Read Online Now Showing by Ron Elliott - Free Book Online

looked over to me.
    â€˜Pull up a piece of house and sit down,’ I said.
    â€˜Bill,’ he said, not offering his hand.
    â€˜Zac. Want a drink?’
    He opened his eyes a fraction which I took for yes. I looked over to Robin, but she hadn’t made a move. I got up and got the flagon from her. ‘It’s a red blend made to our own secret recipe.’
    Bill took a sip, still standing, then a deep gulp.
    I pointed at my soup can. ‘You wouldn’t have a can opener would you?’
    He shook his head. Said to Robin, ‘Been to Kal?’
    Robin nodded. She wasn’t actually looking at him, more his boots.
    â€˜How’s everybody?’
    Robin shrugged.
    Bill shrugged too. He took another pull on the flagon, wiped it with his sleeve, passed it back to me with a nod.
    â€˜Well, better be heading back to camp.’ He looked at Robin and said, ‘Good to see you,’ and said, ‘Good meeting you,’ to me and, ‘Dog,’ to the dog.
    When he turned to leave, Robin said, ‘Dad?’
    Bill turned back.
    Robin picked up the can of soup and held it up. ‘Could you help us get the can open?’
    Bill stood looking at the can for a couple of seconds before he nodded. He walked around the fire and took the can from her.
    â€˜Where’s your camp?’ I finally asked.
    He took a huge knife out of his belt and used it to point into the desert. ‘About a half a K or so that way. An old mine I’m reworking before the big boys come in with their front-end loaders.’ He held up the can and he hacked off the top with one sweep of the knife. The lid hinged back and drops of soup hissed into the fire.
    â€˜Now that’s a knife.’
    Bill looked at the knife, then at me like I was a moron.
    â€˜It’s from a film,’ I said.
    He handed the can to Robin and wiped the knife on his pants and put it back into the sheath on his belt.
    â€˜So, you’re a prospector?’
    â€˜I scratch enough for food.’
    Maybe he wasn’t even forty. But weathered. He looked a lot like Indiana Jones without the whip. ‘But you could strike it big?’
    He shrugged and looked down into the fire. He was hard to read, like his daughter.
    â€˜Yeah, any day now,’ answered Robin, flat, bitter.
    Bill said, ‘I’ll let you get on with your soup.’
    I said, ‘You’re welcome to some if you want, um, Mr Mays.’
    â€˜Bill. Used to my own company. Thanks for the drink.’ He flicked his eyes to Robin. ‘Say hello in Kal.’
    â€˜No worries. Nice to see you.’
    Bill nodded and turned and strode back into the darkness with his dog who’d sat silent the whole while waiting. The dog and Bill walked out of the light but were visible for quite some time, dark shapes moving into the darkest black, hypnotically slow, like that scene from Lawrence of Arabia where the Arab comes out of the desert, only played backwards.
    I put the can of soup at the corner of the fire to heat.
    Robin lifted the flagon and gulped it down like water.
    I said, ‘Who was that masked man? “Oh that’s my father. Haven’t I ever mentioned him? Or my whole family.” What’s going on, Robin?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜We drive out to the middle of nowhere, and this guy comes out of the desert, and he’s your father, and he chops the top off the soup and goes again.’
    â€˜Shit! I forgot to give it to him.’ She stood and dug into her pocket and brought out the crumpled invoice again. ‘He should be dealing with this. Really. Not Gail or Liz. Such a stupid plan. Send it to Perth, so that – on the off-chance we saw him. And I did. And I forgot.’ She was talking too brightly.
    â€˜But he’s gone.’
    â€˜Things didn’t go according to plan. Mum’s plans rarely...’ She ran out of energy looking into the fire.
    â€˜Did he? When you were little, your father