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A Slow Getaway

‘Quick, quick!’ Blue yelled, throwing himself through the open back door of the SUV. ‘Drive!’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Orange mumbled, adjusting his side mirrors.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ Blue screeched from the back seat, the whites of his eyes standing out from his balaclava. ‘Drive!’

‘Hey,’ Orange said sternly, angling the rear-view mirror so he could look at his accomplice in the backseat. ‘Safety is important, young man. If you don’t prepare before you drive, you might not arrive alive.’

He nodded, lesson delivered, and started patting his jacket.

‘Now where did I put those keys?’

Blue groaned and slid down in his seat. The distant sound of sirens began to grow louder.

‘I’m going to prison,’ he whispered to himself.

The SUV rumbled to life underneath him.

‘Found them!’ Orange called back with a cackle. ‘They were in the ignition already!’

‘Drive the car!’

‘Yeesh,’ Orange muttered, dropping the transmission into drive and checking the traffic was clear. He paused to let a police car, lights flashing and sirens blaring, fly past, screeching to a stop outside of the bank. Orange shook his head.

‘Driving like that is why auto repair is such big business nowadays.’

Blue clutched his duffle bag and began to mumble a prayer his mother had taught him when he was a boy.

The coast clear, Orange finally pulled the SUV out, fiddling with the radio as they crisscrossed the suburban streets a full ten kilometres under the speed limit.

‘See,’ he chuckled, ‘slow and steady wins the– what the heck?!’

Blue glared at his driver from the back seat.

‘Who are you?’ he seethed.

‘You told me not to use my real–’

‘I was told you were a professional.’

‘Buddy, I’m just an average bloke who takes care of his car by getting an annual general car service around Bankstown, I don’t know who told you I did anything else.’

‘Wait,’ Blue frowned. ‘So you’re not a wheelman?’

‘Did Fred say I was? He’s always talking my business up,’ Orange chuckled. ‘He’s married to my sister, did you know?’

Blue let out a deep sigh, his fingers tightening around the duffle bag strap.

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A Brother’s Diagnosis

‘So anyway,’ my brother sighed, dropping his trunk onto my sandbank. ‘She’s kicked me out.’

         ‘Suzanne?’ I asked, shocked. ‘I thought you guys were going well!’

         ‘We were, but you know how things are,’ he said, dropping his toes into the water. ‘Just incompatible, I suppose.’

         ‘It’s a shame I didn’t get to meet her.’

         ‘You might see her this weekend actually.’

         ‘Oh?’

         ‘Yeah,’ he said, pointing up. ‘There’s a marathon coming over your bridge. She was training for it all month.’

         ‘Ugh,’ I groaned, rubbing at my foot. ‘I hate marathons. Too many people packed in close together.’

         ‘Is your foot still bothering you?’ my brother asked, frowning. ‘I thought you were going to get it looked at?’

         ‘I did, I did,’ I grimaced. ‘The infection is gone at least.’           

         ‘Thank god for our local Cheltenham podiatrist,’ he chuckled. ‘That thing was gross.’

‘Anyway,’ I narrowed my eyes at him, still rubbing my foot, ‘now it’s just my foot playing up.’

‘Flat feet?’ he asked. ‘Achilles tendonitis? Sever’s disease?’

‘Seriously, how long were you following that woman?’

‘You don’t want my help?’ he stood up, frowning. I rolled my eyes and gestured for him to sit down.

‘Your diagnosis, doctor?’ I asked dryly.

He looked me up and down, then leaned forward to take a cursory glance at my foot. ‘Semi-custom orthotics,’ he declared.

         ‘Semi-custom?’ I frowned. ‘What, I’m not good enough for fully custom?’

         ‘You don’t need fully custom,’ he rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t be so dramatic.’

         ‘You really think that’ll help though?’ I asked, tentatively trying to put my foot back on the ground. The cooling mud helped a little bit, but I still had to lift the pressure off it slightly.

         ‘Sure it will,’ he shrugged. ‘I mean, I think so. Do I look like a podiatrist to you?’

         ‘Dru? Dru are you down there?’ came a woman’s voice from the bridge above us. My brother went pale at the sound of his name.

         ‘I was never here!’

