The Glass Kingdom (8 page)

Ange came running just as I was administering some blows to Freddy's kidneys. She was squealing for me to let him go and for a second I thought I was going to have to whack her one too, which I really didn't want to do. I have principles. Fortunately the two blokes in Freddy's crew also made an appearance. The big one threw his hands up in the air and turned away, shaking his head. The other bloke in the singlet had his shottie at the ready. Fair play to him, he met my eye as I angled Freddy's body between us just in case, his neck in the crook of my arm. He surprised me then by making a real smart move. Ange was making a beeline for me, her thongs flapping against the concrete, painted fingernails at the ready. Casual as you like the young bloke stepped up sharply and grabbed her by the arm. She cursed him and tried to break free so he flung her onto the grass and turned the shotgun on her.

‘Stay there, Ange,' he said coolly, ‘the boss is in a meeting.'

Shit, I was so impressed I let Freddy go after only a thousand bucks' worth of a hiding. He couldn't take much more than that anyway. He sprawled forward and almost fell in the pool, collapsing in an unruly heap by the water's edge. I nodded to the bloke with the shotgun and he lowered it, allowing Ange to crawl to her husband.

‘Remind me of your name,' I said to the young guy.

‘It's Patrick. Patrick Gray, from Nowra.'

‘Your friends call you Paddy?'

‘Not within earshot, if they know what's good for them.'

How could I not like him? If I hadn't needed someone I could at least half trust there on the farm keeping an eye on things, I would've had him running the Target Ball stand that very night. I flipped Freddy over with the toe of my boot and crouched down beside him.

‘You have two days to get that seven grand, Freddy McNamara, otherwise Patrick Gray here's going to take your hands off with a hacksaw. And once you do get it, you're to give it directly to him.' I looked up at my latest recruit. ‘You keep that money, Patrick. That's your retainer, and there'll be more where that came from. Call me if you think anything here's not running as smoothly as it should be.'

‘Yes, Mr Wallace.'

The plastic chair clattered out of the pool behind me. Freddy's two sons climbed out after it, pulling up their sodden swim trunks, all thin, gangly limbs, flattened hair and scared eyes. It was a scorcher of a day, but they were both shivering.

It's easy to go insane working at the Kingdom without something else to do. Steph and I were so desperate for a distraction from the daily grind that we even paid Cactus World in Gilgandra a visit. The fucken place was closed for a holiday, so we had to settle for a glimpse of some bloke's extensive collection of cacti through a wire fence. It was devastating, in a funny sort of way. Clearly we needed to get out more.

‘How many of the “big” things have you seen?' Steph asked me as we climbed reluctantly back into the ute.

‘Not that many,' I told her, thinking about it. ‘The Big Worm, the Big Yabby and the Big Merino are the only ones I remember.'

‘Oh yeah, that big sheep's a popular one.'

‘You must have seen loads.' Steph had travelled right around Australia when she was younger and even more of a hippie.

‘Um, let's see. I've been to the Big Ant, the Big Diplodocus, the Big Pavlova, the Big Prawn of course, the Big Dugong, the Big Scotsman and a couple of others.'

‘How many of these cultural icons are there, anyway?'

‘About a hundred and fifty, I think. Be funny to see them all.'

‘The road trip of a fucken lifetime.' I consulted the clock on the dashboard. It was almost eleven. The show wouldn't be open for another couple of hours. ‘I could go a big pie,' I told Steph, who groaned and agreed that it was probably time for second breakfast.

We drove to one of the town pubs and parked right outside. The street was mostly empty. The heat was enough to put off any pedestrians. Old men at the bar looked up from their pots of beer as we entered. Other than a few obligatory double takes at my neck, no one paid us much attention. The old men resumed contemplation of their beers as Steph and I slid into a booth.

The place had been fitted out to resemble an Irish pub, with snugs lining one wall allowing small groups to drink in relative privacy. A flat-screen television dominated the main wall, showing an old rugby match. Apart from the quartet of old farts propping up the bar, the only other patron was a bloke in his twenties staring into his drink in the booth behind ours.

‘You know, I don't usually do it, but I gave myself a card reading last night.'

‘Yeah? What'd you find out? Tall dark stranger on the horizon?'

‘No. I hope you're not going to make fun of this. It's serious.'

‘Is it? You better go ahead and tell me, then.'

‘It's pretty much what I suspected anyway. The Four of Swords came out, as did the High Priestess. Those are both pretty appropriate, given our situation.'

‘Your situation, you mean.'

‘Yeah, right, exactly. So the Four of Swords is an eye-of-the-hurricane card. That means an ordeal has ended and for the moment I will have a period of quiet, some time to reflect before potential danger returns.'

‘I don't get it. How does that apply?'

‘Well, we got my car back and I'm helping you expand the business. Two ticks there. And as for the High Priestess—well, I'm going to interpret that as a sign of the Shadow, the whispering inner voice that is about to emerge in order to transform my personality into something more powerful.'

‘Righto. What do you think: steak and bacon pie, or steak and mushroom? Anything about that in there?'

I don't think she even heard me. She was on one of her rolls.

‘Add to that the Eight of Cups, which generally indicates the need to move on emotionally, and the Page of Pentacles, which almost never comes out in a reading, and it's pretty clear what my immediate future holds. The Page of Pentacles is a wealth card, more precisely suggesting that I will soon have the opportunity to manage a lot of money.'

‘I like that one. What's this about moving on emotionally, though? Am I getting the boot here?'

She snapped out of her train of thought and stared at me as if she'd forgotten I was there.

