A Friend In Deed.
by Shaun Nielsen
With a satisfying thud, Jason Croft slammed the door of his pickup,
sealing him inside and bringing to an end the worst six months of his life.
Things had started badly with the theft of his most treasured
possession - an immaculate Ducati 900SS. Soon after, his girlfriend of
two years announced that she had not been going to night school twice a
week as he thought, but had instead been spending the time with another
man. As the other guy had proposed, she felt her formerly beloved
Jay-Jay had outgrown his usefulness. The final blow came two weeks
ago at work when his boss wandered over to his desk late Friday evening.
“Sorry, Jason,” he said with an air of impending
doom, “the project’s been cancelled and, well, the old man has decided
not to reassign anybody.”
Steve was a nice enough bloke, but he didn’t realise that kissing butt
would get him nowhere. Crofty suspected he would be hearing this
same speech from the ‘old man’ pretty soon.
At this point it seemed that nothing else could go wrong but,
rather than tempt fate, Crofty kept his mouth shut and his mind on other
things. With some time on his hands, he saw a few friends he’d neglected
since whatserface came on the scene, but the nagging problem of another
job wouldn’t fix itself. Turning to the classifieds, Crofty was shocked
at the small number of positions available in his area. The only
reasonable option turned sour when he learned an incompetent former manager
would be his team leader. In a moment of inspiration, he looked at a paper
from Sydney and was again surprised. Practically thousands of vacancies
assailed his hungry eyes.
That was a week ago. After an interview with a face on
a screen, he had a great job lined up that paid almost twice as much as
the last one. It was a big move, but with the way things had been
going lately he wanted to get as far away from this place as possible.
On the long drive across the Hay Plain, Crofty reflected upon
what had, until six months earlier, been a very fulfilling life in Adelaide.
With the distance between him and his hometown growing by the minute, he
reviewed the last few years of his life. As he approached the theft
of his treasured 900SS though, he hit the mental fast forward.
With a year's severance pay, the insurance payout from his bike
and a monthly cheque from the new tenants in his house, money was not an
issue. After working more than two years without a break, he was
looking forward to having some time off before starting his new job. Doing
the sums in his head, his heart did a backflip when he realised he could
afford his dream machine - a new Ducati 916. The rest of the trip
passed remarkably quickly as he began to think less and less disparagingly
of the not-so-low-life who stole his 900SS.
Upon reaching the outskirts of Sydney, the expected traffic snarl
began to make life difficult. Luckily, only two detours delayed him
before the right address appeared from within the maze of buildings.
In failing light, he saw a very bland looking block among several other
similarly bland buildings. With the keys the Realtor had sent him and a
few things from the pickup, Crofty walked through the courtyard. He hadn’t
expected much, but boy the place sure was dull. Up a flight of stairs,
down a corridor and there it was. After a brief panic when the keys
didn’t work - the top one first, then the bottom - the door swung wide.
Whatever the place looked like from outside, the view from inside more
than made up for it. He gazed out through a glass wall at - as far
as he could tell - Sydney. Feeling much better about the accommodation
side of things, he gave himself a brief tour of the one bedroom flat.
Assured that everything was as it should be, he headed back to the car
to continue unloading. After three trips the pickup was empty and
the loungeroom was a maze of boxes, clothes, stereo parts and crockery.
However, looking through the pandemonium he realised that the box of kitchen
appliances was missing. As he hated cooking, he was not overly concerned
- most of the stuff belonged to whatserface anyway.
As the unpacking process began, Crofty couldn’t believe his ears
when a man’s voice started leaking through the walls, yelling incoherently.
The voice soon stopped, followed by a very melodramatic slamming of doors
and peace returned, leaving Crofty to wonder about the advantages of medium
density housing.
A few busy days of rearranging followed, and he revelled in the
opportunity to put things where he pleased. When the place looked like
an organised mess as opposed to an unorganised one, Crofty decided to do
some sightseeing. He looked up all the Ducati dealerships in the
city and, with a healthy bank balance, headed off to do some shopping.
He went from one shop to another over a period of a week, comparing prices
and benefits. After hours of talking to salesmen who varied from
serf-like to indifferent to downright rude, he opted to spend his money
at a small outfit. Although he paid a bit more, he felt the personal
service would be worthwhile. After an hour of forms and ‘phone calls
it was his - a brand new Ducati 916 with a matching racing suit.
At home in his garage he spent hours preening and grooming the new love
of his life. When every part of the machine had been polished or tweaked,
he headed upstairs with dinner - a by-now stone cold pizza and some beers.
It was as he was opening his door that he saw another rider approaching
from the stairs. He saw a very stylish jacket, racer replica helmet
and jeans. The jeans were very tight though, almost feminine.
Then he noticed the downcast features and realised that this particular
rider was female. The six-foot height had been misleading, as had
the helmet-head hairstyle, but the provocatively curved hips could leave
no doubt. As she approached, Crofty realised she was crying.
Totally unaware of his presence, she reached the door opposite his and
began fumbling in a bumbag for keys. Without thinking, Crofty opened his
mouth,
“Hi, I’m...”
A startled yelp echoed down the hall. She jumped and spun around
as her keys hit the floor. Obviously, she hadn’t seen him.
“Sorry to startle you.” was the best he could manage
as she looked at him for the first time. He returned the look and
was stunned. She had vivid blue eyes that were red and puffy from
crying. She wore no makeup, but her skin was perfect except for the
tears still flowing down her smooth cheeks. Suddenly Crofty realised
he was staring. He averted his eyes and began to stumble out another
apology when she stuck her hand out,
“Hi, I’m Sabina,” sniff, “nice to meet you.”
Crofty shook her hand, absorbed by those eyes.
With her hand still in his, she spun around, picked up her keys, and
quickly disappeared through the door. Crofty was left standing in
the corridor, his mouth agape, as he considered if she wasn’t the most
beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Still slightly dazed, he went inside and put some pizza in the microwave.
