Who Sings for Lu? (11 page)

Seeing Lu at visits just tore Rocky up, the parting, the jealousy she might be with Jay, handsome dude that he was, if of weak character. So being a tough guy he made the decision:
No more visits, gonna do this on my own. If Lu is still around when I get out, maybe I will push my case. She can only say no.

He often thought of Lu, and his dreams of her weren’t exactly platonic, hell no. Nor the waking thoughts. Wondered why he hadn’t pushed it with her, figured it had something to do with his mother being a slut, a serial one who slept around the block and beyond. Rocky guessed he’d made up his mind there and then he’d never go with anyone remotely like his old lady, and Lu at first glance just reminded Rocky of his mother except seriously better looking.

Till he saw her shyness. And how rare, for a woman whose good looks could not possibly be in doubt, he quickly discovered she actually believed herself not to be. Indeed, she called herself ugly. ‘And if you don’t think so, then I’m plain at my best. Now drop it, will you.’ Lu. The beautiful Lu. Jesus Christ, what the human mind could do to itself. Unless it was other circumstances.

He wondered, when he took her to that derelict old mansion due for demolition up by the flash Observatory Hotel — the vibes she gave off as if he was about to turn into a rapist or a murderous monster. In
fact he’d hoped she might respond to being alone, just as long as he didn’t force the issue. Except when she went all frightened and nervous he backed right off his plan.
I ain’t no rapist.

One night conjuring up Lu’s image his brain slotted the near perfect comparison: some chick called Heidi Fleiss, a high-class madam from Los Angeles who’d featured in a television doco Rocky had happened to switch on. Of course her being a professional slut had turned him off in the instant, though not so her looks, that dark hair, the crazily innocent eyes and facial expressions, the way she shrugged as if everything life threw at her she had to accept even if all of it was grossly unfair. Well that was Lu. Staunch. A quality he admired.

But a man had to get on with being staunch himself. Dealing with what was in front of him. Like being challenged to a fight, especially here in prison with a bunch chasing what they called a rep, their most important and singular mission in life to get a couple more steps up the ladder of fighting success. When a real fighter wasn’t bothered, why would he be? Who wanted to be a somebody in here and a nobody outside? Rocky never looked for trouble, but if it came he dealt with it — brutally. Strength and speed he was born with, the decisiveness and ruthless bursts he’d worked on. Much prefer, though, a life without incident. He was always a loving kid, now grown to the same man.
Just leave me alone
.

Stupid Rock. Lost it with the sexo on account of the kid he raped, his age, fact it was a boy and thought of what it must be like to be anally raped. Fuck what the gays say, it’s not the place intended for a penis to go. A kid Rocky had kept eye out for since he appeared on the street scene, ripe for the plucking, and then word got to him what had happened. This deviant had a rep as a boy-fucker. Rocky got another kid to lure him down a side street and into the basement of one of those old sandstone houses where he gave the devo a taste of his own — as in fists. Boy did he deal to him. Put the queer in hospital for three months.

Now look where a man was. In here with the scum of society — nah, not society, this lot were never part of it, other than the odd lawyer, fallen accountant and executive type, and they had the same fatal flaw, of being convinced there was an easy way to make money, that money
was an end in itself and you acquired it by whatever it took, the less effort the more to brag about. Place full of buffoons, dullards, crashing bores and men who lived by muscle and the sword and their dull wits.

And the tats, in case anyone missed it, stylised and symbolised depictions, words and people’s names on every part of the body to show every obvious fact they thought the ink markings were telling the world, not the truth of themselves and what losers they were, not their every sordid, grim, immoral, fucked-up life story in every overdone, overwrought ink marking, but rather the neon sign declaring:
I lost. I am lost
.

Every second of the unlocked day his fellow inmates talked
non-stop
, every possible scam boastfully claimed, the rorts and cons they’d pulled. God how he hated them. Himself too for being here among them and to hell with being righteous.

Sure he’d kind of done the right thing by the kid, but dumb with it. Should’ve done his homework, found out everything he could on the man and then considered if he should have attacked him. He doubted he would have gone through with it. Now stuck here with this
muscle-pumping
, mouthing, strutting, posturing mob of fools.

