Midnight crash by Tara zlick (ready player one ebook TXT) 📕

watch any movie you wanted. At other DVD stores you were
supposed to run a preview tape of all the latest releases. So it was like watching an eight-
hour clip of the same movies, over and over again.

The man had on the crispest, best ironed shirt I’ve ever seen. I noticed the sharply
ironed folds, like the ridge of a inclined hill, on his sleeves. He was old, maybe fifty, with
a pepper-and-salt moustache splashed with silver and streaks through his thin hair. He
looked tired, his eyelids were slightly droopy and when he smiled it looked like it took a
lot of energy out of him.

Crass was at the other end of the store pretending to tidy up the comedy section. He
looked like he was counting the number of videos, a strange habit of his I’d noticed not
long ago. He didn’t bother to make a move when he looked up and saw the customer at
the counter.

‘Hi,’ I stammered. He had given me a fright.

‘Hello there, I wondering if Mr Gurrieri is in.’

‘No, he doesn’t work on the weekends.’

The man reached into his pocket and took out a business card and showed me. The
title on the card read: Detective Sergeant P C Rooks, Croydon CIU.

‘I was talking to Mr Gurrieri a while back,’ the man, obviously Detective Rooks,
said. ‘Can you ask him to contact me? My number is on the card.’

‘Okay, I’ll leave it for him.’

‘It’s nothing important, get him to give me a call sometime next week. I’m visiting
all the video stores in the area. I’m part of a regional response unit dealing with pirated
goods.’

‘Oh, really, like pirated discs?’ I asked, my voice raising a higher octave than usual.
I felt my face flush slightly. The detective looked at me for about a second longer than I
felt comfortable with.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘We’ve caught a few people selling them at local markets. I’m
asking around to see if any of the stores have had any problems. Any distributors offering
to sell illegal discs or computer games to them, that sort of thing.’

‘Okay, I’ll get him to call you.’

‘Good girl,’ said the detective, giving me a smile and walking out. Crass, listening,
watched him go and then sauntered to the counter.

‘What was that about? After copies of Police Academy: Pigs on Patrol, or what?’

‘No. He was asking about illegal discs. Copies. Caught people selling them at local
markets.’

I had to watch what I said. I wasn’t sure that Crass knew about the DVDs
downstairs.

‘What did he ask you?’

‘Wanted to know if Vince had been sold illegal copies.’

‘Don’t think so. Have you noticed any?’

Me? Yeah, Crass, as a matter of fact I had noticed a few. Such as the huge pile
sitting in the basement. Perhaps I should have told the detective about them. I could have
got myself a big reward. Would I have dared to? If I did Vince would be in big trouble.

‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I could tell the difference between an original and a copy
anyway.’

Crass snorted. ‘I don’t like cops,’ he said. ‘My older brother was always getting in
friggin’ trouble with them. They had it in for him big time. Got him driving an
unregistered GT Ford doing 150 down Main Street. Also turned out to have some
contraband in the back seat – a decent bag of dope that wasn’t his. Got done big time. So
let Vince deal with ‘em. It doesn’t worry me. As long as they leave me alone.’

That was when Crass saw the computer screen. I followed his gaze to Robert’s
rental profile. I had forgotten to logout of it when Detective Rooks had turned up.

‘What are you looking at that for?’ Crass asked.

‘It’s just Robert’s rental history. Remember you said I should check it out? Well, I
thought I would see how many horror movies he had rented. You’re right, it is scary!’

I left it at that. I knew when you tell a lie you shouldn’t go into a long explanation.
Leave it short. Otherwise it gives you away. I got that from Law and Order. There’s
always someone lying on that TV show. You can tell when they’re telling the truth or are
all shifty and flat out lying.

Crass thought about what I’d said for a moment. ‘Perhaps I should have told that
cop about Robert pirating our movies.’

‘You’d really do that?’

‘Nah. Just joking. After all, he’s our best customer.’

