Big Bad
Wolf pulled into the parking bay opposite the “Big Bad” he’d tagged on The Dive’s brown-brick walls twenty-three years earlier. Dragging himself from his iridium 1978 Corolla, he inhaled the town’s dank aroma, flooding his body with nostalgic sensations. The excitement of sipping his first beer at age twelve surged through his body, its bitterness rousing his taste buds. Wolf recalled modelling his look on the seller’s shaggy hair, denim jacket, and torn jeans years later, and winced. Crossing the litter-strewn path, the satisfaction he’d felt lying in the rubble after drunkenly demolishing the industry pigs’ commercial housing set his heart racing.
Wolf cringed. He’d spent two decades trying to escape his past, but Joe, his Alcoholic Anonymous sponsor, had insisted he confront it and make amends. Taking a deep breath, he heaved open the pub’s heavy glass doors.
Stepping inside was like entering a time capsule. Dusty footy trophies and honour boards lined the mud-coloured walls, the same musty red carpet still felt sticky underfoot, and the bar’s lacquered surface retained most of its sheen.
Hell, thought Wolf scanning the room, even the patrons look the same.
‘Sunufa bitch!’ a familiar voice shouted across the room. Bruno, Wolf’s old drinking buddy, lumbered through the cigarette-smoke. ‘Big Bad’s back!’ he declared to the bar’s patrons.
No one looked up from their drinks.
Bruno’s face was haggard, and his once thick black hair was receding, but he still clad his stick-like figure in the same daggy jeans and black t-shirt. He embraced Wolf.
Wolf patted him on the back. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Bruno staggered backwards. ‘Let me shout ya a Bundy an’ coke.’ He led him towards the bar.
‘Water’s fine.’
His old friend chuckled and waved the bartender over. ‘Seriously, what’ll ya have?’
‘I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Fer real?’
Wolf nodded.
‘Far out, man.’ Bruno ordered water for him and a VB for himself despite holding half a middie. They sat on the same pockmarked bar stools they’d claimed decades earlier.
Wolf sipped his water.
Bruno sculled his remaining glass. ‘Rememba knockin’ down those pigs’ houses?’
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Farck! Big Bad’s gone soft.’
‘You’re not a fuckin’ teenager anymore, Bruno.’
‘’Stha only way ta live, man.’ Bruno chugged his fresh beer. ‘’Sides, I only have tha odd sip.’
‘Are you still spinning that bullshit? That’s the sort of shit we’d feed our folks after polishing off a slab and a few bottles of Bundy.’
‘Those were tha days.’
‘How can you say that? You had double the amount of alcohol that killed John Bonham in your system.’
A smile crept across Bruno’s lips. This had been a point of pride in their youth. It seemed it still was. ‘Lay off. I was a bloody legend.’ He guzzled his middie and slammed it onto the bar. ‘Why dredge up all ‘a this shit?’
‘Because it won’t leave me alone. And… I need to make amends. Surely you can understand that after what you put Midge through.’
His old friend shrugged. ‘Don’t rememba much ’bout dat.’
‘We did some terrible things.’
Bruno wiped froth from his mouth and waved his empty glass at the bartender. As the barman filled a new glass, he said, ‘’Spose ya wanna see Midge.’
Wolf nodded. Of all the people he needed to make amends with, she mattered most.
‘Ya know ’bout tha boy?’ His old friend’s tone soured.
He shook his head.
Bruno peered into his glass and grimaced. ‘Best speak ta Midge ’bout dat.’
Wolf stared at him. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say. He stood and clapped his old friend’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be off.’
Bruno clumsily dismounted his stool.
Wolf stopped him. ‘Take it easy, man. You’re not sixteen anymore.’
‘Farck off, ya pussy.’
* * *
After the third knock, the vacuum cleaner whir inside the familiar redbrick house wound down, and the door opened a crack. Despite the dark circles around the woman’s eyes and the premature grey roots of her blonde hair, Wolf recognised her immediately. ‘Hey Midge.’
The woman squinted through the flywire. ‘Wolf?’
He smiled. ‘I might be greying and covered with wrinkles, but yeah, it’s me.’
Warmness radiated across Midge’s face, clearing away twenty years. She opened the door, then froze, a grimace darkening her features. ‘You better leave. He wouldn’t approve.’
‘Bruno? I just spoke to him. He said something about Justin.’
Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. ‘I’ll bet he did.’
