The Glass Kingdom (16 page)

Listen to him lording it over me there like he be some kinda meth king. Doin' me a favour, he says, 'cos we both barrack for Freo. Coulda had me disappeared, he says—but no, he thinks I got potential and that I just needs some schoolin' in the game. Start at the bottom, 'stead of tryin' to be a gangsta straight out the gate. Shit, I gots to get away from these small towns, they is a major irritation to my dome. Everyone think they know where it's at but they don't know jack shit. Plus they all talk like they's Aussie crims from the friggen seventies. Watched too much
Underbelly
. They be all ya farken cunt this, ya farken cunt that, farken wogs and Lebbos—I mean, seriously, dawg? Who talks like that in the second motherfucking decade of the twenty-first century? Ain't you watched a movie or turned on the box in the last thirty years? An' what, you got a thing against the Lebanese? What the fuck is that all about? Gots to be less than a hunnerd thousand of the motherfuckers in the whole damn country an' like, so what? Probs more Germans in Australia than there is Lebanese an' you don't hear nobody bitchin' about them, do ya? Ain't no white folk whining about how the Huns should go back to their own country an' shit.

Course I'm the bad guy for pointing this out. I'm real sick of this shit, man. Sick of gettin' my ass handed to me by low-lifes still livin' in the past, an' not the good past neither, like the one with free love and jazz clubs and steam trains an' shit. What about the future, dawg? Why can't we be lookin' to the motherfucking future? Born in the wrong fucken time, I was.

Damn, can't stop this bleeding. Think maybe that bitch done broke my nose or somethin'. Just keep nodding at whatever this motherfucker be sayin'. Yessir, right sir, absolutely, I agree with you, thanks for the opportunity an' all—I really appreciate it, you thievin' crankhead piece of shit. Oh man, would you just look at this town—they really got it going on here don't they, the joint is jumpin', 'spose the Friday night bingo game is going off right about now. Shit, even if I can't get my hands on my property maybes I'll just leap on the next bus north anyhow and leave this whole sorry situation behind. Fucked if I's stayin' here to cook up meth for this punk-ass motherfucker. Plenty of other things I can do to make some paper. I got mad skills, dawg, don't know why I be wastin' them slummin' it with all these two-bit wannabe gangsters and tweakers eking out a livin' at the bottom of society's barrel. No more foolin' around with crank or any other dirty fucken substance that fucks people up just to increase the size of your roll. I mean, just listen to this asshole layin' down the rules for me like I be his slave now or somethin'. Yessum, massa, tote that barge, lift that bale, you want I should cook you up some grits with that batch of meth, suh? Ow ow ow fuuuck, my face hurts and my back hurts and my nut sack hurts where that ferret-faced fuck sunk the boot in, though thank almighty fuck he weren't wearin' no actual boots, they was just a dirty old pair of Asics runners. Dumb fuck ain't even got no style. Surprised he didn't strip the Nikes off my feet when he was takin' everythin' else I owned.

Yeah, yeah, blah blah blah motherfucker, look at you all pleased with yourself 'cos you got one over on a homeboy. Damn, you got swag now an' is lovin' every minute you gets to put me in my place. Well, enjoy your moment of glory, Matthew, thinkin' you is the end-of-level guardian. Soon as your stinky ass is turned I be ghostin' right on out of Gilgandra or whatever the fuck you calls this sinkhole, an' maybes slippin' somethin' sharp 'tween your ribs just so's you bleed out on the floor of your dirty fucking hovel—see how your rug looks then, motherfucker.

This your street? Fo' reals? Shit, what a streak of misery. An' don't be sayin' home sweet home to me, motherfucker. Ain't gonna be my home for long an' that's the triple truth, you can be sure of that. Uh-huh, I am
done
. Checked out. Finished. Gonna steal your money just like I done with that damn fool solja boy an' start me a new life in the colonies, 'cept this time I won't make the same mistake by thinking I can use the chedda to ante up to the big time. Nuh-uh, this time I be takin' a right turn off the glass highway.

