Текст книги "On the Jellicoe Road "

Автор книги: Melina Marchetta

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Chapter 13

Three things happen in the next week that keep us tense and on edge.

First, we hear on the news that two girls have gone missing from the highway near a town named Rabine. It’s nowhere near us but Jessa manages to convince everyone that we could be next. Second, Richard attempts a coup and sends out word to the Townies and Cadets that, due to unforeseen circumstances, he is taking control of the UC. And finally, the Cadets, true to form, exploit the situation and take three Darling House girls hostage.

“What are they playing at?” I say to Raffaela and Ben as we race towards the clearing.

“They sent a message back with Chloe P.”

“Is she okay?”

“Kind of. She’s halfway between total hysteria and total excitement, so it could go either way.”

“Richard thinks he’s in charge,” Raffaela says.

Like hell he is.

News has got around quickly and a mass exodus from the Houses takes place, with most people joining up in the valley outside Murrumbidgee House where Trini, the leader of Darling House, is being consoled. Ben gives a wave to two of the teachers who are looking at us suspiciously, and the sobbing from Trini is put on hold.

“Bushwalk!” he calls out to them. “You interested?”

They wave us off and walk away and once they are out of sight the sobbing re-commences.

“Let’s go,” I say, breaking into a run. We take the trail just behind Murray House, which is probably the densest and least cultivated.

“What kind of a deal are they looking at?” I ask Chloe P.

“He just said that negotiations for a possible release of hostages would take place at four thirty,” she says, panting alongside me.

“Are you sure they weren’t taken by the serial killer?” Jessa pipes up. She’s torn between excitement and concern. I hear gasps of dismay from the younger kids. I stop to catch my breath and I’m amazed at just how large a crowd has gathered, squashed into almost single file on a track that hasn’t seen too many walkers in its time.

“Get back to the Houses,” I say firmly. “All juniors back to your Houses!”

There are complaints and pleading and the younger boys especially are begging me to let them come along.

“We need to have the Houses guarded as well,” I tell the leaders standing around me. “I read about this happening in ninety-two. They kidnapped three students and while the leaders went to negotiate, they invaded the Houses and the teachers never found out because the students were kept hidden.”

“Why would we hide them?” the leader of Hastings asks.

“No choice. The rules of invasion allow the invaders twenty-four hours of diplomatic immunity within enemy territory,” Raffaela explains to them.

“Any point of entry in every House is to be locked and all juniors are to be confined indoors. Raffy, I want you back home.”

It takes us a while to get to the boundary and I have to spend most of the time listening to the threats from some of the senior boys about what they’ll do when they come across the Cadets. Which is slightly amusing because, knowing these guys, one look at Jonah Griggs and they’ll be pushing me forward as a human shield.

We reach the clearing and Chloe P. is brought back up to me.

“Is this the place?” I ask patiently.

She nods solemnly. “See, there’s Teresa’s beret.”

More sobbing from Trini, who clutches the beret tragically. Ben exchanges a long-suffering look with me and I push him towards her. While he methodically pats her on the back, I walk away and check the markings of the boundaries. I can’t help thinking how petty the Cadets have been on this occasion. The girls would have taken no more than two steps into their territory before they were on them. I begin to wonder what Jonah Griggs is up to. I try to listen out for their approach, giving the others a silent shush gesture. But staying inconspicuous is not going to work. Trini is hyperventilating and some of the senior boys are continually swinging around in a paranoid attempt to see who’s behind them. Even I have a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Outside the dramatics of the Jellicoe students, there is a stillness around that makes it seem as if no one else exists, but the Cadets are cunning and knowing Jonah Griggs, he’s probably watching us already.

“This means we’re going to lose another trail or part of the property,” Ben says to me quietly.

“Shhh.” I take a few steps back. “Who knows,” I whisper, “but we’re running out of things to trade with them.”

Four thirty comes, as does five o’clock, but nobody surfaces. I stay, standing the whole time, on guard, but by five twenty I’m exhausted and almost ready to give in to the suggestion of one of the guys that we invade.

“It’s best that we stay put on our side of the boundaries,” I tell them. “I don’t know what Griggs’s game is, but we need to know what we’re up against and I’m betting that the moment we cross that line they’ll be on us like a ton of bricks and trying to negotiate back seniors is going to be a lot harder.”

“I don’t think they’re around, Taylor,” the leader of Murray tells me.

“Don’t bet on it.”

