Chapter Forty One
A Load of Rubbish
Links to previous chapters: Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10 Ch11 Ch12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 Ch17 Ch18 Ch19 Ch20 Ch21 Ch22 Ch23 Ch24 Ch25 Ch26 Ch27 Ch28 Ch29 Ch30 Ch31 Ch32 Ch33 Ch34 Ch35 Ch36 Ch37Ch38 Ch39 Ch40
Looking over at my naked reflection in the full-length bedroom mirror got me nodding with approval. The last few months hiding out in the Wallerawang backblocks had starved me down to quite a good shape. Thommo’s ratbag old man had finally come through with my fake ID as promised and life has been looking up since I moved back into the upper mountains.
I was tanned, I was trim, got quite a few taut muscles in all the right places, from working for Thommo’s old man on the farm. He was a lazy bastard, but I knew when to shut my mouth and just work. All the heavy lifting, fetching and carrying, digging, sawing, mending fences, clearing out rubbish, had the farm looking good for the first time ever. He had me over a barrel though. No pay, just room and board and the promise of a favour. He had connections. He got me a new driver’s license and with the help of a bit of dye and a healthy beard, I am now a new person.
The old me is wanted for a few things and there’s a warrant for my arrest. It sounds quite impressive… to those who are impressed by such things. Section 30 of the Crimes Act -Attempt to Murder by Other Means: Engaging in an act other than that encompassed by sections 27, 28 and 29 of the Crimes Act with Intent to Murder. Got 2 of those, but one of them had no witnesses, except a bloody dog. I could have got off with the help of a good lawyer. The other though, involving a car and a populated street with umpteen bloody dozen witnesses, is a bit hard to explain so I’d rather avoid having to. I got done for common assault a couple of years back, spent a bit of time in jail. That interfering bloody vicar’ll pay for that. Him and his fucking umbrella! I’ve done a bit of Section 13 on him and that snooty bitch Michelle - stalking and intimidation! Ha!
Not sure I like my new name but beggars can’t be choosers so Zac Lombardi will have to do. A bloke in the pub told me that Lombardi means long beard. Thommo’s lot must be having a joke with me. My beard’s not that long but it sure does make me look different. Add a pair of black-rimmed plain-glass specs and I even look like I might know what I’m talking about. Did I see a look of respect from the sheila in Bunnings yesterday? I like it.
Even got myself a new girlfriend, Liz. I like living here at her place in Mount Vic. She’s quite a good sort when she’s not half blind. Three bottles of plonk in a row sort of brings out the Hyde in her Jekyll, but she minds her own business and does what I say when she’s sober.
I found some decent clothes at the Op shop, not what I’d usually wear, but it keeps up the illusion when I’m out and about. Dark brown trousers with a real leather belt. A knitted beige jumper. Sedate shirts with collars! Clean brown leather shoes… with thin socks! I’ve tried walking around in Blackheath a couple of times, no one recognised me. A couple of old birds even smiled when I moved to let them pass outside the Bottlo. I dropped off a little parcel to the rectory on Christmas Eve too, it was late and dark by then though. Thoughtful of them to leave a pair of side cutters in the toolshed.
Yes, I’m enjoying life a bit now. Got plans. Got a car for a bit, borrowed from Thommo’s brother. I owe them big time – they keep reminding me. Got some courier work to do with the car. It’s in Thommo’s best interests for me to have a driver’s licence that’ll scan into the police databases no worries.
Lizzy’s’s got PTSD from her past relationship. She thinks I’m kind and says she’s grateful I don’t hit her. She’s been seeing a shrink in Katoomba, court-ordered after her last DUI charge. I talked her out of going back there after Christmas. It’s safer if she doesn’t talk about anything with anyone. Besides, she can talk to me, I’ll soon set her straight. We have a bit of fun together and she’s a good cook. I told her up a tale about my Italian heritage and my market-gardening uncles and their family feuds. I said that her Fettucine Boscaiola was as good as my Auntie Donna’s. She laps it up.
Doing quite a bit of work for cash. You’d be surprised at the number of builders and tradies who ask no questions and prefer to have none asked of them in return. A bit of dealing on the dark web too, thanks to Liz’s computer and internet connection. A very valuable chick, I’d hate to lose her, or her internet login.
Even took Lizzy to the movies at Mount Vic Flicks. An old-fashioned picture theatre but with good screen and great sound. Nice and dark in there. They serve wine. She loves that. We saw ‘Saltburn’. She hated it, said it triggered her and was a load of rubbish. I loved it. It had some brilliant ideas, but the guy was a bit of a dick. Who would wait so long to get what you want?