Unable to get those flashing blue eyes out of his mind, he sat down with
the pizza and a few brewskies and switched on the tube. Half a pizza
later, while waiting for more visual dribble to finish, there was a knock
at the door. At a loss as to who it could be, Crofty twisted the
lock and was again met by those stunning blue eyes - looking significantly
less red and puffy.
“Hi. Look, I want to apologise for earlier.
I wasn’t feeling well - I didn’t mean to be rude,” she said.
This time Crofty was conscious of his gawking so kept it in check.
“Don’t worry, you weren’t rude. I’m Jason
Croft, my friends call me Crofty.”
He invited her in, though he expected her to decline and she hurriedly
excused herself. In a whirl of blonde hair, she was gone, leaving
Crofty with an unshakeable image of those flashing eyes.
After another few days of cleaning and organising, he took the
pickup and went shopping, returning with all the consumables the TV deemed
necessary for the average household. He heated up yet more pizza
and pulled out a bottle of foreign beer he found at the local bottle shop.
The cap looked suspiciously unlike a twist-top, and proved to be so.
He took a step toward the ‘things’ drawer before remembering it was empty.
Rather than risk gouging the counter with a short sharp shock, he realised
he had an ideal opportunity to strike up a conversation with his new neighbour.
Five steps and three knocks later she opened the door. It was remarkable,
he thought, how different she looked when she was crying. Again,
he saw the tear stained cheeks, red eyes and runny nose. Not wanting
to embarrass her, he quickly apologised for the disturbance and retreated,
but she insisted she was all right and invited him in. Crofty stepped
inside. He saw a visually warm and comfortable room, furnished in
that unmistakably feminine style.
“Are you okay?” asked Crofty.
“I’m fine.” she said as she sniffed and wiped
the tears from her face. “Just getting a little emotional over a book.”
He could tell she was lying, but didn’t pry.
“I was wondering if you had a bottle opener I could
borrow.”
“Sure. Just a minute.” She went into
the adjoining kitchen while clutching a soggy tissue. She managed
to stop the tears but now desperately needed to blow her nose. She
handed over the bottle opener then paused, as if to ask a question.
Crofty could see she was confused about something.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
“Like I said, it’s just a book, but I was wondering,
could I ask you a personal question.”
Hoping he wasn’t in over his head, “Ask away.”
“What would you do if your girlfriend wanted to
break up with you?”
This was a little more personal than he expected, but he asked for
it.
“Are you looking for a specific example or, like,
a general reaction?”
“I don’t want to pry, I just need an example of
normal behaviour.”
“Well,” Crofty began, wondering why she was getting
this personal, “I can tell you about my last experience. This
happened only a couple of weeks ago actually. We’d been together
for about two years when she came to me and said she didn’t love me any
more.”
“So what did you do?”
“Do?” said Crofty, surprised, “What could I do?
She’d made up her mind.”
“Didn’t you react at all?” she asked, amazed.
“Well, I asked her what the problem was, and she
said she couldn’t help feeling the way she did. She was a bit vague
though. It turned out that she’d been seeing someone else for a few
months.”
“What happened then?”
“She moved in with the guy, and they’ll be getting
married pretty soon.”
“That’s all there was to it?” she asked, still disbelieving.
“That’s it.” said Crofty, curious about the
surprise in her voice. “Why do you find that so hard to believe?”
It was obvious she didn’t want to answer, so she changed the subject.
“What do you do for a living, Jason?”
“I’m an engineer, but I don’t start my new job for
a few weeks. How about you?”
“I’m a graphic artist. We do a lot of work
for magazines - ads and stuff.”
Crofty remembered the helmet from the week before.
“I saw you with a helmet last week. Do you
ride or pillion?”
“I ride.”
Becoming more and more intrigued, he continued.
“What kind of bike do you have?”
“A Honda.”
“What kind?”
“A CBR.”
“Really, what capacity, two-fifty, four-hundred…?”
“Nine-hundred actually.” This last detail
was said with an air of defiance after his suggestion of the smaller capacities.
She wasn’t being coy or evasive, she just hated to rattle off letters and
numbers when there was little chance they would mean anything to someone
unfamiliar with the subject. She then reversed the questioning,
“How about you.”
“I just got my first ever new bike, a Ducati 916,”
he said nonchalantly, trying to avoid bragging.
“A 916! Are you serious?” she asked, her demeanour
changing instantly from reserved to thrilled.
“Sure. I picked it up a few days ago.
It’s downstairs if you’d like to see it.”
“Lead the way.” she said excitedly, pointing to
the door.
Down in the carpark Crofty opened the garage door to reveal his new
pride and joy. Sabina was enthralled. She examined the gleaming
machine from all angles before indicating toward the seat, ”May I?”
“Sure.”
As Sabina got comfortable on the thin seat, Crofty marvelled at the
transformation she had undergone. Earlier she looked beautiful, but
the distress in her eyes cast a pall over her entire being - physically
and emotionally. Now, here in the dark underground, she glowed like a jewel
in the sun.
“We have got to go for a ride, Jason. Have you ever
been along the Old Pacific Highway?” she asked with a gleam in her eye.
Still amazed by her transformation, he almost forgot to answer.
“Ahh, no, but I’ve heard it’s good.”
He barely heard her reply. Instead, the sight of the tight jeans she
was wearing captivated him. Sitting there on his bike her curves
were accentuated wonderfully. This time she was about to repeat her
question when he remembered to reply,
“No, I’ve never heard of the Oxley Highway. Where is it?”
As she answered, he had to work hard. The moment he relaxed his concentration
his eyes wandered. She was wearing what looked like a business shirt
of heavy white cotton. On any other woman it would look baggy and
concealing, but on Sabina it actually accentuated her broad shoulders and
narrow waist.