Wolf tried to catch her gaze but she stared at the ground. Once, they’d been close friends. Now the chasm between them felt enormous. Before he could speak, Midge opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
The house was immaculately clean. Green and brown shags carpeted the floors, while the tan walls looked as fresh as the day Wolf had painted them. Even the vibrant orange Formica that covered the kitchen cupboards and the breakfast bar still sparkled.
As Midge led him further into the house, she adjusted paintings and knickknacks. ‘Sorry about the state of the place.’
‘The house is spotless,’ said Wolf.
‘You’re just saying that.’
‘Honestly.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder.
Midge shivered and pulled away. ‘Don’t.’ She removed a straw broom from the pantry and began sweeping.
Wolf took it from her hands and leant it against the wall. ‘What’s happened, Midge? We used to be close.’
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I married an alcoholic, didn’t I.’
‘He said he was going to give up the grog.’
‘He did. For a while.’ Her gaze returned to the floor. ‘But after you left, he got bored. One night I found him plastered at the pub. He said it was a one-time lapse, but I found his stash in the shed. When I confronted him, he said he didn’t feel alive without it.’
Wolf nodded.
‘I put up with it because the fun Bruno was back. But he began to drink so much.’
‘Didn’t the doctors advise him against it?’
Midge was silent for a long time. ‘He’s been in and out of hospital so many times. I—’ Her voice trembled. ‘You don’t know how bad it’s been.’ She stared at him, her eyes watery. ‘The shit he put me and Justin through… I’ve found him passed out in the street, left in lockup for being disorderly. And the paranoia and rages… The doctors say if he keeps drinking he’ll end up with dementia. God knows I’ve seen signs of it already.’
Wolf couldn’t bare the pain in her eyes. He went to embrace her but she held up her hand.
‘He leaves the hospital a better person after the antidepressants and anti-psychotics. But once he’s out, he starts drinking again. At first, he tries to hide it. But I know the signs.’
‘Have you tried getting him help?’
‘Of course! But Bruno tells the doctors I’m just overprotective.’ She sniffled. ‘They can’t do anything unless he wants to help himself.’
‘So leave.’
Midge glared at Wolf, her right eye twitching. ‘Leave? After all this time, that’s all you’ve got? You don’t know shit about what happened.’
He bowed his head. ‘No. I don’t. But I’ve had my own demons to deal with. Joe, my sponsor, helped. Maybe Bruno—’
She grimaced. ‘I’ve thought of leaving him a thousand times. But what would I do? They don’t give jobs to high school dropouts. Not ones that pay enough to support a drunk and a child.’
‘Surely Justin’s old enough to support himself now.’
Midge glanced at the closed door across the living room. ‘Try telling him that.’
‘He still lives here?’
‘There’s something else.’ She took a moment before continuing. ‘When Bruno was in the hospital, do you remember—’
Wolf took her hand. ‘—the night we spent together? Of course.’
Midge stared at Wolf’s hand over hers.
‘You were at your wits end,’ he said. ‘We needed each other.’
‘I… I know.’ Her eyes watered again. ‘Everything was such a mess. When Justin was conceived Bruno and I hadn’t been… intimate.’
‘Oh.’ Wolf remembered his night with Midge fondly. He should have taken her with him and given her the life she deserved. Then it dawned on him. ‘You mean… Is Justin my son?’
She nodded.
He stared at her, speechless. His legs trembled. Was there really someone out there with his flesh and blood? ‘Does Justin know?’
Midge remained silent for a long time. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know how to tell him.’
A lengthy silence followed. Wolf had never considered parenthood. Hell, he struggled to care for himself. But if he had a son, he wanted to see him. He approached the door across the lounge.
‘Wait.’ She stepped in front of the door. ‘Justin’s… different.’ When he didn’t reply she sighed and knocked on the door. ‘Justin, honey. There’s someone here to see you.’
There was no response.
Midge gently twisted the handle and entered. Wolf followed.
The room was dark except for the light flickering from a television across the room. Wedged into a worn lounge chair, gaze glued to the screen, an obese man clutched a control pad. Along each wall, videogames were stacked floor to ceiling like a brick fortress.
Midge stopped several feet behind him. ‘Honey, this is Wolf.’
‘So you’re Big Bad.’ Justin’s gaze remained on the screen.
Wolf extended his hand. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Justin didn’t respond. His eyes and fingers twitched in reaction to the game.
His mother shrugged. ‘He’s just absorbed in his game.’
