Raw (12 page)

‘What with? A lawnmower?'

The crowd deafened the sound of Caitlyn's laughter as Sweety Pie flung another rider to the ground. Insulted, Brett fumed in his seat, ready to storm off.

‘Smile,' Caitlyn said, resuming her seat with everyone else. ‘It was a joke.'

Brett forced a grin and pulled down his cap.

‘So why haven't I seen you round this week?' she asked. ‘I tried to find out from a couple of guys when I dropped off some more supplies but they said they didn't know where you were.'

‘Probably working,' he answered, rolling his eyes. ‘Sam's always thinking up things for me to do.'

‘I know what you mean. Mr Thompson's the same.'

‘Yer, but Mr Thompson doesn't make you cut
firewood or throw water on you if you don't get up at six o'clock in the morning.'

‘Sam does that, does he? That explains it then.'

‘What?'

‘Why you're a little wet behind the ears,' she laughed.

Brett looked at Caitlyn to see if she was mouthing him off or just joking. Meeting someone you didn't know was always tricky. And trying to chat up a girl you liked made it even harder. Finally, she elbowed him to laugh too and he did.

‘I was wondering why I hadn't seen you round too,' he said.

‘Why's that?' Caitlyn asked, still smiling. ‘Were you hoping?'

Brett's face reddened. ‘No, no. I was just, er, going to say hi, that's all.'

‘Or get your fix for moving boxes for the day, huh?'

‘Yeah,' he smiled.

DINGALINGALING!

Another rider shot out of the holding chute. Sweety Pie twisted and turned with the cowboy trying to hold on like crazy. The crowd rose to its feet as the rider beat its expectations and made it to five seconds without being broken in half. He was only another three away from a thousand —

‘Oooooh!'

The crowd's sigh echoed round the showground as the rider crashed to the ground and everyone sat down again. Brett looked behind him then turned to Caitlyn. ‘Are you here with anyone?' he asked.

‘Yes, Mum and Dad. They're down near the centre ring talking about beef prices no doubt.'

‘I hope they won't spit it when they see you hanging out with a criminal.'

‘I've hung out with worse.'

‘Oh, thanks,' Brett smiled. ‘How about your boyfriend? Is he here?'

He had to ask, just to make sure he wasn't muscling in on another guy's chick. He must've offended Caitlyn though, because she stopped smiling. ‘We broke up three months ago,' she answered, looking away at the main arena again.

The crowd cheered and jeered another rider as Brett and Caitlyn sat quietly among it. Idiot! He'd ruined everything now. Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!

‘Sorry,' he apologised when the crowd quietened. ‘I didn't know.'

‘Don't be,' Caitlyn said. ‘I'm not.'

She smiled weakly and Brett felt partly forgiven.

Caitlyn's stomach rumbled and she quickly excused herself.

‘Do you want something to eat?' Brett offered, pulling out his wallet. The guys had been given ten dollars worth of vouchers each.

‘No, I'm okay,' she said.

‘You sure? I'm kind of hungry myself.' Caitlyn hesitated, leaving him an opening. ‘C'mon. My shout. What do you say?'

‘Okay,' she relented. ‘But I'll pay.'

They argued playfully about that as they made their way over to the hot food vendor. Finally reaching an agreement they'd buy their own food, Brett ordered a cup of hot chips and a Coke and Caitlyn a Pluto pup and a lemonade. He was glad she chose something greasy and nothing healthy like tabouli because girls obsessed with their weight turned him off. They always said dumb stuff like “I'm too fat,” when they weren't, or “I can't eat that. It's too fatty”. What was the point of looking like a model if you weren't happy?

Whatever, after grabbing their food, they headed back to the stand. The route was choked so Brett suggested they take the long way round and Caitlyn agreed.

‘How's The Farm going?'

Brett shrugged. ‘Okay,' he lied. He didn't want to think about it that night. He was free of it — if just
for two hours. ‘Although I like being here a lot more. I'm glad Sam let us come. I just can't believe I didn't see you sitting behind me.'

‘Well, I first saw you over by the announcer's booth and I tried to catch you but you were walking too fast. It looked like you were searching for someone so I didn't want to stop you.'

The words, ‘Yer, I was looking for you too,' rumbled in Brett's throat but he bit them back. That would be
too
obvious. Just because Caitlyn and he had shared a few laughs didn't mean she actually liked him yet.