As the conversation flowed more and more easily, Sabina seemed to relax
further. After half an hour, they moved back upstairs to her flat
to continue the conversation in warmer surrounds. As the night wore
on Crofty told her stories about racing in Adelaide, Melbourne and here
in Sydney. In turn, she told him about her mother who came to Sydney
from Denmark shortly after Sabina was born. Apparently, Mrs. Oosterwyck
had been a keen motorcyclist, to the point where she was still riding while
seven months pregnant with Sabina. In this respect, it was inevitable
that Sabina would take up riding herself.
After swapping numerous life stories, Crofty had an idea that he thought
Sabina would appreciate.
“Have you ever thought about riding on a track?”
She seemed dubious, and with an impish grin said, “Do you think that’s
a good idea? I mean, don’t you have to be crazy to race?”
Crofty’s face expressed his pseudo thanks for the dig before going
on, “Actually, it’s safer than riding on the road. We should
do it, you’d love it. No cars, no lights, it’s fantastic.”
Without waiting for an answer he continued.
“I’ll take care of the arrangements. We can
go next Tuesday.”
She now seemed more curious than dubious. Any doubt was melting
before his eyes. With the date set and Sabina resigned to her fate,
his mind turned to the reason he came over in the first place.
“What are you doing for dinner?”
The moment he asked the question, he regretted it. The pall of
earlier that evening fell like a shadow over her face.
“I have some things I need to do, sorry.”
He was intrigued as to what could be making her life so miserable.
He accepted the refusal with good grace, thanked her for the almost forgotten
bottle opener and returned to his empty flat and more cold takeout.
After a few days spent shopping for a bed, a new sofa and some
kitchen stuff, Tuesday came around. At six in the morning he packed
all the essentials into a giant gym bag and went across to Sabina’s door.
After a few knocks her face appeared.
“How do you feel?” he asked in reference to her
bloodshot eyes and dishevelled hair.
“I feel fine actually. Are you ready?” she
asked as she put a soggy kleenex to her nose and blew resoundingly.
“Look, if you’re not feeling well we can do this
another time...”
“No way,” she said. “Nothing’s going to come
between me and that 916.”
With that she turned around and grabbed her gear and indicated down
the hallway,
“Let’s go.”
Down in the garage they loaded both bikes and all their gear onto the
pickup. Sabina directed Crofty from a street directory on her lap as they
discussed bikes and racing for the entire trip. After twenty minutes
of early morning traffic, they rolled into a parking area behind the pit
garages. Memories of his last visit came flooding back. They
weren’t at all pleasant. On his previous trip to this circuit, he had been
involved in a four-bike pileup that saw him leave with a fractured wrist
and collarbone, although to Sabina he said it was just a bad race. She
looked and sounded better, although confessed to a serious case of butterflies
as Crofty brought the pickup to a stop.
After completing the paperwork, they unloaded the bikes and suited
up. Sabina had a gorgeous tailored suit decorated with swoops and
splashes of red, white and blue that matched her bike perfectly.
Looking at the very flattering cut of the outfit, he compared it to his
old red, white and dirt coloured racing suit and silently thanked the gods
for his new outfit in matching red, black and silver. Next, they
put duct tape over all glass to prevent shrapnel if the unthinkable happened.
Sabina started up her bike. Crofty listened to the muted thrumming
for a moment before starting his own, watching her face for a reaction
as he did so. Sure enough, her eyes widened as the cacophonous booming
from the exhaust echoed off the surrounding walls.
After both bikes were warm, Crofty led Sabina through a gateway
and left onto pit lane. Slowly approaching the track, he looked around.
Because of their early arrival they were alone. Nevertheless, after
too long since his last track session, Crofty looked right as he pulled
onto the circuit proper. Extremely conscious of the fact that a mistake
could cost him thousands, Crofty planned to take a cautious approach to
the days activities. Despite this, in the back of his mind he knew
that as his confidence grew he would get more and more adventurous.
Keeping his acceleration nice and smooth, Crofty eased over to
the right side of the track for the approach to the first turn, actually
turn two on the circuit. He smoothly peeled into the sharp 180 degree
left hander, noticing the beautiful balance of the machine beneath him.
Without thinking, his Ducati glided where it was aimed. No objections,
no arguments. Coming through the corner he opened the throttle gently.
With power he was unused to, the handgrips started to wiggle then went
limp as the front wheel lofted into the air. He eased off the acceleration
and the upward motion stopped. Now out of the corner, he kept the
wheel up as he accelerated towards the next turn. He dropped the front
with a chirp as his turn point arrived, and he eased the bike over to the
right, opening the throttle again as the wheels followed the contours of
the gently undulating tarmac beneath him. The next three turns came
and went in the same manner - set the right speed, turn in gently, balance
the weight of the bike with the throttle while scanning ahead for the next
turn point. Going through the kink at turn six, Crofty looked ahead
and lined himself up for his favourite section of the track. With
the slipstream roaring through his earplugs he eased his way into the fast
left-hand turn, experimentally dabbing his knee onto the track surface
for the first time as the bike leaned over. As his knee puck touched the
ground he leaned the bike further, amazed at the smoothness and controllability
of the bike. With the throttle opening rapidly, he picked the bike
up as he approached the turnpoint for the difficult 180-degree right-hander
that was rapidly approaching. He gave the right grip a quick push
as he threw his weight to the right and looked through the turn.
The throttle came on; he looked at the short straight ahead and flicked
the throttle a little more to bring the front floating up. He quickly
shifted up a gear, then another, revelling in the ease of this formerly
difficult stunt. Again, the wheel chirped as it touched down and
Crofty plotted the best course through the approaching turns. He
flicked the bike to the right, then all the way to the left as his knee
again started grinding on the tarmac and he eased the throttle open as
he shot out of the corner.
As he looked down the long straightaway he took a moment to look
behind for Sabina and got a shock to see she was right behind him.
He was very impressed with her ability; she obviously put her CBR to good
use on a regular basis.