After sitting for almost an hour, Richard comes to stand alongside me. It’s his way of making it seem that we’re equal and of asserting some kind of power in this whole farce.

“If they want something from us,” I tell him calmly, “I’m going to give them the trail closest to your House so that every time you see them loitering behind those trees you’ll remember how your little coup attempt contributed to this.”

“Why don’t you just go and have a breakdown somewhere?” he says, walking away.

By five thirty I’m pissed off and bored and I have absolutely no idea whether these guys are going to jump out of the sky or walk straight out of the bushland in front of us.

“Jonah Griggs!” I call out.

“Taylor Markham!” he answers from the bushes right in front of me.

Ben looks at me, rolling his eyes, and I turn around and motion for the others to step back.

“Stay here,” I say to Ben, stepping over the boundary lines.

Griggs comes out of hiding and approaches me as if he is on some Sunday afternoon walk, appreciating the nature around him.

“Where are they?” I ask, seething.

He peers closely at my face.

“Don’t like these things,” he says, pointing to what I’m presuming are the rings under my eyes. “You really need to get some sleep.”

I slap his hand away. “Where are they?” I ask again, forcefully.

“You didn’t warn them about the boundary lines. Those girls had absolutely no idea, whereas my juniors could point them out in their sleep.”

“Why don’t you just give yourself a pat on the back for being the world’s best leader, then.” He gives himself a pat on the back and I can tell he is enjoying himself at my expense.

“I can’t believe how petty you are. They’re in year seven!”

“Why is this a surprise to you?” he asks. “This has always happened. One of you ventures into our territory and there’s payback. Do you remember that?” he calls out to Ben. “Payback for trespassing?”

“With alarming clarity,” Ben calls back.

“Same with us. Happened to my friend Choi here, last year. Do you remember that, Choi?”

Behind him I notice at least one hundred Cadets either sitting in trees or coming out from behind shrubs and branches. I have to hand it to them. When it comes to camouflage, they certainly know what they’re doing.

“He ventured into your territory and our leader had to go fight your leader to get him back.”

Anson Choi nods solemnly. “Traumatic time. They put me into Murrumbidgee House. Very uptight bastards in there. They thought I’d be good at chess and they forced me to play all night.”

“So you and I are going to have a punch-up?” I ask Griggs.

“What do you propose I do?”

“Hand back my year sevens.”

“This is how the territory wars have always been fought,” he says firmly. “It’s in the handbook. Do you think they’re just about threats and ‘don’t walk on our boundaries’? It’s hand-to-hand combat. Someone is always going to lose. Sometimes it’s just one to the jaw. Other times a few to the gut and, presto, we hand back the hostages. The only thing is that for the past four years the leaders have been male.”

“Let’s change the rules this year. Because just between you and me, you’re scaring me.”

He looks at me closely again. “You need to put all your shit behind you because we’ve had at least two meetings about the Club House without you there and Santangelo and I are about this close,” he says, indicating a couple of centimetres with his fingers, “to breaking each other’s necks.”

“Jonah, hand over the kids,” I say tiredly.

He turns around and gives a whistle. The three Darling kids are taken out of their hiding spot and I relax slightly, a bit grateful, a bit surprised. This is a good victory for me in front of my school. All done with not one drop of blood or petty skirmish.

“Are you in charge?” he calls over my shoulder.

I turn around and watch Richard nod smugly. “Technically,” he says, walking towards us.

“Technicalities rarely interest me,” Griggs says, and then he smashes Richard in the face.

“We don’t really like scaring the kids,” he says patiently, looking to where Richard has fallen. “So you need to warn them that for every one of them who enters our territory, their leader gets payback. You, of course, can distribute punishment to them for your troubles. I’ve found in the past if I have to be the punching bag for one of my juniors, I usually get him to polish my shoes, maybe do my washing—the petty things, you know. But it rarely happens. You see, my juniors know who’s in charge. We try not to confuse them because it puts them in danger.” Griggs feigns confusion. “So who is in charge around here?”

“I’m in charge,” I say, staring at him, bristling with fury.

He looks down at Richard and extends a hand. Richard is still stunned and doesn’t know whether to take it or not.

“You okay with that decision, Dick? Can I call you that? Her being in charge?”

Richard mumbles something unintelligable.

“Good to hear.” Griggs walks away.

Richard sways slightly so I hold him up. He puts his sleeve to his nose. “Maybe we should meet tonight and discuss the boundaries,” he says.

