Comfort Zone Read Free Page B

northern end of Lygon Street, some distance from the transformation that was gradually working its way along one of Melbourne’s most glamorous inner-city streets. Jack’s end of Lygon Street was a world of dusty ethnic cafés and cheap clothing shops.
    His flat was on the first floor at the back. The stairs annoyed him, but they did provide some distance from marauding teenagers and wandering drug addicts. Things were quiet most of the time. No one hassled him.
    Jack dumped a small calico bag filled with basic groceries onto his kitchen table and slumped into the threadbare couch that marked the boundary between the kitchen and the lounge room. The afternoon’s exertions had taken a toll: he wasn’t used to physical activity, particularly anything involving violence.
    He thought about taking some Teludene. The full horror of hayfever season was still a few weeks away, but he could sense the early signs creeping through his body. The pressure in the sinuses, tickle in the throat, water in the eyes, irritation in the nose — they were all there, stalking him like jackals shadowing wounded prey.
    Jack had an unusual drug problem. His hayfever had got much worse over the past few years, so he was grateful that a new, and much better, drug had come onto the market. Teludene didn’t get rid of the hayfever entirely, but it made it bearable. The trouble was, it was expensive because it wasn’t subsidised by the Pharmaceutical Benefits Scheme. He’d looked it up on Wikipedia, and discovered that it was a slightly modified version of an earlier drug called Teldane, which had been withdrawn because it caused liver damage. Jack wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know if they’d fixed the problem.
    Jack knew a bloke whose brother worked in the warehouse of the company that distributed the drug, so he’d managed to gain access to an illicit supply. It wasn’t easy: security at the warehouse was strict, and Harry’s brother wasn’t very reliable. Luckily, though, he was a keen gambler, so he was always on the lookout for a bit of extra cash. Jack paid well below retail for his Teludene, but it was still expensive, and he had to ration it.
    He gritted his teeth, and accepted that it was more important to preserve the meagre stock that had arrived a few days before. He knew his need would be much greater in a few weeks’ time, and there was no guarantee of future supply from Harry’s brother. Last year he’d gone on holiday at a very inconvenient time, leaving Jack high and dry until early October.
    Another empty, meaningless evening loomed: dinner, crap TV, a few cans of VB, and fitful sleep. Jack thought about watching some porn, but it didn’t feel right. The encounter with Farhia had really got to him, and he didn’t want to sully the moment with the crude trash he used to fill the void in his life. He could indulge in fantasies of a higher kind for a while.
    Jack wasn’t accustomed to being a hero, even a minor one. His life was mundane. He had a few mates, but he regarded them as nobodies like himself. He enjoyed going to the football occasionally, even though his team had been forcibly absorbed by the Brisbane Lions, which meant it wasn’t quite the same. Now and then, he’d have a few beers and a few laughs with interesting characters, but that was about it.
    He hadn’t had any kind of relationship with a woman for years. His only protection against drowning in loneliness and boredom was his passengers. A lot of them were windbags and dickheads, but at least every day was different. That afternoon had certainly been an interesting experience. He grimaced as the aches and twinges in his quads and lower back reminded him of his exertions.
    A Current Affair was running a segment on Melbourne’s worst taxidrivers. Within thirty seconds, he was yelling at the screen. There were plenty of bad drivers, that was for sure, but if people had any