Cruising down the main straight, he waved to Sabina indicating
she should go past. She pulled in front of him quickly to position
herself on the extreme right of the track in preparation for the fast left
turn. When he turned in behind her, he feasted his eyes on her shapely
body in the tight suit. As they circulated at a similar pace to the
previous lap, Crofty concentrated on the feedback he was starting to notice
from his bike as well as the placement Sabina was using, particularly for
left-hand turns. Watching intently for both her benefit and his own,
he almost regretted moving ahead when she waved him through at the end
of their second lap.
For their third lap, he upped the pace a little, braking a little
harder a little later, using a bit more throttle and going faster through
the turns. As he again approached his favourite turn eight, he drifted
closer to the right of the track before peeling in. He touched his
knee down earlier than the previous laps and opened the throttle harder
and earlier than before. Without drama, the rear tyre lost traction
and started sliding steadily in a direction he didn’t really want to go.
Without panicking as he might once have done, he maintained the slide by
letting the bike do as it pleased, waiting until he was pointing at the
left of the track before ending the slide and picking the bike up. He was
then ready for the rapidly approaching sharp right. He had been concentrating
so hard on the slide he forgot his speed, and his normal braking marker
went whistling past as he was forced to pick a wider line around the turn.
As he fought the panic and the intense braking forces, his speed finally
reached a level he thought manageable and he roughly threw the bike into
and around the turn. When he reached midpoint through the corner
he realised he needn’t have panicked, and that the laughter in his head
was probably coming from the bike - laughing at his pitiful cornering speeds.
He could plainly hear the bike mocking him; ‘Is that the best you can do?
That’s pathetic’. He opened the throttle and brought the bike vertical.
He lifted himself out of the seat and over the screen to keep the front
wheel down as he poured on more and more throttle. He reached the
turn point for ten, eased off the throttle, went down two gears and flicked
the bike onto its right side. He immediately hauled it up and over
to his left knee, all the while twisting the throttle further and further,
using his bodyweight to keep the front wheel down.
He began the long cruise down the straight and looked back to
see Sabina a short distance behind, coming out of turn twelve with her
left knee firmly planted on the track surface.
As his attention returned to his turn-in point for the next
corner, he realized how tired he was getting. But as he approached
the sweet spot, he forgot all about fatigue and concentrated on the glorious
feeling of hurtling through the first corner at ridiculous speed with his
knee sliding over the tarmac. The insanity of it all just made it
a greater achievement.
After fifteen or so laps, a chequered flag signalled the end
of the session. Crofty waved to the flaggie as he passed then sat
up and felt the exhaustion wash over him. He meandered around the
rest of the circuit and watched as Sabina approached. He slowed as
he came around turn twelve for the last time and curved off the track and
onto the pit lane. He killed the engine and coasted to a stop beside
the pickup. Suddenly he felt totally drained. His legs felt
leaden as he dismounted and he fell into one of the deck chairs they’d
brought along just for this purpose. Sabina came to a stop beside
his bike. She sat there, her bike ticking loudly, a heat haze rising
all around her. After another moment to collect herself, she slowly
clambered off the bike and collapsed into the chair beside Crofty, her
head lolling back in a gesture reminding Crofty of his own fatigue. In
a protracted movement, she levered her helmet off, blond bangs escaping
the French braid and plastering themselves to her forehead. Crofty
lurched out of his seat and indicated to her sleeve, which she held out
for him. He gave a strong pull and she escaped the tight upper half
of her suit. She did the same for him and he sat, passing her a water
bottle that she thankfully accepted and started drinking. They sat
there quietly sweating in the abandoned parking area.
Looking flushed, Sabina turned to Crofty after a long pull on
the bottle, a grin quickly spreading across her face.
“Was it good for you...” she said in a mockingly
seductive voice and laughed.
Her tone changed and she was serious again. “That was fantastic,
Jason. I’ve never had so much fun. It felt great.”
Crofty was relieved to see her laugh finally, but couldn’t help wondering
where she got all that stamina.
“Yoga,” she said in reply to his query after another
long pull on her bottle, “Twice a week.”
Crofty’s opinion of yoga as being only for wimps was changed forever.
He congratulated Sabina on her rapid grasp of turn points and braking
markers, mentioning that she should not hesitate passing him if she thought
she could do so anywhere on the track. He had no doubt she would
do just that. After exchanging observations for a few more minutes,
Crofty suggested they swap for the next session. “I thought you’d
never ask,” was her enthusiastic response. After watching her during
the previous session he had full confidence in her riding and had no doubt
that she would take better care of his bike than he just had.
The loudspeakers around the area soon announced the start of
the next session and they suited up. This time mounted on Sabina’s
CBR, Crofty motioned Sabina to lead on. Down pit lane and onto the
track they were again alone. Crofty slowed to put a gap between himself
and Sabina. As she flicked into turn three he came out of turn two
and decided to test the famous Honda horsepower that he had heard so much
about. Coming out of the corner, he was prepared when the front wheel
shot up. Not as controllable as his bike, it was an experience he
felt best avoided in future. Wheel down, a flick of the bars and
he was into three. The Honda immediately felt slightly less secure
than his bike, but pretty good nevertheless. He could hear the basso
rumble of his Ducati quite clearly as Sabina accelerated down the short
incline before turn four. He went through turns five, six and seven,
and was not surprised to see Sabina grinding her knee puck along the inside
of turn eight. He closed up behind her coming up to turn nine and
went wide preparing to pass her on the inside of the short straight when
she drifted wide. As he went by, he could see the front wheel of
his Ducati barely skimming the tarmac as Sabina wound on the power. He
moved in front and flicked right then left into the long double apex of
eleven and twelve.
He pulled a gap down the straight and through turn one, but
got quite a shock when Sabina went rocketing past him under brakes before
turn two. She stopped and turned the bike so quickly Crofty had to
rethink his approach to that corner. Through turns three and four
Crofty used a wider line, preparing to drive harder onto and around five.