         ‘You gave her my address?!’ I hissed at him, but he’d already turned to face the river.

And with a splash, he was gone.

 

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Revealing the Plan

When Ro revealed the full extent of Xylia’s plan, Amira’s gut fell through the floor. Sweet, gentle Ro. Ro the strategist, the quietly studious academic, sent to assassinate the king? The idea seemed ludicrous. But then again, how well did Amira really know the girl? They had been training at the same flower academy for several months, even sharing meals and sleeping quarters. But Amira supposed not everything between them had been shared.

“A few years ago, the king hired one of the most highly qualified commercial window tinting companies Melbourne has ever seen,” Ro was saying. They had taken a break as the sun rose overhead. It was supposedly to help them catch their breath, but to Amira it felt more like finding her footing. She had just had the rug pulled out from underneath her by the two people she trusted most in the world. Ro was one thing, but Xylia was another matter altogether. Amira had been led astray, led like a limp puppet on the most dangerous mission of her life. And now that the truth had been revealed — now that she had figured out the plan by putting together the pieces of the puzzle all by herself — she was suddenly supposed to adapt to the new plan, as though she had known all along?

“The most difficult part is going to be seeing which room the king is in, since he’s got this kind of window frosting on all of them,” Ro was saying. “Amira? Are you listening?”

Amira tore her gaze away from the grass to look incredulously at Ro. “Am I listening?” She bounded to her feet, scattering Ro’s neat piles of flowers. She thrust a fistful of the torn petals into her face. “We’re not here to talk about glass, or glass walls, or glass partitions, or whatever else it is you’re going on about. I came here to steal the seed compendium, to give our people a better future! This has nothing to do with the king!”

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One Last Order

‘How much?!’ I asked, staring incredulously at the grey intercom box.

‘Twelve-fifty,’ the cashier repeated.

‘For a burger?!’

‘That’s right,’ she crackled. ‘Please drive forward and pay at the window.’

I shook my head in disbelief, but I’d been fantasising about this burger my whole drive home and there were people behind me in the drive-through now.

They had me.

Sighing, I shifted my car back into drive – and the engine abruptly cut out.

‘What the…’ I muttered to myself, twisting the key. The engine wheezed angrily, but didn’t start.

‘Please drive to the next window, sir,’ the box squawked. A car behind me honked.

‘I’m trying!’ I yelled out of the car window, so both of them would hear me. I tried the key again, but this time my car didn’t even bother to tick over.

‘Sir, you’re holding up the other vehicles.’

Sweat began to run down my forehead as I quickly cycled through my options. I could hear my father’s voice, telling me this is what you get for not booking a log book service around Adelaide. I batted him away and went back to trying to come up with a solution.

‘Sir?’

‘Sorry,’ I turned to the speaker, ‘I’m just having some car trouble.’

‘Would you like us to help you?’ the lady on the other end asked.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re not the first person to break down in our drive-through, sir.’

I laughed. Of course, I wasn’t! They’d be able to deal with this, no problem!

‘For a small fee, a team of our friendly staff will be out there in no time to enact any car repair you may need.’

‘What’s that now?’ I frowned.

The car behind me honked again.

‘Yes or no, sir?’

I vainly tried the engine again. Still nothing.

‘Fine,’ I sighed. ‘Yes, I’ll take the… the car repair.’

‘Excellent. And was that in a meal?’

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Harsh Property Market

Life is absolute chaos right now. So much is going on in the world and the world around us is on fire, literally and figuratively, and we’re expected to just suck it up and keep going with our lives. Do you have any idea how hard that is? Life isn’t normal anymore and we’re expected to carry on like it is. It’s hard enough to buy food at the supermarket these days, let alone do adult stuff like buying a house and trying to start a family. I mean, buying a house is one thing, but why would I even want to start a family when the world is like this?

With everything going on, I can barely commit to a buyer’s advocate. In the Malvern area there are just so many options so I don’t know who to go with. I mean, how am I supposed to make these sorts of decisions? It’s hard to decide what I’m going to make for dinner. It’s hard to make any sort of future plans because they can just be cancelled at any moment. 

