Getting Real

15. Relapse



Rand lay in bed staring at the ceiling. The chorus of an old J Geils Band song, Angel is a Centrefold, looped around in his head.

Harry Young. She wasn’t exactly a centrefold but his home-room angel was definitely all grown up; she had filled out and was no longer the least bit familiar with shyness or stuttering. She was smart, driven, successful and slightly scary.

They’d had a late and hurried meal, and then Harry went back to work, setting up for the first Perth show. He’d loved every minute of it. Watching her. The curve of her cheek when she smiled, the play of light in her eyes, the way her silky hair framed her face. She’d been a cute but painfully insecure sixteen-year-old. She was now a gorgeous, confident woman.

Of course, she knew almost everything there was to know about him. Everything public that is—that was her job. And he knew nothing about her. But she’d been reluctant to play question and answer. The whole hour they’d talked business: the show, the tour, the accident with the rigging, the Jonas issue. She wanted to know what it was like to write hit songs and perform in front of thousands of people. She wanted to know how it felt to be embarking on a twenty-five city, eight month long tour, and to be making millions of dollars.

He didn’t want to talk about any of those things. He didn’t want to spend the spit talking about himself. He wanted to know what happened when she finished school, what she did at uni, how she got into television, if she’d had her heart broken, was married, had kids, was in love. But she steered him away from any personal questions, and she never touched on anything remotely close to their playground history.

But that was all right; they had time, lots of time, and Rand was used to being patient and working at what he wanted, and he wanted Harry. Maybe for what she reminded him of, maybe for what she seemed to promise.

He swung his legs out of the bed, his head filled with the ‘Nah, nah, na-na, nah, nah’ of the song’s bridge. It was going to be a good tour.


In the roadies versus talent and management touch football game, the roadies were up one try with twenty minutes to the bell and a timeout called because Roley got winded in a tripping incident that sent him and Lizard sprawling, and pushed the ball into touch.

“Come on, boys, we’ve got this in the bag,” called Bodge, the roadie team captain.

“They’re all talk,” responded Jake. He was the underdog talent team leader and he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“Half of you lot don’t know the rules.” Bunk said, getting in his face.

“Half of you lot cheat,” Jake said, chest bumping Bunk. Even though that was true, behind him, Rand high-fived Stu.

The roadies growled and there was much smacking of fists in hands to indicate their intention to smash the talent team.

“Rough ‘em up boys, but don’t kill ‘em; they sign the salary cheques,” growled Bodge.

When Roley got to his feet, Jake pushed him down to the grass again. “Stay winded, mate,” he laughed, “we’re all done in.” Roley lay back and groaned in an exaggerated manner that left no doubt he was faking, and the roadie team cat-called their disapproval.

“p-ssy!”

“Wuss!”

“Big girls!”

“Oi!” yelled Rielle. “We’ll show you how girls do it!”

She aimed a play kick at Roley who jumped to his feet, yelled, “Rock and roll!” and the game started again.

Since Roley had been in possession and knocked the ball out, Lizard took the tap and the roadie team spread out behind him ready to take a pass and carry the ball forward.

Teflon took the first pass and sent the ball wide to Bunk, who avoided Jake and Rand and flick passed to Neddy. But the ball went over his head and Rielle intercepted it. She scooted between Bodge and Tim. Jake’s talent team erupted, screaming her name as she raced towards the goal and the roadies, caught flat footed, chased after her.

All it needed was a tap to her body and Rielle would have to stop running, but Neddy ignored the minimum contact rule, and made a lunge for her, grabbed her around the waist and lifted her high off the ground where she kicked and screamed.

Jake shouted, “Mongrel!” and raced alongside Neddy and Rielle. Around him players from both sides exploded in shouts of protest and disapproval.

Rand, not far behind him, was yelling, “Foul!”

Rielle was screaming incoherently, kicking and struggling to get out of Neddy’s grip.

“All right, all right,” Neddy said, releasing Rielle, hands held high. “My bad.” He laughed and some of the other roadies sniggered.

Once her feet hit the ground, Rielle reacted. She spun about, drew back her fist and let fly a solid punch that connected with a loud smack against Neddy’s laughing face.

His head jerked back more from surprise than force and he lunged at her. “Little bitch!”

Jake and Bodge both yelled “Neddy!” and Jake shot forward to head off Neddy’s advance, but found his arms pinned by Rand.

“Wait,” said Rand in his ear, holding him fast.

Rielle stepped into Neddy’s lunge, braced her hands on his chest and brought her knee up hard and fast. There was a collective gasp from the players and Neddy dropped to the ground like a stunned cow, rolling over on his back, writhing and clutching his groin, red faced and moaning.

