The Byron Journals (5 page)

‘What are you talking about? Those guys got exactly what they deserved.'

‘Do you think anyone saw us?'

She shrugged. ‘I doubt it.'

The Valiant growled as Heidi dropped her foot and accelerated out of a corner towards town. ‘Let's get you some new clothes.'

She parked the car and locked it, took his hand and led him into an op-shop. She put him at ease by trying on ill-fitting, bizarre clothes and parading around between the racks. Ten minutes later he was trying on everything she threw at him: jackets, oversized flares, leather ties and T-shirts with corny slogans. It was all ridiculously cheap and an hour later he walked out with two large plastic bags stuffed full of clothes.

Back at the house, they dumped the clothes into the washing machine and made toasted cheese sandwiches for lunch.

‘I should probably find somewhere to stay,' he said.

‘Why? You can stay here as long as you want.' She kissed him and ran her hands through his hair. ‘But we really need to cut your hair.'

‘Why?'

‘Well…if there were any witnesses, it will make it harder for them to recognise you. And, well…it's kinda dorky too.'

Before he could reply, she led him out to the verandah, sat him on an old kitchen chair and placed a salt-crusted beach towel around his shoulders. She laughed hysterically as hanks of his hair fell onto his lap and the wooden boards. Five minutes later, she stood back to admire her work and held out the scissors to him.

‘Now, cut mine.'

He shook his head. ‘I like your hair.'

‘Andy?' She sat astride his thighs, placed her hands on his shoulders and looked down at him. ‘Cut it.'

He leaned forward to kiss her but she moved back, just out of reach, teasing him.

‘Okay,' he said. ‘But it's not going to be pretty.'

She scowled. ‘Who said I wanted pretty?'

Heidi turned from side to side in front of the bathroom mirror and flicked her fringe with her fingertips, her expression impassive. He'd cut it into a messy, asymmetrical bob—about half the original length.

‘Do you hate it?' he asked.

She turned again.

‘Heidi?'

‘Hmm?'

‘What do you think?'

She started laughing, but stopped abruptly and smiled. ‘I love it.'

‘You love it? Why?'

She shrugged. ‘I just do. How about you?'

Andrew turned to the mirror. ‘I look like a cancer patient.'

‘Well, that's true, but you're a very cute cancer patient.'

They kissed and began undressing each other, laughing when clothes caught on their elbows or ankles. They moved into the shower, still kissing, but Heidi broke away from him every now and then to wash away the loose strands of hair. After several attempts to have sex in the cramped space, Heidi, laughing uncontrollably, turned off the water and ran into her room where they fucked on the bed, soaking wet and breathless.

The afternoon drifted into evening. It was dark when a knock on the door woke Andrew with a start.

Tim was standing in the doorway. ‘You guys should get ready—' He grinned. ‘Hey, nice haircuts, freaks!'

Heidi was still asleep, her arm draped across her face.

Andrew lifted the sheet to cover her. ‘Ready for what?'

Tim frowned. ‘Umm…We're playing, remember?'

Tim parked the Valiant on the esplanade and they loaded the instruments onto the trolley. It was dusk and, even though the ocean looked rough and choppy, the air was warm. The Norfolk pines were encrusted with lorikeets, the lighthouse pulsed in the distance, and the sound of breaking waves mixed with the murmur of conversations at the Beach Hotel. Andrew pushed their equipment on the trolley. Heidi and Tim walked on either side of him and Jade followed behind, shooting photos on her digital SLR.

They set up in front of a hairdressing salon, opposite the pub stairs and, even before they were ready to begin, a crowd had formed around them on the footpath. There were large groups of girls, arm in arm, giggling, squealing and wobbling in their heels, packs of guys drinking, some of them swaying and falling over, or shouting to others down the street.

Andrew spotted Richie and Benny walking towards them. His amp squealed with feedback and he fumbled to lower his volume. Jade focused her camera on him, a malicious smile on her lips. Heidi thumped her bass drum and adjusted her high hat.

