Black Teeth Read Free

I’ve seen some big policies. But those numbers had so many zeroes, I didn’t know how to pronounce them!’
    Anthony guffawed and so did Rudy. Their rowdy laughter fed on each other’s, peaking and receding, shaking the copper saucepans hung from the gallery.
    ‘I remember the day they put this on me.’ Anthony flexed his glove. The leather squeaked. ‘Two of them held me down in the rec room and then that Russian arsehole fired up the needle and…I mean, I couldn’t stop it. Piers was in his bunk when I came back. He gave me his toilet paper because I was bleeding so much, all down my wrist. In Severington, that’s like giving someone a kidney.’
    Something glistened in Rudy’s eye. He absently tugged on the tablecloth, setting nail clippings to dance like gnats.
    Anthony’s voice was grave: ‘Did you say he died?’
    ‘Just, like, a month ago.’
    ‘How?’
    ‘They said he bled out.’ Rudy blinked up at the roof. ‘He did it to himself.’
    ‘Shit. I’m sorry, mate. I only did two years and I almost went batshit. It’s taken all this time for me to get my head right. He was tough. He lasted ten.’
    ‘Eleven years.’ Rudy looked at him now, eyes bloody. ‘Almost eleven and a third.’
    He jerked to his feet, gripped his pants in place and whirled away from the table with his cereal bowl. It clattered into the kitchen sink. A modern sculpture of used cereal bowls teetered there, probably the source of the incredible odour. Rudy sidled out of view, behind a pillar that held up the second floor.
    His voice asked, ‘Did he tell you why he was there?’
    ‘Yeah, but…everyone knew about Piers Alamein.’
    Attached to the pillar was a landline with TELECOM etched onto it, covered with dust and fading to yellow. Half of Rudy’s face peeked around, chewing on the inside of his lip.
    Anthony said, ‘Was it your mum that he…?’
    ‘He didn’t . It wasn’t him. He wasn’t even here .’
    Anthony looked around himself with a sudden shock.
    ‘ This is where it…?’
    ‘Yeah. Upstairs. She was…died in the bedroom.’
    Anthony couldn’t help a glance at the ceiling. Sick paint peeled in strips and hung down like a disgusting chandelier, laid bare rotten plaster and the hump of an electrical cable.
    Rudy followed his gaze.
    ‘I don’t go up there anymore. I don’t…I mean.’ He turned to the windows. ‘I always sleep down there. Like you said.’
    He pointed at the bungalow. Then he murmured, almost whispered:
    ‘It’s so funny. It’s so funny that you came…just showed up. Like, now. Out of the woodwork.’
    ‘I’ll say.’
    ‘No.’ Rudy rushed to his seat, perched on the edge. ‘I mean it’s really funny.’
    For the first time Anthony noticed Rudy’s actual teeth, like claws in his slack mouth.
    ‘Because my dad’s dead,’ Rudy whispered, eyes shiny. ‘But the man who got him put in jail, who lied …’ A snarl formed on his face, one of someone consciously turning pain into anger. ‘The man who lied to the newspaper… he’s still alive.’
    Rudy glowered, baring his determination.
    ‘Do you understand what I’m…I mean?’
    ‘I don’t know. You’re saying—’
    ‘He’s going to bleed out. In his bed. Like Dad did.’
    Anthony had to stop himself from recoiling, maintained their proximity. In the green tyranny of the garden a wind rose up. Every branch and leaf trembled.
    He said, softly:
    ‘You’re going to go to this man’s house?’
    ‘Yeah. While he’s sleeping. Tonight.’
    ‘ Tonight? ’
    ‘Yep. With the insurance, there’s not anything to…no reason to not.’
    ‘Look, Rudy, I loved your dad. Really. But even if…You can’t…’ His shoulders hunched tight. ‘They’ll put you in Severington.’
    ‘I know.’
    ‘So then what?’
    For Rudy, the answer was obvious.
    ‘So then I wait thirteen months.’
    Now Anthony did recoil. He slumped back in the chair and it protested, sharp, like the cane was snapping into pieces.
    ‘Wow.’ He