‘So what’s the meeting?’ Amie waves her hand like a fan, encouraging the cooler breeze off the river.
‘Delivery dates, I’m hoping. I’d say that’s one of the reasons. It’s gotta be tomorrow or a few days after, yeah? Leon’s got some of it ear-marked for Melbourne. But I think he’s hoping to flood the local market, drive competition down.’
‘What’s the other reason? Tulane Road?’
I nod. ‘Whoever did it’s got Leon’s money and his samples. He won’t let that go lightly.’
She scoops the thick fall of her hair over one shoulder to give the nape of her neck some relief. ‘He doesn’t care about the people in the house though. What happened to them.’
‘I don’t think Leon understands what the word “care” means. The only thing bugging him about the murders is that now the cops are scurrying around town, which makes distribution harder.’
‘Bastard,’ Amie says with low venom, and she shakes her head.
‘Hey, you don’t have your camera,’ I say, only just realising. She hasn’t had it on her the last few times we’ve met, either.
‘I forgot to bring it up,’ she admits. ‘It was all such a flurry when I rushed up here to help with Nani…’
‘What excuse are you using to get out of the house, then?’
‘I said I was going to the movies with my mate, Roberta.’ She grins. ‘Robbie’ll back me up. Nani’s gone to the shops with Beena. She said she was tired of lying in bed and she needed to move around. She should be all right if they stay someplace air-conditioned.’
‘Yeah, air-conditioning. I wouldn’t mind a bit of that.’
Amie laughs. I look at the river water. My shirt is sticking to me. The sun is burning. Everything about this place, this moment, is yelling at me to jump in with both feet. It’s like the decision was already made inside my head and it’s taken me until this second to catch up.
‘That’s it.’ I stand up, grab for the hem of my T-shirt, strip it over my head. ‘I’m going in.’
‘What?’
‘I’m going in.’ Boots are next.
Amie gives me the owl-eyes. ‘You’re going swimming in your jeans?’
‘Yep. In my jeans.’ I pull off one sock, then the other. The grass between my toes feels fucking fantastic. ‘You coming?’
‘All right for some,’ Amie says tartly.
‘You’ve got cut-offs on,’ I point out. ‘Jeez, go in in your undies if you like. No one’s around. Who’s gonna care?’
Amie looks scandalised. I laugh, then I take a few quick steps and dive.
The instant my body enters the water, I feel transformed. All the worries of the last week – the shit-storm about Reggie, Snowie’s anxiety, even my fear of Leon – they all sluice off me. I break the surface, grinning, flicking wet hair out of my face.
‘This!’ I shout to Amie. Water is running over my chest, sinking through the layer of denim over my legs. For the first time in days I don’t feel sticky and sweaty.
She frowns with her lips pressed together, stands up at the water’s edge.
I duck-dive again, emerge gasping. ‘You’re missing out!’
‘Oh shit…’ she says, then she shakes herself all over, blows out a big breath, toes off her Vans.
‘Yes!’ I crow.
She doesn’t mince in: she bombs it, shrieking. Bobs up sleek, dripping laughter. I can see her bra strap through her wet shirt. It takes her about two seconds to start splashing water at me, and then I retaliate, and then we’re whooping and I’ve got half the river on my face. Finally we stop horsing around, float in place.
‘You think this was a good idea?’ I say. ‘I think this was a good idea.’
‘I reckon you think all your ideas are good,’ she says, squirting me with water out of her hands.
