A special deal

We reach Manx’s house

as the sun sets over Sattlers Hill.

There’s still a few hours until the party starts

and we’re both starving.

Manx’s dad pulls up in the Holden.

He gets out of the car

but doesn’t close the door.

‘I hear you’ve been causing trouble again,’ he says.

Manx and I stand there

like ten-year-old kids

caught stealing milk money.

‘Lloyd-Davis and his BMW

pulled into the service station an hour ago.

I was already counting the cash

to fill that ugly beast.’

Mr Gunn grins.

‘Turns out hyphen-man

didn’t want to give me money.

He prattled on about

broken glass and graffiti.

When I wouldn’t give him

what was in the till,

he threatened to call the cops.’

Manx shifts uncomfortably next to me.

‘I said there was no crime in selling petrol.’

Mr Gunn laughs.

‘As he stormed out,

I offered him a special deal on new tyres.’

He looks at me and says,

‘I don’t know what happened, Jonah,

but I’ll say thank you anyway.’

He reaches back into the car,

picks up a package,

and offers it to us.

‘I imagine you boys are hungry,’ he says

and slams the car door.

‘You can’t go past fish and chips.’

He walks into the house.

Manx and I follow him

to eat our fill

and wait for the night to begin.