The Legend of Kevin the Plumber (9 page)

‘They've pinched the CD player,' Mario said.

Grandad let out a scream-laugh and slapped his thigh.

‘What? No CD player? That means the thing is worth absolutely
nothing
now.'

The lights had been left on. The battery was as dead as a hamburger. Mario shouted at Grandad. Told him to turn his car around and pull the Commodore out backwards with a rope.

‘Not the first time. Won't be the last,' Grandad chuckled. ‘Take this as a lesson, Gary, you dickhead.' He stalled the Fairmont three times before he'd dragged Muz's car onto the track.

There was grass packed in under the bumper on the front but it didn't look like anything was busted.

Mario popped the bonnet and got Grandad to pull the Fairmont around so he could connect the jumper leads. I climbed into the passenger's seat and surveyed the hole in the dash where the CD player used to live. I felt sick in the guts. What sort of prick would steal Muz's car? Yeah, he was a bit of a try-hard and that but he was good to everyone. Everyone knew him and he was everybody's mate. Everybody except Grandad's, that is.

‘I'll drag it to the clearing out there and we'll pour some petrol on it. Have a bit of a bonfire,' Grandad said. ‘You're an idiot, wog. There's no two ways about it. How could anyone steal your fucken car from your driveway while
you're home? You're brain dead. Got me beat what Karen sees in you. You must have a big dick. Don't have much else going for you.'

Mario slammed the bonnet and threw the jumper leads into the pines. The red lead got stuck on a branch two metres above the ground.

‘Go home, Warren.' He spat, and pointed down the track. Grandad, being a good old dog, bared his false teeth, shook his head and got into his car. He revved the bags out of it and dropped the clutch. The Fairmont lurched and stalled. He started it again, took the handbrake off and slid and swerved off up the dirt track.

Mario dropped into the driver's seat. He hung his head on the steering wheel, his hair covering his face. His body started shaking and my guts tightened. Mario had put so many hours into the car. If it were my car, I'd be crying too. I thought about putting my hand on his shoulder, only Mario wasn't crying. He sat up and rubbed his hair out of his eyes. His mouth was split by an open-mouth smile and it made me laugh.

‘What?' I asked.

He shook his head.

‘You never know, Gaz, play your cards right, work all your life at a job you hate, you too could end up like Grandad. Piss your wife off so much that she leaves you for another woman. Might even be able to afford a Fairmont.'

The Commodore roll-started at the bottom of the hill. Mud clunked in the wheel-arches as we drove into town. Mario pulled into the drive-through bottle shop and
bought a six-pack of Melbourne Bitter cans. He cracked one and handed it to me, cracked one for himself and we clunked them together in a toast.

‘Here's to a good week's work . . . and the old Commodore.'

‘Cheers,' I said. I'd earned it.

M
y eyes pinged open at twenty-seven minutes past six the next morning. I swung my legs to the floor and rubbed my eyes in mild panic — I was going to be late for work, and where was Mario, my human alarm clock? Luckily I'd slept in my overalls again.

It was Saturday. Der. Mario was in the kitchen dressed in blue shorts and a blue singlet. His hair was wet.

‘Hey, Gaz. Ash came over last night.'

‘Yeah?'

He chuckled. ‘It was about half past nine. I tried to wake you up. Had to check for your pulse. Ash said she'd catch you after lunch.'

I
did
remember being shaken during the night. I remembered Mum calling to me. And then I woke up this morning.

‘You were ratshit, mate,' Mario said. ‘What are you up to today?'

I shrugged and rubbed the hairs on my chin.

‘Nothing much.'

‘Give us a hand with the car?'

‘Yeah, no worries.'

Mario poached me two eggs for breakfast. Next thing I knew, we were in the garage. Wasn't even eight o'clock and we were already under the bonnet, giving the beast an oil change and checking her over. I got the vacuum from the laundry and sucked the back seats clean. My ring! Muz had put it in the console. I looked under the seats. In the passenger's footwell I found a crushed cigarette butt. Dunhill. Mario didn't smoke and he didn't let Mum smoke in the car and no-one I knew could afford Dunhill. I showed Muz.

