Darlinghurst Road (12 page)

I thought briefly about finding an ATM and
staying longer but I was on a traveler’s budget so, with a certain
sadness, almost like losing an auction for a prized work of art, I
decided to concede defeat. As I got up, he did too. He thumped the
button on his machine to collect the handful of coins that he had
in there. As the machine spat the coins into his cup, he gave me a
dirty look and his impatience was growing. As he walked toward me,
I looked down at the screen and realized that, in my distraction, I
had held a pair on the last hand; as I got up and turned to get my
jacket from the back of the chair, I saw that the machine had a
given me a credit.

Thumper was standing there now, right behind
me and ready to jump on the machine the moment that I stepped away.
In a perfect example of how a gambler gets addicted, I turned back,
hit the button that said MAX BET, played my last game and drew the
highest possible hand in poker: a Royal Flush. The machine started
to flash, a bell went off and he stood there, a vein in his neck
popping out and turning red as he watched the show.

As the attendant paid me the jackpot, I was
thankful for the casino security guards that I saw walking around.
This guy literally looked like he wanted to murder me. As I walked
away, I was a good boy and resisted the temptation to point at the
machine, smile and say “all yours.”

I crossed back over the border to America and
decided to stick around for a little while. When I filled out my
immigration paperwork, I was told that it would be easier to file
it from outside the country so taking their advice, I flew back to
Australia and filed from there.

Deja Fucking Vu

When I started to make plans for a return to
Australia, it dawned on me that I really wasn't able to make any. I
was at the mercy of American Immigration and working to their
timetable not mine. The paperwork may be processed in a few months
or it might take years.

The other thing that hit me was, although I
had been around Sydney most of my life, I really knew very little
of the outer parts of this city of millions. When I got off the
plane in Sydney, I caught a bus into the city and started walking
up William Street toward Darlinghurst Road. Old habits die hard and
I ended up back where it all started, Kings bloody Cross.

It had only been a couple of years and the
old Kings Cross Pleasure Palace was still the same, as sleazy as
ever and looking a bit worse for wear. I walked up to the counter
and asked for Trevor. Still larger than life, he looked a little
older somehow but then The Cross will do that to you. When he asked
me what I wanted, I told him a job. Trevor shook his head “no, I
fired you.” I told him that he was wrong, I'd actually quit and he
said “same thing.” After some banter and some bullshit, he hired me
and I went back to the night shift in Oxford Street. Some of the
faces had changed but very little else had. I sighed, counted my
drawer and started my shift.

Goodbye Darlinghurst
Road

Somebody once said to me that there is a big
difference between running away and avoiding trouble. Trouble was
brewing and I wanted to avoid it at all costs. I was approached by
an undercover cop who wanted me to answer a few questions about my
job at the Pleasure Palace. “We'll do it quietly, nothing heavy, no
pressure, just sit down with me and a couple of other guys, we talk
a bit, you go back to work and we'll even pay you for your
time.”

I thought about it for less than ten seconds
and then told him no. My explanation was that I was headed back
overseas and didn't want to be involved. He seemed to accept that
and moved on to the next guy. That was partly true but the reality
was that I had no desire to put myself in that position. I was a
nobody, a guy working behind the counter but still, it wouldn't
have gone down very well if Trevor found out that I was having some
sort of secret meeting with the cops. On a good day, I might have
been told to simply fuck off but on a bad day, there might have
been consequences of some sort. I'd been around The Cross too long
to be playing that sort of game.

It was good timing because my immigration
paperwork had gone through and I had already booked a flight back
to the States. I had a few weeks to kill so I decided to keep
working but this new development changed all that. The smart thing
to do under the circumstances was to be the messenger and give
Trevor the heads up. That way, if anything happened in the time
before I left Sydney, hopefully I'd be in the clear as far as the
company was concerned.

I sat down with Trevor and told him about the
approach from the cop. At his request, we had a meeting with the
big boss and I told my story again. What happened after that, I
don't know because it was their problem now. I'd bought the time
that I needed so, after the meeting, I told Trevor goodbye and
spent the last few weeks relaxing in the summer sun of Sydney.

The plane sat on the tarmac, I looked out the
window at the Sydney skyline and the reality hit me. I was going to
live in another country and it would be probably be quite some time
before I would see Australia again. It was great to be leaving
behind the crazy world of Kings Cross but in many ways, it was also
sad to be leaving Australia. As the big plane took to the air, I
started to miss it already. The last time was a visit, I was a
tourist, my home was Australia and I had every intention of
returning to the country of my birth. This time I was flying in as
a Permanent Resident of the United States of America. Did I make
the right decision? I started to doubt myself then a quote came to
mind that I had read years before in a Reader's Digest. It was from
Helen Keller and it kind of stuck with me.

“Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run
than outright exposure. The fearful are caught as often as the
bold. Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in
nature. Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

As the plane started heading out of
Australian skies, I thought about the life that I was leaving
behind and wondered about what lay ahead. The flight attendant
handed me a nice cold beer, I settled back in my seat, took a sip
and thought “screw it, let the adventure begin!”

###

About The Author

T.C. Doust is
an Australian writer who now lives in Florida. He was Born in 1967
and spent most of his early life in Australia. It has been said
that T. C. Doust is a writer with a very unique voice because when
he writes, it is honest and without compromise. He has traveled
extensively throughout both Australia and the United States and
along the way, met many of the characters featured in his
books.

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