“Clear this area now,” I tell him before turning to Trini, who is clutching the three kids to her breast.

“You okay?” I ask them, but they’re too busy trying to disentangle themselves.

“Make sure you debrief them and that they’re okay,” I tell Trini. “I’ll come and speak to them later.”

“I don’t want them hassled,” she says, leading them away.

I walk back towards the disappearing Cadets. “Hey,” I call out after Jonah Griggs. He stops with Anson Choi by a tree and leans against it, a ghost of a smile on his face. He looks pleased with himself and I give him that little moment of triumph before I get up close and slap him hard across the face.

“Don’t you ever do that again,” I say, furious.

“Ouch, that hurt!” he says, rubbing his cheek.

“I can fight my own battles.”

“I wasn’t fighting your battles,” he argues.

“Yes you were. That’s my business,” I say, pointing to where the others, except for Ben, have retreated, “and your little patronising act could put me in a weak position with them.”

“I don’t think they realised he was protecting your interests, Tayls,” Ben calls out. “They’re too stupid.”

“I wasn’t protecting her,” Griggs argues angrily over my shoulder at Ben.

“It kind of came across as if you were,” Anson Choi explains to Griggs patiently.

“Did I ask your opinion, Choi?”

“No, but just from my perspective and what I know about your history,” Anson Choi says calmly, “it came across like you were—”

Griggs gives him a look and Anson Choi puts up his hand and nods as if he understands that silence is required.

“Protect your boundaries and it won’t happen again,” Griggs tells us.

“If you think you’re scaring us, think again, GI Jerk,” Ben says.

I look at Ben, impressed with his wit and force. “Let’s go,” I say to him, and we walk away.

When we reach the bend and they no longer can see us, Ben gives a laugh. “How bloody impressive was that?”

“I thought you were very impressive,” I say.

“No, I mean him giving Richard a biffo.”

I stop and stare at him.

“He had it coming to him, Taylor. While you’ve been so tragic for the past week with the whole death-by-eighties-music thing, Richard was an arsehole. I was bloody impressed with Griggs,” he says to me. “He’s gone from a zero in my eyes to a two.”

“How does he get to a ten?”

“If he did to Richard what he did to me. I got the full enchilada, you see. One to the face and the two to the gut, plus the stepping on the fingers.”

“So when it’s happening to someone else it’s all cool?”

“Any pain inflicted on Richard warms my heart and it warms yours as well. Go on, admit it. When he hit the ground and the blood went flying and you knew in your heart his nose was broken, didn’t you just want to jump for joy and stomp on his ugly face?”

I look at him, shaking my head. “Actually, no, Ben. I didn’t. I was thinking that I’d rather be in the common-room watching Home and Away.”

“You know what your problem is? You don’t know how to enjoy yourself. That was fun. That was better than Home and Away.”

Later I go see the Darling girls and take Jessa and Chloe P. with me, only because they’re convincing about their ability to ask questions of people their own age as opposed to my question-asking, which Jessa points out could be intimidating.

Darling House is a touchy-feely House. Everyone is really sweet and they even say grace before meals. It’s interesting to see how other Houses work. The past leaders of my House were so hell-bent on being the best that there was no room for anything that didn’t have to do with power. Here, every emotion and talent and opinion is nurtured and supported.

“I’m grateful for what you did,” Trini says to me, offering me tea and jam tarts, which are served to me on what looks like their best china.

“I’m not really here for your gratitude,” I say honestly. “I need your support and frankly it hasn’t really come my way.”

“Well, change is scary,” she says, as if she’s giving a lecture to her House. “The past leaders have always been despots. We feel safe that way. Richard is exactly like them and it’s better the devil you know.”

“But you don’t run this House like a despot.”

“Of course I don’t. It’s against our ideology. But outside this House we still need order. Just say you let the Cadets run around our property and I have to worry twenty-four-seven about the girls. It’s bad enough keeping those Murray and Clarence guys away from them.”

“I would never let the Cadets run around our property.”

“Well, Richard said—”

“Screw Richard, Trini.”

“Taylor, we don’t use that type of language in our House,” she says reprovingly.

She leans forward and stares at me intently. “I’m responsible for these kids, Taylor. Like you are for yours. When I leave for holidays, those who don’t have a place to go, they come home with me. So if those Cadets ever come near my year sevens again, I will maim them.”

I nod.

“Would you like to see them now?”

We walk into the junior dorms, where Jessa and Chloe P. are deep in conversation with a cluster of the juniors who are bombarding the hostages with questions.