‘I was trying to find Frog,' he lied.

‘Robbie!' a voice croaked behind him. ‘How many times do I have to tell you my name's Robbie?'

‘Frog?'

Brett and Caitlyn stopped and turned round to see the twelve-year-old trailing behind them. Little sneak. Brett wondered how long he had been following them, listening to their conversation.

‘Stop calling me that.'

‘Sorry, kid. It slipped out.'

‘Hi, Robbie!' Caitlyn was slightly amused.

‘Hi, Caitlyn. I thought you might be here tonight,' he said, glancing at Brett with a knowing grin. If he said anything —!

‘What do you want,
Robbie
?' Brett asked.

‘I just wanted to know if you'd seen Paul. He and Darren said they'd meet me here five minutes ago.'

‘Have you checked outside?'

‘No, I tried to but Sam caught me and told me to get back inside.'

Brett looked at the front gate. ‘Sam's not there now. Nick out while he's not looking.'

Frog nodded and waved goodbye. Brett breathed deeply. Good. He could've been really embarrassed if the kid had stuck round. There was no way of telling what Robbie would let slip to Caitlyn.

‘Are you and Robbie friends?' she asked.

‘Worse. Roommates.'

‘He's not that bad is he?'

‘Try sleeping with him in the same room at one o'clock in the morning,' Brett said. ‘The kid never sits still.'

They stopped at the bottom of the stand and Brett stepped back to let Caitlyn go first. He was about to follow her when Sam called out behind him.

‘You haven't seen Paul, Darren or Robbie have you?'

‘I just saw Robbie. He's gone to the toilets. He'll be back in a minute,' Brett lied. He didn't want to get the kid into trouble.

‘At least I know where he is now.'

‘What? You can't find the other two?'

‘No. Somebody told me they've gone into town. If I find out they have —' With a jutting jaw, the old man slowly ran his hand down his tanned neck, like he was pushing back the anger. He looked round the showground then spotted another guy from The Farm. ‘If you see Darren or Paul, tell them I want to see them immediately, okay?'

‘Will do.'

Sam left and Brett climbed up to his seat. Caitlyn, beautiful as ever, was waiting for him. ‘Brett, I'd like you to meet my mother and father,' she said.

He paused, taken aback. ‘Er, hi,' he said, shaking hands.

An aging man and a woman with grey hair said hello. They hadn't been there before.

‘I don't think we've met,' Mr Douglas said. ‘Are you new in town?'

Brett nodded. ‘Er, I've been here about three weeks now.'

‘What? Did your parents get jobs in the district?'

‘Not exactly,' Brett mumbled, already looking round for an escape route.

When he didn't offer any more information, Mrs Douglas asked, ‘Where are you staying, Brett?'

‘On a property just out of town.'

‘Which one?'

‘Er, I don't know its name.'

‘Who owns it then? Your parents? Or are you staying with someone?'

‘Staying with someone.'

‘Who?'

‘You probably wouldn't know him.'

‘Yes we would,' Mrs Douglas laughed. ‘One thing about country towns is everybody knows everybody and what they are doing. So, who is it?'

Brett gulped. ‘Sam Fraser.'

‘What? Sam Fraser who runs the detention centre?' Mr Douglas jumped in.

‘Well, it's not really a detention centre —'

‘Oh yes it is! It might have a fancy name, but it's still a jail for criminals.'

‘Dad!'

‘Don't shout at your father, Caitlyn.'

‘Mum!'

‘And don't shout at your mother,' Mr Douglas said. ‘We've warned you about talking with these … these criminals.'

‘What did you just call me?' Brett demanded.

‘Exactly what you are — a criminal.'

Brett's jaw clenched tight as he glared at Caitlyn's father. Mr Douglas recognised the threat and stood
up, readjusting his belt while he looked down at him. ‘Do you have a problem, son?'

‘Hey! Down in front!' a spectator shouted out.

‘Yeah, you too, Douglas!'

Caitlyn's father looked at the crowd and realised that he'd suddenly become the centre of attention. A third spectator yelled out, and Mrs Douglas tugged her husband's arm. ‘I think we better leave,' she said.

‘I think you're right.'

‘Dad! You said we could stay till the end,' Caitlyn protested.

‘I've changed my mind. Now c'mon.'

‘Caitlyn, don't go,' Brett said.

‘Dad!'

