Don't Graffiti

Jayden Lusty feels like he has never been listened to all of his life. Oh, you know, it is the usual story, an absent father, Beau, a mother, Maddison, who can't cope, and who spends what little money she has escaping down the pokies. She dropped out of medicine, it’s been a single mother’s pension since then. No help from him. Her life didn’t turn out. And when she is home she is often sedated on booze, red wine is her drug of choice, $5 bottles from the local shop she buys on the way home from the pokies.

So, Jayden Lusty pinches spray cans from the local hardware shop and sprays the world with his unhappiness. It is a cry for help, the problem is that nobody cares enough.

Johnny Venice is a piano player, who sometimes moves pianos for friends, and friends of friends. He has a specialised trolley which allows him to move pianos on his own, if necessary. Uprights. Grand pianos are another deal altogether.

Johnny is moving a piano for his buddy Ryan. Ryan has a new woman in his life, Stella, who he is trying to impress with his organisational skills. Johnny has done something he never normally does, he and Ryan have gone out partying before they move a piano. The piano has to be moved Monday morning from Stella's place, an unmarried piano player and cat lover and, as I have already said, Ryan's new girl. Stella has bought a new piano, which is being delivered Tuesday. Her existing piano is a loaner from her old aunt, Bammy, the woman who instilled Stella's love of piano in her, and it is to be returned to Bammy once it has been extricated from Stella's apartment.


Jayden has been picked up numerous times for tagging, not because he is particularly stupid, because he isn't that, he has just never received very much guidance in life. The police have warned him that they will come down on him heavily next time he is caught.

Mother Maddison got pregnant at 15 when Lachy Gunstan told her that this isn't the way you get pregnant. Maddison wondered what the point of it was, as it hurt like hell, but Lachy Gunstan seemed to understand the point of it, even if he did pull the strangest faces when it was seemingly over.

It wasn't as if Maddison was stupid either, but she was bought up by the devoutly religious Carol and they just didn't talk about things like that. Carol's answer to everything was, "I'll take you to church to pray."

And of course, Lachy said he would stick by her,

"It's me baby too, it’s a part of me and I'll love it and care for it."

And, of course, he didn't, after sleepless nights of Jayden howling, and all those shitty nappies and...

"Sorry Mads, I've got to go and find meself."

Maddison had a series of no hopers after Lachy, all of who had no interest in Jayden. So, Maddison neglected Jayden to please her men.

"He's moiy mein, and I's love 'im." She said this about Roberto, Carlo, Scotty, Chook, Ganger, Panga and Slugger. "Ioy can't helps it, if I'oy don't lyke being on me own, it’s the way I'ym made."

Roberto, Scotty, Chook and Slugger, left her with little sluggers of their own. Maddison struggled with 5 boys. There was a ten year gap between Jayden and the next boy, so Jayden always felt a bit like an only child.


Johnny and Ryan did too many party treats the night before and Johnny got so ragged, as he put it, he made a pass at Ryan. Ryan was good about it last night, but he is a bit tetchy about it in the cold, hard, hungover, light of the day. Ryan only grunts when Johnny says, "Good morning," when he picks him up.


Maddison had met up with Pablo at the pokies Sunday night and she was still, shall we say, entertaining him early Monday morning when Jayden wanted to know what food there was in the house.

"Mum?" No answer.

"Mum!" No answer.

"MUM!"

"Don't come in."

"What's for breakfast?"

"Whatever you can find?"

"I can't find anything." No answer.

"Where are the boys?"

"Aren't they there?"

"No."

"Oh… that are at Grammies."

"I'm going out." No answer.


Johnny and Ryan pull up at Stella's place, which turns out to be an Art Deco block of flats, painted white with black window frames.

"Is this the place?"

"Yep," said Ryan.

"So, which is, um, er, what's her name again?"

"Stella."

"Which one is Stella's place?"

"401."

"Are you saying her place is on the 4th floor?"

"Yes."

"Jees Ryan, you never said it was on the 4th floor?"

"Didn't I?"