“Tell me about the set-up,” I say to them, sitting down on one of the beds where some of them are congregated.

The girls look at me blankly.

“What she actually means, girls, is what was it like out there? Kind of describe it to us,” Jessa says, beaming at them and then at me. Trini beams at her and there’s a lot of beaming happening.

The spokesperson for the three sits up. “They had us in a tent and they had two senior boys guarding us and all these boys wanted to come and look at us because they don’t get to see many girls but the two boys guarding us wouldn’t let anyone near us because someone told them that Jonah Griggs said that if anyone touched us they were to break their arms.”

“Jonah Griggs is their leader,” another one of them explains to me.

“Did they scare you?” I asked.

“When they first caught us, it was a bit scary.”

“They have a barbecue every night. That’s what the Cadet guarding us said.”

“Wow,” Jessa says. Chloe P. is equally impressed.

“So what was it like out there?” I say brightly, repeating Jessa’s words. “Kind of describe it to us.”

“There are six boys to each tent and about fifteen tents per form. The year-eleven tents are the closest to the bush trails and the teachers’ tents are right in the middle of them all. They have this Brigadier from the real army staying with them and everyone thinks it’s cool but they said he can be a bit scary. You should see his tent: it’s massive and always locked up.”

“And where is the Brigadier’s tent?” I ask innocently.

The girls draw me a diagram and I’m impressed at just how much they took in.

“She’s very impressed,” Jessa tells them, beaming.

Everyone’s still beaming and this time I beam back.

Chapter 14

The look on the constable’s face said it all to Jude. Another fifteen minutes of their life would be wasted by indifference. But he could see the younger cop sitting at a desk behind him—the one who always stopped Fitz in the street to make sure everything was okay. The young constable caught Jude’s eye and after a moment he wandered over casually.

“You want me to take care of this?” he said to the officer on duty.

“It’s all yours.”

Jude noticed that the constable didn’t look much older than them. Up close, his olive skin was smooth and his dark eyes were questioning but kind.

“So you want to tell me what’s going on?”

“You’re kind of the fourth person and no one’s really listening,” Jude said.

“I’m listening.”

“We’re missing someone.”

“Not Fitz?”

“No, but he’s gone AWOL. Our friend Webb—Narnie’s brother—he’s gone. You’ve probably received word from the school. We don’t know where he is but it’s been two days.”

The young cop’s stomach turned. He knew these kids—the girls, anyway. During his first week on the job five years ago he had been called out to an accident on the Jellicoe Road. It had been the first time he had ever seen dead bodies and he remembered how he had thrown up on the side of the road while his sergeant had told him to pull himself together. He remembered these faces. He remembered Fitz with them, a new look in the troubled kid’s eyes.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Jude said. “Some shit about him being seventeen and probably taking a bit of ‘time out.’ But I bet if his parents were beating down your door, you’d be listening.”

“I said I’m listening,” the constable said firmly.

His gaze went from Jude to the girls. “Who was the last to see him?”

A muffled sound came from Tate but Jude could hardly look at her. It was as if she had disappeared in the last two days. Like the light had gone out of her eyes. He couldn’t handle Tate like this. Narnie, he was used to but not Tate.

“Was he acting strange?” the cop asked. “Did he take anything with him?”

“Nothing’s really missing,” Jude said. “Probably what he would always have on him. Like his Felix cap and he always had his Walkman and that’s gone. But nothing else.”

“What about money?”

Jude looked at Narnie and she numbly shook her head. “There’s no money until we’re eighteen.”

“But that’s soon, isn’t it?” he asked gently.

She gave the young constable the full force of her stare. “Why are you asking us this? He didn’t leave. He would never leave. Something has happened to him. Something bad.”

“Look,” he said. “I’m not saying I don’t believe that but we hear stories like this all the time. That there’s no way someone would run away or just take off, but they do. Stuff happens that not even the closest person to them knows about.”

“You don’t know my brother.”

“Tate, you were the last to see him,” Jude said. “Can you remember?”

She looked at Jude, bewildered. “Remember? I can remember everything I’ve ever said to him and every single thing he’s ever said to me.”

They looked at her, waiting. “He told me about his university choices and that he was looking in the city papers for a place to live for me and him and how Narnie would come and join us next year when school was out. And how we’d stay in the city for just four years and then we’d come back here because he’s going to build me a house. A house for me and Narnie and him. And that it was going to be hard leaving Fitz behind but maybe, just maybe, we could convince Fitz to come to the city with us and that Jude would be there, too, and then I told him…I told him we were going to have a baby.”