Put your head down, Rock, and do your time
. Naturally hoping Lu would still be around when he came out. But doubted it.

Claire enjoyed foaling, stressful and gruelling as it was. Could be her maternal instinct, and the drama of most births taking place under floodlights in the small hours in a dew-wet or rain-sodden paddock. Sometimes there were complications, the vet and staff working furiously to save a life which happened to have a very high dollar value. Though Claire would have battled to save a worthless work-horse’s foal.

Riley just wallowed in foaling time; at his best during this
two-month
period of intensity and high emotions. In charge, calm, organised, a man supremely confident in an area he knew better than any. The man she saw when she decided to marry him. Not the complex, difficult and impossible to reach Riley Chadwick who sometimes took over.

Anna, who loved the excitement of mares giving birth, had been too busy to come back from university as she had planned. Everyone assessing the new-born foal, seeing attributes and passed-down genetics that might or might not come to anything. Riley had said he really missed his girl helping out this time. No mention of his other daughter since she had zero interest in the horses, and Claire well knew Riley had little interest in Katie. She didn’t like him for it — there could even be a part of her, the fundamental mother, that would never forgive him. A father ought to love all his children equally.

This morning Claire thought she detected the scent of expensive
perfume — not her own — coming off her husband. But how? None of the staff, surely? He was too professional for that.

Crazy at five of a pitch dark morning to think of asking her husband how come he smelt of perfume not hers. Maybe she wouldn’t ask. From where, from whom, if he’d been up all through the night as three mares gave birth over six hours.

Looking around at the female staff members, a couple of attractive possibilities … but they were twenty years younger. He was their boss; they were more like family members and most of them practical types, with plain looks to match. Horse girls were much too natural to appeal to someone like Riley, surely?

She decided not to ask. Maybe one of the girls had hugged him a thank you for the staff bonus — could be a number of explanations. His lack of love for Katie was the real concern. Sure, quite a different package to her big sister, but so was Claire from her siblings: so what? Surely Riley didn’t want clones of himself and especially not with his daughters? She would broach the subject of Katie very soon, once the foaling season was over. One thing no one could take away from Riley was the prodigious effort he put into making Galahrity a success. Riley out of favour with his entire family, ridiculous their negative reaction to his inheriting this farm when it was but a couple hundred acres of land requiring hard yakka, long working days seven days a week, in a barely break-even operation. Some years they lost money, had to go deeper into overdraft. Sleepless nights worrying if they’d be able to pay the meagre wage bill. He deserved the luck and good fortune Raimona had brought. He had to learn how to extend his love more evenly between his human brood.

Now the man himself came past like a whirlwind, as he always did, not just at foaling. Claire could swear the perfume was familiar, a favourite of her friend Sue. But damned if she was letting herself succumb to doubting her best friend.

The Malak boss brothers locking up last, happy at the tills singing of a big Saturday night, the staff run off their feet, but a nice feeling for Lu — proved she could cope.

Heading for home, remembering the times Rocky would spring a surprise and appear out of the night, that smile, his physical presence so reassuring. Understood why he said no more visits to Long Bay, but she did miss him, and every now and then would think it might be more than as just a mate, a good buddy. Oh well. Like Bron guessed, probably Uncle Rick and his dick had spoiled it for her in that department. Never thought about the future beyond the next week anyway.

Must be telepathic, the thoughts going from Rocky to Rick when who should be standing there, under a streetlight, but him. Uncle abusive Rick, minus the dick but the abuser still there. Why didn’t she figure this before? He’d always be there.

Walking on, not showing she’d seen him, hoping the boys might turn up as they did, more than occasionally. Or, she’d find them: not so many places they’d be.

Tensing for his voice since the other contact was now a thing of the past.
Shall I get in first? Nah, let the old de-knackered prick do his worst
.

Had to cough first, didn’t he, make it menacing, as if he could scare
a girl, a woman —
I was meant to be a woman, grown up into something, someone who liked herself. What my pals did was supposed to bring that hope back. Or do something more than what it did. Hey, I oughta start whistling.
What was a tune he’d know that sang about the monster losing the battle?