Grinning, Rand let go of Jake. “You shouldn’t play with fire unless you know how to put it out.”

Every man on the field felt Neddy’s pain and sympathetic groans broke out from both teams along with some gasps of surprise and admiration. Stu and Roley fell into each other laughing. Jeremy and Ceedee bolted across the field to Rielle, and Bodge leaned over to examine Neddy calling, “He’ll live, but I don’t think there will be any little Neddys anytime soon.”

“All hail the vasectomy bringer,” shouted Tef. He and Lizard went down on their knees in front of Rielle, waving their arms about, paying homage to her capacity to cripple a man twice her size.

Rielle put her foot against Teflon’s shoulder and pushed him over, where he re-enacted Neddy’s agony, clutching his groin, rolling around and groaning.

She said nothing, but Jake saw her shake her hand and try to hide a smile.

“That’s my girl!” said Rand.

“Did you teach her that?” Jake asked.

Rand was smiling like a proud father witnessing his kid beat up the local bully for the first time. “Nope, she learnt that by herself.”

Jake watched as Rand went to Rielle and pulled her hair. They spoke quietly together. That punch would have hurt her hand. She was something else: hellcat, rock goddess, sharp tongued bitch and an annoying, armour-wearing fighter with a pretty decent right hook.

He caught her eye. She lifted her chin defiantly, pushed Rand away and stepped over a still-prone Neddy. “Are we playing or discussing the weather? Possession’s ours.”

Twenty minutes later, the game conceded to team roadie. Jake pulled Tim aside. “Neddy has to go. We’ll pay him up and give him a plane ticket home.”

“Yeah,” agreed Tim, “after the show.”

“Now.”

“Ah.” Tim hesitated, but clocking Jake’s ‘no mucking about’ expression, said “Okay.”

Post game, Rielle and Rand retreated to a row of stadium seats to cool off.

“That was pretty stupid, Rie,” said Rand, looking at the red swollen knuckles of her right hand. “Will you be able to manage the aerial work?”

She looked down at her hand, “Yeah, of course.” But it was throbbing. She’d tried to make a fist earlier and found it pained.

“Grip my arm,” he said, holding out his forearm.

“I’m fine,” she said, impatiently pushing his arm away. “Tell me about little Harriet Young.”

He smiled. “Hah, not little, not shy, kinda hot.”

“This is the same Harry Young you were heartsick over at school?”

“I wasn’t sick over her.”

“She was this little wisp of a kid, in the year between you and me. I remember she was always in the library. Other kids used to push her down the stairs and stick gum in her hair.”

“Did they?” Rand’s voice went all upper register. He was such a dweeb not to have known that.

“Yeah, geez. I never understood what you saw in her. You inviting her to the school formal was the biggest thing that ever happened to her. Everyone thought it was a joke.”

He shoved her shoulder. “They did not!”

Rielle nodded. “They did.”

Rand’s face collapsed into regret. “Shit. I never knew that either. Well, she’s no wisp now and no one’s pushing her around anymore. I reckon she’s doing the pushing.”

“People don’t change.”

He scoffed. “You did. You used to be this sweet kid.”

Rielle flexed her fingers. “I was never a sweet kid.”

He sighed. “No, I guess not. False memory.”

She glared at him. “Don’t.” How did they get from a game of football to this. She wanted Rand to shut the f*ck up.

He grabbed her chin and brought her face up close to his. He smelled of grass and sweat. “You were a sweet kid. I get why you can’t forgive yourself, why you needed to reinvent yourself, but I’m not letting you distort my memories with your self-hatred.”

She shook free of him. “If I’d have been less of a monster and more like a kid who went to the library things might be different.”

“You have to move on Rie,” said Rand in a voice doused with pain and history and exasperation. He didn’t say more because Bodge trotted up with an esky full of ice. She’d never been so grateful to see him. She plunged her fist into the icy cold.

Bodge said, “Neddy’s out,” and tipped his head towards the middle of the grass area where Neddy, Tim and Jake stood. Neddy was turned towards them. Rielle could see his face was red. He made an angry gesture towards her and when Tim turned to follow his hand, Neddy swung at him, collecting Tim on the jaw, making him stagger backwards.

Neddy didn’t see Jake coming. But Rielle did. Jake was full of surprises. What Neddy would’ve seen was blue sky as he went down and then nothing at all.

“Bloody hell,” said Bodge.

Rand elbowed her. “Godzilla enough for you?”