I was sitting on my lounge, flipping my lucky coin. Eight heads, Nine Heads. Ten Heads. That was a decent streak. I felt good.

The sudden ringing of my phone annoyed me, bringing down my good mood. Nobody rings. I was lying on my bed, flicking through some snaps, killing time before I had to meet Mike and Sarah for an early lunch. Glancing at the interruption on my phone, I felt dread.

It was Amy. She never rang. I'd have to be polite unless I wanted an earful.

Tails. Crap.

"Hey, sis, what's happening?"

"Luke, just shut up and listen."

"I don't…." I started back. She could be blunt, but this was a new low.

"I said shut up, for once, Luke. Listen, I don't have time. Please."

Amy did sound a lot more severe than usual. She was a hard-nosed Corpo executive and had little time for nonsense. Much of our sibling-argumentative-competitive banter revolved around her drive and my more relaxed outlook. For her to say please was a shock.

Despite our one-sided competition, which she always won, I gave her some slack.

"OK. What's up, sis?" I was a bit concerned now. She didn't often ask and never, ever said please.

"Listen, I'll owe you one. I need you to tell Dad it's his shout, the same place as last time, and a couple of my mates will be there—tomorrow morning. I'll send you the invite list. I sent you a present to give them, which should be arriving today, make sure you get it to them. Don't peek. Message me when you do. Look, I've got to run. I'll call you in a couple of days."

I was processing what she had just said when the phone went dead. I hated phone calls.

That fact she said she would owe me one was even more worrying. It was the biggest hint that this was really bad. Amy and I saw each other maybe once or twice a year since Dad had died. She had moved south to Brisbane, and I had stayed in the north.

I thought about her message. Dad shouting meant I had to dig into the trust for something, and the same place as last time was in Port Douglas, an hour's drive north.

Well, there went my carefully laid plans to do nothing for a few days of holiday. Although a road trip could be nice.

I messaged Mike and Sarah to cancel lunch and to see if they wanted to go on a road trip. I hoped they would because Mike had a car and Sarah, well, that was complicated. While I waited for a reply, I had to make a phone call of my own.

Damn, Amy, making me call someone. No one calls anyone these days. I hated using a phone.

"Hello, could I make an appointment to see Mr Elcock, please?"…… "Luke Hammond"….

"Yes, George Hammond's son"…… "Thank you. 4 pm is fine"……. "Good-bye"

Ugg, no wonder people didn't like to use the phone. Although she seemed nice.

I had a little time to kill, so I showered, dressed, and saw if the package had arrived. It was hot outside, so I went for Cairns casual formal.

Sarah messaged me and bet me $100 that I was wearing my dirty jeans and t-shirt. Sarah made me send pictures of my outfit so she could OK it before I left. She knew me so well, and she won her $100, and I was in some clean and respectable gear.

I switched to proper Cairns causal formal, tailored shorts, comfortable boots and an upmarket t-shirt. It was a reasonably safe bet since Sarah had given them to me. Well, she chose, and I paid. It was handy having friends with perfect fashion sense.

Left to my own devices, I really would have gone in what I was wearing: dirty jeans and an old T-shirt. I hated lawyers and didn’t see the need to dress up for them.

Getting around Cairns with public transport was annoying, but I generally managed. The local council was stuck in the 1980s and had yet to learn that a bus took nearly an hour for a 20-minute drive. If you could find a bus stop nearby, that would not be OK. It was okay by me most of the time. I had some stuff I could sort out on my phone, and sometimes, it was nice to go slow. One day, I would get organised and get my license and a car. But not today. I usually biked everywhere or used my Ninebot scooter if it was too hot. I didn't like to Uber unless I'd had a few drinks.

Today, despite the lack of drinks, I used an Uber since I had no idea what I was getting from Amy, and I didn't want to be stuck with something big on a bike or bus.

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When I got to the post office, it was quiet, and the package had arrived. I said package because it was big, a box about the size of a large suitcase with a couple of fragile stickers. No wheels. Luckily, it was light.

Damn, you, Amy. She sent it to my secret PO Box as well. Damn her again. I had never given her the box number; I was sure it was a secret. I'd have to change it again. I added that to my to-do list for after the road trip.

While sorting the package, I got a message from Mike, who was keen on a road trip, and Sara messaged again as she was excited as long as it was only for the day. She had a work shift on Wednesday. Mike would pick us up at eight and then head to Port Douglas. I let him know I would pay for fuel and lunch. Sometimes Mike did it tough, so I didn't mind at all. He would never ask, so I offered more than I should have, but the money was wasted if you could not help friends.

I caught another Uber to see Mr Elcock at the law firm. Lugging the box was not fun, but I did manage to lug it up the three flights of stairs. That was nearly the top floor for a high rise in Cairns.