‘No! We're going home.'

Mr Douglas grabbed his daughter's wrist as his wife picked up their gear. Without a goodbye, they left Brett at the top of the stand. He watched them march through the crowd towards the exit; Caitlyn trying to unlock her father's hold. Angry, Brett gave chase, pushing against the large horde. The more he tried to charge through it though, the more it pushed him back. Finally, cursing, all he could do was watch them go. Caitlyn looked over her shoulder at him and mouthed, ‘Sorry.'

A piglet squealed as several kids leapt to catch it. A muddy hand grabbed its slippery tail but couldn't hold on. It kept running until it hit the far wall then did an about turn. Another kid lunged forward and missed, landing face-first in the mud. The future rasher of bacon didn't wait a second more and bolted across the mini-arena. Two boys also tried to grab it but failed. Finally, a girl in a dress now caked head-to-foot in brown gunk cornered the piglet and tackled it. The crowd laughed and applauded as she clutched it to her chest and beamed a white smile as the announcer handed her a hundred bucks cash.

‘Somehow I think you better give that to your mum and dad to buy some new clothes,' he joked.

Everyone laughed again. Except Brett that was. He leaned against the railings, staring at the game of
slippery pig but not seeing a thing. All he could think about was Caitlyn's parents dragging her away; saying that he was a criminal. Fair enough, it was the truth; but using it as an excuse to stop him and Caitlyn being friends made him angry. He had a hundred comeback lines stewing in his head but they were useless now. Mr Douglas and his daughter had left an hour before.

In that time, Brett had met up with Michael Lydell from the stables then Josh. Michael and Josh were firm friends and Brett had to put up with Mr Goody Two Football Boots when Michael called him over. They'd stood round watching the show, Michael blabbing on about buying a carton of smokes from one of the rodeo's cowboys. Bargain basement prices, he said. Back of a truck stuff, y'know. A trader's paradise. He offered Brett a cut if he was interested after Josh had firmly said no. But Brett declined. He was deciding whether to find out where Caitlyn lived and have it out with her old man.

‘What's wrong with Sam?' Josh asked, just as the next event was announced.

‘I don't know.' Michael hid the carton of smokes behind his back. ‘But I'm not hanging round to find out.'

He left.

‘Brett!' Sam had spotted him. ‘Where did you say Robbie went again?'

‘I thought he went to the toilets.'

‘He's not there. I couldn't find him.'

‘Any sign of them?' Mary called out, metres away now.

‘No,' Sam shouted back. ‘They're not anywhere inside the showground.'

‘Do you think they've gone into town?'

‘They must have.'

‘Who's missing?' Josh asked.

‘Paul, Darren and Robbie. You haven't seen any of them have you?'

‘No.'

Sam turned round and cursed.

‘No sign of them, Sam,' a big black police sergeant said, joining the group. ‘I talked to a gate attendant and she said she might have seen someone fitting Robbie's description leave about an hour ago.'

Sam swore again. ‘We better go and find them then.'

‘If you're not here when the show finishes I'll take the boys back to The Farm,' Mary said. ‘I'll drop them off then meet you outside the pool with the ute.'

Sam nodded but decided against the ute. ‘You stay
at The Farm and make sure none of the others decide to spend a night out on the town.'

‘How will you get home?'

‘Kenny'll help me look for them. I'll get a lift back with him.'

‘That's fine by me,' the big police sergeant said. ‘But we better get rolling.'

Sam and Sergeant Kenny started to leave as Mary began mustering the guys. ‘Do you need a hand?' Josh asked the old man.

‘No, stay here and help Mary.'

‘But there's three of them and only two of you.'

‘We'll manage.'

‘Sam, they're my friends.'

The old man paused and huffed. Wanting to save an argument, he finally gave in.

‘Then I'm going too,' Brett said.

‘No you're not. Somebody's got to stay here and help Mary.'

‘One of the others can. If Frog's missing I want to help find him.' And to make sure Sam understood him, Brett ran out of the showground, ignoring the old man's calls to come back.

He got a hundred metres down the road before the adrenalin wore off. He didn't know Mungindi too well so he wasn't exactly sure where he was headed.
He'd only been in town with the guys on the occasional bus trip. He was keen on finding Frog though. He felt responsible for encouraging the kid to leave in the first place. But he kept walking.

