Hard Cuddles. James Harding
Even back then I could appreciate the humour in it, but after months of this shiner business, it had worn thin and I had had enough.
I walked to where the toughest kid in the school was sitting and the Lump and the rest of his choir immediately fell silent. My plan had already succeeded without me taking any action. I approached Rikki, the tough guy, and asked him if one bottle of bourbon was a fair payment to wait at Malvern Station and open a can of whoop-ass on the Lump. As I said this I looked over and pointed in his general direction. Rikki nodded. I told Rikki to leave it with me and I would organise payment, time and date. This was my first involvement in organised crime and I have to say it was very productive.
As I sat back down in my chair the silence was deafening, None of the choir knew who I had put in the gun. The Lump definitely knew he was in the gun and looked like Coyote from the Roadrunner cartoon as he is about to fall off a cliff. As luck would have it, one of Rikki’s good mates was sitting next to the Lump. I didn’t quite catch what the Lump asked him but Rikki’s mate said ‘Lump, you are going to get your arse kicked, Rikki doesn’t fuck around.’ With that I sat back and let fear do the work for me. Job done. Fear is an incredible tool if it’s used properly. It’s easy to work out that fear is more effective than actual violence. The anticipation and threat of pain can send someone into the dark corridors of self-doubt and the Lump was well and truly down that long and lonely hallway. He was all by himself, the bravado and courage had evaporated, he was now struggling to swallow and maintain his composure. His need to gain acceptance from his peers had failed. No one wanted to know him now, out of the fear of getting hurt themselves. I let the uncertainty marinate for a few days, he didn’t know when it was coming or how. It was fascinating to watch the Lump get around like a dog walking on polished floor boards with socks on.
The funny thing is, I didn’t even want to hurt the Lump and I never followed through with the order. But a precedent had been set and no one bothered me much after that, which was a feat in itself as I was a real smart-ass. Later, the Lump and I became close, we actually spent quite a bit of time together. He had a lovely family and his older brothers were hilarious. But the Lump always felt the need to be sarcastic and give people shit. He really struggled with women and if it wasn’t for yours truly setting him up with a girl that I can only describe as ‘wild’, he would still be a virgin at twenty. Lump was just an insecure kid finding his way in life by projecting negative attention away from himself and towards other people.
DOGGY STYLE AND THE COIN TOSS
‘There is no such thing as good money and bad money. There’s just money.’
— Lucky Luciano
After my first taste with organised crime, after having successfully planted the seed of fear in Lump, I have to say it really grew on me. The power was addictive and the thrill of having control over someone else was exciting. My main focus was myself and making sure I was treated with the respect I felt that I deserved. But every now and again someone comes along to test you and it’s pretty obvious that you need to eliminate the problem.
For business management class we had to set up a small business at school and work out our profit/loss, outgoings and everything associated with running a business. The thought of this was tantalising for me, making money has never been a problem. I teamed up with another couple of guys and we decided to run a hot dog stand and call it ‘Doggy Style’. It was a great idea and would have worked but the teachers canned it, on the account of the name. I would not budge. It was the central focus of the business and its main drawcard. The teacher, to his credit, laughed and liked the name, but being a Catholic school run by brothers, it was never going to fly. So to stick it right up the school and the brothers, I organised a huge piece of laminated chipboard with different amounts of money penned in little squares: 50 cents, $3, $5, $10 and so on. The highest being $20 and if you landed a coin in the certain section of the $20 square, it was $20 x 2 = $40, a lot of money for a school kid, but also a massive incentive.
All you needed were gold coins to play and you would toss the coin and try and land it inside the square to get that amount of money. This was my first foray into illegal gambling, it was always going to be a success. The idea of the task was to gain business management experience.
It took off like wild fire, the kids queued up, three deep to take their chance at winning some cold, hard cash. There were even teachers coming over to have a shot and look at the commotion. I was directing the play, there was a bag man collecting the money, a guy scooping the losing bets off the table and three guys giving change and making sure it was all sweet.
By lunchtime the business management teacher came over and said the people running the canteen had complained because their takings were way down. I asked him if I was going to get a high distinction, instead he told me to wrap it up after lunch because it was out of control; I was amazed at how the kids would rather gamble their money, instead of buying food. Money was flying in and I loved every minute of it. I upped the ante and doubled everything on the table for the last ten minutes. ‘That’s right guys any prize is paying double,’ I yelled. The crowd went mad; people were screaming and pushing each other to get their bets on.
Then out of nowhere this little fucker, who had a head like the guy on Mad Magazine, landed his coin on the 2 x $20. That had been doubled, so he was due to collect $80. What I did was look at where the coin had landed, it was good but I quickly moved it, so no one got the chance to see it. But this little prick was adamant he had landed a good toss. Now he was yelling—or trying to yell, his voice was breaking and he was making a terrible noise. He yelled, ‘I want my money back,’ over and over again and he got louder. I grabbed two of my boys and told them to take him over near the bushes and out of the way a bit, just hang back. The Mad Magazine kid was bad for business, so with him out of the way the punters kept punting.
I marched over there and grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him out of sight, then I told him in my most threatening voice, ‘I’ll give you $5 and that’s it, if you continue with this shit you won’t get a cent and I’ll punch the fuck out of you. Your choice.’
He took the money and left. The key to the lesson I learned was that the threat of violence and a little bit of cash is very effective when it comes to negotiation. Gambling is an amazing way to make fast money. I have never seen anything like that day and it was only a coin toss board, imagine a casino. With a business that involves cash money and illegality you have to be ready and willing to go to extreme lengths to get what you want. But the most important lesson: be quick on your feet and even quicker to act.
LOST INNOCENCE
‘Scar tissue is stronger than regular tissue. Realize the strength, move on.’
—Henry Rollins
Carlos and I were sixteen and the song on the radio that summer was ‘Breakfast At Tiffany’s’ by Deep Blue Something. We were all off to a house party in Ormond and it was the night that would change our lives forever. Carlos, who was always working at the local pizza shop, managed to swing a night off. The party was set to be huge. I had my tall, blonde, leggy missus there—she was a bit of a show-stopper, even at that age. The Flower (my missus) had a lot of Maria Sharapova about her and tonight she was wearing this short, black, skin-tight, Quicksilver dress and white sandals. She was the original surfer chick.
As we walked to the party from my place I had the feeling that it was going be a special night. When we arrived at this beautiful two-storey period home, our gang Ramey, Duey, Carlos, Tiles, Ripley, the Flower and myself, said hello to everyone and settled in for a good night. We knew everyone there as we were friendly kids that didn’t look for trouble. I never used to drink, which gave me the opportunity to observe with a clear mind. Carlos and the Fainter were getting stuck right into it. Carlos’ dad would drink to oblivion, so it was no surprise that Carlos was doing the same. He was paralytic in a short space of time and was hugging me and telling me how much he loved me. I used to get around and talk to as many people as I could. Being a teetotaller was fun because you got to see how the drink would make certain people happy or sad or aggressive. It didn’t bother me; I enjoyed talking to people and connecting. What I did find interesting was when people got drunk they found it easier to be honest and real with their emotions. So even though I wasn’t drinking,