"Nah, mate."

"So?" says Ryan.

"So," repeats Johnny.


Jayden slips the cans of spray paint under his jacket and exits the shop. He has always worn oversized clothes, as a way of protecting himself ever since Maddison's man Carlo exposed himself to Jayden.

"I'y don't believe Carlo would do that," slurred Maddison. "He was a man's man, if you know what I mean." Maddison made an oomph gesture with both her arms.

Jayden didn't know what that meant at the time, but he said, "Don't worry." And Maddison never wanted to discuss it again.

The oversized clothes were ideal for hiding stolen spray cans.


"So, point me to the lift," said Johnny. "Let's check it for size."

"Um, er," said Ryan.

"Come on, the lift, show us where the lift is?"

"There's no lift…"

"What the fuck…"

"But there are really wide stairs."

"From the fourth floor," said Johnny.

"Yeah," said Ryan.


Jayden headed to the city, to meet up with Hatchet Ruby, but jumped from the tram when the ticketing inspectors got on, putting him out in Carlton. So, he walked a bit, heading to the CBD.


"Hi Ryan," said Stella. She held the door open, standing half behind the open door.

"Hi Stell," said Ryan

"Right on time, Boo," said Stella.

Boo, mouthed Johnny.

"Like I said I would," said Ryan. He had that idiot grin on his face that even Johnny's mouthing of the name Boo failed to remove.

"This way gentlemen," said Stella. She opened the door to reveal that she was probably wearing her best dress and shoes, with her hair and makeup done.

Johnny looked her up and down. Stella blushed. "It's not every day I get gentlemen callers.”

"Jees, Ryan, you never mentioned that it was a grand."

"Didn't I?" snapped Ryan.

"Nah, mate, I assumed it was an upright."

"Like you, mate, last night, hey?" said Ryan.

"Watcha mean by that… mate?"

"Nothing…"

"You must have meant something?"

"Don't worry, let's just get this moved," said Ryan. "You still want to move it, dontcha?"

Johnny gazed at Ryan, unsure.

Ryan stepped towards Johnny and said in a low voice. "Don't fuck this up for me mate."

"Yeah, sure," said Johnny. "Come on, um, let's make a start."


Jayden couldn't help but notice the pristine white wall of the block of apartments across the road from where he was walking.

"Jesus," he said. He could feel his lower lip curl out as he contemplated what he saw. He tilted his head to one side, and then the other side. It was like a fresh canvas glowing in the morning sun.


Johnny and Ryan struggle to move a grand piano from a fourth story apartment.

"I don't know, Ryan," said Johnny.

"Come on mate, I promised her," said Ryan. "And I let last night slide, when I probably should have clocked ya."

"I was out of it," said Johnny. "I can't be held responsible."

"Bullshit!" said Ryan quietly, trying not to let Stella hear. "You don't do anything you don't want to just because you are on the gear…"

"I didn't know…"

"Don't give me that."

"It's true…"

"Whatever! You owe me today."

"What?"

"You know it's true."

"What are you talking about?"

"I shoulda made it real clear I'm not, I'm not…"

"Everything okay, boys," Stella's voice chimed in the back ground.

Ryan gave a full stare to Johnny.

Johnny exhaled. He wasn't at all sure any of this was possible.

"Well?" said Ryan.

"We'll just have to go slow along the balcony to the stairs," said Johnny. "We'll think about the stairs when we get to them."

"Everything is okay, Stell, don't you worry about that," said Ryan.


Jayden stepped over the Japanese garden so that he was right in front of the big, white, blank wall. He pushed his hand down over his crotch, such pristine painting spaces always gave him a bit of a chub.

Jayden pulled a can of black spray paint from his oversized jacket. Jayden's tag was an abbreviation of Jayden is here, it seemed like the most appropriate for him as he was never really sure that anyone else cared if he was there.


Johnny and Ryan drop had the grand piano on its side on the trolley, tied on with multiple elastic straps. They struggled at the front door.

"I think we have to go keys first," said Johnny.

