Read Online Dark Matter by Brett Adams - Free Book Online Page B

being wrenched free. When he returned, he went
straight to the front door without sparing Rasputin a glance.
    “Where are you going?”
    “To get rid of this shit properly. Past the
S-bend isn’t far enough for some junkies.” He slammed the door, but not before
Rasputin heard him mutter, “Selfish bastard.”
    Rasputin stared at the invoice. It had
stuck to his sweaty fingers. His gaze drifted to the crisp green icon on the
letter head, the snake-and-staff.
    “I never did get the snake and staff,” he
said. “But of course. The snake bites you, and if you survive, they beat you to
death with the stick.”
    He lowered the letter to look at the TV.
Temptation was still on. He remembered with a pang how animated Jordy had been
only minutes earlier.
    A booth lit as a contestant buzzed in, and
said, “The locomotive engine.”
    The host nodded, already prepping another
question card, and said, “Correct. George Stephenson invented the first steam
locomotive engine for rail.”
    I knew that.
    The camera cut back to the contestants, and
behind them sat the jackpot. It stood at a quarter of a million dollars.
    That had three zeros and some numbers
before it.
     
    The next three days came and went as
if the conversation had not happened. The only inkling something was afoot was
Jordy’s unsinkable geniality. He was like that when fixing things, but the
current flock of warm fuzzies were on amphetamines.
    Nor could Rasputin stop Temptation
percolating through his mind. In the light of day, without the leaven of beer,
the idea was preposterous. Who had even met someone who had been on the show?
They weren’t real people. The show was probably concocted in a computer using
the showbiz equivalent of EFACE.
    So why couldn’t he let it rest?
    He lifted a spoon to his mouth and sucked
soggy cornflakes from it. It was barely eight o’clock and he had already been
daydreaming.
    Jordy sat opposite, balancing a cup
brimming with coffee in one hand, holding a sheaf of paper in the other.
    “Hey, Einstein,” said Jordy. “Can I call
you Einstein?”
    “No.”
    “Pack your bags. We’re going to
Disneyland.”
    “What, the Disneyland?” said
Rasputin in monotone.
    “No. I lied, Poindexter—can I can call you
that?”
    “No.”
    “Disneyland was my little joke. We’re going
to Melbourne.”
    “What’s in Melbourne, Bill (as in Gates)—can
I call you that?”
    “Sure.”
    Amiable prat.
    Jordy continued. “Temptation auditions.”
    Rasputin sat silent and still, spoon poised
before his lips. No reason to hurry. The cornflakes weren’t getting any
soggier. In fact, there was every chance they would begin to crisp up again.
    Jordy slipped a sheet from the sheaf of
paper.
    “Two tickets to Melbourne on tonight’s
red-eye. Mum has been using her credit card like a whetstone. She has frequent
flyer points to spare.”
    He was serious. Rasputin placed the spoon
back in his bowl and nudged it away. His mouth had gone dry, which was funny.
He had always assumed that was a literary invention.
    It was still dry when that night he tipped
awkwardly into a window seat of Qantas Flight 785 from Perth to Melbourne. He
had never flown before, and Jordy had insisted on him taking the window.
    Ethereal elevator music wafted about the
cabin. Outside, angry red and yellow lights held back the night sky and
illuminated airport staff buzzing in and out of sight beneath the plane’s
belly. They disturbed him, in the way he imagined Caesarean delivery crews
disturbed a prospective mother. A cargo hatch closed and sent a shudder through
the plane.
    Amateur surgeon. Great.
    Rasputin and Jordy had been the last to
board. Rasputin had refused to board at the call for children and disabled. Dee
and Jordy had had a moment together. Then she had hugged him and told Jordy to
look after him. She had glanced at his cane when she said it, though Rasputin
thought she had tried not to.
    A hostess came past with newspapers and
magazines. Jordy took The