Anyway, I probably should tell you why I’m having this rant anyway. I mean, I’ve been having this rant every day for the last two years but it’s specifically important now. I’m trying to start a life with my boyfriend and we want to buy a house and move out of home. We want to live in that house for a couple of years before we start a family but it’s seeming less and less likely to be the case. The housing market is so hard to break into as a young couple. I would hate to know what it was like as a single person. Even if we employ the help of a buyer’s advocate operating in Sandringham, I don’t know if they’d be able to help us. The property market is just so volatile right now. I hate being a millennial living in the worst time of history.

Wish us luck on our endeavour.

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Service Day Off

I’ve taken the whole day off tomorrow to take my car to the mechanic. I told my boss that it’s going to be a really long day with the mechanic and that he’ll likely need me there the whole time. Initially, he asked why I’d have to be on-site seeing as I have absolutely no qualifications in mechanics or cars or anything, but I spun a really convincing lie about how my car is really specialised and mechanics aren’t allowed to make any sort of changes or repairs to it without my consent. My boss believed me which was really lucky and the mechanic said he would back up my story if my boss called. This may as well be considered as if it’s a doctor’s certificate, but instead, it’s by the auto electrician operating in Cambridge, rather than an actual doctor. I guess mechanics are doctors for cars, so maybe that counts? 

Anyway, I’m very excited to have the day off tomorrow. I’m going to sleep in, drive five minutes to the mechanic and then go out for coffee with a girl I’ve been crushing on for a long time. She works shift work so it’s really hard for us to catch up (I work full time), so being able to have this day off to see her is really exciting. I’d also like to give a special thanks to my car for being a piece of rubbish and needing a suspension service. I couldn’t have gotten this day off without it!

Every so often I like to squeeze as much time off as possible out of the man. What does that mean? It means faking sick and taking a day off. It means telling my boss I need a whole day off for a car service. It means starting work three minutes late and finishing three minutes early. It means more free time for me and less money in the pocket of the man.

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Katy’s Wild Night

I yawned and turned off the light next to my bed. Just as I started to drift off, my phone began to buzz on the bedside table. I snuck a quick glance at the time – almost midnight ­– and wondered if I could get away with ignoring it.

         I quickly checked who it was, and sighed into my pillow. After a moment, I answered the call.

         ‘Katy?’ I grumbled. ‘It’s late.’

         ‘I know, and I’m sorry.’

         ‘It’s a worknight.’

         ‘It is?’

         ‘Katy!’

         ‘Right, sorry,’ she caught her breath. ‘I just… remember that time I helped you get out of those compression stockings?’

         I looked around my empty apartment to double check that nobody was listening.

         ‘We said we’d never talk about that again,’ I hissed into the receiver.

         ‘I know, I know, but… I need your help now.’

         I frowned. She sounded scared. ‘Is everything alright?’

         ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she reassured, clearly trying to sound calm. ‘I just… look, I tried it, okay.’

         ‘What?’

         ‘The compression stockings. You were right, they made your legs look amazing.’

         ‘They were children’s compression stockings,’ I said, squeezing the phone.

         ‘I know, I know, so I thought I wouldn’t make the same mistake, I’d try these circulation socks I saw online instead, and–’

         ‘You can’t get them off, can you?’

         ‘I’m definitely stuck, but if you could just–’

         ‘Dammit, Katy!’ I said, flicking the light on and getting out of bed. I tapped the call onto the loudspeaker and threw it onto the bed so I could still talk while I got dressed. ‘Where are you?’

         ‘Cheltenham.’

         ‘Cheltenham?’ I paused, half in a shirt. ‘Why are you there?’

         ‘There’s a local foot specialist near Cheltenham that I thought I’d be able to convince to give me some that were too small, but they were… unreceptive.’

         ‘Wait,’ I said, pausing half in my jeans this time. ‘So you don’t have the socks?’

         ‘Not exactly.’

         ‘Where are you stuck then?’

         ‘Uh… the window. Of the foot specialist.’

         ‘The window.’

         ‘Yes.’

         ‘You were breaking in?’

         ‘It was open!’

