Sharp Turn (16 page)

By the time I moved onto the weights machines, I’d decided he was.

More people arrived in the gym as I moved onto the rowing machine, and when I looked up towards the end of my set, I found myself staring straight at Nice Guy’s legs.

He was looking a bit rough himself, standing in the aisle as if not knowing where to start. He saw me and flashed a grin. I noticed his aura for the first time. It was a colour I’d never really seen before: a grey-green. Grey usually meant something dark or unhappy was going on in the person’s life. Tozzi had a darkish spot, which I imagined had something to do with his cokehead wife, Antonia. But generally people with green auras were calm and rejuvenating to be around.

I took another look at Nice Guy. ‘You want this one?’ I asked. ‘I owe you.’

‘I’m right, thanks.’

He folded his arms and spread his shapely legs, watching me. I finished my set a little more flushed than normal due to his scrutiny. It wasn’t often an attractive guy watched me work out. And he
was
attractive: legs, arse and torso toned without being overdone; not a spare ounce on him.

I wiped my face with my towel and reached for my water bottle, all under Nice Guy’s calm gaze.

‘All yours,’ I said cheerfully. ‘Gotta run.’

He shot out a hand to help me up. ‘Josh,’ he said.

I took it. ‘Tara.’

His touch was like plunging my hand into cool water. His aura darkened momentarily then settled back into a beautiful green.

‘See you again,’ I added and got the hell out of there.

I collected my hot chocolates from Craigo and paid him. ‘Who’s the new guy?’

‘Cute, huh?’ said Craigo. ‘Just in town for a week on work. You should see him in kickboxing class. Un-be-liev-able. And h-o-t.’ He waved his fingers as if they were on fire and blew on them.

I headed out to Mona, balancing the drinks and feeling my ego soothed a little. Ed wasn’t the only one who could pull the opposite sex.

I scoffed down Cass’s eggs, bacon and toast in record time. ‘D’lish. What’s the sauce?’

She grinned. ‘Hollandaise. Joanna makes it.’

‘Really?’

Joanna makes it.
Why was the vampire lady chumming up to Cass?

‘What are you going to do about the threats?’ she asked.

I shrugged. ‘Bolo doesn’t want the police involved.’

‘Sounds dodgy.’ Her tone suggested she was a connoisseur of such things.

‘Not necessarily,’ I said, thinking about my own reluctance to get the police involved in my problems. ‘Sometimes it just gets too messy.’

She shook her head. ‘Dodgy.’

I swallowed my annoyance at being contradicted. ‘Whatever. Let’s go.’

After swapping Mona for the van at Jim’s place, we headed for the track.

‘So how was dinner last night?’ I asked.

‘Great. Actually, your mum and dad are pretty cool.’

‘You are kidding?’ I teased.

‘No.’ She scowled at me and stared moodily out the window.

‘How are my parents possibly cool?’ I asked, when it became obvious she was sulking.

‘Well, they eat their meals together. And they talk to each other without shouting. Your dad washes up for your mum. Just cool stuff. Okay?’

I suddenly felt bad for not appreciating all the blessings in my life; and for wanting to have my flat-stroke-garage back to myself.

‘I guess that is pretty cool,’ I admitted. Then I tackled the so-far unspoken thing. ‘Look, it’s been great having you help me out, but the job will only last a few more days. Bolo wants a result before the race. So we should talk about what you’re going to do next, where you can live, you know, long term.’

‘I’m not going home.’

I thought of the ring of bruises around her neck.

‘Fair enough.’

‘You want me out.’ It was a statement.

‘No, Cass. But it’s a small flat and I’m busy doing stuff. I don’t want you being lonely and not having things of your own to do.’

She stayed silent.

‘I’m asking around for a job for you,’ I added.

‘Can’t I just work for you? Like Wal does.’

It took me two sets of traffic lights to think of a reply. ‘Err . . . well . . . that’s sweet of you . . . but . . . thing is, a lot of the time I don’t make enough to be able to pay you. I can barely pay Wal. And here’s the thing . . .’

She tilted her face towards me, listening intently.

I didn’t know how to say this delicately, so I opted for my usual direct approach. ‘To be any kind of investigator you need to be able to read.’

A few more traffic lights passed.

It was another bright-sunshine-with-cool-wind kind of day; the type that makes you feel you can move mountains. There was energy in the air.

Since working with Hoshi and learning more about my gift/curse, I’d realised my sensitivity to the weather. When the pressure dropped, I felt like a slug on Valium. On days like this I usually felt charged, but today too many things were weighing on me.

I’d turned right off the coast road towards Wanneroo before Cass spoke again.

‘So . . . you sayin’ if I could read better, you’d let me work for you?’

Damn!

‘Well . . . yeah . . . I guess so . . . but I’d also have to be making enough to pay you, you know, long term, which I’m not at the moment.’

She nodded absently, as if the idea of payment was of little or no consequence. I didn’t push it any further and we moved on to talking about Bolo and the death threat.

She looked at the picture on my phone and pulled a face. ‘Looks like it came off a porn site,’ she said with authority.

I didn’t ask her how she’d know.

Chapter 14

A
FTER A WAVE TO
Jase on the way through the gates, I parked the van in the allotted place and hooked up to the power.

‘You alright to set up while I do a circuit?’ I asked Cass.

She nodded and climbed into the back of the van.

I headed down to Sharee’s booth but she wasn’t in. There were a few new posters pasted to the message board; I noticed the advert for the furniture was still there.

Checking I had my phone, I moseyed over to the pits.

This time Team Bennett’s roller door was open and the cover was off the blue and red Yamaha inside. I couldn’t see a mechanic, but a guy in clean jeans and a dark blue tee-shirt was crouched down examining the tyres.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Tara from the food van. Do you want to put in a food order for lunch?’

