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Wiri froze at the end of the deck, the steps up to the front door seeming insurmountable. A blond man in a police officer’s uniform leaned against the balustrade, his stance casual and without alertness. He jerked his chiselled jaw upwards in acknowledgement of Wiri’s presence. As tall as Vaughan and just as wide, he’d let his expanse of muscle degenerate to leave a flabbier appearance. The way he’d tightened his belt to cause his stomach to bulge a little over his waistband indicated a man who didn’t yet want to address what the mirror told him. The other officer sat on a bench beneath the lounge window, his legs stretched out in front of him. Wiri swallowed his panic, letting it collect in his throat as a lump before traversing the first step.
“Hey,” he said, looking from one to the other. “Is there a problem?”
“Hi again.” The officer on the bench rose and nodded to Wiri. The patrol man from the previous night stared at him through amused blue eyes. “I left my key at work. Figured I’d wait for you to let me in.” He jerked his head towards the other man. “This is my brother, Tane. He runs the local watch house.”
Wiri forced his head into an awkward nod at the other man. He hauled the carabiner off its loop and held out the key. “You’re Jet,” he said, his tone sombre.
“Thanks.” The officer took the key and grinned at his brother. “He’s fast, bro’. No flies on him.”
“Don’t be a dick.” Older by at least half a decade, the officer leaning on the rail shot Wiri an apologetic look, his brows furrowing into a line. He forced his lips into an amiable smile. “He could have lived with me and my wife,” he said as an explanation. His shrug betrayed his disappointment. “Ah well.” He pushed himself off the rail. “You both have a good night.”
Jet waved at the same time as he pushed open the door. “Thanks for the ride,” he called after Tane.
His brother stopped on the bottom step. “See you for dinner tomorrow night. Don’t be late. You’re back on day shifts now, right?”
“Yep.” Jet emerged from the doorway and handed back Wiri’s key. He saluted Tane with two fingers. “Thanks for requisitioning my day off.”
“Yeah, sorry.” Tane didn’t look sorry as he strode from the deck to the patrol car and slid behind the driver’s seat. Wiri forced an inane grin onto his lips and managed a feckless wave as the patrol car moved through a precise three-point turn and cruised along the driveway towards the main road.
Jet eyed Wiri through eyes which sparkled with amusement. He folded his arms across his muscular chest and raised a blond eyebrow. “So, Wiremu Du Rose,” he said, twisting his lips into a smile. “It seems we’re house mates for the next few months.”
Wiri nodded, his brain failing him with anything sensible to say. Jet exhaled and turned towards the house, his shiny boots carrying him across the threshold and into the hall. Wiri took a moment to let his panic subside. He took time to remove his hat and his boots before placing them on the rack on the porch. The size nine trainers nestling in the cubby above his shifted into context as Jet’s. Wiri jumped as the man appeared next to him.
“Don’t tell Leilah I forgot,” he grunted, thudding onto the bench to remove his boots. He glanced up at Wiri from beneath his lashes. “You don’t seem like a snitch.”
“I’m not.” Aware of the defensiveness in his tone, Wiri dropped his shoulders and moved towards the front door. He ignored whatever Jet said next, striding to his bedroom and shutting the door. Leaning against it, he closed his eyes and let the vibration of his panic wash over him. His situation couldn’t be worse. He’d lied about his name to Vaughan and Leilah, only to discover he lived with the cop who knew the truth about him.
Wiri gnawed on his lower lip and contemplated phoning Phoenix again. He sensed she’d know what to do. His fingers moved over the black phone screen and he imagined listening to her soothing voice as she worked through the problem. But when he activated the screen, it gave the time as after five o’clock. She’d be at home in the kitchen, surrounded by her family. Answering the phone to him would force a fracture. She’d need to leave the room and avoid Edin’s nosiness to speak to him.
He threw the phone onto the bed and took a step away from the door, jumping as a fist hammered against the wood. “Hey,” Jet shouted. “Do you wanna clean up and go to town for dinner?”
“Not really,” Wiri whispered to himself. But he licked his lips and pushed confidence into his voice. “Okay. Give me twenty minutes for a shower and some clean clothes.”
The hallway swallowed Jet’s reply and Wiri felt the floorboards vibrate with his movement as he slammed his own bedroom door at the other end of the corridor. His sense of fatalism threw the calamity into a chance for opportunity. Getting the police officer on his side could prove advantageous. He just needed a few moments to work out a plan.
***
“Oh, is this all that’s left?” Jet blinked in surprise. He jabbed his index finger towards the sparse array of leftover pies. They’d used Wiri’s truck to drive back into town and he nodded to Mari as they stepped into the cafe. Jet’s damp fringe flopped over his eyes and Wiri sighed as he watched him peer into the cabinet. The police officer took longer than Phoenix to ready himself for the outing. Such a cloud of aftershave had wafted through the house, Wiri had retreated to the front deck to wait for him.