‘God no. Don't worry, babe, you're safe. What I think that means is that all the other men I've known are going to start fading from my memory.'

I snorted. ‘You think about these blokes often, do you?'

‘The thing is, I only spent time with them because part of me knew that they were just temporary. What I remember about them should start to fragment now, to fall apart and crumble.'

I'd seen that faraway expression on her face a thousand times. It was time for me to tune out.

‘I'll forget their foxy scent, their sharp stubble against my neck, their calloused hands, the way they frowned or rolled their eyes when I explained how I make a living. They'll be like jigsaw pieces being put back in the box. Their faces will melt into one distinct male form, their chests and backs and legs and dicks will all shrink or expand to become one standard-size chunk of masculinity. I'll forget the details—the scars, the tattoos, the kinks, the annoying laughs, the bad breath and petty obsessions. I'll struggle to recall their accents, the size of their feet, the colour of their eyes. All traces of their individuality will be slowly erased until all that remains is a single man, my Benji. His burns, his muscly forearms, his cynicism, his loaded silences, all folded into a concrete force as powerful and real as the pleasure he brings me every night. He is wondrous, this man, a marvel, a thing of great beauty, and he is all mine.'

‘He's right here, you know.'

She climbed down from her flying unicorn then and waved a hand under her chin. She was close to tears. Sometimes, she almost scares me with this shit.

‘God. Sorry, was that a bit much?'

‘Just a tad. That was some reading.'

‘Incredible. I know.'

She calmed down and studied the menu. I considered reminding her of what she said about people reading what they want to hear into the cards, but thought better of it. I should have known it was all leading somewhere. She closed the menu and hit me with her latest proposal.

‘You know that course I've been wanting to do in Melbourne?'

‘Remind me.'

‘The kinesiology one, at the College of Natural Medicine.'

‘Which is what again?'

She tutted. ‘It's diagnosing long-term physical problems by assessing if the chakras are out of balance. It's amazing stuff. You remember that neck pain I was having? A kinesiologist told me it was because of unresolved issues with my mum. She was so on the money.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘Sounds scientific.'

‘Don't be so cynical all the time. You should try it. Honestly, it might help you with your issues.'

‘You know what would help me with my issues? A cold beer. What do you want to order?'

At the bar I opted for the steak and bacon pie with chips. Steph wanted a salad. She was on yet another weird diet. This time she had convinced herself she was allergic to gluten. Last month it was dairy. I supposed next month it would be oxygen. Didn't stop her having a glass of Sauv Blanc, I noticed. As I paid the haggard-looking barmaid, the door to the pub swung open to admit a gaunt young fella wearing a baseball cap that was way too big for his pinhead.

I watched him in the mirror behind the bar. He stood by the door for a minute, scanning the room to see who was there, then proceeded to the booth where the other young bloke was sitting. He tugged at the crotch of his loose jeans as he sat opposite, nodding a cursory greeting and pulling the rim of his hat down over his eyes. Fucken ridiculous. He might as well have been wearing a badge that said
DEALER.

I carried the glasses back to our booth. The young bloke who'd just arrived looked me up and down as I neared, but I blanked him and sat just out of sight. He was right behind us, which suited me fine.

‘The only thing about this course in Melbourne is that it's pretty exy,' Steph said as she sipped her wine.

‘How much we talking?'

‘Eight thousand.'

I waved my hand. ‘Don't worry about it. Book yourself in and I'll shout you.'

‘Really? Just like that?'

‘Whatever makes you happy.' I was about to ask her how much time she'd need off from the Kingdom when she abruptly raised a finger to shush me. The blokes in the booth behind were deep in conversation and some detail had caught her attention. I sipped my beer and listened.

‘Look, I could only get seventy-five.'

‘I told you it was a fucken hundred.'

‘That's all I have. Sorry.'

‘Fuck. You're such a little bitch, homes. You know this is good glass, right? You gets what you pays for.'

‘Sorry, Matt. I'll have the rest by Saturday, promise.'

‘You fucken better. Here. Now buy me a pot, ya cunt.'

We drank in silence as the first guy went to the bar. I tapped my fingers on the table and raised my eyebrows at Steph.

‘Does he work for you?' she whispered.

I shook my head. ‘Not that I know of. Not yet, anyway.'

‘We should follow them.'

‘You're getting into this, eh?'

‘You got something else on this arvo?'

‘True. And I did just spend eight grand on knievelology, so…'

‘
Kinesiology
. Jeez, you're such a dickhead.'

‘A dickhead with deep pockets.' I leaned across the table and spoke quietly. ‘You want to see how this works? We'll go after him when he leaves, see where he's holed up. Probably just a backyard lab, but still. Worth a look.'

Our lunch came, and the dealer seemed content to continue humiliating his client for a while with barbs about his uselessness. He was just asking for someone to step in and take over his business. I'd come across a hundred like him, small-time entrepreneurs who thought that just because they could cook a decent batch they were Walter fucken White. The two blokes left together and I had to gather up the remaining half of my pie in a napkin. Steph shoved a few of my chips in her mouth as we got up to leave.

As we emerged into the harsh sunlight, a filthy old Toyota was pulling away from the kerb, smoke pluming from its exhaust. The recipient of the deal was walking away down the street in the opposite direction. I didn't care about him—the dealer was my focus. We climbed casually into the ute.

‘Keep your distance,' Steph told me as I struggled to eat the remains of the pie while steering.

‘I know how to follow someone.'

‘You're getting crumbs on everything.'

‘It's my car.'

‘He's turning left.'

‘Since he's driving the only car on the road other than ours, I noticed that, yes, thank you.'

‘Where do you think he's going?'