He watched as his son’s onscreen avatar, a digitised Bruce Lee wannabe, performed a flurry of kicks in mid-air, knocking out his blue-clad ninja opponent.
Midge knelt beside him. ‘Honey, we have something important to tell you.’
‘I’ve never reached this level before.’
She frowned. ‘Jesus, Justin. You’re as bad as Bruno.’
‘At least I don’t waste money on booze.’
‘No, you waste it on these children’s toys instead.’
‘They’re collector’s items!’
‘For God’s sake, Justin! You’re not a child anymore.’
His face hardened. On screen, his new four-armed opponent grabbed his avatar, pounded him furiously, and threw him across the screen. Justin’s life bar shrank dramatically. ‘Fuck!’ He threw the controller at the screen. The game paused.
‘C’mon, Justin,’ said Midge, ‘we—’
‘Get out!’
‘But honey, I—’
‘I said, get out!’
She threw up her arms and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Wolf stared in stunned silence. Justin scooped up the controller and stuffed his face with Cheetos. He unpaused the game and his Asian avatar leapt from the ground and backstepped to the screen’s edge.
Stepping through empty chip and sweets packets, Wolf sat on the unmade bed, cringing at the offensive smell of stale sheets and body odour. Videogame magazines were strewn across it. He doubted they were as interesting as the Playboys he’d read at Justin’s age. A large assortment of games, posters, action figures, and objects he didn’t recognise cluttered the room. ‘Bruno and I used to be friends.’
‘I know. Whenever he gets pissed, he brags about your drinking adventures. It’s your fault he’s an alco.’
The comment stung. He wanted to retaliate but, recalling how he’d encouraged their binge drinking and reckless behaviour, he recognised its truth. He took a deep breath.
In the ensuing silence, Wolf remembered Midge’s confession. ‘Uh… This might sound strange, but… I’m your father.’
The onscreen action froze. Wolf heard heavy breathing in the stillness before Justin unpaused the game again. ‘Well, that’s a godsend.’
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
Justin shrugged. ‘Mate, you might have turned Bruno into an alco, but he says you’re a bloody legend and mum seems keen on you.’ He tapped several buttons and conquered the onscreen villain. He pumped his fist into the air. ‘Yes!’
Wolf recognised his own arrogant spirit in the boy. He smiled sadly. ‘Don’t you get sick of these games?’
‘Nope.’
‘Well there’s more to life than games. You need to take responsibility for yours—’ He touched his son’s shoulder.
Justin flinched. He knocked his hand aside and lunged at him. Wolf pulled back but his son grabbed his throat and shoved him against the wall.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Justin’s teeth clenched and his bloodshot eyes narrowed.
Wolf rasped for him to stop but his son’s grip tightened. Seeing his own youthful fury in his face, images of the suffering he’d caused flooded his mind: his parents refusing to pay his bail after one time too many, his drinking buddies remaining locked up after they’d helped him demolish the pigs’ complexes, and the sorrow in Midge’s eyes when he’d left her and Justin here with Bruno. He’d thought AA had set him straight. Now he saw how far he still had to go.
The door crashed open. ‘Justin!’ Midge raced towards her son.
Justin leapt back and tumbled into his games, which toppled around him. Wolf’s head rolled towards the TV. On screen, Justin’s character stood idle as the opponent, a bearded old man, morphed into the Asian character and knocked out Justin’s avatar with a flurry of kicks. ‘Game Over!’ trickled across the screen in crimson lettering.
* * *
Midge strode beside Wolf as he approached his Corolla on the gravel verge. ‘I’m so sorry about Justin.’
He rubbed his throat and turned to her. ‘Do you need money to support him?’
‘Thanks, but Bruno would just drink it.’
He slipped two fifty dollar notes into her jeans pocket and whispered, ‘Treat yourself.’
Wolf opened the driver’s door and slumped into the seat. As the door creaked shut and the window juddered down, he stared at Midge. There was still beauty behind her tired smile. ‘Come with me.’
‘I’ve made my bed.’
He nodded and started the engine. He revved it.
‘I remember when you used to ride a hog.’ Midge wore a sad smile.
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Shame. I always had a thing for guys on Harleys.’
It was Wolf’s turn to smile sadly.
He buckled his seat belt, waved to Midge, and accelerated into the dark street. He wished he could help her and Justin, but it was too late. So much had happened since he’d left.