‘Filthy pigs.'

‘Maybe we should tell the cops,' I said.

‘What for? We got the car back.'

‘Yeah, but whoever took the car is still out there. And they took my ring.'

Mario found a little zip-lock bag.

‘Stick it in here, we'll drop it in to the cop shop and tell them about the ring on our way to the car wash.'

The battery hadn't recovered. There was enough juice in it to make the dash light up and the solenoid click, but that was all.

‘I could bring Mum's car over,' I said.

‘Nah, it'll wake her up. I'll give it a burst with the battery charger.'

He uncoiled the leads, plugged it into the wall and flicked the switch. He carried the alligator clips, one in each hand. The transformer hummed. I stood beside him as he connected the back clip to the negative. He slipped with
the red and the clips touched. There was a blue flash and an electrical crack. Mario was thrown backwards against the tool bench. He slipped to the floor, dazed.

‘You okay, Muz?' I grabbed his hand and he struggled to his feet.

‘Bloody shit,' he said. ‘Hope my dick still works.'

The cop at the front counter looked at Mario like he was a total moron. One cigarette butt in a plastic bag.

‘What did you say your name was again?' the cop asked.

‘Mario DiMartino. You guys found my Commodore in the pines up near the Blinley turn-off yesterday.'

The cop wrote Muz's name down and left the room. Two minutes later a honey-blonde woman cop came back with him. Her face lit up when she saw Muz.

‘G'day, Sal,' Mario said.

The cop let out a little squeal and unlocked the door so she could come into the waiting room. She and Mario shook hands awkwardly and looked each other over. They clucked like old chooks for a minute, and then Mario introduced me.

‘This is my boy Gary; Gaz, this is Sal. I mean, Constable Sally Reece. Gaz found the cigarette butt.'

I shook her hand and felt like a knob.

‘They stole a silver skull ring from the console. I didn't know if . . . I dunno . . . maybe you can get fingerprints off the cigarette butt or something.'

She laughed kindly. ‘No, we can't get fingerprints off it, and I see quite a few silver skull rings in my line of
work, but you never know how important that stuff might be.'

Mario explained that he didn't let people smoke in his car. Sally said she'd put the butt on file.

The pressure sprayer at the car wash was busted in a good way. It swallowed one of Muz's dollars then wouldn't take any more. And wouldn't turn off. Muz's thongs slapped as he ran around with a soapy brush; I followed behind with the sprayer and soaked him and the car. Soon enough they were both waxed and shining.

‘I think
you
need a bloody hose down, Gaz. Did you have a shower this week? You reek.'

I sniffed down the neck of my shirt and came out coughing. Mario grabbed the sprayer and scoured my back with it as I dived into the passenger's seat.

Mario picked up a new CD player on the way home. I offered to install it for him but he said he'd be right. Told me to go and work on my personal hygiene. He was right. I did reek.

I pulled a few poses in the bathroom mirror and scratched my ball bag until there was blood under my fingernails. I reckoned I'd put on a bit of muscle since I started working. Four days. My neck, face and arms had started to go brown, making the rest of my body look Goth-white.

Take it from me: the less you shower, the better it feels when you eventually have one. I had a woody that took about a minute to tame. Just patted his head a couple of times and he was purring. And later, when I was trying to
tuck myself into a deliciously clean pair of jocks, I realised that I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a tug. Sometimes, when I'm going heavy on the weed, my dick just sort of shrivels up. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't be fucked. Still, doesn't take long to bounce back.

Didn't take long for the Commodore to bounce back either. Mario installed the new CD player and had the garage pumping. I could hear it from my bedroom. The music stopped halfway through a song and I wandered outside to check the progress. His legs were hanging out of the driver's door, his head buried under the dash when I slapped on the roof. There was a dull thud and he swore. He scrabbled around like a wombat backing out of a burrow and came up holding his cheekbone. He was smiling.

