Ridge Creek (3 page)

I watch as he swipes his hand across the bedside table next
to me.  With a single swipe, he sends empty bourbon cans, cigarette packets and
pieces of paper flying to the floor.  Setting two shot glasses and a bottle of
Jamieson down in the clearing he has made, I watch as he lowers himself into
the seat.

Settling his exotic green eyes on my face, he announces,
“I’ve got good and bad news.”  Pausing to cast his eyes along my body I watch
his eyes linger on my right arm before he continues.

“The good news is that we’ve organized a doctor. 
Confidential.  No questions asked.”  Pausing again, his eyes wander slowly back
up my body to my face. “The bad is that he doesn’t have any anesthetic.”

Realizing what he is saying, I sigh heavily.   Looking
direct into his eyes with my only good eye I try to grin.  Again, I feel like
my face isn’t doing what I’m asking it to do and I wonder how bad it looks. 
“Oh well.  I think my arm is only dislocated anyway so I hope that with one
quick yank it will all be over.”

“Arianna.”  I watch as his face contorts a little and a
fleeting look of concern shoots across his eyes before vanishing quickly. 

“What?” I ask quietly.

I watch as he seems to war with something behind his eyes
before he softly sighs and asks, “Do you drink?”

“Wine,” I murmur my response.

“Today’s a top-shelf day sweetheart.  You’re gunna need to
drink a whiskey or two with me.”

“Okay,” I breathe the word out slowly.

Watching as he pours a couple of shots of Jamieson, he moves
his chair even closer and gently places a hand behind my head.  Tilting it
slightly forward, he holds one of the shots to my lips and says, “One big
swallow.  It's gunna burn but just go with it.”

Keeping my eyes on his, I nod slightly and he tips.  Pouring
the entire shot into my mouth, I swallow and choke hard as the fire of the
whiskey burns through my nose and throat.

“Good girl,” he says as he leans back, takes his own shot
and throws it back.

Pouring another two drinks we repeat. 

I find myself starting to feel warm.  It’s sort of nice as I
realize that some of my pains are starting to feel like dull thuds instead of
stabbing fire.

Pouring a third round, he helps me drink my shot, throws
back his own and then starts talking.

“I’m not sure what you can feel right now but most of the
skin on your back and one whole ass cheek has torn off.  There’s chunks of
rock, sticks, cloth and fuck knows what else hanging out of most of it. 
There’s also a lot of blood between your legs honey.  You’re gunna need more
than whiskey.  You ever smoked pot?”

Shocked at what he’s just told me I find myself blinking
rapidly as I stare into his eyes.

“My skin is
gone?
” I ask in horror.

“Pretty much sweetheart.  I’m guessing you landed on your
back when you flew out that truck yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Pot?” He asks again.

“No…” I whisper softly.

“Today’s a smoking pot day too sweetheart.  You hearin’ me?”

“Okay,” I murmur as we both hear the sound of the door
quietly opening and shutting.

“Doc’s five minutes out.  Ma just got here.”  Zane’s voice
rolls heavily through the room.  Moving closer to the bed, I watch as he hands
Jake a couple of home rolled cigarettes.

“Pops donated some of his good shit,” I hear him rumble as
Jake reaches into his back pocket and produces a lighter.  “I rolled us
all
one
each.”

“You ever smoked sweetheart?” Jake asks softly.

“Yeah.  Gave up two years ago.”

“Good,” he replies softly and I wonder whether he means it’s
good that I smoked or it’s good that I gave up.  Not a point worth worrying
about right now I guess.

Lighting the first joint, he sucks on it a few times to make
sure it is burning strongly before reaching across and holding it to my lips. 
Unsure what I’m in for, I take a small drag to find I’m pleasantly surprised by
a smooth herby flavor that is not unpleasant.

Encouraging me to have at it, he flicks the ash carelessly
to the floor between each drag, always returning the joint to my mouth quickly.

The cigarette is soon gone and I watch as he picks one of
the discarded cans up from the floor and drops the butt into it.  It hisses
against some leftover bourbon.

“How you feeling?”  He asks softly.

