Free The Byron Journals by Daniel Ducrou Page A

eye-liner. He wanted to tell her she looked beautiful, but instead he found himself saying, ‘You never dress up like that for me.’
    She kept her eyes fixed on the mirror. ‘That’s because you don’t take me out to nice places.’
    â€˜I didn’t know you wanted to go to nice places.’
    She glanced over her shoulder. ‘Every girl wants to go to nice places.’
    â€˜But I don’t have enough money. Busking barely pays for anything.’
    â€˜Well you better get some—if you want to keep me.’
    She turned and narrowed her eyes, then smiled, and moved in to kiss him. And all Andrew could think was that tonight she looked, smelled and moved differently from the Heidi he knew. Older. She even seemed to kiss him differently. There was so much about her that he didn’t know, that she wouldn’t let him see.
    He pulled away. ‘You’re not going to hook up with Sam, are you?’
    She rolled her eyes and sighed. The music stopped and Jade shouted, ‘C’mon Heidi, let’s go.’
    A car horn sounded out the front and Heidi turned past Andrew and blew him a kiss.
    â€˜Why can’t you party in Byron?’ Tim called after Jade. ‘Why the Gold Coast?’
    â€˜I told you—Sam wants to meet some of the people I work with. For business.’
    â€˜This is bullshit!’ Tim shouted.
    â€˜Seeya boys!’ Jade twinkled her fingers on her way past Andrew. She looked hot too, he thought, in a red silk camisole, tiny denim shorts and high heels.
    The front door closed behind the girls, and Andrew headed back to the living room. He paused to look at the cards laid out on the table. ‘Do you want to finish the game?’
    â€˜She’s sleeping with someone else,’ Tim replied. ‘I’m sure of it.’
    â€˜Heidi?’
    â€˜No, idiot! Jade!’ He kicked the back of the couch, clutched his foot and swore, then stormed down the hallway, snatching his car keys on the way out. The Valiant’s tyres screeched as he took off up the street.
    Ten minutes later, Andrew was listening to Pink Floyd’s The Wall and rolling a joint, when Tim rushed into the living room, panting for breath.
    â€˜Shit, Andy! I crashed it! I crashed the Val.’
    Andrew stood up. ‘Are you okay? Is anyone hurt?’
    â€˜No one’s hurt. It’s the car, Andy. The fucking car.’
    â€˜Don’t worry about the car,’ Andrew said. ‘We can get the car fixed’ ‘Not mine. The other car.’
    â€˜Why? What is it?’
    â€˜It looks expensive.’
    â€˜Did anyone see you?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Tim said. ‘What should I do?’
    Andrew looked at the smashed headlight and dented side panel as the Valiant rumbled past him in the driveway. He closed the gate, picked up a beach towel from the verandah and threw it over the damaged panel.
    â€˜What now?’ Tim said.
    The engine ticked as it cooled off, making even nicks in the night air.
    Andrew could smell burnt clutch. ‘Have you got any paint stripper?’
    â€˜What for?’
    â€˜Have you got any, or not?’
    Andrew stopped when Tim pointed out the car. It was a Maserati, probably worth over a hundred thousand. Tim had scratched a long jagged groove along the length of the passenger side.
    â€˜Looks expensive, hey?’ Tim whispered.
    â€˜It is,’ he replied. ‘Let’s scrub it and get out of here.’
    Together, they ran towards the car. Andrew poured paint stripper along the length of the scratch and Tim scrubbed it with an old T-shirt. Just as they finished the job, someone shouted from a nearby house.
    Panting, Andrew slammed the front door behind him and followed Tim into the living room. He sat down to finish rolling his joint, while Tim put on Neil Young’s Harvest Moon .
    â€˜Do you think anyone followed us?’ Tim asked.
    â€˜I don’t think so.’
    Tim paced