“Tate.” Narnie breathed softly. “Oh, Tate.”

“He was…I don’t know, shocked. Like he couldn’t believe it. I mean, we’ve been together…in that way…forever…because there was never going to be anyone but Webb. That night,” she said, looking at Narnie. “Remember that night? I heard his voice and it was like…it was like God spoke and I knew, from that moment on, that I’d be with him for the rest of my life. That’s the only reason I lived. To be with that boy with that voice. Remember, Narnie? He climbed through the window, through all that glass, just to hold my hand.”

“No, Tate, you climbed through the window to hold our hands. You cut your arm, remember? Just to be with us.”

Jude watched Narnie put her arm around Tate. He didn’t know this Narnie. Her voice was stronger and he had spent the last two days not being able to look at her because her gaze was so sharp and focused that it pierced through him.

“Maybe he decided—” the cop started.

“No,” Narnie said, staring at him as if warning him against saying anything that would upset Tate. “My brother would never in a million years leave us. You quote all your statistics and what you’ve seen on this job but you don’t know Webb.”

The constable picked up his pen and began to record details, adopting an air of professionalism but deep down he felt a sorrow for these kids that made his insides churn.

“I need a photo,” he said, “and can I suggest a GP? My wife’s having a baby as well, you see.”

Narnie looked at Tate and nodded.

“Let’s start with his name,” the constable said.

We attend another meeting with the Townies and Cadets in the scout hall, ready to talk real issues and make intelligent demands. When Raffaela, Ben, and I arrive, some of the Townie girls are hanging around the entrance where Jonah Griggs and Anson Choi are just about to walk in. One of the girls approaches Jonah Griggs and just hands him her phone. No warm up, no “Hi, how are you, can I call you sometime?” She just hands over a mobile phone so he can record his number. I want to be petty and tell them we don’t have coverage out off the Jellicoe Road but that would just mean I cared.

“Sorry, we don’t have phone coverage off the Jellicoe Road,” Jonah Griggs says, handing it back and disappearing beyond the doors.

As I walk past the girls, I hear one say, “That’s his girlfriend,” and I stop and face them.

“What did you say?”

They ignore me with that wide-eyed how-uncool-is-this-girl-for-responding look on their face.

“I’m not his girlfriend,” I say forcefully.

“Well, good for us,” one of them says snidely.

“Not really,” Raffaela tells them. “He’s got a girlfriend and he’s madly in love with her. She lives next door back home.”

I am surprised by this news. Even more surprised that Raffy knows but then again Raffy has this way of knowing everything. As we enter the room, I ask the burning question as indifferently as I can. “How did you find out all that stuff about Griggs and his girlfriend?”

“It was easy. I lied.”

The meeting is a farce from the moment things get started. Santangelo is babysitting three of his sisters and they practise Beyoncé dance movements while the Mullet Brothers insist on playing their guitars.

“Your mother told my mother that she wants Jessa McKenzie for the holidays,” Raffaela tells Santangelo above the noise. “Do you guys know her?”

It’s the first I’ve heard of the plan and I feel an anxiety that I can’t explain.

“Oh, bloody wonderful,” he says bitterly. “Because there just aren’t enough women living in my house already.”

The Mullet Brothers fight amongst themselves the whole time and at one stage Anson Choi and Ben are trying to keep them off each other while having an argument themselves about musical pitch and when Jonah Griggs yells, “This is ridiculous! I’m not coming back,” I have to agree for once.

Outside, the Townie girls are still hanging around and while we wait for Ben, I notice them speaking to Griggs, who is very amused at what they have to say, which has to be fake because there is no way these girls would be witty.

We walk home, the Cadets behind us and, not really wanting the Cadets to listen to our conversation, Ben, Raffaela, and I walk in silence.

“You know what I’m going to do when I get back to camp, Choi?” Griggs says a bit too cheerfully.

“What, Griggs?”

“I’m going to write a letter to my next-door neighbour. She’s my girlfriend. We’re madly in love.”

Raffaela gives me a sideways glance and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh and I realise what Griggs found so amusing when he was talking to the Townie girls.

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend, Griggs.” Anson Choi feigns surprise. “What’s her name?”

“I didn’t actually catch her name,” Griggs continues.

“Lily,” Raffaela says over her shoulder and this time I give her a sideways look.