Tim nodded to Heidi and played his call. Their rhythm smacked into alignment, the crowd cheered and Andrew stood there dumbfounded. He hit a few chords, but they sounded weak; he fiddled with the amp, but it didn't make much difference. The speaker screeched again and Heidi looked at him pleadingly. He chose a chord progression and floundered through it, hoping Benny and Richie would pass without noticing him.

He looked up just as Richie shoved to the front of the crowd and threw his beer bottle. It hurtled past and smashed with a hollow pop behind him. The rhythm tripped to a stop and the crowd booed. Richie rushed at Andrew but Tim intercepted. He smashed his head against Richie's and said something in a guttural voice. Moments later, Richie was apologising and struggling to free himself, his eyes wide with fear. When Tim let him go, Richie hurried down the street. Benny was not far behind and the crowd heckled them both until they disappeared around the corner. His hands raised, Tim turned to Heidi and called in a new rhythm.

Andrew wanted to make this work more than anything. He found an entry point in the rhythm and went for it. He started out playing a stripped back version of The Doors chord progression he'd worked out earlier, then added his own chords and rhythmic variations. Slowly, the chords, the rhythm, the sound became his own. The sound oozed from the amp in thick, rich colours, and Heidi and Tim chopped it into quivering stacks. The rhythm thumped along. People danced and threw money into the collection bucket.

It was a rough show, raw and exhilarating, and Andrew was still buzzing as they packed up, when Benny skulked through the crowd, his head down and his hands in his pockets.

‘What happened to your hair?' he said. ‘You look like a dick.'

‘What do you want?' Andrew replied.

‘I want to know who's going to pay for the damage to the apartment.'

‘I don't know what you're talking about.'

Benny frowned. ‘I didn't touch your stuff.'

‘Bullshit.'

‘It's true. Richie went crazy after you walked out—I couldn't have stopped him if I'd tried.'

‘So you didn't try?' Andrew said. ‘That's as bad as doing it yourself.'

‘Don't twist my words with bullshit lawyer speak.' From his pocket, he withdrew Andrew's iPod.

Nodding, but avoiding Benny's eyes, he took the iPod. ‘Thanks.'

‘You know,' Benny said. ‘I know why you're doing all this.'

‘Doing what?'

‘This,' he said, gesturing at Andrew's hair and clothes. ‘Trying to become someone you're not—' ‘What would you know about who I am? You don't know shit. You don't even know why I was so drunk that day you came over.'

‘Yes I do—you caught your dad with that girl.'

Andrew looked to the others to make sure they weren't listening. ‘I got bashed on the way to my music exam.'

Benny threw up his hands. ‘How was I supposed to know that? And why the hell would anyone bash you?'

‘To get back at Mum—that's why.'

‘Shit, Andrew…' Benny's expression softened. ‘You should have told me.'

‘What would be the point? It's not going to change anything.'

‘It might help to at least talk about it.'

‘But I don't want to talk about it. I'm sick of talking about it. It's just one more shitty thing that's happened to me because of Mum. I just want to forget about it.'

‘C'mon, Andy!' Tim shouted from behind.

Andrew watched the stream of people disappearing down the footpath, then turned to Benny. ‘I'll seeya 'round.'

Jacked up on the show's energy, the four of them drove back to the house. Andrew felt like he had the best, most expensive drugs in the world coursing through him. When he tossed his iPod onto Heidi's dressing table among the trinkets and paperbacks, he felt a brief surge of guilt, but blocked it out—Benny shouldn't have told Richie about his dad's affair. And he should have stopped Richie from trashing his stuff.

He joined the others in the living room just as Tim tipped their money onto the floorboards and sat down to count it. Andrew put an arm around Heidi and looked at Tim. ‘Thanks for tonight.'

‘For what?'

‘Defending me.'

He looked up and shrugged. ‘I kinda enjoyed it.'

‘Freak,' said Jade.

Andrew remembered the look of terror on Richie's face. ‘What did you say to him?'

He laughed. ‘I told him I was going to bite a chunk out of his face and spit it onto the footpath.'

Jade shrieked. ‘That's disgusting, babe!'

Tim looked up at Andrew. ‘You did okay tonight, mate.'

‘Thanks.'

‘I know the first time's always the hardest, and I wasn't sure you had it in you.'