‘Only Women Bleed’. Fuck him. ‘Only Women Bleed.’ Forgot who sang it, from a long way back, before she was born perhaps.

‘You’ll be bleeding all right,’ the voice came.

She kept right on walking. And whistling.

‘Your turn coming,’ he called after her.

In that case: she stopped. Only half turned back. ‘I thought I had my turn,’ she said. Facing him fully now. ‘Just you couldn’t take it when yours came.’ Was that really her voice?

No face clear, under the cover of his own shadow thrown from this angle of streetlight. Bit of partying noise around her, nothing terrible, no fights and brawls, not yet. Just the normal sounds of regular drinking, laughter and explosions of shouting, women and men. And this piece of shit under a Woollo streetlight, insects brief bursts of fire in and out of its light.

‘You thought I was done for, didn’t you just?’

‘Oh, but you are. And am I laughing or what?’ Made sure she held on to the smile long enough for him to see it.

‘So you’re owning up now?’

‘To what, Uncle?’

‘The crime committed against me.’

Bastard might be wired up by the cops. ‘Dunno what you’re talking about. All I know is, you copped a serious injury and people who know you well would say it’s fine justice indeed.’

‘Where’d you learn to talk like that? Someone been coaching you up? Name of Pat ring a bell?’

‘Only if I went to church. And you know I don’t.’ She paused, partly to see what he came back with, partly to find the right retort every time, as if to fail would take her right back under his spell.

But he stayed silent. Though he had somehow moved closer. So she stepped a couple back. Watch him, Lu. They didn’t cut off his hands, take away his surprising strength.

‘If I did and I went into one of those confessional box places, what do you think I’d say — Rick fuckin’ Duncan? Or is it you should be in there confessing?’

‘Don’t you dare talk to me like that, you ugly little bitch.’

First the bullet hit the target and she reeled. Next the pain went, as if it had bounced off her. Thought she heard a voice tell her, ‘Don’t take that, either.’

‘Not ugly, actually,’ she said. ‘Nowhere near it.’

‘Oh, ain’t you just? Go take a look in the mirror — ugly slag who’s been committing incest. You’re an ugly piece of shit. You. Are. Ugly. And nothing will change that, ya hear?’

‘No, I don’t hear. I am not ugly.’

‘You know what?’ he said. ‘Can I tell you something?’ Cunning shit sliding forward again. She took several more steps back. ‘Tell you something about yourself you might not remember?’

Slid again. Back she went.
No you don’t.

‘You were born a slut, know that? Came on to me when you were just a little girl, yeah. You did. Swear to God you did. It’s known little girls can be sexual flirts. Well, you were one. From being an ugly little critter I guess. Of no one liking you for yourself.’

Don’t say that, Uncle. Not fair on a little girl who’s already suffered at your hands. Wasn’t me at all — it was you.

But nowhere in her memory bank did a face — a voice — spring up, telling little Lu what a pretty, lovely little kid she was. Not even her mother.

‘Even your sex pervo father never went after you. He did Monica. You know that?’

No, she didn’t. Did know this man kept sliding forward and she back. Keep this up and they’d be at the next streetlight.

‘She would’ve told me. You leave my sister out of this.’ But did the old man? Jesus Christ, what did that make the whole sick family, on both sides? Was there a word for such a situation of everyone turned on each other, the roles inside out? Grown men, blood-related, using girls like underage mistresses? Was that why Monica took to drugs, stopped being the good sister she knew?

‘In the family. Two of you slut sisters. And your brothers born
mongrel gangsters. Except too fuckin’ thick to be any good at it.’

‘You better not turn up like this again, Rick.’ When all her life he made her call him Uncle.

‘Or what will you do — call Pat boy? I’d like that, for you to bring him out into the open. See how he goes.’

‘What, in a fight?’

‘Aha. So you know who I’m talking about?’

‘Nah. Just indulging you. Now I’m not. Kiss my pussy, Rick. In your fuckin’ dreams.’

