When the technicians cleared out before dusk, they left me with a working station, a sink full of dirty coffee cups, and a dirt bike.
The bike was a yellow Suzuki with police livery over the tank. It’d be pretty useless if I actually had to arrest someone, but at least it’d get me around the island in a hurry if I needed it. It also meant that I’d be able to do regular patrols of everything outside the village.
I wheeled the bike around the back of the house, hoping that Natty and his cousin had cleared a path to the little shed in the back corner.
“Holy shit!” Natty’s cousin, the guy with the wild dark hair, popped out from behind a stack of branches. “That’s so cool! Natty, come and check this out! The copper’s got a dirt bike!”
“The copper’s got a name too,” I said. “It’s Dominic, or Dom, if you want. I don’t think we were introduced yesterday?”
“Button John,” the guy said, all of yesterday’s coldness vanished in a heartbeat as he dropped down on his haunches beside the bike and ran a grimy finger over the fuel tank. His eyes lit up. “Wow. Can I have a ride?”
“No!” Natty exclaimed before I could. He was hanging back, but he looked almost unwilling about it, and I figured he wanted to check the bike out too. He glared at me. “Don’t let him. He’s clumsy.”
And also probably unlicensed.
“Yeah, I wasn’t going to,” I said. “Sorry, mate.”
Button John—how was that even a name?—gave a long, loud sigh of disappointment and caressed the fuel tank lovingly.
“You think I can fit it in the shed?” I asked.
Natty met my gaze briefly, then shrugged and looked away. “You probably could, but I don’t reckon that shed’ll last one more big storm.”
“Shit,” I said, but I couldn’t bring myself to mind his pessimistic outlook too much when he was actually talking to me.
“It’ll fit in your kitchen!” Button John exclaimed.
“I don’t really want a dirt bike in my kitchen though.”
“Your loss,” he said.
“How is it my loss?”
His eyes grew wide. “Imagine the convenience!”
“The convenience of tripping over a dirt bike every time I open the fridge?” I stared at Button John like he was an idiot, and he did the same to me.
“You can get prefabricated sheds from Bunnings,” Natty said, lifting his chin, “and get them sent over on the barge. Me and Button John could put it together. You have to get a wind-rated one though, not one of the cheap ones.”
I nodded knowledgeably, as though I talked about sheds and shed construction all the time, and I hadn’t lived in units my entire adult life.
“If you get one the same size as the old one, you won’t need to pour a new foundation,” Natty said. His gaze was intent, as though he really thought I was going to refuse and do him out of another paying job. Like hiring someone else on the island would even be possible. I couldn’t even buy milk from the shop, but that didn’t stop Natty from looking like he was pitching me the sale of his career. “Me and Button John can take the old one down and put the new one up.”
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good. Hey, do you guys want a drink? I’ve got coffee, water, Coke?—”
“Coke would be great!” Button John exclaimed and hurried towards the back door to the kitchen. It slammed shut behind him.
“We don’t get a lot of junk food,” Natty said, his tone softer and more cautious now Button John was presumably buried up to the chest in my fridge and he was on his own. “And it’s expensive, from Mavis’s shop.”
“I don’t think I’m allowed to buy anything from Mavis’s shop,” I said, and Natty’s face flushed and he looked away. I laughed. “It’s fine! Well, it’s actually pretty weird and awkward, but Eddie and Red Joe will talk to me, at least.” I decided to press my luck. “And so will you.”
Natty ducked his head. His hair curtained his face as he stared at the ground. “You can’t tell anyone about this.”
“What? That you’re working for me, or that you’re talking to me?”
He shot me a look from behind his hair. “Both.”
“I won’t.” This place was fucking crazy.