“Well, look what blew in with the last storm,” Mari said, walking from behind the counter. Her crabbed hands reached out to squeeze Jet’s wrist, but she slipped her free arm around Wiri. He stilled in shock at the way she singled him out for attention, her affection unwarranted. Then she qualified her reasoning. “Apparently this boy makes the best coffee in the town.” She tightened her grip until her shoulder bumped the defined biceps bulging from beneath the sleeve of his clean tee shirt. “His skills are only outclassed by his kumu, according to the girls from the high school.” She cackled and dropped her hand to pat Wiri’s backside. He jerked away in shock, his eyes widening in horror.
Mari went back behind the counter, shaking her head at him. “Most entertaining too,” she murmured, only loud enough for Wiri to hear. She clapped her hands, the short nails stained with the distinctive purple of late beetroot. “What are we having today, then?” She jerked her head towards the lighted cabinet. “You can have anything from there on the house.”
“Awesome! I’ll take a steak and cheese then, please.” Jet hauled on the door of the drinks chiller and pulled out a bottle of soda. “You want one?” he asked Wiri.
“Please.” Wiri watched him grab an identical bottle and set it on the counter. Mari got busy with tongs, her movements deft as she lifted out a pie and stuffed it towards a paper bag. She squinted, concentration shuttering her expression as she missed at the first attempt.
“She said what do you want?” Jet nudged him from his momentary lapse and Wiri found both him and Mari staring at him.
“Same, please.” He gave himself a visible shake and stepped closer to the counter, taking one of the drinks to keep his fingers from worrying at his clothing.
“You can eat in here,” Mari said, wiping her hands on her apron after she placed Wiri’s pie next to Jet’s. “But don’t make a mess. I’m closing up in five minutes.”
The men sat at a table in the corner as Mari switched the sign on the door to indicate she’d closed. She clicked the snib on the lock and returned to her kitchen. Jet sank his teeth into the pie with a sigh.
Wiri took tiny bites, his lack of trust affecting his appetite. When he lifted his drink, the soda gushed into his throat too fast and made him cough.
Jet finished his pie and leaned back in the wooden seat. A chalk board above the counter listed the special dishes and Wiri focused on it to avoid conversation. Mari clattered around in the kitchen. She spoke to someone, and an external door opened and closed. Wiri caught sight of her hefting crates of fresh vegetables into the chiller, her biceps straining with the ease of someone who repeated the task every day. He read the chalk board from one side to the other until he’d memorised every price and then started over, testing his brain for errors. He stilled as Jet spoke.
“We need to talk,” he said, leaning his elbows on the table. He’d changed into a clean tee shirt and jeans and firm plates of muscle showed through the fabric.
“About what?” Wiri swallowed, the pie crust edging its way down his throat by slow degrees.
“I don’t live with Tane for a reason,” Jet said. He rocked back on his chair as though the discussion cost him, listing as it teetered on the back two legs. Fearful of Mari’s rebuke, he glanced towards the kitchen and then righted it. “I dream,” he said with a sigh. His blue irises flashed, and he studied Wiri’s reaction, the darkening of his expression expecting something painful.
Wiri shrugged. “So?”
Jet exhaled. “So, I sometimes wake up in other parts of the house.”
“Oh.” Wiri nodded, relief flooding his bloodstream. “Night terrors, you mean?”
Jet swallowed. “Kinda.” His fingers knotted and twisted on the table. “I served ten years in the army. I saw some stuff. Nobody knows.” His jaw protruded through his cheek in the same way Vaughan’s had earlier, a similar level of internal pain inducing the grinding action of his teeth.
Wiri shook his head. “It’s okay. My ma has them real bad. She screams and runs around because of the bad stuff that’s happened to her. My uncle deals with it. It doesn’t bother me any more.”
“Right.” Jet nodded and leaned back in his seat. A pink bloom rose into his cheeks, flushing through the tanned skin of his neck and forming spots of colour above his jaw. He exhaled. “It’s only fair I tell you something else,” he said, lowering his voice and shooting a precautionary glance at the kitchen. Mari hummed a lazy tune inside, clattering crockery and containers as she prepared to leave.
Wiri’s fingers stalled with his pie half way between his mouth and the table. “What?” he whispered, though he already knew.
“Vaughan thinks your name is Kingii.” Jet leaned forward, his fringe flipping to cover the bridge of his nose. “I stopped your vehicle, so it gave me a reason to check you out on our system. You’re Wiremu Du Rose like your driving licence said.” His lips twisted as though the next revelation caused him discomfort. “You come from money, man. So why are you earning minimum wage on a nothing-as farm at the back end of nowhere?”