The further Wolf drove, the more a sensation he hadn’t felt in years washed over him. He rummaged through his glove box, removed a cassette, and inserted it into the tape deck. As the Rolling Stones pleaded Start Me Up, the years rolled away and he found himself craving another round with his old friend.
© A. R. Levett 2015
Wolf cringed. He’d spent two decades trying to escape his past, but Joe, his Alcoholic Anonymous sponsor, had insisted he confront it and make amends. Taking a deep breath, he heaved open the pub’s heavy glass doors.
Stepping inside was like entering a time capsule. Dusty footy trophies and honour boards lined the mud-coloured walls, the same musty red carpet still felt sticky underfoot, and the bar’s lacquered surface retained most of its sheen.
Hell, thought Wolf scanning the room, even the patrons look the same.
‘Sunufa bitch!’ a familiar voice shouted across the room. Bruno, Wolf’s old drinking buddy, lumbered through the cigarette-smoke. ‘Big Bad’s back!’ he declared to the bar’s patrons.
No one looked up from their drinks.
Bruno’s face was haggard, and his once thick black hair was receding, but he still clad his stick-like figure in the same daggy jeans and black t-shirt. He embraced Wolf.
Wolf patted him on the back. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Bruno staggered backwards. ‘Let me shout ya a Bundy an’ coke.’ He led him towards the bar.
‘Water’s fine.’
His old friend chuckled and waved the bartender over. ‘Seriously, what’ll ya have?’
‘I don’t drink anymore.’
‘Fer real?’
Wolf nodded.
‘Far out, man.’ Bruno ordered water for him and a VB for himself despite holding half a middie. They sat on the same pockmarked bar stools they’d claimed decades earlier.
Wolf sipped his water.
Bruno sculled his remaining glass. ‘Rememba knockin’ down those pigs’ houses?’
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Farck! Big Bad’s gone soft.’
‘You’re not a fuckin’ teenager anymore, Bruno.’
‘’Stha only way ta live, man.’ Bruno chugged his fresh beer. ‘’Sides, I only have tha odd sip.’
‘Are you still spinning that bullshit? That’s the sort of shit we’d feed our folks after polishing off a slab and a few bottles of Bundy.’
‘Those were tha days.’
‘How can you say that? You had double the amount of alcohol that killed John Bonham in your system.’
A smile crept across Bruno’s lips. This had been a point of pride in their youth. It seemed it still was. ‘Lay off. I was a bloody legend.’ He guzzled his middie and slammed it onto the bar. ‘Why dredge up all ‘a this shit?’
‘Because it won’t leave me alone. And… I need to make amends. Surely you can understand that after what you put Midge through.’
His old friend shrugged. ‘Don’t rememba much ’bout dat.’
‘We did some terrible things.’
Bruno wiped froth from his mouth and waved his empty glass at the bartender. As the barman filled a new glass, he said, ‘’Spose ya wanna see Midge.’
Wolf nodded. Of all the people he needed to make amends with, she mattered most.
‘Ya know ’bout tha boy?’ His old friend’s tone soured.
He shook his head.
Bruno peered into his glass and grimaced. ‘Best speak ta Midge ’bout dat.’
Wolf stared at him. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to say. He stood and clapped his old friend’s shoulder. ‘I’ll be off.’
Bruno clumsily dismounted his stool.
Wolf stopped him. ‘Take it easy, man. You’re not sixteen anymore.’
‘Farck off, ya pussy.’
* * *
After the third knock, the vacuum cleaner whir inside the familiar redbrick house wound down, and the door opened a crack. Despite the dark circles around the woman’s eyes and the premature grey roots of her blonde hair, Wolf recognised her immediately. ‘Hey Midge.’
The woman squinted through the flywire. ‘Wolf?’
He smiled. ‘I might be greying and covered with wrinkles, but yeah, it’s me.’
Warmness radiated across Midge’s face, clearing away twenty years. She opened the door, then froze, a grimace darkening her features. ‘You better leave. He wouldn’t approve.’
‘Bruno? I just spoke to him. He said something about Justin.’
Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. ‘I’ll bet he did.’
Wolf tried to catch her gaze but she stared at the ground. Once, they’d been close friends. Now the chasm between them felt enormous. Before he could speak, Midge opened the door and gestured for him to enter.
The house was immaculately clean. Green and brown shags carpeted the floors, while the tan walls looked as fresh as the day Wolf had painted them. Even the vibrant orange Formica that covered the kitchen cupboards and the breakfast bar still sparkled.
As Midge led him further into the house, she adjusted paintings and knickknacks. ‘Sorry about the state of the place.’
