I’m supposed to be projecting.I need this job. I need the money.None of that is bullshit. I’ve got thirty bucks left in my wallet, which is barely enough to tank up the Pitbull for the drive back to Ouyen.
I ignore the prickle of tension from having my back to the minder guy, keep my eyes on the wall behind Leon’s head. Try not to look desperate. Try to look casual instead. The wall is black, and there’s an aluminium-framed window with the blinds down. Thin venetian blinds, the kind that give you a paper cut if you try to wipe them clean. These ones need a clean. Nicotine-brown stains line their edges, from dust, and years of passively absorbing exhaled smoke.
This place is a shithole. I try not to make value judgements, as a rule, but seriously. What am I doing here?
‘Yep. Yep. Good on ya. Right, mate, cheers.’ Leon finishes his call, thumbs off and tosses the phone on top of a half-buried ledger.
He appraises me as I bring my eyes back to where they’re supposed to be. I’m supposed to look attentive, eager. Not too eager.
‘Right.’ Leon pulls another smoke out of a pack of Longbeach, lights it fast. He has thick stubby fingers but he moves quick. ‘Snowie says you’re an okay bloke. Sound about right?’
I slip out of my skin and into someone else’s. Someone more cold and confident than I am. ‘Guess so. If Snowie says.’
‘He does say.’ Leon’s eyes are bright, beady, amongst the lizard rolls of fat on his face. He might be smarter than initial impressions suggest. ‘So I’m gonna give you a go, all right? Nothing major. Just a little errand to run. You reckon you can do a little errand without fucking it up?’
I don’t bristle. I don’t. ‘Sure.’
‘Good.’
Leon exhales smoke, takes the ciggie out of his mouth with his left hand, grabs down for the handle of his desk drawer with his right. Again I’m struck by how he resembles a reptile – still for long seconds, thenbam, he’s moving. Shifty.
Now he tosses a parcel onto the ledger. It’s a gold A4 envelope, folded in half. ‘Here you go, then. Delivery job. Nothing fancy, like I said. Just take it to the place, drop it off. Handle that, you reckon?’
‘Yep.’ I don’t sayEasyorNo worries. Don’t wanna look cocksure. He wants to know if I’ll fuck it up. Better to come over as efficient. A simple yes will do.
‘Right. You take it to the pizza place on Pitt Street. Go round the back to the kitchen, deliveries door. Ask for Melon.’
‘Melon. Okay.’
‘Give it to him. Straight to him, okay? Don’t leave it with someone to pass on, none of that shit. Melon’s not there, you bring it back, go again later. No probs?’
‘No probs.’
‘Off you go, then.’
I reach for the gold envelope. Leon snags me as I’m picking it up.
His eyes are like black marbles, unblinking. ‘You do this, come straight back here, I’ll give you a nice tip. We’ll talk about more work. You take it, fuck off back to Ouyen with it, I’ve got blokes I can pay to get it back. You understand me?’
Sweat freezes in the small of my back. Do I understand him? Uh, yeah, I think I do. He’s got blokes he can pay to get it back – the way he drops it so casually into the conversation, as if it’s not a direct threat. As if one of those blokes isn’t sitting right behind me. As if Mick the Leb wouldn’t come to my house, put a gun to my head, gaffer-tape my feet down on the coffee table before he smashed my knees in with a piece of two-by-four –
Suddenly I feel very…breakable. Now I know what Reggie was talking about when he said Leon’s a serious man.
I wet my lips. ‘I understand. Delivery for Melon at the back of the Pitt Street pizza shop. I won’t screw it up.’
‘Good boy.’
I slip the envelope into the front of my hoodie, zip up. Wonder what I’m supposed to say next. Nothing, as it turns out.
‘Right.’ Leon butts out his smoke on a black plastic ashtray with burn marks on the rim. ‘Fuck off, then.’
I turn and limp out, close the office door behind me. Stand there for a second, clutching the handle of my cane. The carpet in the hallway is stiff with years of spilled drinks and ground-in cigarette ash. A pearl of sweat melts off the ice-block in the small of my back, dribbles down into the waistband of my jeans.
This is some crazy shit I’m doing. What did Derrin Blunt say?If it gets scary, you can back out.I scoffed at him when he said that because I thought being scared meant you were weak.
The envelope crinkles, warming against my body. Delivery for Melon at the Pitt Street pizza shop. Who the fuck calls himself Melon? I keep my mind focused on that as I go out through the jarring loud front-of-house, wave to Snowie in passing, step into the harsh fluoro light on the street.