Sergeant Kenny, Sam and Josh caught up with him, however, and after another argument, they drove Brett into town to help with the search. The other three cruised round town in the patrol 4WD while Brett checked the main streets and backstreets on foot without any luck. Darren, Paul and Frog weren't hanging out by the petrol station, garage or takeaway shop. Or the Post Office, police station or schools for that matter either. They were nowhere to be seen.

He crossed the street and turned down another road.

After another fifteen minutes of searching, he sat down on the butcher's front verandah and took out his cigarettes. He lit his smoke then drew back. He hadn't managed to give up just yet.

Brett was about to blow a smoke ring when suddenly an arm lassoed him from behind!

‘There you are!' a girl's voice laughed in his ear. ‘I thought I'd lost you.'

Mad, Brett broke free of the grip and twisted round.

‘Rebecca!'

‘The one and only,' she said, waving a beer bottle in the air. ‘Who else would it be?'

‘What do you want?' he growled.

‘I — I —' Rebecca paused and gave a drunken grin. ‘I can't remember,' she laughed. ‘I came to ask you something but I've forgotten. No, wait! I remember. I came to ask you —'

BUUURRRPPP!

Finished, Rebecca cracked up laughing and walked round front of him. She kept laughing until she swayed to one side and Brett was forced to catch her. ‘Here for me again, hey Brett?'

‘C'mon, get off me, would you.'

He pushed the redhead off him but she just crashed back into his shoulder.

‘Whoops-a-daisy!' she laughed. ‘I don't think gravity likes me tonight.'

It's not the only one, Brett thought.

‘Hey!' she said, sniffing. ‘What's that smell? Do you have aftershave on tonight, Bretty?'

‘Rebecca.'

‘You do, don't you? Out to score, huh?'

Brett pushed her off him more forcefully this time. Rebecca stumbled back a few steps before coming to a stop. ‘Da-dah! See, I'm all right. I can stand on my own three — ooops, two — feet.'

She didn't last long, however. Her knees buckled and
fwoomp
! she crashed onto the ground. ‘Whoa. Headspin,' she said, sitting in the dirt and clutching her temples. ‘Help me up, Brett. I don't feel so well.'

Brett huffed and reached out his hand. Rebecca grabbed it and pulled herself up. ‘Whoops,' she said, slamming her body into his. ‘Naughty, naughty, Brett. We ain't going out any more, remember.'

Quickly, Brett stepped away and cut her off before she said anything more. ‘Where's your boyfriend, Rebecca?'

‘Who?'

‘That guy Joe.'

‘Joe? Joe? Joe?' she repeated. ‘Oh! Joe! My boyfriend! I remember now. That's why I came into town. I can't find him anywhere. I thought he might be here.'

‘Well, I haven't seen him.'

‘You haven't? Where is he then?'

‘Where did you see him last?'

‘At the show an hour ago. He said he'd be right back after his — his — oh, whatever it's called.'

‘Ride?'

‘Yer, ride.'

‘Where did he say he'd meet you?'

‘Here.'

‘Where “here”?'

‘Here.'

‘No, where? Here at this spot, or here at the rodeo?'

‘At the rodeo … I think.'

Brett looked in the direction of the showground and breathed deeply. Rebecca wouldn't make it back on her own. And nobody was about to take her back. Why did she have to run into him now?

Fighting Rebecca to release the death grip on her beer, Brett set the bottle on the ground. He tucked himself under one of her arms and sighed. Frog would have to wait.

Grunting as he walked, he shifted Rebecca from one side to the other when his shoulder became numb. She was barely conscious now and kept tripping over her own feet or sagging back to the ground, forcing him to pick her up again. After the first few times Brett couldn't bear it any more. He was angry with Caitlyn's parents. And now he was angrier he had to play nurse. If Rebecca wanted to rile him any more all she had to do was fall off one more time or say —

‘Brett, I don't feel so well.'

Urgently, he rolled her off his shoulder and onto the ground next to the pub just in time. Head down, his ex heaved in long throaty hurls. The stink was so
bad Brett crossed the road to get away from it. Five minutes later, Rebecca wiped her mouth and brushed back her red hair. Her face was white and her eyes distant. And she reeked.

‘I can't go any further, Brett,' she said in a weak voice. ‘I'm staying here.'

‘You can't stay here,' he said.

‘I'm tired. I just want to lie down.'