‘Bloody shit. Frightened fuck out of me, you bastard.'

I chuckled. ‘Going okay?'

Mario nodded. ‘Good as new. Better. You smell a bit better too. What you up to tonight?'

I shrugged. ‘Catch up with Ash. The boys.'

‘Mum and I are going to Chrissy Bay. Shaz is going to stay at her mate's place. You'll have the place to yourself until we get home.'

‘Cool,' I said, and he levelled a finger at me.

‘Go easy. If you go out, take your keys and make sure the doors are locked.'

I rubbed my hands together and did the old evil scientist laugh. Mario shoved my shoulder.

I locked the doors behind me when I left and slipped the keys into my pocket.

Ash looked nice. I mean, really nice. Her hair was all shiny and curling up at her shoulders. She wore a pair of jeans and a low-cut black top with three-quarter length sleeves that was see-through but classy. Black bra. She had make-up on. Bit around her eyes. And lipstick. That was what I noticed most: the red-brown lipstick. And her cleavage. I felt like a major slob. I'd managed to slop a worm of microwave spaghetti on my new Metallica t-shirt before I left and it was still wet where I had sponged it off. I couldn't see it in the dark when I was crossing the road, but in the light of Ash's bungalow it was a wet spot I'd probably have to explain.

‘Who's the lucky guy?' I asked.

She sniffed and hacked then spat out the window. She shook her head. ‘Just felt like dressing up a bit.'

She stood in front of the mirror and squeezed some juice from a pimple in the corner of her mouth. It looked like she'd already given it a pounding and was just making sure it was milked. She dabbed at it with a tissue.

‘Gel said they'd be at the van tonight. He said it's the last big bang at the van. Their mum comes back on Tuesday and they'll be moving home. He reckons he's going to stay in the van. I don't reckon his mum will let him. Aggie reckons he's hanging out to move home.'

I got to thinking as Ash and I walked to the van. I thought that Gel would never stay in the van if his mum said he wasn't allowed to. The only person in the world Gel listens to is his mum. He pretends to be all cool and that with her, like he does with the teachers at school, but
the teachers can never get him to do anything. He always does what his mum says. Unlike me . . .

‘You guys off to a wedding?' Gel asked from the doorway of the van.

Aggie pushed his way outside with a plastic Coke bottle and a cigarette lighter. ‘Funeral, more like it.'

He expertly melted a hole in the wall of the Coke bottle and inserted a gold-coloured cone piece. He made the seal between the bottle and the piece airtight with chewing gum from his mouth. Two-minute bong.

‘What happened to the tree bong?' I asked.

‘Bloody Mandy,' Gel sighed.

‘It was an accident,' came a voice from inside the van. Mandy Castell's blonde dreadlocked head poked around the corner. ‘I bumped it off the table.'

‘Hey, Mandy,' Ash said. Mandy looked at her but didn't answer, then withdrew into the van. Aggie and I looked at Ash. She shrugged.

‘Dumb bitch,' Aggie mumbled. ‘We might be able to glue it back together. For the moment we'll use the cone piece in this little skyrocket.'

He held the Coke bottle in the air.

‘You guys got any money?' Gel asked.

‘Nup,' Ash and I chorused.

‘I feel like a Jim Beam.'

‘I think I'll get paid next week,' I said.

‘Rich boy. Can I have a loan?' Gel asked.

‘Yeah, likely.'

‘What are you going to do with it?' Aggie asked.

‘Going to Queensland,' I said.

Ash looked at me. ‘Still serious?'

I nodded.

‘Why Queensland?' Aggie asked.

‘That's where my old man lives. He's going to get me a job. Stuntman or something. In the movies.'

Aggie smiled. ‘That's right! He was in
Mad Max
or something. Cool.'

