AMY GETS SARAH UTTON to Adelaide. She’s going to be fine. Arrangements are in place. And Amy’s boss Colleen isn’t in the habit of sending people all the way across the country to get knocked. That’s not her style. With her, the bodies tend to wash up where everyone can see what happens when you step out of line.
Amy checks into her hotel, hits the foyer bar, and waits it out. She has no interest in the city. No plans for dinner.
Time passes.
Some businessman buys her drinks.
Then a tourist.
Then another business guy. His name is Tony.
Tony is a rep for a tiling company.
Tony tells her he’s in shape.
Tony slips his wedding ring off when he’s in the bathroom and buys three rounds of drinks in a row. He seems absolutely devoid of life or ambition. ‘To Adelaide,’ he says.
Later, the barman kicks them out as the after-dinner trade files in. They hit Tony’s room and the minibar and then the bed and it’s no good for either of them. Amy experiences the whole thing like a curious bystander. It’s not Tony’s fault. Tony tries a little of everything. And Tony—who is in shape—can’t come either.
‘Can’t you tug me off?’ he says.
Amy holds up her right hand in front of his face and clenches it into a fist.
The bones creak and pop audibly.
‘Bloody hell,’ says Tony, fascinated.
That’s about it, Colleen Vinton style.
Back in her own room, the night doesn’t get any better. Amy relives old mistakes, sees siblings and parents and funerals, gasps in horror at bad memories arriving for reasons unknown. She paces the room and thinks about Sarah Utton and her missing baby. She thinks about her dead brother.
It’s a load of shit.
Start what over?
Sarah was right. Smarter than Amy ever was.
But why think about it?
Amy shouts at herself to stop. She sucks beer and turns on the TV. More sports coverage, more aerial shots of QEII stadium. The Commonwealth Games is about to start back in Brisbane and the entire city is holding its breath. Our moment to shine, says some dickhead on the screen, waving away blowflies. Amy couldn’t care less. Her mind drifts elsewhere.
She shivers in the aircon.
Feels the dread building even more.
Fuck it.
Amy grabs the gun from her luggage and loads a bullet from the case, spins the barrel, watching herself in the bathroom mirror, half-naked and looking straight-up possessed. With absolutely no ceremony, she puts the gun in her good hand, places it under her chin and pulls the trigger.
Snap.
Pulls it again.
Snap.
She doesn’t look any different.
No tears, no emotion, no—
Snap.
Not long now. She’s already lost count.
The phone rings.
Snap.
‘Fuck.’
It keeps ringing.
Amy picks it up. ‘Yeah?’
Colleen’s voice slides out of the receiver. ‘How’s the City of Churches, darl?’
‘It’s okay.’
‘You get the girl there in one piece?’
‘Yeah.’
‘That’s good.’ Colleen sparks up a smoke on the other end and waits. Eventually, she says, ‘That’s my good deed done for the year. Did she say anything about the baby?’
‘No.’
A lie, all instinct.
‘That’s a relief. If you knew who knocked her up, bloody hell … you’d have to stay down there with her.’
‘No thanks. Is there something else I can do for you, Col?’
‘You in a hurry, darl?’
‘No, I just …’
‘I get tired of this shit sometimes.’
Amy waits her out.
On the line, Colleen exhales a lungful and says, ‘I have another little job for you tomorrow. I want you to go and see a copper in Brisbane, on your way back from the airport. Ray Blintiff. Do you know Ray?’
‘Only by reputation.’
‘Well you know he’s a prick, then. That helps. He’s got some work for you.’
‘What’s my end?’
‘It’s all yours,’ says Colleen. ‘I just need to stay in the good books with the Licensing boys. You know how it is.’
Amy knows. She signs off. She finds herself back in the room with the gun in one hand and the phone in the other. Amy looks down and almost laughs.