‘The house is spotless,’ said Wolf.
‘You’re just saying that.’
‘Honestly.’ He placed a hand on her shoulder.
Midge shivered and pulled away. ‘Don’t.’ She removed a straw broom from the pantry and began sweeping.
Wolf took it from her hands and leant it against the wall. ‘What’s happened, Midge? We used to be close.’
She wouldn’t meet his eyes. ‘I married an alcoholic, didn’t I.’
‘He said he was going to give up the grog.’
‘He did. For a while.’ Her gaze returned to the floor. ‘But after you left, he got bored. One night I found him plastered at the pub. He said it was a one-time lapse, but I found his stash in the shed. When I confronted him, he said he didn’t feel alive without it.’
Wolf nodded.
‘I put up with it because the fun Bruno was back. But he began to drink so much.’
‘Didn’t the doctors advise him against it?’
Midge was silent for a long time. ‘He’s been in and out of hospital so many times. I—’ Her voice trembled. ‘You don’t know how bad it’s been.’ She stared at him, her eyes watery. ‘The shit he put me and Justin through… I’ve found him passed out in the street, left in lockup for being disorderly. And the paranoia and rages… The doctors say if he keeps drinking he’ll end up with dementia. God knows I’ve seen signs of it already.’
Wolf couldn’t bare the pain in her eyes. He went to embrace her but she held up her hand.
‘He leaves the hospital a better person after the antidepressants and anti-psychotics. But once he’s out, he starts drinking again. At first, he tries to hide it. But I know the signs.’
‘Have you tried getting him help?’
‘Of course! But Bruno tells the doctors I’m just overprotective.’ She sniffled. ‘They can’t do anything unless he wants to help himself.’
‘So leave.’
Midge glared at Wolf, her right eye twitching. ‘Leave? After all this time, that’s all you’ve got? You don’t know shit about what happened.’
He bowed his head. ‘No. I don’t. But I’ve had my own demons to deal with. Joe, my sponsor, helped. Maybe Bruno—’
She grimaced. ‘I’ve thought of leaving him a thousand times. But what would I do? They don’t give jobs to high school dropouts. Not ones that pay enough to support a drunk and a child.’
‘Surely Justin’s old enough to support himself now.’
Midge glanced at the closed door across the living room. ‘Try telling him that.’
‘He still lives here?’
‘There’s something else.’ She took a moment before continuing. ‘When Bruno was in the hospital, do you remember—’
Wolf took her hand. ‘—the night we spent together? Of course.’
Midge stared at Wolf’s hand over hers.
‘You were at your wits end,’ he said. ‘We needed each other.’
‘I… I know.’ Her eyes watered again. ‘Everything was such a mess. When Justin was conceived Bruno and I hadn’t been… intimate.’
‘Oh.’ Wolf remembered his night with Midge fondly. He should have taken her with him and given her the life she deserved. Then it dawned on him. ‘You mean… Is Justin my son?’
She nodded.
He stared at her, speechless. His legs trembled. Was there really someone out there with his flesh and blood? ‘Does Justin know?’
Midge remained silent for a long time. She shook her head. ‘I don’t know how to tell him.’
A lengthy silence followed. Wolf had never considered parenthood. Hell, he struggled to care for himself. But if he had a son, he wanted to see him. He approached the door across the lounge.
‘Wait.’ She stepped in front of the door. ‘Justin’s… different.’ When he didn’t reply she sighed and knocked on the door. ‘Justin, honey. There’s someone here to see you.’
There was no response.
Midge gently twisted the handle and entered. Wolf followed.
The room was dark except for the light flickering from a television across the room. Wedged into a worn lounge chair, gaze glued to the screen, an obese man clutched a control pad. Along each wall, videogames were stacked floor to ceiling like a brick fortress.
Midge stopped several feet behind him. ‘Honey, this is Wolf.’
‘So you’re Big Bad.’ Justin’s gaze remained on the screen.
Wolf extended his hand. ‘It’s just Wolf now.’
Justin didn’t respond. His eyes and fingers twitched in reaction to the game.
His mother shrugged. ‘He’s just absorbed in his game.’
He watched as his son’s onscreen avatar, a digitised Bruce Lee wannabe, performed a flurry of kicks in mid-air, knocking out his blue-clad ninja opponent.
Midge knelt beside him. ‘Honey, we have something important to tell you.’
‘I’ve never reached this level before.’
