Page 96 of Rafferty's Rules
No one speaks, but they all agree anyway.
‘I knew you’d find your passion, your thing,’ his mother continues. ‘You were always an enterprising little soul when you were small. He used to order comic books,’ she says, addressing the table now, ‘to be delivered to the local post office. Specialised stuff that the Seven Eleven wasn’t stocking.’
‘Like Playboy,’ Tom offers up in a heckle.
‘No,’ Sally responds disparagingly. ‘He was a good boy. Back then at least. So, he’d ride his bike into town to pick them up. We’re not talking about a couple of comics here—he used to buy multiple copies of the same edition. And he wasn’t buying to read them.’
Her gaze cuts across the table, amusement and pride shining clear. Rafferty, meanwhile, seems to be examining something on his napkin.
‘He spent his whole allowance on the things, and if the store had ordered extra copies of the same, he’d buy those, too. Then he’d spend the rest of the week selling them for a price much higher than he paid for them. He even used a black texta to hide the price.’
‘What’s a texta?’ I ask Rafferty quietly.
‘It’s a marker pen,’ Sally answers from across the table, her warm gaze now on me. The way she looks at me ensures my guilty conscience kicks in. I hate lying at the best of times, but Rafferty’s family are just too nice to lie to. But lie, I will.
‘My brother, the racketeer.’ Byron’s expression takes the bite out of the would-be insult.
‘You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first,’ Flynn interjects, swirling his wine around his glass. ‘In fact, didn’t you try to muscle in on his patch?’
‘Listen to them,’ Amber, Byron’s betrothed says, reaching across to tap the back of my hand. ‘Anyone would think they were in the mob.’
‘Chastity,’ Flynn calls over to his wife. ‘If I was a mobster, do you reckon I’d be called Fast Fingers Flynn?’
‘Please excuse my husband,’ she drawls as the brothers begin to chortle. ‘Since we became parents, it seems he’s forgotten how to behave in adult company.’
‘I’ve heard your fast in all the ways you’re not supposed to be,’ Roman replies with a loud guffaw, clapping his hand against the table top.
‘I don’t know,’ Sally adds. ‘In some ways, you’re all so very grown up, yet in other, you’re all still little boys.’
‘Less of the little, Ma,’ one of the brothers protest, though I don’t catch which.
‘Would you tell the rest of the story, Sally? Please.’ I’ve so enjoyed being with his family and find I’m greedy for all the little insights into what made Rafferty.
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way, love. So, one day, Rafferty takes his backpack to school, filled with the newly delivered comic books, only his teacher somehow found out about his little scheme. I think he wasn’t impressed with the mark-up.’
‘This was Mr Franklin, wasn’t it?’ This from Flynn again. ‘What a bastard he was. Australia was built on small business, people busting a nut to get on.’
‘It’s not like he had a family to support.’ Tom snorts, draining the remains of his glass before folding his arms.
‘He said I was disrupting the class,causing a kerfuffle, I think we’re his exact words.’ For the first time since the conversation began, Rafferty speaks.Completely without rancour. In fact, he seems pretty pleased. ‘Right before he confiscated mycontraband.’
‘He was an officious toad,’ his mother offers up, still outraged on her son’s behalf. ‘You weren’t disrupting the class—you only sold them at lunchtime! Go on, son, tell Lissa what you did then.’
‘Mum, it happened a lifetime ago,’ he protests, his gaze slides to mine before completing a dramatic eye roll as though to say,mothers, eh?’
‘Yeah, go on,’ Byron adds a little smugly. ‘Demonstrate to your girlfriend the depths of your character.’
‘You’re making your brother’s jealous,’ I whisper sotto voce, sliding my hands around Rafferty’s arm. The table erupts in catcalls and bantering laughter which both brothers accept with a longstanding kind of experience. ‘Come on, baby. Tell me what you did to the mean old teacher.’Is it me, or did his eyes darken with the moniker, or could it have been the hand I hold to his cheek?I know I’m right when he takes my hand in his, bringing it to his strong thigh.
‘The following weekend, I took all the money I’d made, and I think it’s worth mentioning I was saving for a new computer, not to word domination or anything.’
‘To do homework, right?’
‘Something like that,’ he answers with a grin. ‘Anyway, I persuaded Dad to give me a lift into town this day. I had something like sixty bucks to spend on my master plan, so I bulk bought a load of lollies. I suppose you’d call that candy,’ he says to me. ‘I bought so much the store let me take it home in the plastic jars it came in. Then, after the weekend, I took a shit load of it into school—’
‘Stored in plastic bags,’ Flynn offers up as proud as punch. ‘Smuggled into the place in his backpack.’
‘Right.’ Rafferty straightens his chair as though embarrassed by his brother’s pride. ‘Long story short, I showed the kids at break time and promised anyone who went out of their way to get yelled by old Franklin would get a handful of the stuff.’