“Heavy,” I murmur back.  And I do.  My body feels like lead
and I’m slightly dizzy.  Most of the pain is gone from my arm and I feel like I
could happily snooze.

“Good,” he says as his hand lifts to my face and gently
slides some hair behind my ear.

Looking solemnly at Zane he nods, “Send them in as soon as
the Doc gets here.”

*****

What I experience over the next two hours can only be
described as Hell on Earth.  Thinking back to the moment when I was lying next
to my roadside log and asking Jake to leave me to die, I now really wish that
he had.

At first I thought it wasn’t going to be too bad.  This was
because the agonizing sharp pain that jolted through my body as Jake and Zane
held me down while the doctor reset my dislocated shoulder made me pass out. 

Being sent to oblivion was good, but short-lived. 

Coming out of my pain induced slumber, I open my eyes to see
a pair of bright green eyes staring closing at me.  But they aren’t Jake’s.

They are on the face of a gorgeous middle-aged woman with
sleek black hair tied neatly in a ponytail behind her head.  She is holding my
hand and crooning something to me softly.

Seeing that my eyes are open, she stops her crooning and
speaks softly to me.  “My name is Ellen.  I’m Jake and Zane’s mother.”

Smiling back at her as best I can, I process this new piece
of information and decide it makes sense that the two hulks are related and they
have a beautiful mother.

I soon become aware that I am no longer lying on my back and
twist my head to look down my body.  I have been turned over, and to my horror,
stripped naked. 

The Doctor who introduced himself earlier as Simon, looks
grimly up at me.  He explains that while I was out like a light, he managed to
make some minor adjustments to my shoulder.  It is now in pretty good shape. 
There is however lots of soft tissue damage that will take some weeks to
repair.

Suggesting I look away, I watch as he leans in closely to
inspect my back.

That’s when I feel the first agonizing tug at my back. 

And I scream.

How I survived the next ninety minutes I don’t know.  Jake
would appear periodically with a freshly rolled cigarette and sit with me while
I smoked it.  During these times, his mother would leave the room. 

I sensed that pot wasn’t her thing.

These pot breaks would be a short reprieve between sessions
of pure agony where the Doctor would continue his plucking and sometimes
stitching, along my back and rump.  I screamed a
lot
.  Now and then
during my screaming I would hear loud thuds coming from another room far away. 
I even thought at one stage I heard glass smashing.

Nearly two long hours after he arrived, the Doctor finally
arranged for the boys to turn me back over onto my front again.  By that stage
I didn’t care that I was naked anymore. 

I didn’t care that two hot guys were seeing me at my worst.

I just wished I was dead.

I think I could see this reflected in the Doctor’s eyes as
he performed his last task of care.  He examined between my legs.  Making short
work of my internal examination, he shakes his head slowly as heads back to his
bag.  A few more agonizing stitches later, he is finally done.

“With clever cushioning, you may prefer to lay on your front
or your side Miss…” His voice floats off as he questions my surname. 

“Arianna,” I mumble. 

“Arianna,” he finishes.  “I will leave plenty of wound
dressings, pain killers and ointments with Ellen.   You can wrap your ribs,
three of them are broken. You will also need to take some strong antibiotics
for a couple of weeks to suppress any follow up infections.  I will give you an
injectable antibiotic for now and write a script for you to fill as well.  I
will need your name for the script.”

I shake my head.  “No names.  No scripts.”

“Miss Arianna, I cannot write a script without your name.”

“Write it in mine,” I hear Jake’s voice rumble from near the
door.  “I’ll fill it later this morning.”

Nodding his ascent, the Doctor writes the script and gives
me a couple of shots in the arm.  “One is a tetanus, the other the antibiotic,”
he advises.

“Thank you,” I murmur softly to him. 

“Don’t thank me yet Miss Arianna.  You have a long road
ahead of you and I’m no plastic surgeon.  I’ve put you back together as best I
could but as to the extent of the scarring, I cannot advise.”

Nodding my understanding I watch as he packs his bag up and
leaves the room.

Jake wanders slowly over as his mother starts settling
blankets gently over my body.