“Great to know that I’m in love with a girl with a cool name.”

“It’s Taylor’s middle name,” Raffaela calls back again.

Placing Raffaela in the path of an oncoming car becomes one of the major priorities of the next ten seconds of my life.

“So apart from writing letters home to your fantasy girlfriends,” Ben says, walking backwards, “what do you guys do out here without television and phones?”

“Men’s business. Bit confidential,” Griggs says patronisingly.

“Wow, wish I were you,” Ben says, shaking his head with mock regret. “All I’ll be doing tonight is hanging out in Taylor’s bedroom, lying on her bed, sharing my earphones with her, hoping she won’t hog all the room because it’s such a tiny space.”

He gives them a wave. “Now you have fun with your men’s business and spare a thought for my plight.”

Griggs and Ben compete in a who-can-outstare-each-other-longer competition until Anson Choi drags Griggs away to the other side of the road.

I look at Ben then Raffaela. “What was that all about?” I whisper angrily. “The Lily thing and the hanging out in Taylor’s bedroom?”

They both have a what-did-we-do look on their faces.

“He just went from a zero to a two in my eyes for not smashing you, Ben!”

“How does he get to be a ten?”

I look over to the other side of the road and watch Griggs as he walks. It’s a lazy walk but so full of confidence that you want to be standing behind him all the way.

How does Jonah Griggs get to be a ten? He sits on a train with me when we’re fourteen and he weeps, tearing at his hair, bashing his head with the palm of his hand, self-hatred pouring out of him like blood from a gut wound in a war movie, and for the first time in my whole life I have a purpose. I am the holder of the grief and pain and guilt and passion of Jonah Griggs and as we sit huddled on the floor of the carriage, he allows me to hold him, to say, “Shhh, Jonah, it wasn’t your fault.” While his body still shakes from the convulsions, he takes hold of my hand and links my fingers with his and I feel someone else’s pain for the first time that I can remember.

The knock at my window that night frightens the hell out of me. I’ve used the window for years as an exit point, but nobody has used it as an entry and for a crazy moment I convince myself that the boy in the tree in my dreams is coming after me.

I get up from my computer and peer out and there, crouching on the ledge, is Griggs. He doesn’t ask to be let in. He just stands up, expecting me to step aside. Technically this could be considered against the rules of the territory wars but I open the window. He looks down at my singlet and underpants and stares for a long time as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then he climbs in and looks around the room without commenting.

I walk to my drawers and put on my jumper, which hardly reaches my thighs.

“Hope you didn’t do that on my account.”

I don’t say anything and he casually leans against my desk, picking up the novel that’s sitting there.

“It’s bullshit,” he tells me, flicking through it. “There’s no such thing as Atticus Finch.”

I shrug. “It’d be good if there was, though. Why are you here?”

“Why else? The Club House,” he says.

I nod. “If we agree on this, we need to explain the rules to the Townies,” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says. “No ridiculous dress codes concocted by irrational women.”

It’s like he’s making things up off the top of his head.

“It’s our men who are irrational,” I explain to him. “We prefer to be labelled as pragmatic and long-suffering.”

“So how do they get in here?”

“Who?”

“Your irrational men. Cassidy? The rest?”

For a moment I get a sense of why he’s really here. I feel my face flushing and see that his is, too.

I clear my throat and get back to business. “Ban for life on anyone who gets drunk.”

“No boy-band music.”

I don’t know what to say to that one because I’m making all this up as well.

“No…Benny Rogers.”

“Kenny,” he corrects.

“We insist that the Mullet Brothers don’t play every night.”

“Mullet Brothers?” After a moment he works out who I’m talking about and he nods. “We call them Heckle and Jeckle.”

“And you never step on my second-in-command’s fingers ever again.”

He nods once more. “My second-in-command? Choi? He DJs. He’ll want to do that at least once.”

I nod. Lots of nodding. It’s all too awkward. A few days ago I had brought up one of the most taboo subjects of his life and he had me pinned against the wall and here we are pretending it never happened.

“If this backfires, there’ll be a war,” I say.

“There already is a war. I think you forget that at times.”

“And you don’t?”

“Never. And you can’t afford to either.”

“Is that a warning?”

“Maybe. But let’s not make it complicated. Let’s just make sure it doesn’t backfire.”

He holds out a hand and I shake it and as I do he stands up from where he’s leaning against my desk and it’s like he hovers over me, which is strange because I’ve always been at eye-level with the boys around here.