5
............................
I’d been cooking for Dad for a couple of years. It was either that or live on a constant
diet of fish & chips and BBQ chops with over steamed vegies. Dad was never a good
cook and it gives me something to do at night instead of watching TV.
My favourite is lasagne. It took me at least five attempts to get it right though. The
first few times I kept tearing the pasta layers apart, the white sauce could have been used
in art class for glue and the pasta sauce was bitter.
So I did some surfing and came up with a sure fire hit. First, use instant lasagne
sheets. Second, make the bolognaise sauce yourself with tomato soup, crushed canned
tomatoes and a couple of spoons of brown sugar to make it sweet. I also use celery,
mushrooms and a few slices of bacon strips. Beautiful. The white sauce still gets me, but
as long as you keep stirring it, no problems.
The best thing about lasagne is freezing it. I can get three, sometimes four meals
out of one tray. There’s no way I’m cooking every night, and lasagne actually tastes
better with age. It can be too sloppy when freshly made.
When I got home from work I threw two pieces in the microwave and then cooked
up my second speciality – roasted vegetables. It’s something I worked on at school and
have perfected over the past year. The secret to good roast potatoes and pumpkin is to
smother it all in heaps of olive oil and sprinkle on seasoning and garlic powder. Dad
doesn’t like buying olive oil because it’s too expensive, but since I do the shopping with
him I always smuggle it into the trolley. It’s way better than sunflower oil.
The roasted vegetables sizzled in the oven as I set the table. Dad was watching a
reality cooking show in the living room. This was bad news, as Dad hates reality TV.
When he watches crap it usually means he’s on a downer. Usually I’d just plonk his plate
on a tray and we’d both eat in front of the TV, but my lasagne and roasted veggies
deserved better than that, especially as I actually worked all day as well. I think I was
beginning to realise what a lot of married women’s lives were like. Work hard, come
....

home and have your partner sitting in a recliner itching his bum with you in the kitchen.
Sounds kind of sucky if you ask me.

I don’t think we’ve had new utensils or a table cloth since Mum died, but I tried my
best anyway. I used the two plate coasters with the Matisse paintings, two clean glasses
and even put out some paper napkins.

‘Table’s looking good.’

Dad stood leaning on corner wall watching me finishing the table.

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘You know that lasagne and roasted vegetables deserve the full
treatment. May as well put some effort in.’

Dad rubbed his whiskered cheeks. ‘Perhaps I could go whip down the shop and buy
a Danish for dessert?’ he said.

‘Nah, we’ve got ice-cream, and I can open a can of fruit salad,’ I said. Dad look
relieved he didn’t have to go out, and I knew he didn’t want to spend any money on
dessert. The ice-cream and fruit salad were both cheap home brand and they were for
special occasions. The only time we’d get away with a Danish would be if Queen Mary
of Denmark popped around for a chat.

I made sure the lasagne and vegetables were steaming hot before I served them
(nothing worse than a lasagne with a cold centre) and we both sat down to eat. I did most
of the talking, as usual. Dad just smiled and listened.

‘Vince is really angry because the games are coming back scratched,’ I said, giving
Dad the highlights of the day. ‘He just bought another copy of Assassin 2 and now we get
it back today, and I go to return it, and there’s an awesome scratch right across the disc.
He’s going to go, like, off his head when he finds out tomorrow. They cost a hundred
dollars each.’

‘Crazy,’ Dad said, smiling. He usually perked up a bit after my lasagne.

I went quiet for a bit, thinking about what else happened. There was no way I was
going to bring up the pirated discs until I spoke to Topps. I thought I’d just leave that one
lie for a while. It was when I went quiet I noticed how big the kitchen table was. I used to
sit against the wall, Dad next to me and Mum across from me nearest to the kitchen. It took a couple of years for me to change seats and sit where Mum always did. But the
table still looked too large even with half of it full of bills and letters and hardware tools.
I suddenly decided I preferred to eat in front of the TV. It wasn’t as if Dad had a huge
deal to say anyway.

‘It’s amazing how customers treat the games and DVDs,’ I said. ‘They must play
Frisbee with them or something.’

Dad laughed. ‘You wouldn’t believe some of the items they return at the Hardware
Barn either,’ he said, scooping up a fork full of lasagne and roast carrots. ‘The other day,
or was it the other week, well, a lady brings in a gardening fork and asks to return it. Too
heavy for her, apparently. Only problem is it’s caked with dirt. She’s used the fork in the
garden, probably planted what she needed too, then when she’s finished with it she’s
decided she wants a refund!’

‘Did you tell her to fork off?’ I laughed. Dad pointed the fork at me. ‘No, but that’s
what we should have done. Good one Stacey.’

The laughter sort of broke the unspoken feeling of sadness that sometimes descends
on us at dinners. It still happens. It’s good to see Dad laugh.

‘Oh, I need a beer,’ he said, still smiling and getting up from the table. ‘Want
anything?’

‘No,’ I said, wishing he could leave the beer alone for one night.