Sure enough, Sabina was a little slower through the middle of the turn
and Crofty went sailing around the outside with enough extra speed to position
himself for turn six and seven. This sparring continued as Crofty
again fubar’d turn nine and watched Sabina turn and shoot out in front
of him. It took almost an entire lap to make up the deficit after
that blunder.
He lost count of the laps as he did his best to ride without
more stupid errors. He had no time to think of his exhaustion, but when
the chequered flag signalled the end of the session, he felt relief wash
over him. Again, they rolled into the pits and up to the pickup.
Unlike the previous session, Sabina leapt off his bike in a brazen
display of energy that Crofty could only gawk at. She tore off her
helmet and looked at Crofty, her face glowing with euphoria, and not a
little exertion.
“That was incredible, Jason. This bike is
the most amazing thing I’ve ever ridden.”
They helped each other out of the top halves of their suits and
collapsed into the chairs, Sabina all the while expounding on the joys
of riding the Ducati, “... the power, the steering, it feels as though
it was made for me, and it’s just gorgeous.”
Crofty knew what she meant. It was why he had bought the thing
in the first place.
After a rest and some fruit and water, Crofty led back onto the
circuit for their third session. This time on his own bike he concentrated
on responses from the machine, studying different reactions to different
combinations of throttle, braking and lean angle. He watched Sabina
learn at a rapid rate. Where he had pulled ahead earlier in the day
she
now stuck right with him, and when he slipped up she breezed past and motored
on, taunting him with that tight suit. After spending half a session
catching up after another botched turn nine, he passed her between three
and four, only to have her use his favourite overtaking move on him, around
the outside of turn five.
After another two sessions of exhilaration, the rapturous pair
received a shock. As Sabina climbed off his 916 he noticed the rubber
on the left of the rear tyre was torn to shreds and hanging off the sidewall
in enormous lumps. He realized he had forgotten to check tyre pressures
that morning. He looked at the rear of the CBR and found the same
thing - only worse. This unfortunately brought an early end to their
day. With Sabina smiling and actually laughing for the first time
since they’d met, Crofty hoped he could help her forget whatever it was
that had made her so miserable for as long as he’d known her.
As he helped her out of her hot and sticky suit, Crofty couldn’t
help staring as she pulled off the lower half and stood in a skimpy bodysuit
that accentuated an abundant cleavage and a pair of long, slender legs.
Amused by his attention and still peaked on a natural high, she asked if
he liked what he saw. He was gob smacked and could barely find the
words for an answer when she struck a pose to show off her legs to the
greatest effect. As much in awe of her frank attitude as her physical
splendour, he finally managed to stutter out an answer. Rather than
be embarrassed she pulled on her jeans then took the initiative and indicated
he should spin around, “Here, your turn.”
She grabbed his sleeve and pulled off the top half. He removed
his boots and she helped him get the bottom half off. She stepped
back and took a moment to examine him wearing only his favourite pair of
boardies.
“What do you do for exercise?” she asked.
“This, and riding my dirt bike, and running when
I can.”
“No gym work?” she asked, surprised.
“Not for a while. I guess I should look around
for one now I’m here.” He said as he pulled on a T-shirt.
Still reviewing what she saw, she seemed to come to a decision.
“Very nice, very nice indeed.”
They worked together to load up the bikes and gear then pulled
out of the circuit complex, both beginning to feel the real effects of
the day’s efforts. A non-stop discussion of the day paused only long
enough for Sabina to invite him to have dinner with her, which he gratefully
accepted. They stopped off at the market for some groceries before
pulling into the underground garages. After unloading the bikes and
locking up, Crofty felt the need for a long, hot shower. “Come over
when you’re done,” she said. With that, both their doors closed simultaneously.
As he luxuriated under the hot stream Crofty considered his position.
He had never met such a spectacularly beautiful woman before, but spending
time with her was like spending time with a mate - something he suspected
she would not like to hear, but was actually the highest of compliments.
No games or sexual politics, and a refreshingly open approach to life that
would have most women he knew tisking endlessly. She obviously had
some serious problems right now, and all he wanted was to help her through
them. Maybe then he could address his attraction to her.
He threw on some jeans and his favourite T-shirt, grabbed a nice
Chablis and crossed the hall. The door was open and he could hear
the shower, so he called out to see if she was decent. “Come on in,”
she yelled from the shower. “Grab some beers from the fridge.
You know where the bottle opener is.”
He opened the fridge and saw a six-pack of his favourite brew.
He opened two then meandered over to the well-stocked bookshelf, keeping
his eyes away from the open bathroom door.
Lots of classics, he noticed. Hardy, Dickens, Austen, with a
lot of what had to be uni textbooks on art, photography books, Cleo’s and
a few bike magazines. As he glanced at a magazine the shower stopped
and a minute later, the hair drier started up. He flicked through
to an article on his bike he hadn’t seen before.
“See anything you like?”
She came into the room wearing only a towel, unmindful of the fact
that it barely covered her. She grabbed the bottle on the counter and took
a drink.
“Put some music on if you’d like. I’ll be
done in a minute.”
He looked through the extensive CD collection and saw a bunch of his
favourites. He picked a soul-stirring album that he’d had for decades
and as the music started, he was amazed, as he always was, at how this
particular music could set such emotions running through him. He
called out to the closed bedroom door, “Can I start anything, chop or dice
or whatever?”
The door opened and she walked in wearing what he assumed was another
bodysuit and a tight pair of jeans.
“Mmm, I love this music.” she murmured before she opened
the fridge and reached in. “Ahh, no need. How do you feel about steak and
salad?”
“Fine by me. What can I do?”
“Open the wine, and have a seat.” She indicated
the stools along the counter as she set about preparing the meal.