     

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Finding the Roses

The sun had begun to set by the time the girls reached the centre of the maze. Amira’s legs felt like lead, dragging slowly along the grass and kicking up dirt with every step. Ro hadn’t fared much better; her dark brown hair had sprung loose from its coils and stuck to her face in a sweaty, matted nest. For the first section of their journey, the silence in the air had been calming, like the maze had wanted to lure them in further. Now that they were in the centre, and had been for several hours, the humidity clung to them like a thick, oppressive fog. Ro nudged Amira, motioning languidly to a collection of pink roses growing along the southern edge of the maze wall.

“There are hybrid roses in there,” Ro said. Out of breath, Amira only nodded. There were certainly a number of hybrid tea varieties nestled in the collection, but her experienced eye could tell the wall was bursting mainly with an impressive pink floribunda rose bush, its scent clinging dense and sweet over their noses. Floribunda roses were something Amira had only ever seen in books — they were far too expensive to be a regular sight in her poor little village. She slipped a pair of garden scissors from her satchel and carefully pruned away the outer edge of the bunch. While these varieties were neither sturdy enough to use as a weapon, nor potent enough to be crushed up and used in magic rituals, each had its uses. The sticky pollen within floribunda roses could form an adhesive, and when it came time for David Austin roses season, the colourful blooms could be woven into fabric and used to fashion beautiful clothes.

Beside her, Ro nibbled the edge of a hybrid tea rose. “Tangy,” she said thoughtfully. Glancing down, Amira noticed that Ro had already collected a number of roses and divided them into neat little piles on the grass. However, while most of the varieties were obvious to someone as experienced as Amira, a small pile on the edge caught her attention.

 

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The Chocolate Mechanic

I’ve always been obsessed with chocolate. When I was travelling in Europe last year, I got the chance to try some really decadent and delicious chocolate, and I’ve been thinking about it ever since. It was from this adorably quaint little store on the corner of a major shopping strip in Belgium. I’ve been searching online to see if I can find the store and get some delivered to Australia, but it’s difficult when you can’t remember the name of the store and everything’s in another language, anyway.

Now, I’m living in Adelaide. I’ve got an apartment right next to a mechanic. Lockleys is a burgeoning suburb, but it’s definitely still more industrial at the moment. On one side is the mechanic, and the other is a massive warehouse that I’m pretty sure belongs to a company that packages food for grocery stores. I just can’t stop thinking about that chocolate. Where can I possibly find one that compares in Adelaide? I decided to give my friend a call, as she also lived overseas for a while and therefore understands my dilemma. She tells me that there is one chocolate store a few suburbs over, but that it’s not as good as it would have been in Belgium. Maybe I can try making my own chocolate?

I get ready to go out and start walking down the street, past the warehouse, and past the mobile auto electrical services store just down the road. A quick online search shows that I already have most of the equipment I need to make my own chocolate. Now, all I need is the ingredients, especially cocoa beans. I’m going to roast them in the oven for a while. My mission to make chocolate could take a few days, but I’m not worried. I’m just excited to try my own chocolate. Hopefully, it tastes as good as the professionals in Belgium!

 

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Easier Selling Method

I am the proud owner of Melbourne’s leading real estate branch. As well as doing the typical real estate things, like attending auctions and organising buyers, it’s my job to organise the rest of my employees and their clients. I also have to maintain our office space and ensure it is a good working environment for everybody. After all, we don’t want potential customers visiting unless it is in perfect condition every single day. And I like seeing my employees happy.

I recently hired an office glass tinting company servicing the Melbourne area to come and tint the windows of our offices. Our building is a combined store and office complex, which means that on the front windows we tend to hang posters of properties that are currently up for sale. It helps people walking past to know what kinds of properties are available in their area, as well as how much my agency could help them sell their house for if they chose us as their real estate agents.

As the manager of the office space, I decided to employ this company after watching a video online about the benefits of glass frosting. Our offices face the sun, and it can be a useful way to lower energy costs by keeping the space cool naturally, without an air conditioner. It’s also a brilliant way to ensure passersby cannot see into the office itself. We’re located on a busy shopping strip, and there is a lot of foot traffic. It can be awkward making eye contact with a pedestrian while you are working on your computer. By tinting our windows, we can make them much more useful than they already are. I really do believe a simple change like this can help improve morale amongst my employees. The space you work in can completely alter your mood, so it’s important to work in a space that’s great!