My father had been a very successful lawyer and property developer before he passed away. He had been a senior partner at "Hammond, Elcock and Shore Property Law". Now it was just "Elcock and Shore". They still managed his estate, much to my sister’s distaste. Thanks to her walking away, I was the sole beneficiary. They looked after me and billed the estate if I needed cash or anything legal, although Lawrence never did.

I always felt conflicted walking in here after Amy had walked away from it and wanted to do it alone. There was some bad blood between her and the firm. I had tried to stay out of it, not understanding everything. I didn't have Amy's well-developed pride and stubbornness as a young teen.

I had been in this office many times, so I walked into the plush office on the third floor, waiting in the small foyer. The receptionist was someone new, and she offered me refreshments - her words, not mine. That was a change for the better. The last one was a bit snooty. Maybe Sarah was on to something about dressing up slightly, not that I would ever let her know.

"I'm OK, thanks. Can I leave my package here?" I felt a bit weird leaving the box unattended, especially after all the terrorism of the last few years. I almost said, "Don't worry, it's not a bomb", but thankfully stopped as I realised that lawyers don't have a sense of humour or souls. I killed time flipping my coin, five heads and eleven tails, a decent streak while adding some more to the mental list of questions to ask Amy.

At 4 pm on the dot, I was ushered into my short-notice appointment with Lawrence Elcock, a senior partner. He had not changed, still wearing expensive suits and still smelling of cheap aftershave. I shook his hand as he motioned me to sit down.

"Luke, it has been too long. What can I do for you? It's been, what, two years? Everything OK?"

He knew it was only nine months, and he padded it out so that I felt guilty, which was his intent. It was awkward. He had been kind to me. His wife had cooked meals for me for weeks after Dad died while I was a mess. Despite Amy's insistence, there was no evidence he had screwed me around, despite the amount of money involved and the fact that there were some significant discrepancies between what Dad had and what he should have had. His estate was of epic proportions. I tried to tell Amy, but she didn’t want to know.

Amy was sure there were still some secret stashes somewhere. I hadn't really cared to look. I mentally added that to my to-do list. Since I was not one for small talk, I nodded, "Yeah, everything is fine. Marks at uni are great, the apartment is great, and I have an internship starting in three weeks."

He smiled, "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. You know we would not cut you off if you failed, right? The money is yours. You would have less access and wait longer, but it is yours. Are you 21 next year? It would be best if you dropped around sometime. Macy was asking about you just the other day. You know we worry about you by yourself and Amy dropping out of contact."

"I am all good. I need some extra money, having an unexpected road trip with friends. Amy didn't want anything to do with Dad after he..."

"I know, I know. That was poorly handled. She is doing so well, too. You know she has until you turn 21 to make a claim." Lawrence looked over me, steepling his fingers under his chin. "It's not for drugs. If it is, I can get you into rehab."

I groaned. He laughed at what he mistook for a shocked look on my face. "Relax, Luke, that was a joke." He looked at my file on his monitor. "Well, you know I can't just give you cash, but you can thank your father, he seems to have understood you quite well. He left you a credit card in your name that you can use immediately. There are some conditions, but the estate will pay the bill at the end of each month. It has $10k on it, and if you need more, you can ring me and explain why we would pay it early. In most reasonable cases, we would, but not everything. Just make sure it isn't drugs. Or women. Speaking of which, how is Sarah?"

I sighed.

He laughed at his joke. "Definitely not women then, just no drugs."

It was a rather annoying habit, trying to shock you and then laughing at your reaction. Multiple times with the same joke. It got tedious and wasn't helped by Lawrence being a big man; his whole body jiggled when he laughed. It was disturbing to watch.

Still, this interaction was better than I had hoped, "Thanks! I'm helping Amy out."

"Don't thank me. I am just doing what your father wanted. He would be quite proud of you for helping your sister. She is not in trouble, is she? I am proud of you, too. I remember when I used to take care of you when you still wore nappies."

He paused for some dramatic effect. I didn't have the heart to tell him his grandfatherly overtures were wasted on me. I liked him; his wife was lovely, but I didn't want them as friends. There was just too much baggage. It was the connection to Dad, to the dodgy shit they were all involved in, and if not him, then the other partners who defiantly threw Dad under the bus at the end. Still, at least Lawrence was trying to make up for it.

He continued, "Getting the card and the documents from the safe will take a few minutes. Did you want a coffee?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

“Molly, coffee, black, no sugar.” He called into his intercom and then left me waiting.

His new receptionist, Molly, delivered them without fuss. Much better than his last one – who tried to be your best friend, with her nose in the air looking down on you. Molly’s perfume was much nicer, too.

A few minutes later, I was in an Uber, heading back to my unit with the package secured.

I sent Amy a quick message telling her I had the parcel and would head north tomorrow to shout the bar.