Free Raw by Scott Monk Page B

waited for the car to pass but this time he got lucky. A blue convertible with a white stripe down each side indicated and pulled over to the side of the road. He blinked and saw thatit was real. Running up to it, he was all smiles again.
    â€˜Where are you headed?’ the twentysomething driver asked, popping open the passenger door.
    â€˜Er, south.’
    â€˜Whereabouts south?’
    â€˜Sydney?’ Brett offered.
    The driver whistled. ‘That’s one long trip.’
    Brett knew his destination was a mistake the minute he said it. It would give the cops a place to look. Then again, it could work in his favour. If they were looking in Sydney, while he was elsewhere …
    â€˜Hop in,’ the driver said. ‘I’m heading as far as Newcastle, not far from there.’
    Brett grinned and said, ‘All right.’
    He closed the door and the driver pumped the accelerator in a cloud of dirt and gravel. Within seconds, Mungindi was just another forgotten name on a map.
    â€˜What’s in Sydney?’ the driver asked.
    â€˜My family.’ Brett gave the guy the once over. He was about one hundred-and-seventy centimetres with slick blond hair that curled above his shoulders. He wore blue jeans and a camel-coloured cotton shirt, and sat casually in his seat: one hand on the wheel and the other on the roof. Brett’s hand, however, was curled round the door handle. He wasready to jump out if this guy turned queer on him.
    â€˜You’re a long way from home,’ the driver said.
    â€˜Yer, I was, er, visiting my aunt. She isn’t too well at the moment and I didn’t want to ask her for any money for the trip home.’
    â€˜It isn’t safe to hitchhike, you know.’
    â€˜Yer, I know. I don’t have any other choice though.’
    And that was the truth.
    â€˜What’s in Newcastle?’ Brett asked, changing the subject. ‘It’s just as long a hike as Sydney.’
    â€˜Work. Mr Mellor — that’s my boss — wants me to get back to the office. Something about a computer error, I think. I don’t know. He didn’t really explain the problem clearly. I said to him I was on holiday. He said he didn’t care if I was in Hawaii — “Get back here now!”. So here I am. Instead of lying in a hammock in Cairns with chicks all round me, I’m on my way home probably to turn the power on.’
    Brett half-smiled.
    â€˜Do you mind if I, er, go to Newcastle with you? I mean, if it’s not any trouble —’
    â€˜Yer sure. It’s going to cost you though.’
    Brett’s hopes sank. ‘How much?’
    The driver shrugged. ‘A couple of bucks for petrol.’
    â€˜That’s good because I’ve only got a couple of bucks.’
    The pair grinned, the driver more so than Brett.
    When they settled down, the driver swapped hands on the steering wheel and offered a handshake. ‘Oh, by the way I’m James.’
    â€˜Brad,’ Brett said, nearly giving away his real name.
    â€˜Nice to meet you, Brad.’
    James focused on the road a while as the conversation came to an awkward pause. Brett looked out into the dark countryside and shifted his bag in his lap. The cans were heavy on his legs.
    â€˜You can put your bag in the back if you like,’ James said.
    â€˜Yer, okay.’
    Brett reached behind him and placed it on the floor. He didn’t want to put it on the backseat. The whole car looked like it had just rolled off the production line.
    â€˜I like your car,’ he said. ‘What is it? A ’68?’
    â€˜â€™67,’ James corrected. ‘And yep, she is great. They don’t make cars like Mustangs any more.’
    â€˜Where’d you get it?’
    â€˜I bought it. I’ve loved classic cars since I was a kid and always promised myself to buy one when I got my first job. Well, I got my first job.’
    â€˜You must take good care of it. It