coming off, I can tell right away. She’s yellowish and sweating and mumbling and when I say, ‘Hey Cherie, it’s Amanda, I came to see if you needed anything,’ she looks straight at me but she doesn’t seem to know who I am.
‘Everyone sends their love,’ I tell her, even though she probably can’t hear me. I back out of the room, which also smells pretty bad because Cherie hasn’t moved off that bed in days.
I take a look around the flat before I leave. When I open the fridge the cats jump off the table. They twist around my legs until I pull out a crusty piece of pizza and drop it on the floor. I never knew cats ate pizza. In the lounge room is an ancient record player and four records, and a bunch of CDs but no CD player. I take a couple of the CDs since they obviously can’t use them.
As I pull the door shut behind me Cherie’s flatmate appears at the top of the stairs.
‘Is Cherie trying to get clean?’ I ask her.
‘No one knows,’ Maree says.
The last time I saw Maree she was wearing a brand new shirt that I offered to buy off her, a paisley shirt with big purple buttons. But she must have sold it to someone else because I didn’t see it in the flat and now she’s back to wearing the same old slutty tube top and hot pants with her fat thighs hanging out and her boobs sagging down to her knees. I can’t believe half the girls who get tricks down Grey Street. Are the johns blind?
‘But at least she’s stopped screaming,’ Maree says. ‘I think she’s over the bad bit.’ She puts her key in the lock and realises the door is open.
‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘Did fucking Cherie leave this door open again? I’ll fucking kill her. I’ve got valuables in there.’
‘Well, I’ll see you later,’ I say. I take the stairs two at a time on my way down.
I don’t like to leave Cherie there like that, with no one knowing what she wants, but what can I do? On the way up Jackson Street I run into Joe.
‘See, I told you. She’s on the way out,’ he says. Joe always knows where I’ve been, even when I’m too out of it to know myself.
‘You’re giving me the creeps. Do something.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Where’s her bloke?’
‘I told you, she’s on the way out. He knows that. No point throwing good money after a dead loss.’
I rest my hand on the arm of Joe’s leather jacket. The leather is cracked and dry. ‘Is that what you’re going to do to me? Tell everyone I’m on the way out and leave me to lie in my own shit?’
Joe brushes my hand away. He pulls a smoke out of his breast pocket. A score falls on the ground and he bends over and picks up the silver packet, saying ‘Whoops,’ and laughing.
‘Of course I won’t,’ he says, lifting the lighter into his cupped hand and lighting the smoke. ‘It’ll be the best care for you, baby.’
‘Baby? You’ve been watching too much TV.’
At home Kareen’s eating fish and chips out of a box and watching The Simpsons.
‘Seen your sister?’ she says.
‘Went to see Cherie.’
‘Oh yeah? How is she?’
‘They say she’s on her way out.’
‘Shit,’ she says, and lifts the box toward me. ‘Want a potato cake?’
We watch The Simpsons and the news on a couple of stations and Sale of the New Century. I know all the answers except three hard ones.
‘You should go on that,’ Kareen says. She keeps wandering in and out of the bedroom and the lounge room as she dresses for work. She drifts through wearing a bra and no panties, then a bra and panties and a pair of shoes, then a pair of shoes and panties and no bra.
‘Are you going to put something else on top of that, or are you in the mood to get booked?’ I say to her.
‘Can I wear your leather jacket?’ she asks.
‘No.’
‘Well, what about that green skirt–the short one?’
‘No.’
She goes back into the bedroom and comes out wearing her jeans and a tight jumper. Kareen is only sixteen and very pretty with a soft red mouth. She could
‘Everyone sends their love,’ I tell her, even though she probably can’t hear me. I back out of the room, which also smells pretty bad because Cherie hasn’t moved off that bed in days.
I take a look around the flat before I leave. When I open the fridge the cats jump off the table. They twist around my legs until I pull out a crusty piece of pizza and drop it on the floor. I never knew cats ate pizza. In the lounge room is an ancient record player and four records, and a bunch of CDs but no CD player. I take a couple of the CDs since they obviously can’t use them.
As I pull the door shut behind me Cherie’s flatmate appears at the top of the stairs.
‘Is Cherie trying to get clean?’ I ask her.
‘No one knows,’ Maree says.
The last time I saw Maree she was wearing a brand new shirt that I offered to buy off her, a paisley shirt with big purple buttons. But she must have sold it to someone else because I didn’t see it in the flat and now she’s back to wearing the same old slutty tube top and hot pants with her fat thighs hanging out and her boobs sagging down to her knees. I can’t believe half the girls who get tricks down Grey Street. Are the johns blind?
‘But at least she’s stopped screaming,’ Maree says. ‘I think she’s over the bad bit.’ She puts her key in the lock and realises the door is open.
‘Fuck,’ she says. ‘Did fucking Cherie leave this door open again? I’ll fucking kill her. I’ve got valuables in there.’
‘Well, I’ll see you later,’ I say. I take the stairs two at a time on my way down.
I don’t like to leave Cherie there like that, with no one knowing what she wants, but what can I do? On the way up Jackson Street I run into Joe.
‘See, I told you. She’s on the way out,’ he says. Joe always knows where I’ve been, even when I’m too out of it to know myself.
‘You’re giving me the creeps. Do something.’
‘What am I supposed to do?’
‘Where’s her bloke?’
‘I told you, she’s on the way out. He knows that. No point throwing good money after a dead loss.’
I rest my hand on the arm of Joe’s leather jacket. The leather is cracked and dry. ‘Is that what you’re going to do to me? Tell everyone I’m on the way out and leave me to lie in my own shit?’
Joe brushes my hand away. He pulls a smoke out of his breast pocket. A score falls on the ground and he bends over and picks up the silver packet, saying ‘Whoops,’ and laughing.
‘Of course I won’t,’ he says, lifting the lighter into his cupped hand and lighting the smoke. ‘It’ll be the best care for you, baby.’
‘Baby? You’ve been watching too much TV.’
At home Kareen’s eating fish and chips out of a box and watching The Simpsons.
‘Seen your sister?’ she says.
‘Went to see Cherie.’
‘Oh yeah? How is she?’
‘They say she’s on her way out.’
‘Shit,’ she says, and lifts the box toward me. ‘Want a potato cake?’
We watch The Simpsons and the news on a couple of stations and Sale of the New Century. I know all the answers except three hard ones.
‘You should go on that,’ Kareen says. She keeps wandering in and out of the bedroom and the lounge room as she dresses for work. She drifts through wearing a bra and no panties, then a bra and panties and a pair of shoes, then a pair of shoes and panties and no bra.
‘Are you going to put something else on top of that, or are you in the mood to get booked?’ I say to her.
‘Can I wear your leather jacket?’ she asks.
‘No.’
‘Well, what about that green skirt–the short one?’
‘No.’
She goes back into the bedroom and comes out wearing her jeans and a tight jumper. Kareen is only sixteen and very pretty with a soft red mouth. She could
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