Thailand by Angus Hansen (bearly read books TXT) 📕

We were in a public toilet when Cain finally convinced me about Thailand. He was perched on the cistern, elbows on knees, mixing up heroin in a plastic spoon. Even in the dim light you could see his red-freckled face was flushed with excitement.
‘I’m tellin ya Jared, cheap gear, tropical beaches, we’ll be livin like kings.’
I knew all about people living like kings in Thailand. Brewing up cockroach stew in the Bangkok Hilton. No way.
Whenever he was trying to wear you down on something Cain got this off-tap look in his eyes, like some psycho in a B-grade thriller. That look must’ve held some kind of hypnotic power because I’d find myself going along with all sorts of crazy plans. He’d had Thailand on his mind for weeks, ever since we saw a doco on the drug problem there. Apparently a glut of cheap drugs meant kids all over the place were going round high as coconut palms. Didn’t seem like such a problem to us.
Cain was sold.
‘You wanna spend the rest of your life working like a fuckin dog to buy crumbs?’
I told him working like a dog beat ending up a living nest for maggots. Withering away in your filth in some overcrowded cell. Besides, I still had some hope. Maybe someday a girlfriend and kids.
‘Mate, have you seen the girls over there? Get yourself some ripe fuckin fifteen year old, she’ll worship the shit outta your arse.’
What finally got me wasn’t the drugs or the beaches or the fifteen year old girls. June was approaching and already I could feel the cold creeping into my bones. I saw it all before me: standing on streetcorners for hours waiting to pick up. Fucking around in the icy rain trying to do an earn. Feeling cold right down to your core. There’s nothing worse than winter for guys like Cain and me.
So I said to Cain: ‘What do we have to do?’
He got off the toilet and handed me my fit.
‘It’s simple. We need to get ourselves a bit of the old Laurie Nash. Ten grand’ll do.’
*
Cain said we needed some hardware. I didn’t like the idea. Already I was regretting going along with the whole plan, but Cain had an iron will which was difficult to bend back once it got going. I told him there must be other ways of doing an earn than putting a couple of barrels in someone’s face. The thing I knew about guns was that things go wrong. Adrenalin pulls triggers.
‘What other options are there?’ Cain said. ‘It’s not as if we can go and get a bank loan.’
Cain knew a guy from the west who could help us. His name was Ned and he was from one of those Eastern European countries. Ned got us to come over to his place, a newly-built concrete villa across from the drab beach. The whole area smelled of burnt oil and brine. There was an icy wind sluicing off the bay which blew all my reservations off me like dust.
We had about a hundred bucks to our names, the dregs of Cain’s dole payment which had gone in the day before. Cain was dubious about the prospect of getting anything for that much, but I told him I had a little back up plan in case we came up short.
When we got to Ned’s the door was answered by this six foot stunner that made your stomach hurt. She had hair the colour of creamed-honey that was cut into a bob. Cain went red-faced as a school kid and stammered when he told her who he was. I’d never seen him so humbled, like he’d been reduced to size. The woman told us to come in, then led us with this sweet bum-flicking walk to the lounge where Ned was watching a boxing match on cable.
Ned looked a little like Al Pacino except fatter. He was maybe fifty, and I thought he must be cashed-up to have a girl like that answering his door.
‘How are ya, boys? Take a seat.’
He had an easy voice, lightly accented. Cain and me sat on a cream leather sofa which squeaked beneath our bums. The wall behind Ned was lined with pictures of some boxer with chiselled muscles and a square face. One was mid-punch, another holding up a title, another flanked by two implanted blondes in bikinis.
Ned saw me looking at the photos.
‘Happiest day of my life, when I won that,’ he said smiling.
If it was Ned in the photos he’d changed beyond recognition since his days as a boxer. All those muscles had turned to fat, and his face was beginning to drop around the jowls.
‘So what can I do for you boys?’
‘We’re after some weapons,’ Cain said.
‘What do you mean weapons? You want knives, guns, machetes?’
‘Guns,’ Cain said. ‘We want guns.’
Ned told us to wait and went out of the room. Cain and me sat watching the boxing on the massive plasma screen. One of the blokes spat out a wad of red mucous.
‘You see that?’ Cain said, transfixed. ‘People say we have a death wish.’
