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Crossroads

Kerry Lown Whalen

    Snow gunned the Triumph 900 and merged with the traffic in Darlinghurst Road. He gulped in a lungful of early morning air, his head bursting with options for his future. For years he’d led a carefree existence, choosing to work at night and surf all day. Then he met Shelly. Gorgeous, easygoing, successful and ambitious, Shelly was the best thing that had happened to him and he would do anything to keep her.
    The eastern horizon glowed gold as he approached the red and blue flashing lights of a Random Breath Testing unit.
    Idiots. The cops were so predictable. He’d been flagged down at the same spot twice in the past month. He slowed, pulled into the gutter beside the cop and slipped off his helmet.
    “Been drinking, mate?”
    “No. Working.”
    “Where?”
    “At Kings Cross. Hot Spot Niteclub.”
    The cop prepared the breathalyzer. “Know the drill?”
    “Yep. Blow until you say stop.”
    “Blow.” The cop tapped his foot. “Stop.” He checked the result. “Looks fine. Off you go.”
    With a wave, Snow eased into Oxford Street. Burning outwards from the horizon, streaks of crimson and yellow flared, a sure sign there’d be crowds on the beach and a zoo out the back.

#

    He heard Shelly’s hair dryer blasting from the bathroom signaling she’d soon be heading off to work. Dammit. He’d wanted to cook Eggs Benedict, spoil her a little before she left home. He kicked off his shoes, pulled off his shirt and pants and headed for the balcony. His favorite board shorts hung there, damp and sandy. He banged them against the bricks, tugged them on and wandered inside.
    In a cloud of steam, Shelly emerged from the bathroom draped in a towel.
    “How was work?”
    He hugged her, inhaled her fragrance, stroked her silky hair. “A madhouse. And I got pulled over – RBT.”
    “Again.”
    “Same time, same place. Those cops have no imagination.”
    She chuckled. “One day they’ll catch you. And not for drunk driving either.”
    He sighed as he watched her body disappear beneath clothes designed to sell real estate. “You look great babe. Pity you’re going to work.”
    She chucked him under the chin. “Conrad fancies me. Follows me around.”
    His stomach lurched. “Want me to sort him out?”
    “No – he’s just a sleaze.”

#

    He tipped muesli into a bowl and drowned it in apple juice. On an empty stomach, he couldn’t face milk. Perhaps it was the pills. He wandered out to the balcony, squinted at the surf and spooned muesli into his mouth, ideas swirling around his head. He’d never considered a career before; never had reason to. Until Shelly came into his life, it had suited him to work nights. And his sideline was lucrative too. But Shelly earned big bucks and he wanted her respect. Should he go into real estate? He didn’t have a clue. And thinking about it was doing his head in.
    Waves steepled and broke a long way out, only to re-form in the white water closer to shore. He couldn’t wait to grab his board and get amongst it. From the bedroom came the insistent ring of his mobile. Cursing, he dashed inside before it went to message bank.
    “Hi Trig.”
    “Want some E’s?”
    “How many?”
    “Two hundred.”
    “How much?”
    “The usual.”
    He hesitated. “What’s the go?”
    “Found a new dealer.”
    “Reliable?”
    “Greedy. He put Bazza out of business.”
    Snow paused. “I’ll take the lot. Put your skates on. The surf’s pumping and I want to get out there.”
    “Ten minutes.”

#

    Snow rocked up early that night and spread the word around the club he had good gear for sale. His job as a glassie gave him access to the back where customers lit up, the smoke so potent it made his head spin. He collected glasses in the bar area, nodded to Danny and Mal, and stacked the dishwasher. If luck was on his side, he’d make a shed-load tonight.
    He headed outside. One of his regulars, Nick, waited at the usual spot.
    “Good batch, Snow?”
    “Yep. New dealer.”
    “Could be risky.” He leaned close. “Any freebies?”
    “Nah. Tried one myself.” He chuckled. “Blew my head off.”
    “Can I have one? Pay you tomorrow?”
    He paused, saw the need in Nick’s eyes. “Fifty bucks.”
    “Sweet.”
    Snow prowled the paved area, looking behind crates and planter boxes for glasses. The wankers liked hiding them, making his job difficult. Crowds clustered in the warm night air, smoking, drinking, their shouted conversations and bursts of laughter competing with the doof-doof music. It was a mug’s game being a glassie. He was ready for something better.
    Inside the club the DJ played Lady GaGa while Snow gathered up glasses from the tables and window ledges, clubbers swaying to the beat on the dance floor. Ultra-violet light probed the darkness, making apparitions of white clothing. When the music mellowed later he’d be searching for glasses under chairs and tables.
    During his break Snow drifted out the back and leaned against the rough brick wall. He spotted a couple of dorks hanging around, trying to act cool.
    The rangy one approached. “Got an E mate?”
    Snow stood tall, met his eyes. “Why ask me?”
    “Mal said you had some.”
    Snow looked over his shoulder at the dork’s mate. “You sharing with him?”
    “Yep.”
    He winked. “It’ll be some trip.”

