donât do anything.â
âWhy not?â
âI donât know, they just donât.â
âThatâs crazy! So itâs a town full of dealers?â
âA lot of the local kids grew up farming it on their parentsâ properties. The smart ones got rich and bought property, the dumb ones developed addictions to harder stuff.â
âSo what are you addicted to?â
Tim laughed. âNah, mate. Iâm trying to save money for a house.â
âIn Byron? Isnât it kind of expensive?â
âYep.â
âYouâre going to have to sell a lot of drugs.â
âI know. But Iâm planning to be smart about it. Iâve seen too many people fuck upâmy dad included. And Iâve seen the mess itâs made in Nimbin too. It used to be heroin, now itâs ice. Some of the local boys are out of controlâyou see them down the street, pumped up like they think theyâre the Incredible Hulk, and you know theyâre going to smash the town, themselves, and each other to piecesânot feel a thing doing it, and not remember a thing the next day.â
Andrewâs phone rang and Tim fell silent. A familiar voice sliced right through him.
âWhat happened to the rental apartment?â
He strode out the back door onto the verandah. âMumâ¦What are you talking about?â
âCâmon, Andrew. Who caused the damage?â
He paused, wondering if his dad had confessed his infidelity. âHow should I know?â
âWell, you were staying there.â
âSo?â
âSoâRichieâs father has just presented me with a bill for eight and a half thousand dollars.â
âRichie 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
âHe claims that you broke in and trashed the place to get him back.â
âAnd you believe him?â
âYouâre the one with an obvious motive.â She cleared her throat. âBut I told him I wasnât doing anything until Iâd spoken to you.â
Andrew stopped by the frangipani tree, picked a flower and twirled it between his fingers. âThanks.â
âSo you had nothing to do with it?â
âNo.â
âFineâ¦Iâll call Richieâs father back now and tell him where we stand. I think heâll decide against making a civil claim for damages. And Iâll let him know that if he decides to refer the matter to the police, heâd better be prepared to take it to court.â
Andrew dropped the flower. âCourt?â
Through the screen door he saw Tim sit up at the mention of the word.
âDonât worry, he wonât have the balls,â she said, then she sighed. âWhen are you coming home?â
âI donât knowâ¦have youââ He was going to say, spoken to Dad, but was cut short.
âJesus, Andrewâ¦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
âI just cut it, actually.â
âAndrew, Iâm serious.â
âWell, there are better, more productive ways for you to spend your life than defending scumbags who mess up other peopleâs lives.â
âOh, get off your high horse.â
He wanted to tell her about getting bashedâhow heâd been hunted down by some kid because of her, because of a case sheâd run. How heâd been thrown onto the ground, punched and kicked in the back and ribs, and the only reason he hadnât 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, sheâd turn it around and convince him that she wasnât to blame. Holding it back gave him the power. âItâs your own fault youâre so unhappy,â he