The guy with the red mucous looked like he might have been on the planet Neptune for all he was aware, but still he fought on, muscles heaving against his shiny taut skin. I thought how unfair it was, that some people are locked up and left to rot while others are given piles of money and hot girls, just because their preference for self-destruction is different.
Ned came back into the room and switched off the TV with the remote. He placed a large grey briefcase on the coffee table and flicked it open. The thing was brim-full of all kinds of guns. Cain asked to have a look at a couple of sawn-off shotguns.
‘How much for these?’ he asked.
‘You’re looking at eight hundred each, but I can do the two for one five.’
Cain looked at me.
‘I think we can manage that,’ I said. ‘Give us two hours and we’ll be back to pick em up.’
*
We shook with Ned and were escorted out by the woman, then crossed the road to the beach. The bay was dotted with container ships. Cain pulled a smoke from his pack and offered me one.
‘Whatever your plan is Jared, it better be good.’
‘Relax,’ I said, blowing a smoke ring that got carried away by the wind. The sky had covered over with these low clouds, like it was about to rain. I pulled out my phone.
‘Well come on, share.’
‘All I need you to do is, when I give the signal, yell something into the phone from where you’re standing. Something like “Hurry the fuck up.” Make it mean sounding though. Make it sound like you’re a psycho.’
‘Jesus, I don’t know what the fuck you’re cookin but-’
‘Shhh.’
The phone was ringing. After five or six rings the old lady picked up.
‘Hello?’
It’d been more than six months since I’d heard my mum’s voice. She sounded different, haggard.
‘Mum, it’s me. Jared.’
‘Jared? Where are you?’
‘How are ya mum?’
‘Why haven’t you called? I’ve been trying you on your mobile but you never answer.’
‘I’m calling now aren’t I?’
‘Jared, are you OK?’
‘How’s everything there? How’s Rob?’
‘Rob’s fine. I want to know how things are with you.’
‘Things are… OK. As good as can be expected.’
‘Are you clean?’ It was the inevitable question.
‘Yeah mum, I’m clean. Look, I’ve had enough of this shit. I’m ready to change.’
‘Jared where are you? You’re not in any trouble are you?’
‘I need some help. Thing is I owe some guys some money and they’re-’
‘Oh not this again.’
‘Mum, please. They say they’re gonna hurt me.’
‘God help me.’
‘Mum. Please.’
‘Why’d you have to go and borrow money in the first place?’
A light drizzle had started to fall. I hunched up my shoulders and stared out to the horizon.
‘How much is it?’ mum said.
‘Two thousand.’
‘You know I don’t have that kind of money.’
‘Mum, they say they’re gonna kill me.’
I lifted my hand and signalled for Cain to speak.
‘Oi maggot, hurry up or we’ll put a fuckin bullet through your skull.’
Mum made a sucking sound, like she’d been punched in the gut. She started bumbling her words.
‘Jared tell me where you are. I’ll- I’ll call the police.’
‘No good mum. They say I’ve got twenty minutes, then they’ll shoot me.’
‘OK Jared, I’m leaving right now to put the money in. I’ll ask Rob for a loan. It’ll be there at the most in half an hour. Tell them to please just wait. The car’s being fixed. Tell them that.’
‘Mum, thanks, I promise I’ll pay you back.’
‘Don’t worry about that now… alright, I’m going. Tell them to wait.’
‘Thanks mum,’ I said, but she’d already hung up. I lowered the phone.
‘You little fuckin legend,’ Cain said, slapping me on the back. ‘You did it! I can’t believe-’
‘Get fucked,’ I said, pushing his arm off my shoulder. I started walking to the main street where the bank was.
*
After picking up the guns we had enough cash to head into the city and get on. The train ride back was mostly silent, the two of us staring out the windows at the creeping dusk. Mum called after she put the money in to make sure I was alright. She had this tired gratitude to her voice that made me want to jump in front of the next train.
By the time we scored I was hanging like a dog. For a second when I used everything levelled out, but afterwards I was left with this feeling of pointlessness about the whole life I was leading. Using, getting a habit, then needing to do all this shit just to feel alright. As far back as I could remember I’d always scorned the mainstream. Couldn’t think of anything worse than working a nine-to-fiver. But there was still an urge within me, strong as the