“I’ve got to say, Jason,” she said as she broke
a lettuce, “that was the most fun I think I’ve ever had. I had no
idea it would be that good.”
“That’s what I was hoping. I first did it
about ten years ago, and I always look forward to the next time I can get
on a track. Now I’m here I’ll do it more often.”
“How would you feel about me tagging along?” she
asked hopefully.
“I’d love it.” he said, and truly meant it.
The conversation flowed from the track layout during salad preparation,
bike comparisons while the steaks sizzled, to racing tactics as he poured
the wine. While they ate, she told him about wheelying for the first
time. She teased him about overshooting turn nine on several occasions
and he told her racing stories from years ago. The conversation moved
on to other matters as they cleaned up: movies, careers, university and
school friends. He studiously avoided any relationship queries, not wanting
to spoil a perfect evening.
The telephone rang midsentence. She reached over and picked up
the handset and immediately Crofty could see her heart sink. The
glowing smile was crushed after barely a word was spoken. With a
brief ‘Okay’ spoken into the handset, she hung up and looked at Crofty.
“You were asking what upset me the other day.
Well, he’s on his way up right now.”
“Who was that?” asked a concerned Crofty.
“That was my ex-boyfriend, although he doesn’t acknowledge
the Xavier bit,” she said with a defeated air.
“And he’s the one who’s been putting you through
hell all this time?”
She nodded, her eyes to the floor.
“Should I stay?”
She looked up suddenly, relieved.
“Oh, would you please, I’d really appreciate that.”
The change in her demeanour was complete. The glowing smile was
gone. The bright eyes were downcast and her voice was no longer ebullient
and energetic.
With no further delay, a curt rap made Sabina jump. She stood
and walked to the door, then paused a moment with her hand on the lock.
She opened the door and Crofty rose to see just what all the fuss was about.
Xavier was about to speak when he saw Crofty.
“This is my new neighbour Jason.” Sabina spoke
quietly, almost reverentially.
Whatever mental images Crofty had conjured up in the last minute, none
matched the man before him. He was not quite as tall as Sabina, but
solid and well dressed to a fault. He had carefully groomed hair,
clean-shaven face, an expensive looking black business suit, silk tie and
cuff links. He held out his hand and in a confident, authoritative
voice said, “Pleased to meet you Jason.”
After a moments silence Sabina prompted, “What do you...”
“I, ah, came for my razor, darling. I forgot
it when I left the other day.”
Looking perplexed, Sabina left without a word to fetch the recalcitrant
defoliator.
The moment she was out of the room, Xavier turned to Crofty, his expression
turning feral, and he snarled.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?
She’s my woman. She was just about to marry me when you came along
and ruined everything. If I find out you’re sleeping with her I’ll...”
At this point Sabina walked into the room with an old rusty razor.
His face transformed back to its previously affable state, leaving Crofty
stunned at the transformation.
“Thanks so much, darling.” He leaned in to
kiss her lips, but she turned her head and he was forced to kiss her cheek
instead.
“Nice to meet you Jason, and I’ll see you soon,
honey.”
The door closed and Jason stood there in shock. Things were starting
to make sense now.
“What the hell was that all about?”
Sabina was visibly shaken, the elation of the day replaced by a veil
of despondency.
“That’s the reason I haven’t been feeling too well
lately.”
“Let me guess,” said Crofty consolingly, “you
dumped him, which he didn’t like too much, so he proposed thinking you’d
take him back.”
They sat, and as she spoke, she became increasingly depressed.
“We were together for about two years. In the beginning,
he was a dream come true. Things were great, but the more I got to
know him the more possessive he became. When he started getting violent
with guys he thought were flirting with me I ended it, but he didn’t get
the hint. Now he thinks persistence will pay off, so he wont leave
me alone.”
“But he seemed like a pretty nice guy. To
you I mean.”
“That’s not normal. He usually tells me about
the all plans he’s made for us, how much he loves me, stuff like that,
but he says it all in a way that really scares me. The worst thing
is I actually did love him. When we were together, it was wonderful.
I mean, he’s good looking, has good taste, he drives a Ferrari, he can
be a real charmer.”
“Then what happened?”
“I kept telling him it was over and he went crazy.
He started calling in the middle of the night, he made threats and started
hassling my family. I still can’t believe that such a nice guy can
turn into such a retard.” With that she straightened in her seat
and took on a defiant air, overcoming the melancholy that had descended
upon Xaviers’ arrival.
“But I’m over him now. I’m not going to let
him get to me any more.”
Sensing the time had come he thanked her for the meal as he stood.
She stood and leaned over to plant a friendly kiss on his cheek.
She took his hand, squeezing strongly. “Thanks for staying.
I really appreciate it.”
“No problem, and if you ever need any help - with
anything, just let me know.”
Once in his own flat he read a little before turning in.
As he lay in the dark considering all that had happened that day, he felt
sure that Xavier was far from finished with Sabina. He would have
to be careful. The guy was obviously not firing on all cylinders
and the last thing Crofty wanted was a confrontation with a nutcase.
Putting these images aside his thoughts returned to the track, and he fell
asleep thinking about knee sliding, long graceful wheel stands and tight
red, white and blue leather.
After a few days spent shopping for clothes, food, a few basic
kitchen utensils and tyres for Sabina’s bike and his own, Crofty came home
just in time to catch the furniture guys with his new sofa. He now
had more than stools on which to eat and watch TV. He grabbed a brewski,
a sandwich and a book and with a flourish collapsed on his latest acquisition.
He was deeply engrossed in the latest offering from his favourite author
when an almighty crash shook the walls. He could hear glass and crockery
being shattered. It could only come from one place. He rushed
to the door and into the hall. Sabina’s door was ajar. As he
pushed it open another resounding crash reverberated down the hall.