She rested her head on her hands, using the ground as a bed. Brett thought she was kidding but apparently she wasn't. He had to shake her to stop her falling asleep. ‘Rebecca, wake up.'

‘Go away,' she said. ‘I'm sick.'

‘No kidding. C'mon. Let's go.'

‘No.'

‘Rebecca,' he said, grabbing her hand.

‘No.'

‘Rebecca!'

‘Nooo!'

‘Fine! Stay there. See if I care.'

Brett let go and left her there. He stormed down the street and kicked anything within reach. ‘Great!' he shouted. ‘Just great!'

His voice echoed throughout the empty streets and a dog barked. He stopped and tried to cool off until he realised that he too had better make it to the
rendezvous point. He had to find Frog and get out of here.

Brett walked back along the main street, convinced he wouldn't find the kid. He'd searched everywhere without even a sighting. But he double-checked once again just to make sure. The kid had to be nearby. Finally, Brett's bladder got the better of him. He needed a slash. He crossed the road to the toilet block next to the Barwon and was about to walk in when he heard two voices. One was Frog's.

He peered round a corner.

A tall man with a goatee was unwrapping a piece of foil in front of the kid. Frog was keen on seeing what was inside. The man was smiling and smooth-talking. Robbie was wide-mouthed and naïve.

‘C'mon kid, try some,' the dealer said. ‘Everybody's doing it. Y'ain't chicken are you?'

‘No. No, I'm not,' Frog said, puffing up his chest. ‘How much is it?'

‘Nothing. The first one's on the house.'

‘What's the catch?'

‘No catch. You go and try it. If you like it, bring your money with you later, that's all. Tell your friends too.'

The dealer put the foil in Frog's hand. ‘What do you say?'

‘I don't know.'

‘That's right. You'll never know until you try it.'

Frog looked down at his hand and the dealer grinned. Brett knew that grin. It was Smiling Joe — Rebecca's lost boyfriend.

‘Give it back to him, Robbie,' Brett warned, stepping forward.

Smiling Joe and Frog jumped. But Brett didn't find it funny. He walked up to the pair, mad. Here was this twenty-five-year-old trying to peddle his lies to a twelve-year-old kid. Nothing was free in this world, especially dope. Once Robbie liked it, he'd be Smiling Joe's number one customer.

‘Who are you?' the cowboy asked, his breath, like Rebecca's, reeking of grog.

‘A friend of the kid,' Brett answered.

‘So?'

‘I'm here to take him back home.'

‘Unh-uh. You ain't taking him anywhere. Me and the kid are doing business.'

‘Yer, I can see that. That's why I'm taking him home.' Turning to Frog, Brett said, ‘C'mon, we're out of here.'

Smiling Joe snaked between Brett and the twelve-year-old. ‘Sorry, but the kid's not going anywhere.'

‘Yes he is.'

‘No, he isn't.'

Smiling Joe bore his eyes down at Brett and blocked the exit. The cowboy stood over one ninety centimetres. Brett was only one seventy three. The older guy definitely had a height advantage.

‘Hey,' Brett said, holding up his arms in front of him. ‘I don't want to get into a fight. Just let me take the kid —'

‘You don't hear so good, do you? The kid's going nowhere.'

And to make his point, Smiling Joe pushed Brett.

‘Don't touch me,' Brett warned.

Smiling Joe did it again. ‘Why not?'

And again.

‘Because —'

Brett lashed out with his fists and hit both times. Smiling Joe retaliated high and slow. But the cowboy had had too many drinks that night to be a real threat. Brett easily blocked the attack and struck back with three quick blows of his own. Smiling Joe collapsed, clutching his stomach.

‘— it hurts!'

‘Whoa!' Frog said, watching from a corner. ‘You
can
fight.'

‘Yer, and you'll be next if you don't drop that and get out of here.'

Frog ditched the dope as Brett dragged him out of the toilets. The sixteen-year-old was keen on getting out of there before Smiling Joe stood up to challenge him to a rematch. The kid was whingeing his arm hurt but Brett told him if the cowboy caught them then Frog's puny twelve-year-old body would be hurting a whole lot more. The pair collided with someone waiting for them at the entrance. Brett raised his fists defensively. He forgot Smiling Joe might've had some muscle watching his back. But Brett recognised the face.

‘What are you doing here?'

But the guy didn't have a chance to answer. Suddenly the three of them were caught by a set of headlights.