The Byron Journals by Daniel Ducrou Read Free Book Online Page A

don’t do anything.’
    â€˜Why not?’
    â€˜I don’t know, they just don’t.’
    â€˜That’s crazy! So it’s a town full of dealers?’
    â€˜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.’
    â€˜So what are you addicted to?’
    Tim laughed. ‘Nah, mate. I’m trying to save money for a house.’
    â€˜In Byron? Isn’t it kind of expensive?’
    â€˜Yep.’
    â€˜You’re going to have to sell a lot of drugs.’
    â€˜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.
    â€˜What happened to the rental apartment?’
    He strode out the back door onto the verandah. ‘Mum…What are you talking about?’
    â€˜C’mon, Andrew. Who caused the damage?’
    He paused, wondering if his dad had confessed his infidelity. ‘How should I know?’
    â€˜Well, you were staying there.’
    â€˜So?’
    â€˜So—Richie’s father has just presented me with a bill for eight and a half thousand dollars.’
    â€˜Richie and I had a fight, and I moved into a different house. Whatever happened to the apartment after that has nothing to do with me. I barely even stayed there.’
    â€˜He claims that you broke in and trashed the place to get him back.’
    â€˜And you believe him?’
    â€˜You’re the one with an obvious motive.’ She cleared her throat. ‘But I told him I wasn’t doing anything until I’d spoken to you.’
    Andrew stopped by the frangipani tree, picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers. ‘Thanks.’
    â€˜So you had nothing to do with it?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Fine…I’ll call Richie’s father back now and tell him where we stand. I think he’ll decide against making a civil claim for damages. And I’ll let him know that if he decides to refer the matter to the police, he’d better be prepared to take it to court.’
    Andrew dropped the flower. ‘Court?’
    Through the screen door he saw Tim sit up at the mention of the word.
    â€˜Don’t worry, he won’t have the balls,’ she said, then she sighed. ‘When are you coming home?’
    â€˜I don’t know…have you—’ He was going to say, spoken to Dad, but was cut short.
    â€˜Jesus, Andrew…you know, there are better, more productive ways for you to spend your summer than growing your hair and smoking pot in Byron Bay.’
    â€˜I just cut it, actually.’
    â€˜Andrew, I’m serious.’
    â€˜Well, there are better, more productive ways for you to spend your life than defending scumbags who mess up other people’s lives.’
    â€˜Oh, get off your high horse.’
    He wanted to tell her about getting bashed—how he’d been hunted down by some kid because of her, because of a case she’d run. How he’d been thrown onto the ground, punched and kicked in the back and ribs, and the only reason he hadn’t been seriously injured was because someone had called out and the kid had run off. But he held it in. If he told her what had happened, she’d turn it around and convince him that she wasn’t to blame. Holding it back gave him the power. ‘It’s your own fault you’re so unhappy,’ he