He looked left then right and saw several surprised heads poking into the
corridor staring back at him. He took a moment to think about what
he was doing, and then did it anyway. He entered the flat just as
Xavier sent another bookshelf crashing to the floor. Glass and porcelain
shattered among a jumble of upturned shelves, broken lamps and smashed
crockery. When Xavier looked up he immediately saw Crofty and hissed,
“This is all your fault. If you hadn’t come along, she would have
married me by now. She was just...”
Crofty yelled to interrupt the tirade.
“Look at what you’re doing mate. Do you think
she’ll love you more when she sees what you’ve done?”
Xavier tried to speak, but Crofty shouted him down.
“You can’t destroy a person’s home without facing
the consequences. I hear you have a good job. What’ll happen
to that if you get thrown in jail?”
Xavier seemed to consider that, as if for the first time, before speaking
again.
“I told you what I’d do if I found out you were
sleeping with my fiancee.”
He slowly pulled a menacingly long knife from behind his back and Crofty
started to worry.
“Look, mate, is this any way to show you love someone?
What would she think if she saw you right now?”
Crofty took a quick look around at the devastation. The cabinet
containing all Sabina’s crystal and dinnerware had been pushed over.
The neighboring bookshelf was also horizontal.
“She’s going to think you don’t love her any more,
is that what you want? I mean, she’s been pretty patient so far.
Do you want to force her away? If you do that, you’ll never see her
again. Surely you don’t want that to happen.”
Crofty was on autopilot. He wanted to get Xavier to start thinking
about his actions before he did something Crofty would regret. He
kept going before Xavier had a chance to justify his actions. “She
knows you love her, she just has a few problems to work out. Did
you know she’s been crying almost constantly for the last few weeks?
She’s upset because you two broke up.” This surprised him, and he
lowered the knife and stopped advancing on Crofty.
“Yes, that’s right,” continued Crofty, sensing an
opening. “She told me all about it the other day after you left.”
That angered him so Crofty quickly added; “She was asking me for advice,
what I thought she should do.”
“You probably told her to leave me so you could
have her for yourself,.” He spat.
“No, that’s not it at all. She’s a great friend
but I don’t love her like you do.”
This surprised him even more, and Crofty tried to keep him off guard.
“I told her to do what makes her happy.”
“And what was that?” asked Xavier in a calmer voice,
now oblivious to the knife in his hand.
“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me, but do
you think this will help you get what you want? What if she had decided
to take you back? What do you think she’ll do when she sees what
you’ve done here?”
As if seeing the results of his efforts for the first time, Xavier
looked around the room. His stance lost all its defiance and his
shoulders slumped.
“Here, give me a hand with this,” said Crofty, pointing
to the large cabinet at their feet.
Xavier dropped the knife and slowly walked over, glass shards crunching
underfoot. He grabbed the cabinet, which they hauled upright.
Crofty spoke quietly, trying to keep Xavier from remembering why he was
here. He took an occasional glance to where Xavier had dropped the
knife, but couldn’t see it.
He was almost on top of the situation when he heard a horrified
gasp from the door.
“Oh my God.”
He turned to see Sabina, her face turning white as she stepped into
the room. Before he could do or say anything, Xavier spoke.
“Do you love me Sabina?”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?
Of course I don’t.”
Crofty cringed as she spoke; knowing all his cajoling just went out
the window. Xavier turned to Crofty, all the hatred returning as
he said with barely controlled fury, “You lying bastard. She really
wants you. I was right.”
Xavier started looking amid the chaos on the floor for the knife, but
he couldn’t find it. Crofty saw no alternative. He quickly
stepped over and put his arm around Xaviers’ neck in what could have been
a friendly gesture, but wasn’t. He gently but forcefully turned Xavier
away from Sabina and the knife. He leaned over and in a conspiratorial
whisper said to Xavier,
“Listen mate, this is getting a little crazy.
How about we relax? Tell you what, have you heard the one about...”
The rest was inaudible to Sabina. She watched as the two walked
a few steps further then stopped. Crofty kept whispering, then suddenly
relaxed his grip. Xavier’s head jerked back and he looked at Crofty
with brows knotted in confusion. Crofty lowered his arm and looked
back at Xavier, expressionless. Xavier continued to stare, and then
looked at Sabina for a moment, then back at Crofty. He let out a
short, nervous laugh and without another word he dashed past Sabina and
out the door.
Sabina stood there, stunned. “What did you say to him?” she asked
in amazement.
“I told him a joke. He didn’t seem to like
it.”
“A joke!” she said disbelievingly.
“Just a joke,” he said as he walked over to where
he thought Xavier dropped the knife. He sifted through some broken
picture frames and saw the wicked looking thing. He carefully picked
it up by the tip of the blade.
“Have you ever seen this before?”
Her eyes widened incredulously. “My God, did he... did you...
what happened here?”
Crofty shrugged, “He threatened to kill me with this thing.”
She was shocked, but deep down it didn’t surprise her.
“Then what did you do?”
“I talked him out of it.”
“And just how did you manage that?”
“I appealed to his sense of justice and fair play.”
“But… he doesn’t have one...” she said with a derisive
snort.
“Well, I also explained how expensive it is to be
arrested and he changed his mind very quickly.”
Sabina slowly and carefully walked towards Crofty. With each
step, they heard glass crackling. As she took in the devastation,
the shock of this violent act swept over her. She picked up a picture
of her family at her brother’s wedding, but it was too much to take and
she dropped it as sobs wracked her body. Crofty stepped over an upturned
potplant and took her in his arms, trying to offer some reassurance and
she buried her face in his shoulder. In a gentle whisper, Crofty
tried to reassure her, but knew he shouldn’t say too much. He slowly
turned her to the door and guided her to his flat.
In his flat, he sat her down on the new couch. He grabbed
a box of tissues, which she gratefully accepted. As she sat with
her head against his shoulder, he called the local Police and quickly described
the situation. While waiting for them to arrive, Crofty tried to
make Sabina as comfortable as possible. He unfolded the bed and sat her
down when the Police knocked on the door. He took one officer to Sabina’s
flat while the female officer checked to make sure Sabina was unhurt.