#

    The next day Snow lazed with Shelly on the balcony, drinking coffee and watching board riders bobbing off the point. An offshore breeze flattened the swell, a smattering of white caps ruffling its surface. The shrieks of children paddling at the water’s edge split the air.
    Snow gazed at Shelly reclining on the banana lounge. Her sun-flecked hair lifted in the breeze, her tanned skin glistened.
    “You’re such a babe. Too good for me.” He perched beside her.
    “You act like a cool dude but you’re really a softie.” She squeezed his bicep.
    He grinned. “We’re good together. I want it to last.”
    “Why wouldn’t it?”
    “My job sucks. It’s not a career.”
    She nodded. “You should aim higher.”
    “I’m thinking about it. How’s the real estate game?”
    “Great. Except for Conrad.”
    “What’s the problem?”
    She shuddered. “He’s creepy. Leers at me.”
    “Bummer.” He ran his fingers through her hair, a muscle twitching near his eye. “I’d like to strangle him – slowly.”
    She smiled, cheeks dimpled. “Me too.”
    “Why not leave?”
    She shook her head. “The money’s great. I can handle Conrad.”
    He lifted her chin, looked into her eyes. “Tell me if he crosses the line.”
    “It won’t happen.” She roused herself from the banana lounge and collected the cups. “Want to come shopping?”
    “Sure.”
    Snow’s mobile rang as they left the apartment. He checked the caller and let it go to message bank. Trigger could wait.

#

    On his way to work he called at Trigger’s flat. He rapped twice on the door before it opened.
    “G’day Trig. What’ve you got?”
    “Two hundred.”
    “I’ll come in.” He shouldered his way through the doorway and down the dim hall. The place had never been painted, the hallway remaining its original muddy brown, the worn carpet an even darker shade. “Same price as last time?”
    “Yep.”
    “What’s the new supplier like?”
    “Shifty. A conman.”
    Snow frowned. “Can’t you find someone else?”
    Trig shrugged. “It’s time I got out of the game.”
    “How many E’s do you drop?”
    “Heaps. You?”
    “A few a week.”
    “A drop in the ocean.”
    Snow cuffed his shoulder. “Get your act together, Trig. You need a clear head for business.”

#

    Shelly drove through heavy morning traffic to the office and parked her SUV around the corner. She planned to follow up some prospects from an open-house, then inspect a property in Dickson Street at eleven.
    On her way in she smiled at the receptionist. “Morning Patti.”
    “Like some coffee?”
    “Just had a cup, thanks.” She switched on her computer and checked her emails. Nothing urgent showed on the screen. She’d get stuck into those phone calls immediately.
    Conrad’s voice boomed from the adjoining office. “Got a minute Shelly?” She cursed under her breath. If she’d noticed his Beamer parked on the street, she wouldn’t have come in.
    “Sure.” She sucked in a deep breath and sat in a chair opposite him, her eyes drawn to the calendar above his head featuring a beach babe in a bikini.
     Conrad’s wide smile revealed unnaturally white teeth against swarthy skin. “How did the open-house go?”
    “Nine groups in all. There’s some interest, despite the price.”
    He nodded, leaned back, his shirt buttons straining across his gut. “How about lunch today?”
    She wanted to slap his pudgy face. “Sorry. I’ve got an inspection at eleven. Then I’m meeting Snow.”
    He twirled his wedding ring. “I don’t know what you see in that guy. He’s a loser.”
    She stood and glared. He had a nerve commenting on her private life. “I have calls to make.”
    He scrambled out of his chair and grabbed her around the waist. His slobbery lips puckered as he leaned close.
    She pushed him away. “Cut it out.”
    Red-faced, he blustered. “For Christ’s sake, lighten up. What’s a kiss between friends?”
    Fists clenched, she strode from his office.

