It’s nearly four in the afternoon – the streets have an end-of-day feeling about them. I bolt from the Pitbull to the house, almost make it safely to the door of my room when I just about trip over Steph in the hallway.
‘Whoah.’ She looks me up and down. ‘Nice threads.’
I shove open the door to my room. ‘Not another word.’
Steph steps back, keeping her bowl of Weet-Bix out of the way. ‘Hey, I think it looks good on you. And the haircut.’
‘Shuddup.’
She stirs her cereal. ‘I didn’t even know you had a face.’
‘I got seen by the jacks walking away from a thing,’ I say over my shoulder as I hunt for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt. ‘I had to change. And now I gotta fucking change again, so I don’t walk into the bossman’s office looking like –’
‘Like you just walked out of a Bollywood movie?’ Steph says.
I freeze, a T-shirt stuck to my hand. I turn to hold her gaze, and when my voice comes out, it’s dropped a register.
‘A friend lent me the clothes, okay? A friend who I really don’t want to get involved with all this shit.’ I squeeze the T-shirt hard. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything about it around the house.’
Steph locks eyes with me for a few seconds, then raises the hand not holding her bowl and does a zipping motion over her lips.
‘Thanks.’ I release the breath I didn’t know I was holding. ‘Now I gotta get changed.’
‘Yeah, you gotta,’ Steph says with a quick raise of her eyebrows. I put a hand on the door to close it, but she speaks again. ‘What was the thing?’
‘The what?’
‘The thing. You said you walked away from a thing –’
My face goes wooden. ‘You don’t wanna know.’ Then I realise I’ve gotta say something. ‘Look, you’ll hear about it. It was messed up.’
Her expression dissolves a little. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know, okay? I don’t know, I wasn’t involved in it, I just found it. Now I gotta go work it out.’
She nods at me, very sober, like she’s weighing up what I’ve said. She waves her bowl in my direction, giving me a Weet-Bix blessing, and turns away. ‘Good luck.’
‘Thanks.’
I change with fucking superhuman speed, then I’m back behind the wheel of the Pitbull. Better not to think about Amie’s hand on my neck while she cut my hair, or the way she looked at me in the hallway. Better not to think too much before I do this. I put the car in Drive and do a uey in the street. Call the club on the way towards Langtree, tell them I’m coming in and I need to see Leon straightaway.
By the time I get inside the belly of the club, I’m lousy with sweat and my leg is stiffening up from fast walking. Leon summons me in, and the sweat gets cold on my skin real quick.
I tell him what happened in Tulane Road. I describe the people in the house, the things I saw. I use short sentences and try to sound clinical – I’m not telling him a story, this is real. Leon’s face gets redder as I talk. He lumbers up to standing and lights a cigarette, finally interrupts me near the end.
‘This is not a conversation I want to be having,’ Leon says. ‘We’re at T-minus less-than-a-fucking-week until delivery, and this is not a conversation I want to be having.’
The tone of his voice and the set of his eyes nearly undo me. I firm my feet. ‘I know. I know you don’t wanna be having it. But it won’t go away. Tulane Road’s gonna be a fucking disaster area. There’ll be cops, and ambos, and neighbours, and fucking journos, all lit up like a bloody Echuca paddlesteamer. It’ll be all eyes on.’
‘Did they see you? Coming outta there?’
I speak carefully. ‘I spotted the squad car as I was walking to mine. I dunno if they saw me walk out of the house’s front yard. I walked on, doubled back and took off when they got round the corner. Then I went and changed my clothes and hair and stuff before coming here.’
Which is all technically correct. I’ve just neglected to say where I did all this. I don’t want to get caught up in a lie if he questions me again later. I’m hoping the thin lacquer of truth is enough to keep my expression guileless.
Still, he’s not gonna be happy about the situation, or my involvement in it. I make myself talk straight. ‘I didn’t think you’d want to discuss this over the phone, and I don’t trust any of the others not to blab, so I couldn’t pass on a message. But I also thought you’d wanna know right away. If there’d been any other way to get word to you quick, that I could be sure was secure, I wouldn’t have come.’
Leon’s eyes are so soulless it’s actually hard to tell when he’s experiencing real emotion. But I think he’s fully panicked and pissed off right now. I keep my sweaty hands inside my hoodie pockets, and pray he’s not gonna shoot the messenger. There’s a long silence as Leon turns to face the blinds, as if he’s looking out the window.