Heidi drained her glass of water and sighed. ‘It sounded brilliant.'

‘And wait till you see my photos,' Jade added. ‘I captured all of it. The fight, the jam, the crowd. Everything!' Andrew looked between them. ‘That was the most fun I think I've ever had playing music! You guys are just…I don't know…this is crazy…I feel like Byron's got me under some kind of spell or something—I feel like anything's possible.'

Heidi smiled and Tim continued counting the money. The tension between them seemed to have gone.

Heidi dragged him into her room and before he knew it, they were going for it on the bed, still sweaty from the show. She was really loud—panting and sighing, so he got into it too—throwing in the odd grunt and groan. And then he came too early and she bit down hard on his shoulder and slapped his face.

He reared away. ‘What the hell was that for?'

‘For being selfish.'

‘What?'

‘Don't you dare come before me!'

A trickle of blood ran down his shoulder. He was still hard but, although it was painful, too sensitive, he pushed inside her, determined. She started moaning and he began to feel so good about satisfying her that the pain and discomfort fell away. He kept going until she seized him in a violent clasp, her eyes closed. She didn't breathe or make a sound, then she cried out and fell back onto the mattress, laughing, her legs trembling. Lying beside her now, he propped himself up on an elbow and studied her face, stunned by how happy it made him to see her satisfied. He was glad she'd bitten and slapped him, glad that she'd demanded her pleasure, and glad that he'd been able to give it to her.

‘You're amazing,' he said, his fingertips grazing her belly. ‘Do you know that?'

She rolled onto her side, still trying to catch her breath, her face flushed. ‘You still need a lot of work… but you're not so bad.'

They lay in silence. ‘Do we need to do anything about—' ‘I already told you not to worry—I'm on the pill.'

‘What about…' He rolled onto his back. ‘I mean… Have you been with many other guys?'

She smiled, her eyes closed. ‘Trust me. I'm fine.'

six

Andrew slumped on the couch. ‘Let's take a break.'

He switched off the keyboard, retrieved his bag of weed from Heidi's room and grabbed the scissors from the kitchen. As he dropped the bag onto the coffee table, Tim stopped playing his djembe.

‘Not bad,' he said, turning the bag over in his hand. He opened it and took a whiff.

‘It's better than not bad,' Andrew replied. ‘It's been Reikied.' He waited for a laugh, but Tim just nodded, sealed the bag and threw it back onto the table.

‘You don't smoke, do you?' Andrew asked.

‘No, I sell.'

Scissors in hand, Andrew sat down, chose a good-sized bud from the bag and started chopping up. ‘I used to sell a bit in school,' he said, referring to the small G-bags he'd occasionally acquire for Benny. ‘But I never made any real money from it. How about you? Do you make much?'

‘Not as much as some.'

‘Like who?'

He hesitated. ‘Some of the kids I grew up with in Nimbin.'

‘Where's Nimbin?'

‘It's in the hinterland, about an hour away. Dad and I moved there from Newcastle when I was ten, after my mum died. It's a little hippy village where a lot of people buy and sell drugs on the street.'

‘What about the police?'

‘The cops know what's going on—there's a police station in the middle of town—but they don't do anything.'

‘Why not?'

‘I don't know, they just don't.'

‘That's crazy! So it's a town full of dealers?'

‘A lot of the local kids grew up farming it on their parents' properties. The smart ones got rich and bought property, the dumb ones developed addictions to harder stuff.'

‘So what are you addicted to?'

Tim laughed. ‘Nah, mate. I'm trying to save money for a house.'

‘In Byron? Isn't it kind of expensive?'

‘Yep.'

‘You're going to have to sell a lot of drugs.'

‘I know. But I'm planning to be smart about it. I've seen too many people fuck up—my dad included. And I've seen the mess it's made in Nimbin too. It used to be heroin, now it's ice. Some of the local boys are out of control—you see them down the street, pumped up like they think they're the Incredible Hulk, and you know they're going to smash the town, themselves, and each other to pieces—not feel a thing doing it, and not remember a thing the next day.'

Andrew's phone rang and Tim fell silent. A familiar voice sliced right through him.

‘What happened to the rental apartment?'