Don't look back, don't look back, maybe I can make those trees 'fore he sees me, maybe I can find somewhere to hide, cover myself in leaves or something. Just keep going, Mikey, keep those legs pumping and don't think about him, don't think about what he'll do if he catches you. Oh fuck, he's going to catch me, isn't he, he's going to catch me and he's going to fuck me up so bad. Watch where you're going, watch…ah, fucking hell, I can't see for shit out here. Get up, get up and keep going. Maybe there's a road out past those trees, maybe I can flag someone down before he finds me. Gots to get some distance between us.

Fuuuck, he had a gun, an honest-to-God nine millimetre and he was waiting for us, just sitting there in the dark waiting for us. How did he know I'd be there? He didn't know, he couldn't know, there was no way for him to know. The look on his face, though—oh Jesus, the look on his face when he saw me. Whatever business he had with Matt went straight out the window when he clocked my sorry ass. The solja boy, return of the solja boy.

What the fuck was he doing there? Matt didn't work for him, obviously, not the way he reacted when that lamp came on like in some fucken cheesy thriller where the bad guy's in your house, he's in the fucken house, how did he get in the fucken house and why, why?

Shit, it don't matter why, and it don't matter how. He was there. The big bad wolf, the fucken east-coast meth lord with the map of scars on his face and he couldn't hardly believe what he was seeing, he couldn't believe his own luck. I fell right in his lap and all Matt had to do was keep his head and hand me over, probs would have got a fucken reward but no, that dumb fucken crankhead wannabe-gangsta flipped out when he saw Corporal Wallace sitting there in his lounge room, cool as you fucken like.

As you would, I guess, as you would. Started rantin' and ravin', shoutin' who the fuck are you an' what the fuck you doing in my crib, don't you know who I am, you've no fucken idea who you're dealing with, ya cunt. 'Tween that and Ben not believin' his eyes at me stood there holding my bleeding nose I knowed I had about two seconds to bolt 'fore it all went pear-shaped.

Took to my heels out the front door and all I saw was Ben jumping up so fast his gat slid off his knee. Matt took his shot and lunged at him while he fumbled to pick it up. Didn't seem like an even tussle but Matt had smoked a point 'fore we left the other place an' thought he was fucken invincible. Can't say what happened after that and don't really give a fuck—all I know is whatever's going on back there is keeping Ben occupied, maybes Matt is giving him a run for his money after all. Buying me time, that's all I care about. Maybe I can make it. Shit, I think I'm going to make it.

Stop. Wait. Stop. Was that a…there it is again. That's two. Two shots. Someone got their paws on that nine and loosed off a couple of rounds. Oh man, that ain't good. I got a bad feeling that was Matt going down. If it'd been him picked up the nine he'd of emptied the clip for sure. But it was just two shots. Two shots. One to put Matt down, maybe another to the dome. Kill shot. Double tap. Had to be the solja boy.

The light at the door. The silhouette. The head turning, lookin' my way. Here he comes. Oh Jesus suffering fuck, here he comes. Move, Mikey, move, just run.

The trees the branches the darkness the moon. My legs, oh my legs. I can't breathe, I can't get a breath. Can't stop. Can't stop. He's big. He's so big and fast and fit and strong and he's coming, he's coming, he's in the trees, he's coming. How can he be in the trees already? Which way, which way do I go? Don't shoot me, man, I hope he doesn't shoot me—not in the back, not in the legs, please not in the legs.

I want to see, I want to see it coming if it has to be that way. The one in front of the gun lives forever. It's dark in there, dawg, so dark in that nine-millimetre hole. I don't want that to be the last thing I see. I want to see the sun again, the beach, the cookie jar of a beautiful woman. I got so many recipes I still wanna try, and ideas, I got ideas to give to the world. That all gonna be lost and no one will ever know who I might've been. Forgotten, I'll just be forgotten and that can't be, that's not how it's supposed to be.

Yes, yes, I hear you, I'm stopping, I can't go on anyway. Ben, I give up, I give up. You got me, dawg, and hey look, brother, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. I don't know what I was thinkin', takin' your roll like that. It was a mistake, a terrible mistake. I know that now. I know who you are and please don't shoot me, don't. I'll do anything you want, anything to make it up to you. I'll work Target Ball and hand out those blue koalas to all your customers and more, I'll make more for you, I'll make you all the money just please don't, don't. Oh. Oh, no.

