. He met my eyes and kind of half smiled.
‘I want to kill that cunt.’ He shook his head and laughed humourlessly. ‘I really do.’
‘Forget him.’
‘How can I forget him, Jez?’ Lukey exclaimed angrily. ‘He lives in the room next to mine. I see the fat cunt every day. He’s always drunk out of his fuckin’ skull.’
‘Tell your dad . . .’ I trailed off.
‘Dad?!’ Lukey spat. ‘Dad doesn’t give a fuck. “Sort it out amongst yourselves.” That’s his solution. And he’s hardly here anyway.’
Lukey’s mum had died from breast cancer years ago, when Lukey was about eight or nine. He didn’t really talk much about her, except to say that his family had been a lot different when she was alive, and things had kind of fallen apart since she’d gone. There were a few framed photos of her in the front hallway and in the living room. She had Lukey’s big green eyes, but she was chubby like Mark, and had long wavy brown hair like Ashleigh.
‘You know what Mark used to do? When Mum was dying?’ Lukey asked, as though reading my mind. ‘He’d steal her fucking pain medication. That fucking prick was stealing her pills and selling ’em at school.’
I nodded. ‘I think you told me before —’
‘And you say just forge
t about him?!’ Lukey snorted.
‘I dunno . . .’ I didn’t know what to say. ‘You can always come crash on our couch?’
‘Really?’ Lukey looked up at me, his eyes hopeful. ‘Your mum wouldn’t mind?’
He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed both of my hands in his, guided them up to his cheeks and placed them there, gently. Then he took my face in his hands.
‘Have you been drinking tonight?’ I whispered, my face close to his.
‘No,’ he whispered back. ‘It’s not like that.’
I stroked his jaw, rough with unshaven stubble, and then moved my hand up to his hair, which was surprisingly silky and smooth beneath my fingertips. My heart was racing so hard I thought I might have a heart attack. Lukey leaned in and put his lips on mine; I almost gasped as I felt the cool metal of his lip ring press against my skin. We kissed for a moment and then he parted his lips slightly and gently traced my bottom lip with his tongue. Suddenly, he pulled back.
‘Whoaaahhh,’ he exhaled. ‘Intense.’
I nodded, and pulled my hands away and into my lap. We sat, half facing each other, cross-legged under the clothesline, avoiding each other’s gaze but subtly trying to read each other’s expression.
‘You got a smoke?’ I asked him.
‘Yeah.’ Lukey reached into his pocket and pulled out a crushed packet of Winfields.
‘Thanks.’ My hands were shaking as I lit a cigarette.
‘Stay here tonight,’ Lukey’s voice was low. He touched my knee. ‘Okay?’
‘What?’ My voice came out harsher than I intended.
‘Stay with me,’ Lukey repeated, slightly embarrassed. ‘I want you to sleep here.’
My stomach heaved. I got to my feet and ducked slightly to move clear of the clothesline. Lukey stood and tried to grab my hand. I shook him free.
Snake Bite Page 6
