A nice short one that will help you see how this is all tied in (I hope). I've just realised I can cut and paste the story around for best suspenseful (hahahaha!) impact. Jeff is a creepy, unethical journalist who had been charged by a 'voice over the phone' boss to find out info about Abby Malone - something that will end her political career before it starts. But sleeze Jeff is about to turn the tables on everyone - including himself .... but I digress .....
“Hux, I need you to meet me now,” she demanded into her mobile. “I don’t care if you are busy. I need to see you now. I have a very big problem. I’m in Anzac Square. I’m getting a cab over to your apartment now. This can’t wait.”
Jeff smiled, overhearing the conversation from a shady crevice in the wall, near where she was standing. He’d punted on her being so rattled that she wouldn’t realise that he was following her. Not only that, but she was going to lead him right to the pay dirt. He patted the telescopic zoom lens that he had managed to borrow from a photojournalist colleague. It wasn’t digital, it was the old point and shoot, probably why he reluctantly agreed to the lend, rather than avidly resisting his pleas for help.
He changed out of his leather jacket, stuffing it in on top of the camera and the MP3 recorder, and pulled on a tattered long sleeved t-shirt. It made him less conspicuous wandering through the city. He just hoped that he could find a taxi easily to follow her.
She stopped in Adelaide Street for a taxi and he quickly hailed a cab to follow them. He was pumped by the chase, it was just like the movies. He was the hunter and she his prey. He sat stock still in the taxi though, watching intently the movements of the taxi ahead – he couldn’t lose her now. There was only one chance for this – one easy chance.
Her cab eased to the curb out the front of an apartment building in Wooloongabba. He recognised the building as one of the plethora of inner city apartment blocks, pristine white, with sensible grey contrast, double glazed windows that over looking the city. He excitedly realised that each apartment had a balcony. He quickly paid the cabby and crossed the road, pulling the camera from the bag as he did. She was on her phone again, waiting at the foyer doors. He guessed that there was security and was she waiting to be let in. Rather than the doors opening she remained downstairs, pacing backward and forwards. He took a couple of shots just to ensure that the equipment was working. About ten minutes later a yellow cab pulled up and a tall blonde haired man got out.
He watched it all through the zoom, so close that he felt he could hear every word, the bristle of anxious skin. They spoke animatedly for a moment, he snapped away. The man reached out to touch her arm and she violently shrugged it off. The conversation continued. Abby was upset, tears already pouring down her cheeks. The man reached out for her again and this time she allowed his touch, then his embrace. Click … click …. Click .. the rapid fire of the shutter, quickly and efficiently ending a blossoming political career before it began.
Then unbelieavably the mystery man turned and he immediately recognised him. Abby Malone was in a passionate embrace with Huxley Smith. Click … click … click. Jeff started humming Pink Floyd’s money. Abby and Huxley went in through the foyer doors and were gone.
Huxley Smith had beenin the same year Chas at school. They'd been mates apparently, but he thought that was unlikely, given his disabilities he found it hard to believe anyone would have been mates with Chas. He’d heard it every weekend, that he and Hux had been mates, when they sat down to watch the football. The drugs had further deadened Cha’s capacity for lucid thinking and he often told the same banal high school story over and over again. The story of the coke bottle bomb was his favourite and the teacher in the tight white pants.
Incredibly, his dead shit brother had finally made his existence on this planet worthwhile.
Postcardia-cum-Poetica #107
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Image by Thomas Dworzak, Russia, February 2001. Words from Care of the Soul.
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