Tim needed proof that his suspicions were either right or wrong. Driving up the coastal road of northern New South Wales, with the windows open and the music blaring, he wondered which it was. Had one of his best friends ripped him off as he suspected? All signs pointed in that direction, yet Tim liked Smokey too much to jump to that conclusion without some definitive evidence.
It was hot. So hot that the wind blasting through the windows seemed like hot air blown directly onto his face with a gigantic hair dryer, yet having the windows closed was even worse, as the heavy scent of his sweat surrounded him like blowflies around a pile of dung. His old Valiant had no air-conditioning or heater for that matter, so he suffered whenever the weather was extreme.
But he needed to get to Monica, as quickly as possible, so he drove nonstop, as fast as he could. She had insights into people and would find something, or some way to guide him in this matter.
He lit a cigarette and puffed hard, thinking about their trip to India and Nepal, reliving some of the most amazing times of his life. He and Monica had gone together and the trip had brought them closer than they had ever been before.
He looked to his right and saw the Pacific Ocean far below, reminding him of a ferry trip he and Mon had taken somewhere on the west coast of India, taking them to the state of Goa where they had spent a few weeks living in a hut on a beach. They had enjoyed some of the best sex ever in his mind, but Monica thought the opium had more to do with the intensity of their feelings. Slightly hurt, he had felt that they had simply fallen more in love in these ideal surroundings, after two months of being jostled around on overcrowded trains and buses.
At any rate, they were still together now, and he had thought about proposing to her many times. But Monica was a free spirit and always needed time on her own. Even though she professed to love him as much as he loved her, he held back, so afraid to be rejected.
She was visiting one of her best friends, Gisella, who lived near Byron Bay, which isn’t far from the Queensland border.
At the moment he was near Crescent Head, which meant a few more hours of driving until he could see her, hold her again and so much more.
His mind wandered back to India and the gigantic task they had set for themselves and actually accomplished. All that hash! They had found a way of getting a decent lump of hashish into the country and it had kept them and their friends happy for several weeks, but now they were about to run out! That wouldn’t have happened if things had gone differently, the way they were supposed to go. But what does ever go the way it’s planned? He slapped his thigh hard in anger and swore with the resulting pain.
They had sent a pound of the highest quality to Smokey- well disguised and masterfully hidden- but he claimed that it had never arrived.
At first Tim had believed him, writing the loss off as bad luck. Indeed they had all been lucky that the stuff hadn’t been confiscated, and people arrested, but then the rumors started and a different picture began to emerge.
Bit by bit, when visiting other friends, tales of Smokey’s wonderful Hash emerged, sending waves of anger creeping up Tim’s back. It was too much of a coincidence for Smokey to have all this Hash to throw around, at the exact moment that Tim’s package would have arrived. When he confronted his old friend, Smokey claimed to have bought the stuff from another person he knew.
“Who would that be then Smokey?” Tim asked suspiciously.
“Nobody you know mate, I met him while you were away.” Smokey shot back.
“What happened mate?” Tim continued. “Wasn’t the deal we had good enough for you? Fifty- fifty we said, right? What the fuck happened, old friend?”
“Nothing fucking happened Tim!” Smokey protested. “I just happened to come across a different piece of Hash. You’re not the only person I know who went to India. Everyone’s doing it you know! I would never rip you off. You’ve got to believe me, man. We’ve been friends too long.”
“Yeah, yeah. That’s what you say mate.” Tim replied, feeling hot under the collar. “But I’ve been told other things. Why don’t you show me a bit of the stuff? In fact you should make us a nice big joint, don’t you think?”
“Shit mate. I wish I could, but there isn’t any left. I only had a little bit, you know.”
“Really Smokey? I heard you were showing off a huge chunk, just a couple of weeks ago. What happened to that, MATE? Did you sell it or what?”
“I don’t know what you fucking heard Tim,” Smokey retorted anxiously. “I can only tell you the truth, and that is that I did not rip you off. Don’t listen to what others are saying. You know me mate, I’m your friend and I’m not lying.”
The conversation had gone on like that for some time and at the end Tim was no closer to the truth. His heart wanted to believe that Smokey was being honest, but his head said something else. That’s why he needed to talk to Monica so urgently, as an idea had begun to form in his head, a way of testing Smokey’s loyalty once and for all.
It would be a sure and safe test if Smokey was true to his word, but if he cheated, it could very well prove fatal.
Tim lit another cigarette as the sign for the city of Coff’s Harbour flashed by. Less than two hundred miles now, thank god! I can’t wait to see her again.
To be continued.
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