"No, we should go curve first," said Ryan. "It is the shortest."

"That's precisely why we should go keys first," said Johnny. "Get the largest part through…"

"Everything okay?" asked Stella.

"Yes," said Ryan.

"No, this way," said Johnny. "Here. This way around. Come on…"

"I'm really not sure…"

"Here, you get on the outside and I'll push, and you guide it."

"Hang on wait, I'm not in pos…"

"What?"

"Just… a moment."

"Say when," said Johnny. A moment later. "I can't hear you."

"Yeah, okay… um… wait, wait, wait…"

"Everything okay." Stella's voice trembled.

"I'm going to push, now."

"I'm not sure I have it."

"Pushing now."

"Oh, I thought you meant…"

"Oh…"

"OH NO!" Ryan's voice cried out.


Jayden had just completed his JIH, to a near perfect example, and he was standing back admiring it, mesmerised by its beauty, when he heard the voices above him. Jayden was startled back to reality by Ryan's shrill exclamation. He looked up immediately.

Margo

Margo sat with her legs crossed on the outdoor seat in the garden just beyond the raffle table and the cake sale. She wore quite a short yellow skirt and a red blouse with a chunky yellow plastic necklace. She had bare white legs, muscular and long stuffed into red stilettos; legs, while they no longer looked young, they looked purposeful and capable. She wore her customary jungle red lipstick, but now that she was of the age where she denied grandchild, as much as she used to deny children, she was no longer in the habit of making that O shape with her lips when she spoke. Her fingers twitched now that she had quit smoking, as if she no longer had a purpose for them.


Her lifelong friend, Chanel, took the seat next to her. “Margo,” said Chanel.

“Why is everything about sex now a days,” Margo asked suddenly.

“Darling, I’m sure that isn’t true.”

“Really, mention anything, anything at all.”

“Australia is burning…”

“Sexy firemen, big hoses.”

“Floods.”

“Divers in skin tight wet suits.”

“Global warming?”

“Stripping down to get cool. Sweating skin, bodily juices.”

“Margo? Me too?”

“You too?”

“World famine.”

“Selling children cheap to paedophiles.”

Margo raised her shoulders and widened her eyes, and made jazz hands as if daring to be questioned.

“Justin Trudeau.”

“Come on, all night darling, who wouldn’t want to go all night with Justin Trudeau.”

“Emmanuel Macron.”

“Come to mummy.”

“Donald Trump.”

“Getting pissed on in a Russian hotel room by a fat pig with a small peepee.

“Boris Johnson?’

“Ah?” Margo stopped mid sentence. She laughed. “Yes. Well.” She could feel her eyes widen at the same ratio as her mouth making an O grappling for an answer. She exhaled. “You have me there.”

“How long has it been, Margo?”

“What!”

“How long has it been?”

“Two thousand and god damn two, darling.”

“Darling…”

“I know… I need a fuck, or another bottle of gin.” She laughed self-consciously. “I know that.”

Margo turned and stared straight at Chanel. "And if it is the gin, I might just do myself a mischief with the empty bottle."

"Margo!" exclaimed Chanel.


Chanel looked down at Margo’s twitching finger. “You need a cigarette, I’m guessing, not a man.”

“Have you got one?”

“You know I don’t smoke.”

“Desperate does as… um… it does.” She pulled her hands apart, sick of her own twitching fingers. “Or however that saying goes.” Margo laughed self-consciously.


“Even Boris is looking good, I’d guess,” said Chanel.

Margo laughed out loud, it just seemed too ridiculous. “Even if he was the last man on earth.” Margo shook her head slowly.

“The very last peepee…”

“I’d go lesbian before I’d do that,” said Margo.

“I’m sure the lesbians would love to hear you being so flip.”

“I once knew a lesbian who looked a bit like him, actually,” said Margo. They used to call her Bob.”

“Bob?”

“Oh, it had something to do with how good she was at… um… bobbing for apples.” Margo smiled at the dim memory.

“Apples?”

“There were no apples involved, darl.”

“Oh… OH!”