#

    Snow surfed all day, paddling out to the point where the swells peaked. From out the back he carved some long rides all the way to the beach. As the sun crept across the sky the waves got messier and he copped a hammering. He jogged home, hosed off his board and eased his aching muscles under a stinging shower. He didn’t have to work tonight and planned to cook a special meal for Shelly.
    He padded to the kitchen and chopped chicken, onions, celery, and carrots. A vapor of steam erupted when he tossed them in a wok, the ingredients sizzling as he stirred them with a wooden spoon. Perhaps he’d buy a cafe one day, cook Asian meals and boss everyone around. He’d never thought of cooking as a career before, but it could happen if he was smart.
    “I’m home.” When the door closed behind Shelly, he added chicken stock, noodles, fish sauce and coriander. “Smells like Thai.” She pecked his cheek.
    “Yep. Stir fry.”
    “I’m starving.”
    He laid raffia mats, serviettes and chopsticks on the table. At its centre, a lighted candle cast a warm glow around the room. He returned to the kitchen, spooned the food into bowls and carried them inside.
    “Wine?” He held up a bottle of Riesling.
    “Sure.”
    He poured two glasses, clinked his against hers. “Here’s to us.”
    She looked at him, head tilted. “Who’d have thought we’d still be together after a year.”
    He nodded. “Opposites attract.”
    “Yep. I’m clever and you’re not.”
    He grinned. “I’m an ace surfer. An amazing cook. And I’ll own a restaurant one day.”
    “Is that what you want?”
    He met her eyes. “Yep. I want you. And a restaurant.”
    She laughed. “Suits me.” She patted his hand. “You have the potential to succeed, Snow.”
    “Thanks. I’d like to surprise you one day.”
    “Let’s drink to that.” They clinked glasses and sipped to the sounds of waves whooshing shoreward and lapping the sand. “Something happened at work today.”
    “What?”
    “Conrad made a move on me.”
    His jaw tightened. “What did you do?”
    “Pushed him away.”
    Snow banged the table. “I’d like to re-arrange his face.”
    “Don’t cross him, Snow. He’s dangerous. Has connections.”

#

    Rain drummed on the roof all night, water from the gutters sloshing down the pipes and gurgling into the drain. While Snow tossed about in bed making plans, the storm moved out to sea, taking with it lightning jags and thunderclaps.
    After breakfast Snow lingered with Shelly over coffee at the kitchen bench. “What’s on today, Shell?”
    “Three property inspections at nine, ten and eleven. What about you?”
    “The surf’s up but I’m giving it a miss. How about lunch at Le Rendezvous?”
    Her eyes sparkled. “Yes please.”
    “Meet you there at noon.”
    With the plan clear in his mind, Snow pulled on jeans and a black T-shirt. He gazed at his reflection, flexed his muscles, satisfied he’d get respect today. He ambled downstairs to the Triumph, started the engine and rumbled along the slick streets to Shelly’s office. Parked out front Conrad’s Beamer gleamed under a watery sun. Snow removed his helmet and gloves, his heart pounding.
    He nodded to Patti at the reception desk, strode into Conrad’s office and slammed the door.
    Conrad’s eyes bulged as Snow loomed over him. “What are you doing here?”
    “Shelly’s resigned. You won’t be seeing her again.”
    His face reddened. “I’d like to hear that from her.”
    Snow stepped around the desk, gripped Conrad’s shirt front and twisted it. “You’re hearing it from me. I want the money she’s earned in her account today.”
    Cords stood out on Conrad’s neck, his face purpling. “That’s Patti’s job.”
    Snow released his grip, opened the door and beckoned to Patti. Conrad straightened his shirt and tie while she stood in the doorway.
    “Shelly’s resigned. Transfer what she’s owed.”
    Patti looked from Conrad to Snow. “Okay. But there are commissions pending.”
    Snow nodded. “Transfer them later.”
    Patti glanced at Conrad. “Do as he says.” She nodded and left.
    Arms crossed, Snow glared at Conrad. “You’re a sleaze. Can’t keep your hands to yourself.”
    Sweat trickled from Conrad’s face. He mopped at it with a white linen handkerchief. “Nothing happened Snow. I respect Shelly. She’s my top agent.”
    “You should’ve thought of that before.”
    From the outer office came the tap-tap of Patti’s keyboard, the printer whirring and spewing out paper. She appeared at the door and handed the printout to Snow.
    “The funds are in Shelly’s account.”
    “Thanks. She’ll expect the commissions later.”
    Patti nodded and left.
    Snow leaned against the door frame. “It’s over, Conrad. Any trouble and I’ll be back.”
    He shrugged. “Sure. No hard feelings.”
    Snow walked out.

