Page 50 of Crazy Love

Kali shakes her head and repositions herself to sit next to me again. Rosy-cheeked and breathless, she reaches for a couple of coins in her purse and slots them into the machine.

“You all good?” I ask again.

“Yep.” The countdown on the screen starts. “I want a permanent keepsake to remember this moment.” She snuggles into the crook of my arm and smiles at the camera.

I’m too busy grinning down at her when the first flash goes off.

28

ANTHONY

Kali’s studio looks mint.

The walls are finished now that I’ve repainted where we smeared them. The floor protection has been lifted and rubber mats are fitted to the back part of the studio where the equipment will go. The front desk is finished, complete with white panelling and a timber benchtop. Once the signage is up, the place filled with reformers and mirrors, and Kali’s finishing touches, it’ll be almost ready to go. There’s just one thing that’s getting in the way of Kali’s success and I’m about to deal with it the only way I know how.

I make sure to lock the place up and park my car out of sight while I wait. Those little shits are predictable. They’ve been hitting Kali’s studio on the same days at the same times. Young Anthony would’ve taught these kids some valuable lessons in how to change up routine and minimise getting caught.

Sure enough, after twenty minutes of sitting in my car, the three of them round the corner on their pushbikes. Hoods up, a bag slung over one of their shoulders. They look around before dropping their bikes and getting out their equipment. Spray cans. Original.

They spread out and start painting something on the roller door and I jump out of my truck, creeping up until I’m just behind them, listening to their snickering.

“If you guys are gonna graffiti this place, at least do it with something original. Your tag sucks.”

The three of them spin at the same time and I snap a photo, before tossing my phone on the ground. As one of them lunges for me, I pull the pin on the fire extinguisher under my arm and spray the three of them with vigour, satisfaction filling me as they start to screech and cough.

It was a light spray, really. Enough to give them a fright. “Don’t move.”

Their eyes blink through the white coatings on their faces and it takes all my will not to keel over laughing at the sight of them. It wouldn’t be hard for them to flee. I’d only be able to zero in on one of them anyway, but this was the best I could do, that was on the tamer side of the illegal scale anyway.

“You guys are going to clean this up, right now.”

“Eat me,” one of the boy’s spits.

I smile at him without humour, and it has its desired effect. His glare falters. “Do as I say, or we’re going to have a very big problem,Jason.”

Jason flinches this time and looks between his two mates. “H-how-”

“Do I know that you live on New Cavender Street with your mum and younger sister, Lucy?” I ask. “That you became friends with Sean and Tyler here in grade seven and the three of you have been acting like dickheads ever since? Great questions.”

I have them right where I want them. Having Patty’s connections and resources to investigate people is an advantage I’ve taken for granted. Getting to help with one of his cases last year and now living together full-time, it wasn’t exactly rocket science before I tracked down a history of each of these teenagers.

Lots of this isn’t legal, but I’m hoping they’re too scared to do anything about that.

I nod my head to the cleaning supplies I left out next to the post, the fire extinguisher still pointed. “Get scrubbing’.”

They hesitate. Sean and Tyler look to Jason for what to do next. Reluctantly, Jason reaches for the cleaning supplies and the three of them begin washing off their handiwork. They’re silent apart from their loud sighs and huffs of frustration.

After ten minutes, they’re tired. “This is bullshit,” Jason moans.

“You know, if you pulled this shit in prison, you’d take one hell of a beatdown,” I said. “Be grateful this is all I’m threatening you with.”

“You’ve been to prison?” Jason asks. For the first time this evening, I see his hard exterior crack.

“Yes.”

“Shit,” Sean mutters. “What’s it like?”

Based on accounts from a lot of people, my experience wasn’t the worst. I was a first-time offender in a low-security prison. I had plenty of leisure time outside, was allowed access to the gym, library and classes, and the food was tolerable. I had a couple of run-ins with some of the other inmates, but my early years in the foster system and protecting Patrick at school had already taught me how to hold my own.

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