The guy stood up and it was clear immediately that he was the rider. They tended to be the same build – lightweight but strong, and small to medium in height. There was usually something intense going on with them too. With Lu Red it was the fist-clenching. With this guy it was his brilliant green cat’s eyes.

‘Tara-from-the-food-van. Is that like Jenny-from-the-block?’ he joked.

‘Sure. I guess.’ I sashayed a few steps in my best J-Lo imitation.

‘I like big girls. Especially big girls who make me sandwiches.’

I let my expression become stony. ‘And I like tall guys who can look after themselves.’

He looked crestfallen briefly then laughed. ‘Guess I deserved that.’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Will you forgive me if I order some food?’

‘Sure.’ I pulled my phone from my pocket. ‘Shoot.’

‘Meatballs and tomato with mayo on a white roll. And a 7 Up.’

Uggh. I’d learnt a lot about people’s tastes, or lack thereof, in the last few days. ‘Got it. You riding in the race on Sunday?’

‘That’s why I’m here.’

‘You gonna win?’

His effervescent blue aura contracted as if someone had pinched it. ‘Maybe. Depends, I guess.’

‘On what?’

‘You know. The usual. Who rides well. Who rides smart.’

‘There’s a difference?’

‘Yup.’

‘You look like you’re smart,’ I said.

‘Every dog has his day,’ he shot back.

‘Okay. Well, good luck . . . err . . . can I have your name?’ I added, waving my phone. ‘For the order.’

‘Frank Farina.’ He seemed disappointed that I’d had to ask.

‘What time would you like to pick it up?’

‘Midday,’ he said. ‘Practice starts at 2 pm. I need time to digest.’

‘I’ll see you soon then.’

That comment seemed to brighten his ego and his aura flooded back to its full sparkling-blue strength. Men!

I walked on past the Chesley garage. A bike revved inside and a pall of blue smoke blew out the door. Inside, people were shouting over the noise. Didn’t seem like the right time to pay a visit, so I moved on to Riley’s.

Neither Riley Senior nor Junior was there, so I grabbed the opportunity to talk to the mechanic. I cleared my throat and he looked up, wiped his hands on a rag and strolled over.

‘You want a lunch order?’ I asked.

‘Didn’t you come around here the other day?’ he said.

‘Yeah. Got chewed out by your boss.’

‘Old Man Riley can be a bit of a wanker. Sorry about that. I’m Dave.’

‘Tara,’ I said. ‘No sweat. Pretty tense time leading up to a race, I guess.’

‘Particularly this one.’

Dave seemed almost to be talking to himself. His aura churned with dark, unhappy, brownish colours with some purple flecks. I’d learnt from Hoshi that purple indicated passion, but whatever good things this guy had going on were currently being swamped by the negative browns. I felt a sudden desire to touch his aura to encourage the purple to expand. I hooked my hands behind my back so as not to do something freaky.

‘I’ve heard your rider’s pretty good,’ I said.

‘It’s not all about the rider,’ he said abruptly, then gave me his order. ‘I’ve got to get back to work.’

So much for squeezing information out of him. I keyed his name into my phone and moved on to Moto-Sane.

Lu Red was half dressed in his racing leathers – the bottom half – revealing a lean and lightly muscled torso. He was staring at the shelves cluttered with cans of oil and containers of nuts and washers, while Clem, Bolo’s mechanic, drained oil from one container into another. Red’s girlfriend was nowhere to be seen.

‘Orders?’ I sang out.

Red nodded, then gave me his – exactly the same as last time.

‘You want something?’ I asked Clem.

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘Two sausage rolls, a donut and a can of Coke.’

And I thought I ate badly!

The energy bouncing between the two men seemed less volatile today, though Clem still wasn’t overly friendly.

‘Your girlfriend want something?’ I asked Red, glancing around for her.

He gave me an odd look. ‘Maybe she would, if she was here. She’s at work.’

‘Just thinking ahead,’ I said.

‘An enterprising sandwich vendor. Nice!’

It was a condescending, arrogant comment but I let it slide. I said goodbye and hustled back to Cass.

She had the whole thing under control: deep fryer boiling, the salads cut, and a thick brown sauce cooking in a saucepan on the hotplate.

‘What’s that?’

‘Beef gravy. I thought it’d be nice for the chips.’

I stuck a finger in it and slurped a taste. ‘Yum.’

‘Find out anything new?’ she asked.

‘All riders are jerks,’ I said as I squeezed into the van. Mobile cafés were like European dress sizes – not designed for big people.

The rush came, and lasted until just after 2 pm. I buttered, served and splashed oil and salt around until the last customer walked away. Then I left Cass cleaning up and went to watch the start of practice.

Frank Farina was on the grid alongside Gig Riley. I recognised both bikes. Lu Red’s Honda grumbled down the pit lane to join them.

Sharee was hanging out of her booth with her phone in her hand. As I got closer I saw that her face was flushed and her white skeleton earrings were jiggling. If I didn’t know better I’d say she had a guy in the bottom of the booth doing unseemly things to her. Watching bikes race could get a girl that way – all hot and sweaty.

‘Don’t block my view,’ she said, waving me to the side. ‘This is gonna be good.’

A small crowd had gathered near the finish line, including Jase the security guard and Cass’s skinny apprentice friend, T-Dog. Riley Senior bore down on the observers and they automatically parted to let him through, his aura slicing ahead of him like a saw cutting soft cheese.

Further along the railing was another smaller group. Clem and . . .
Crack
? It looked like my cousin had taken Bolo up on his offer.

‘They usually come out at different times. You know, avoid each other. This is a mind game, going up against each other in practice.’

‘Uh-huh.’

I watched Lu Red line up next to the other two.