A'ight, so things could be worse. I could be six feet under the gun right now, worms crawling through the eight-ball haemorrhage in my dome, wombats snuffling my mortal remains, maybes tryin' on my Nikes for size. Or I could be staked out in the desert somewheres like I heard the Taliban done with prisoners, the skin of my belly peeled back. Not enuff to kill ya, but so you gets to see your guts eaten by flies and ants and roaches and whatever other dirty fucken bugs they got over there.

Nah, under the circumstances, think I made out like a bandit. Well, maybes not that great but it definitely could be worse, you feel me? I mean, I didn't get shot, not yet at least, and sure I copped another beating but honestly I been clocked by so many dudes this past year I done lost count. Whatever happened to usin' your words, boys? A bit of banter, insults traded back and forth, like yo' momma so big her first name be Notorious. Yo' momma so big McDonald's done introduced Yo' Momma Size. Yo' momma so big her map of Tasmania
is
Tasmania.

But naw, motherfuckers don't got no game when it comes to wordplay. 'Stead they be all like, Imma knock your teeth out, cunt. Or, Imma break your fingers, ya little prick. Or, Imma kick you so hard you ain't gonna shit properly for a month. Actually, that last one ain't bad.

Hold up, hold up, I should be payin' attention here. Corporal Wallace is tryin' to impress upon me the reality of my situation. Man, it is so weird being back in the Target Ball stand. It's like I was just here yesterday, 'stead of however many weeks it's been. Course it ain't open for bidness or nothin', not yet anyways. Best the chumps don't see this particular show. Ol' Ben might as well have sold tickets. Bit of a carny crowd gathered and they weren't exactly linin' up to slap me on the back. Caught a couple of hits on the way through 'fore Ben warned the freaks off. Never had me no friends on the Kingdom anyways an' I gots even less now. Get the feelin' this one's gonna be tricky to extricate myself from, fo' reals.

When he tied me to this chair I thought fo' sho' I was gettin' waterboarded or some crazy CIA anti-terrorist shit. At the very least I figured on sayin' a fond farewell to a couple of my toenails. Goodbye, little pinkie! But naw, no torture, no Abu Ghraib shit, not even a knuckle sandwich to chew on. He ain't touched me, which is kind of a worry. Maybes he figures I had enough of a beating before. Or maybes the pliers is comin' out any second, I'm in the dark over here an' ready for anything. What happened to Matt and his loser crew anyways? Best not to ask, I guess.

Brung me back here in Steph's old Datsun. Could be how they tracked me down. Old coot in Nowra musta blabbed. Don't matter now. I's back on the Kingdom and whatever Ben says goes. Speaking of which, he be talking numbers. Better listen up.

Since I recovered most of the glass you bought from that dickhead Freddy, and he's already refunded the money you stole, technically you don't owe me anything.

Great news, bra! So if you just wanna loosen these here bonds, I'll be on my way an' won't trouble you no further, no sir.

Yeah, I don't think so.

A'ight. So what's the dally-o? You gonna keep me locked up in here like Fritzl's daughter? Slip my meals under the door? Come tuck me in at nights?

Pretty much, actually. You're lucky that you're of more use to me alive than dead. From now on, you'll work Target Ball and sell product. If you behave, then after a while I might let you roam the alley, but no further.

So that's it? I's a prisoner on the Kingdom now?

Part of the family.

For how long?

Until I say otherwise. A year, maybe. See how you go.

'Spose I don't need to ask what happens if I goes walkabout?

I advise against it. Put it this way—you're not my first employee.

Last guy got promoted, did he? S'okay, don't answer that, I get it. This here's my crib now, s'all good, yo. I be down with that. You won't get no more shenanigans from me, Ben. After what I been through these past weeks, the quiet life suits me just fine, dawg. Mouth shut, ears open, eyes wide, sales patter ready to roll. Now about these ropes, bra, they's kinda chafin' my wrists.