Telling herself she’d won, with what was inflicted on Rick and this stand-off just now. Listening out for him to make a rush at her. Looking out for the boys, but please not Deano. This madman so hell-bent on revenge he’d go down with the ship, long as it had her and Deano and the other two on it. Hadn’t planned on this. Man was just supposed to disappear, go into his hidey hole on an invalid pension never to be seen again. How could he expose his own crime? He’d get seven to ten years for it, maybe more.
And I’m not ugly
.

Conjured up Rocky’s opening line that she was real pretty. Except he never said it again nor followed up on it, like hitting on her even if she hadn’t wanted that. Well, not till his going to jail had her realise she missed him, yearned inside for him, not sexually aching — didn’t know what that was — but it did have to do with love.

‘Was
you
came on to me.
I’m
the innocent in all this,’ came the call from behind her. ‘You and your pals are gonna pay.’

Looking behind her in case the arsehole had sneaked up. But he was just stood there, out of reach of the streetlight though visible enough, the posture of a man burning with desire to avenge.

The little girl Lu did not bring you on, Rick. No way.
Then again how did anyone remember that far back or know what they were like at that age? She had seen precocious girls and it was true, some did flirt — even five-year-olds.
Could it really have been my fault? Please God, don’t let that be true.

Nothing good ever lasts, does it?

Bron and Jay were all for going after the prick. ‘We got time to race out to his place and be waiting for him,’ said Jay.

‘I heard in Africa somewhere they come up from behind and ram a piece of metal shaped like a star into the dude’s spine. Bang. There ya go, you’re in a wheelchair, bud,’ Bron offered. ‘We could do that.’

Lu feeling so bad at Rick’s cutting words she swore she stank, and if these weren’t her dearest mates they would have said something. Like
Go take a long shower, Lu
.

Deano said, ‘Boys — Lu — I got to hit freedom’s road while I still can.’

‘Some might say what you been wanting to do ever since, Dean.’ The telltale dropped ‘o’ again.

‘Okay, so I have. I was the front man, case everyone’s forgotten. I’m the only face can be proven in an ID line-up.’

Lu torn between her friends. And why were they falling out over doing the same good deed on her behalf? ‘Deano, you did the hard work of luring him.’

‘Oh?’ said Jay. ‘And me and my trusty blade didn’t do nothing? His balls just fell off, did they? And Bronson wasn’t there either?’

‘You know what I mean, Jay.’

‘Do I, Lu?’ Jay got that tone on. ‘Why don’t you just up and go and me and Bron will finish this arsehole off.’

‘Wasn’t you he abused. Or you, Bron,’ Lu said. ‘You’ve taken it personally —’

‘Sure personally. You’re our mate. We’d want you to do the same for us,’ said Bron. ‘And you’re forgetting if
Mrs
Duncan spills, now he’s got no cock and balls — she — it — spills on itself. How’s a judge and jury gonna wear that, even what we did?’

‘He’s right,’ Jay chimed in. ‘Rather take our chances. In jail he’s gonna get hell. The media will take up the story and you can bet the public will —’

‘Guys. Our first job is to get Deano out of Woollo. We can hook up each day.’ Lu tried to keep this from blowing up in their faces.

‘If he wants to,’ Bron scowled at Deano. ‘Told me we’re all nobodies, gone nowhere in life, just losers. Didn’t ya, D?’

‘We got winner’s medals pinned all over us have we, Bron?’ Deano defending himself. ‘Yeah, sure, winners at cutting a lowlife’s balls off.’

‘That’s a victory,’ Jay said. ‘In my eyes it is. Yours, Lu?’

Hell, how could she answer?

‘Listen,’ she said, ‘while we’re standing here arguing, that old shit could be right now with the cops fingering all of us. Deano, you got to pack your things. It’s your face he saw.’

‘That’ll take two minutes, what I own.’ A weariness in Deano’s voice, had been there ever since the incident. Made Lu feel guilty. On top of the shit she was dealing with herself, right now, and her whole remembered life.
Nothing good ever lasts.