“One more smoke?”

“One more smoke.”  I agree with a slight nod.

Please God let this be the one that sends me to sleep.

It does.

*****

Jake…

Words cannot describe the agony of listening to Arianna
scream her way through the last two hours.  Sitting at the bar, Zane, Pops, Ma
and I survey the damage in the room. 

Even I have to admit I lost it a few times.

There’s two holes in one of the walls compliments of my
boot.  There’s a smashed table from where I threw it across the room.  There’s
also several smashed glasses at the side of the bar where both Zane and I threw
them in anger as we listened to the bloodcurdling sound of a woman in agony.

“She is strong.” Ellen announces to the room, staring into
her shot glass of vodka. 

My mother does not drink often but this morning she is
making an exception to her own rule.  It’s the first time I’ve ever seen her
drink more than one drink.  She’s on her third.

“What is wrong with the world that a tiny little woman must
throw herself from a moving truck to save her own life?” Pops mutters into his
own shot glass.

“He used his gun
in
her,” my mother whispers
solemnly.  “What sort of a man does
that
to a woman?”

“Fuck!” I yell as I throw yet another empty glass against
the wall.

“The shop stays closed today,” I announce as I rise to walk
away from the bar.  “Tell all the boys both back and front of shop are
off-limits until tomorrow.  She needs to rest.”

Everyone nods their understanding as I head back to my
bedroom to torture myself looking into the eyes of pure misery again.

*****

Arianna…

I wake up a few hours later.

Staring at a clock on the wall, I can see that it is nearly
lunch time.  Hearing the sound of a soft snore, I turn my head to see Jake is
sleeping in the chair with his head on a pillow on the bedside table.

Gently sliding myself to a sitting position, I survey my
filthy surroundings and decide I can’t understand how such good-looking people
live in such conditions.

There is crap everywhere.  Dirty clothes, empty cans,
rubbish, old boots and even the odd motorcycle part.

Listening to Jake’s soft snoring next to me I take the
opportunity to enjoy the view that is Jake.  He really is yum bikalicious. 

It’s a petty I won’t be getting to know him for long. 

Watching the soft rise and fall of his chest, I marvel that
I am at least alive.  In agony, held together by string and brown paper, but
alive. 

This is a big step up from where I thought I was going to be
today five minutes after watching my very angry boyfriend walk into the kitchen
of our outer suburb of Melbourne home last night.

Five minutes after his arrival, I was pretty sure I would
soon be dead and perhaps chained to rocks on the bottom of the Yarra River.

I guess I deserved it.

Well not really.

You see my boyfriend is Tony Giotti.   Slimy servant of a
big time crime boss based in the Eastern Suburbs of Melbourne.  Sadly, I know I
call him a slimy servant now, but once upon a time he had been my loving
boyfriend at high school and I had loved him.

That was before he got all caught up with the crime lords
and then managed to drag me into it too.

How did he do this? 

By making use of my special talent for Web Design. 

Having gained my Bachelor of Information Technology through
Monash University, I walked straight into a job.  As a fresh faced twenty-four
year old, it was my dream job and I was over the moon.  With high grades for
every subject, it only took one round of job applications and I landed the
perfect
job.  A permanent position designing websites for an Information Technology
firm based close to my home in the Eastern Suburbs.  At that point, Tony had
been happy for me and life was good.

Soon discovering I had the ability to undergo the full
design and coding for web sites all by myself, I quickly outgrew the controls
of my employers and branched out on my own.  With my own thriving small
business, life was even better.

Which is where the beginning of the end of my life with Tony
may have started.

At first Tony had been happy for my success.  He liked
seeing me happy and he liked the speed with which I saved up enough money to
buy our first home.  Moving on from there, I quickly found my business rapidly
expanding.  Expanding so fast that I soon had to employ a small army of
programmers to aid me with my work. 

Life got better.

Tony got worse.

It started with small bouts of jealousy at the money I was
earning.  Not happy that I spent most of my funds on items for the both of us,
he started to insist that I slow down in my job and let him step up.  He
explained that he felt I was ‘unmanning’ him, bringing in all the cash.