She frowned. ‘Jesus, Justin. You’re as bad as Bruno.’
‘At least I don’t waste money on booze.’
‘No, you waste it on these children’s toys instead.’
‘They’re collector’s items!’
‘For God’s sake, Justin! You’re not a child anymore.’
His face hardened. On screen, his new four-armed opponent grabbed his avatar, pounded him furiously, and threw him across the screen. Justin’s life bar shrank dramatically. ‘Fuck!’ He threw the controller at the screen. The game paused.
‘C’mon, Justin,’ said Midge, ‘we—’
‘Get out!’
‘But honey, I—’
‘I said, get out!’
She threw up her arms and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.
Wolf stared in stunned silence. Justin scooped up the controller and stuffed his face with Cheetos. He unpaused the game and his Asian avatar leapt from the ground and backstepped to the screen’s edge.
Stepping through empty chip and sweets packets, Wolf sat on the unmade bed, cringing at the offensive smell of stale sheets and body odour. Videogame magazines were strewn across it. He doubted they were as interesting as the Playboys he’d read at Justin’s age. A large assortment of games, posters, action figures, and objects he didn’t recognise cluttered the room. ‘Bruno and I used to be friends.’
‘I know. Whenever he gets pissed, he brags about your drinking adventures. It’s your fault he’s an alco.’
The comment stung. He wanted to retaliate but, recalling how he’d encouraged their binge drinking and reckless behaviour, he recognised its truth. He took a deep breath.
In the ensuing silence, Wolf remembered Midge’s confession. ‘Uh… This might sound strange, but… I’m your father.’
The onscreen action froze. Wolf heard heavy breathing in the stillness before Justin unpaused the game again. ‘Well, that’s a godsend.’
‘You don’t seem surprised.’
Justin shrugged. ‘Mate, you might have turned Bruno into an alco, but he says you’re a bloody legend and mum seems keen on you.’ He tapped several buttons and conquered the onscreen villain. He pumped his fist into the air. ‘Yes!’
Wolf recognised his own arrogant spirit in the boy. He smiled sadly. ‘Don’t you get sick of these games?’
‘Nope.’
‘Well there’s more to life than games. You need to take responsibility for yours—’ He touched his son’s shoulder.
Justin flinched. He knocked his hand aside and lunged at him. Wolf pulled back but his son grabbed his throat and shoved him against the wall.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Justin’s teeth clenched and his bloodshot eyes narrowed.
Wolf rasped for him to stop but his son’s grip tightened. Seeing his own youthful fury in his face, images of the suffering he’d caused flooded his mind: his parents refusing to pay his bail after one time too many, his drinking buddies remaining locked up after they’d helped him demolish the pigs’ complexes, and the sorrow in Midge’s eyes when he’d left her and Justin here with Bruno. He’d thought AA had set him straight. Now he saw how far he still had to go.
The door crashed open. ‘Justin!’ Midge raced towards her son.
Justin leapt back and tumbled into his games, which toppled around him. Wolf’s head rolled towards the TV. On screen, Justin’s character stood idle as the opponent, a bearded old man, morphed into the Asian character and knocked out Justin’s avatar with a flurry of kicks. ‘Game Over!’ trickled across the screen in crimson lettering.
* * *
Midge strode beside Wolf as he approached his Corolla on the gravel verge. ‘I’m so sorry about Justin.’
He rubbed his throat and turned to her. ‘Do you need money to support him?’
‘Thanks, but Bruno would just drink it.’
He slipped two fifty dollar notes into her jeans pocket and whispered, ‘Treat yourself.’
Wolf opened the driver’s door and slumped into the seat. As the door creaked shut and the window juddered down, he stared at Midge. There was still beauty behind her tired smile. ‘Come with me.’
‘I’ve made my bed.’
He nodded and started the engine. He revved it.
‘I remember when you used to ride a hog.’ Midge wore a sad smile.
‘Those days are behind me.’
‘Shame. I always had a thing for guys on Harleys.’
It was Wolf’s turn to smile sadly.
He buckled his seat belt, waved to Midge, and accelerated into the dark street. He wished he could help her and Justin, but it was too late. So much had happened since he’d left.
The further Wolf drove, the more a sensation he hadn’t felt in years washed over him. He rummaged through his glove box, removed a cassette, and inserted it into the tape deck. As the Rolling Stones pleaded Start Me Up, the years rolled away and he found himself craving another round with his old friend.
© A. R. Levett 2015
