By the time they parked the F100 in a little street just off K. Road, Geronimo hadn’t said much, and Cheyenne hadn’t asked. The only thing Chey had learnt since the fishing trip was that they had to give someone the smash. There was two hundred bucks in it for him, but it wasn’t about the money. When you were asked, you came. End of story.
The street was covered with streamers and bits of paper. There had been some sort of parade earlier on. It was still busy, with people standing around drinking, not wanting to go home. All the clubs and bars were full with shouting voices. It was like there had been a big rugby match.
As they waited at the lights, a voice behind them said ‘Tena korua!’
They both turned at the same time. It was Uncle Mahu, their dad’s brother, wearing his Maori Warden uniform. Suddenly they were 12 again, and he was bringing them home from the cop shop.
‘Hey, Uncle,’ Cheyenne began, but Mahu leaned forward silently for a hongi. Then it was Geronimo’s turn. Nothing hurried this.
‘You fullas are a bit late. It’s all over.’
‘What’s over?’
‘The parade. “Celebrating Polynesia.” Cissy and Rimu were in the Maori group.’
‘Yeah. Our story, man. The legend of Hape.’
‘They had a whale?’
‘Sure. And a whale rider. This was an hour or so ago.’
‘Pity we missed it.’
‘So what are you guys up to?’
It was the old voice. Part friendly, part terrifying. They were children in his presence. That was the way it would always be.
‘Going clubbing,’ said Geronimo.
‘In those clothes?’
‘Not that sort of club, eh.’
‘Where’s Pearly, Chey?’
‘She’s at home, this is a boys’ night out.’
The buzzer gave the signal to cross and Geronimo saw his chance. ‘Better fly, Uncle. Catch you later.’
‘I’ll be here.’
There was something of the warning about that and both boys knew it.
‘So what’s the drill?’
‘I want you to wait in the doorway. I’ll follow him in, you grab him, I’ll take it from there.’
‘That it?’
‘Yep.’
Chey felt a mounting irritation. What was the problem? Why couldn’t Ronnie come out with it?
‘So what’s this about?’
‘Nothing, it’s just a job.’
‘That it? Just a job.’
‘It’s better that way.’
But Ronnie could tell that Chey wouldn’t be bought off that easily. ‘Look. It’s just a fulla been told to stay away from the Casino. Won’t do what he’s told.’
‘So it’s a bit of a talk.’
Ronnie held up his fist. ‘Might have to cross the language barrier, bro.’ He grinned and went off to take up his position.
Cheyenne stood in the entranceway to the apartments. He didn’t like it. He would defend his brother, no question. He would help him out too, even if it meant lying to Pearly. Who knows what Ronnie had got himself into? But meeting Mahu had spooked him and now this ‘just a job’ crap. It was all wrong.
The apartment block was one of those office buildings with the mirror glass that someone had divided up and stuffed with Asian students. He didn’t know how they could stick it. Packed in like sardines. They wandered past him in ones and twos. No-one gave him a second look. He kept peering out into the night to see if he could spot Ronnie but there was no sign. This was a bad deal. He wished he’d made some excuse. Left Ronnie to sort out his own shit. It was one way traffic, this. Always was.
‘Kia mau!’
It was Geronimo. The ‘get ready’ call from kapa haka.
He tensed. A couple of Chinese teenagers walked past him but they were so into each other they never so much as noticed him. Then a young Chinese guy with glasses appeared around the corner.
‘Get him,’ yelled Geronimo.
Cheyenne moved forward with his arms out but the kid sprang back much more quickly than he had anticipated and was back on the footpath in two steps. He was getting away … Cheyenne plunged into the darkness after him. He was just out of the lit area when he ran into Geronimo and the kid at full speed, knocking them both to the ground. The three of them had banged heads together like a nose-to-tail crash on the motorway. Cheyenne’s eyes streamed and his nose bled. He could vaguely see Geronimo punching and kicking the kid on the ground next him. He tried to get up and was hit a glancing blow from Geronimo’s boot. The kid was lying on the footpath screwed up in a ball. Chey grabbed his brother and pulled him back.
‘It’s over brother! It’s over!’
Ronnie was hard to stop when he got going. He kept trying to wrestle loose; to get in that last kick, finish the job. They stood back for a moment looking at the kid. He was small, even for an Asian, his glasses were smashed and there was blood in his thick black hair.
Geronimo turned away. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Chey knew Geronimo couldn’t look at the kid. Couldn’t look at what he’d done.
Back in the lights of K. Road, Cheyenne caught sight of himself in the shop window. He wiped the blood from his banged nose onto the sleeve of his white shirt. Geronimo had a lumpy eyebrow from the kid’s head. What a mess. What a fuck up.
They hurried on back to the street where they had left the ute. The crowds had moved inside now and they walked quickly to avoid being looked at. As they rounded the corner they could see someone leaning on the bonnet of the black F100. It was Uncle Mahu.
‘Hey, Uncle. What’s up?’
‘I saw this Island boy checking out your ute. Big fulla. Thought I’d better stick about. Probably nothing but you can’t be too careful, eh?’
Ronnie looked around as if he expected to see someone lurking in the shadows.
‘Well, thanks, Uncle. We’d better shoot.’ Chey wanted out.
Mahu closed in for a goodbye hongi. ‘What’s happened to your nose, Cheyenne? Looks a bit munted, man.’
‘Banged it.’
‘Banged it on his eyebrow?’ Mahu said with the hint of a grin.
‘Something like that.’
‘Well, you’re better off away from here. There’s a hundred ways to find trouble on this street.’
‘Yeah. We’ll be off.’
‘Tell your dad to drop by. Brothers got to stick together.’
‘True!’ said Geronimo.
‘See you, Uncle.’
The drive home was silent. Mahu’s words seemed to be scratched into their skin.