‘Bullshit!' Gel moaned. ‘You? A stuntman? Doing stunts like rolling out of bed . . . crossing the road . . . sniffing your own jocks . . . that sort of thing?'

‘Fuck off,' I said.

‘Yeah,' Aggie said. ‘At least Gaz is doing something with his life. Look at him: he's got a bloody job, he'll get some cash together and he'll be out of this shithole. Go for it mate.'

Gel squeezed my bicep. ‘You been working out too, Gaz?'

I shook him off. ‘Nah. Just work. Bloody hard work.'

Gel scoffed. ‘Hard work doesn't make you bigger.'

‘Yeah,' Aggie said. ‘You're living proof of that, Gel. The only part of you that gets a workout is your cock and you're still a pin dick.'

We laughed.

‘At least it
gets
a workout.'

Aggie pushed past his brother and into the van. Ash and I followed. We sat at the table. Mandy stared at the television with her arms crossed.

‘What's the matter with you?' Gel asked.

‘Nothing,' she said, and got up to leave.

‘What?' Gel asked. He followed her out of the van. Ash
and Aggie and I just looked at each other. Then Mandy was shouting at Gel.

‘You could have told me that fat slut was going to be here.'

‘Who? Plumber?'

Mandy didn't answer. Ash was squirming in her seat.

‘Mandy?' Gel shouted. ‘What is it? Where are you going? Ah, fuck it.' He stomped inside and dropped into the seat that Mandy had vacated. The van shook.

‘Stupid bitch.'

Aggie was looking at Ash. ‘What did you do to her?'

Ash shrugged. ‘Nothing.'

‘Bullshit.'

Ash shrugged again. ‘Your ears are peeling, Gaz.'

I rubbed at my ear and found my fingers covered in papery bits of skin.

‘Don't change the subject,' Aggie insisted.

Ash burped and rubbed at the zit in the corner of her mouth. ‘I went down to the Royal last night . . . by myself,' Ash said, and stared at me. ‘I ran into Mandy and Andrew Findlay. Andrew bought me a couple of drinks — well, about ten bourbons — and we had a bit of a rave. Mandy was off her nut. At about eleven she tipped the dregs of her drink in Andrew's hair and told him it was over. She was crying and carrying on. Then she left, so Andrew and I had a few more drinks . . . '

‘Mandy was right,' Gel said. ‘You're a slut.'

Ash smiled, shook her head, straightened her top and blushed. I was looking at the side of Ash's face and I didn't recognise her. Her eyes were different and her clothes were
too neat. It was a stranger behind those painted lips. She'd changed.

We got ripped and it didn't matter anymore. We chugged on the Coke-bottle bong until my brain had turned to fluff, we'd laughed ourselves silent and the four of us were left staring at a documentary about sea slugs. There was something creepy about the way they moved. Something sexy and disgusting. Made me think about Ash's lacy red knickers. I thought that Ash and Andrew Findlay would make a good couple. Good luck to them. I wanted to leave. I wanted to get up and walk home but I couldn't find a reason. I didn't have an excuse to go home at eleven o'clock like a total knob. I didn't have work the next day, didn't have to do anything or be anywhere. I thought I could pretend I was sick. Tell the guys I wasn't feeling all that flash and just walk home. Yeah, and what would that have left me with? A Saturday night with nowhere to be and no-one to be there with. Loner and a freak.

There was a knock at the caravan door. The others stared at the television and I wondered if I'd imagined it. Knock, knock, knock, louder this time.

‘Yeah?' Gel shouted, but he didn't move. His red eyes staring at the sea slugs.

‘Hi,' came the muffled reply. A girl's voice. ‘It's Sharon. Is Gary there?'

I shoved the table in my enthusiasm to get up and toppled the bong onto Ash's lap. She swore and her reflexes weren't quick enough to stop her jeans getting a dose of bong water. I stepped into the sweet night air and closed the door behind me.