Margo laughed. “I haven’t thought about that in years,” she said. “My uni days.”

“How many millennia is that ago?”

“More than I care to think about now.”

“So… you and Bob?”

“No, darling, not… Bob.”

“Not Bob?”

“Oh darling, that was too many drugs and a life time ago. Dear God…”

“Are you using the term ironically?”

“Of course, darling, is there any other way to use it,” said Margo. “My uni days, not even this century… not even this hundred years. Cruel is the hand of time.”


"What do you remember of your uni days?" asked Chanel.

"Oh, dear God…"

"Irony?"

"Oh darling, you know it is..." Margo laughed, her laugh turned into a cough, she wheezed and cleared her throat as her eyes watered. "Good thing I gave those up."

"Just in the nick of time, I'd say."

"It is just a silly expression we are all lumbered with. Dear god, the only thing religion does for us, gives us an expression which pertains to nothing we believe."

"None of us?"

"Oh really, none of us for sure," said Margo. "We just can't shake that childhood indoctrination."

"I think you are right," said Chanel. "We were brainwashed from an early age…"

A young male waiter walks up with a tray of wine.

"Oh yes please," said Margo. She took a glass for herself and Chanel.

The waiter nodded his head and headed off to serve other guests.

"Him," said Margo. She sipped her wine and nodded her head in the direction of the waiter.

"The waiter?" asked Chanel quizzically.

"My uni days." Margo sips her wine. "There was Marcus." Margo can't stop herself from smiling. "Who bore more than a passing resemblance to that waiter."

"That waiter?"

"That's what I remember from my uni days. Really, freedom. And everything being an adventure. And Marcus, and his sports car, and his beautiful smile."


"I'm confused," said Chanel. "I thought it was Bob."

"Christine."

"Christine?"

"It wasn't me and Bob… it was me and Christine, and Marcus was a friend of Christine's."

Chanel was gazing back at Margo with her mouth open, as though she was waiting for her brain to catch up.

"Bob and I paired up in my psychology tutes, when we were both too slow to pick anyone else. You know, last to be picked on the sports teams…"

"Oh yes, I remember it well."

"Bob turned out to be a darl, and we are still friends…"

"Why have I never heard about her before now?"

"I don't see her very often now a days, but occasionally."

"But Bob liked her girlfriend's butch, so she was never interested in me, not in that way. Christine was a friend of Bob's…"

Chanel shook her head.

"Are you keeping up?"

"Yes, so far."

"Christine liked me and pursued me and she took me on a few dates…"

"Date dates?"

"Yes…"

"And you were all at uni together."

"Yes, but only Bob and I had classes together."

"And I thought I could…" Margo could feel her eyebrows rise at the memory. "But even after a bottle of Pimms and half a bag of weed I found that I still couldn't. Apparently, I am just not built that way. And when it came to the crunch we were all down at Somers at Christine's parent's beach house and Christine and I were alone in a bedroom and we got to that point where it was all going to happen… and…

Tap, tap, Tap.

"Marcus…"

Tap, tap, tap.

"Who…"

Tap tap tap. The president was tapping the microphone on the lectern on the stage "Ladies and Gentlemen thank you all for attending the garden party this afternoon."

Chanel made big eyes at Margo.

"It has been a glorious afternoon and I am sure you have all enjoyed the day," said the president.

"I always thought was gay," whispered Margo.

"It has all been for a very good cause," said the president. "As you will all agree."

"And?" whispered Chanel urgently. "Not gay..."

"So, it has come to that point in the program where we are going to draw the prizes for the raffle. So I will hand over to…"

There was a drum roll. "Marcus was my saviour," Margo said loudly over the timpani.

The president turned to the secretary of the organisation, and as he did everything fell silent, just as Margo said, "Marcus was NOT gay," with such an emphasis on 'not' that no one was left in any doubt as to what she meant.

Everybody turned to look at Margo. The elderly secretary was by this stage at the microphone. "Thank you." She cleared her throat loudly into the microphone. "Margo." She pursed her lips and looked daggers from the stage.