#

    At Le Rendezvous, red-and-white checked cloths covered the tables and waiters glided around them carrying plates fragrant with food. Snow and Shelly sat at a quiet table for two overlooking the bougainvillea-shaded courtyard. He stared across the table at her, admiring her poise. This was Shelly’s kind of restaurant.
    He ordered champagne. “We’re celebrating, Shell.”
    “What’s the occasion?”
    He grinned. “I paid Conrad a visit. Told him you wouldn’t be back.”
    She gasped. “You what?”
    “I told him you’d resigned.”
    “Why?”
    “He’s a slime-ball. Unprofessional. You can’t work for a boss like that.”
    “Tell me what happened.” As Snow described the scenario, she chuckled. “I wish I’d been there. I’ll bet he was sweating.”
    “He wasn’t the only one.”
    She sipped her champagne. “I worked there too long.”
    “Well, you’ve seen Conrad for the last time.”
    She squeezed his hand. “Thanks for sorting him out.”
    “Anytime.” He handed her the printout. “You’ve got money in the bank.”
    She whistled at the figure. “Patti’s done me a favor. It’s more than I expected.”
    “There’s more coming.”
    She nodded. “I’ll find another job. But I’ll take a break first.”

#

    At the back of the club Snow worked like a machine to get his regulars sorted. Then Trigger rang.
    “I’m off to New Zealand.”
    “When?”
    “Tomorrow.”
    “Why?”
    “Have to get away.”
    “Coming back?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “I’ll call in. Have a beer after work.”

#

    Snow rapped twice on Trigger’s door and followed him down the dark hallway to the kitchen where plates, mugs, pans and cutlery cluttered the sink.
    Trigger opened the fridge, grabbed two stubbies and handed him one.
    “How come you’re leaving?” Snow popped the lid and swigged a mouthful.
    “No choice.”
    “Why?”
    “My dealer’s squeezing me.”
    “You said he was greedy.” Snow wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s tough, Trig, but a chance to get clean.”
    “I’ll give it my best shot.” He squared his shoulders. “I’ve reached the crossroads.”
    Snow nodded. “Me too.” He drained his stubbie, tossed it in the bin. “I need your dealer’s number.”
    Trigger shook his head. “Steer clear mate. You can’t trust him.”
    “I don’t trust anyone.”
    Trigger shrugged and brought up the number. Snow tapped it into his phone. He recognized the name – Conrad.

#

    The following night Snow cruised down to the beach on the Triumph. A few money-making ideas floated around his head, but he dismissed them. He needed quick money – and a career. Strung like Christmas lights along the esplanade, restaurants did a thumping trade with diners lining up for tables along the footpath. An Asian eatery at Bondi would be a goldmine and he’d enjoy cooking for the hordes. Shelly might want to be involved too. He turned his eyes seawards and watched arc after arc of white water rush to shore and collide with the sand. The rhythm calmed him, helped him make a decision. There was only one thing to do. He made the call.
    Shelly didn’t stir when he slipped into bed and snuggled up against her warm body. In the morning they’d have a heart-to-heart.

#

    As the sun crested the horizon, fiery beams struck the bedroom wall. Snow flung an arm over his eyes and reached for Shelly.
    “You’re awake early.” She turned her sleepy face his way.
    He leaned over and kissed her. “Feel like talking?”
    She lay on her back. “Is it serious?”
    “Very. It’s about us.”
    “What brought this on?”
    “You’ve lost your job. Mine isn’t worth having. And if Trigger can change his life, so can I.”
    “What’s the go?”
    “I want to buy a restaurant.”
    She looked into his eyes. “Got the money?”
    “That’s the easy part.”
    “How come?”
    He raised an eyebrow. “Heard about Conrad?”
    She frowned, dragged herself up, plumped the pillows behind her. “No. What about him?”
    “He was arrested. For dealing.” Snow sat up, his back against the headboard.
    She gasped. “Who dobbed him in?”
    “I did.”
    Understanding dawned on her face. “So Conrad’s a drug lord.” She smiled. “That explains why he has a Maserati. And a Beamer.”
    Snow nodded. “I’ve planned everything.” He pulled her close. “Once I’ve taken over his territory, the money will roll in.” He chuckled. “I’ll start with one restaurant and end up with a chain.”

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