After a detailed description of the evenings events Crofty promised he
would go to the station with Sabina the following day, although he knew
no formal charges would be necessary when they found Xavier.
The Police left and Crofty quietly entered his flat and went
to his room. He didn’t realise that Sabina was wide-awake, contemplating
her relationship with Xavier, the pros, the cons, and her changing attitudes.
She wondered what she would have done without Crofty’s help over the last
week, especially tonight. As she undressed and got comfortable she
feared she was more grateful than she could ever hope to say.
The next day Sabina woke to the sounds of Crofty making breakfast.
Feeling perfectly comfortable around him she pulled a T-shirt over her
naked body. She walked to the kitchen counter and sat while admiring his
muscular form clad only in boxers.
“How do you feel?” asked Crofty as she blearily rubbed
the lingering effects of the night from her eyes.
“Physically, I need coffee. Emotionally, I’d be
a complete basket case right now if it wasn’t for you.”
Glad of a little humour, he said “Just trying to help a friend.”
“I can’t thank you enough, Jason. Over the last
week, I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
“Like I said, ‘a friend in need’ and all that.”
“I intend to return the favour if it’s the last thing
I do.”
“Well, if I ever need you I’ll call.”
Hearing this she silently promised to be closer than a phone call in
the future.
After a shower and coffee, they couldn’t delay the inevitable
any longer. Sabina pushed open the door to her apartment and stood
in the middle of the room, taking stock of the damage. She had spent
the night preparing for this moment and had promised herself she would
not cry. ‘I will not cry, I will not cry...’ she repeated to herself
over and over. Crofty stepped over the upturned TV to stand beside
her and took her hand in a gesture of support. She closed her eyes
and lowered her head, squeezing his hand until he was in pain. Her
tears pushed through tightly shut eyes, and she turned to put her arms
around his neck.
As the worst of the outrage finally passed, she released him.
“We can do this later if you like,” he said, but
she was determined to get this mess cleaned up.
“I’m better now. Thanks for that,” she sniffed
and moved over to the fallen wall unit. Together they lifted it back
in place. They continued picking up furniture until all the large
pieces were returned to their proper places. While she sifted through
the destruction looking for salvageable pieces, he picked up glass fragments
by hand and by vacuum.
By lunchtime, the place had regained a civilised look.
After giving up on the search for the ‘phone, it rang a muted ring.
Sabina threw aside cushions and books to find the handset. It was
the Police. In a cryptic message, they told Sabina that they no longer
needed a statement from either of them. Before she could ask for an explanation
the line went dead, leaving Sabina confused yet relieved that the unpleasant
task was no longer necessary. She mentioned the news to Crofty, who
simply nodded.
After a long, subdued lunch at Crofty’s place, they returned
to finish cleaning the mess in the bedroom. With the light fading,
and not enough spare globes to replace those wiped out along with the light
fittings, Crofty again offered her his sofa for the night.
They crossed the hall and Sabina went to the bathroom to wash
her face while Crofty ordered some food. He switched on the TV as she returned
looking and feeling refreshed. After pizza and a few drinks, the
tension of the day started to show on Sabina’s face. He was about
to reach over and turn off the TV when he saw her eyes widen in disbelief.
He turned to see what surprised her and immediately knew what had happened.
On the screen was a collection of emergency vehicles clustered around a
semi-trailer sitting at an odd angle. Without seeing, Crofty knew
what the truck was sitting on. Sabina saw the distinctive scarlet
of a Ferrari under the rear wheels of the truck. Only the rear section
of the car was visible, the entire body forward of its rear wheels crushed
under the huge tyres of the semi. The number plate was covered, but
the distinctive custom wheels left no doubt as to the owner. As the
voice-over continued, they heard the accident had happened the previous
night, and from the visible land marks, only a few blocks away.
Crofty looked at Sabina. She was dazed. Her mouth
moved as if to speak, but no words came out. The news item finished,
but she continued to stare unseeingly at the screen.
“I don’t know. He must be dead. No one
could live through that.” She said finally as Crofty killed the picture.
“I don’t know,” she repeated.
“I don’t know, I just don’t…I mean...” She
looked Crofty in the eyes and said, “I don’t know if I feel ... if I feel
sad or, or, happy. I nearly married that man, and now I see him squashed
like a bug on TV and I can’t decide if I feel sad or, ... overjoyed!”
She stood and started pacing.
“Sabina,” he said gently. No response.
“Sabina,”
She stopped mid pace and looked at him. “I’m not upset that he’s
dead you know.”
She spoke angrily now.
“I’m upset that I don’t know what to feel.
I wished he was dead many times, and now he is.”
She looked out the window, seeing nothing, while images flashed through
her mind. Images of Xavier. Crofty looked at her and
tried to muster up some surprise at the incident, but couldn’t. He
felt no sympathy for the man. He deserved what he got and that’s
why he got it.
EPILOGUE
Xavier looked at Crofty in complete puzzlement. It sounded like
a funny joke, but it made no sense at all. He felt stupid just standing
there, so he beat a hasty retreat. Out the door and down the hall,
he ran the words through his head trying to make some sense of it all.
He left the building and fell into his Ferrari. He no longer felt
the anger of earlier in the day. Where before his course of action
had been clear, that guy Jason confused him. He started the motor
and took off with a roar. As he sliced through the dawdling traffic,
he went through the joke in his head. Again and again he tried to make
sense of it but failed. After a few blocks, he came to a set of traffic
lights that were red. A little switch clicked inside his head and
suddenly everything made sense. Red lights. Of course. It was
so simple. He started laughing. He couldn’t stop. He
laughed and laughed. He laughed so hard it hurt. Tears blurred
his vision and he completely forgot his surroundings, simply amazed by
the brilliant play on words. He never even saw the truck.