I awoke to a boot prodding me in the shoulder, “Get up ball bag.” It ordered.

My eyes began to flutter and stir as they adjusted to the beachside horizon. As they did I was met with the familiar face of my brother Mav, eating a mussel fritter out of a white paper bag.

“Shit…where’d you get that from?” I asked him, rubbing my eyes.

Mav doubled back, looking across to a fish-n-chip trailer parked on the dock. “That place sells 'em. Do you want one?” He asked, taking another bite.

I quickly found my feet, and contorted in a heartfelt stretch, “Fuckin aye.” I replied.

We both walked over to the trailer, and I picked up a mussel fritter. Once it was ready, we moved over to the edge of the wharf and ate our fritters as the ships moved back and forth throughout the bay.

“Did my boss have a bit of dosh lying in his car?” I asked Mav, gazing off.

“He had more than that. Guys got a whole pound just stuffed under the seats of his Supra. If anyone had stolen that car they would have hit the jackpot.” replied Mav, stuffing the last of his fritter into his mouth.

“Shit, true?” I asked, savouring my late breakfast.

“Yep. Kinda begs the question of whether I jump on the boat, or if I just slang a couple ounces and carry on.” Mav went on, throwing his paper bag into the ocean.

I pulled an expression of distaste, “Literer!” I exclaimed.

“Fuck up. It’s made out of paper you idiot,” replied Mav, wiping his hands on his Fifth day worn T-shirt.

“You’d be surprised. Might have a fine layer of plastic in it.” I argued.

“The oceans already fucked Hunter. One plastic bag ain’t gonna do jack,” replied Mav, stretching his arms, and twisting his back. “I might go for another one, are you keen?” he asked me.

“Yeah, fuck yeah, starving,” I replied.

Mav moved back over to the chip truck and placed his order. He then stepped back as another man went to place his order wearing a Pink Floyd band tee.

Maverick scoped him out, then leant in and asked him something. The man spun around and they got to talking, and then they made their way together to discuss business on the side.

I enjoyed the last of my fritter. It was barely enough to satisfy an ounce of my hunger. I licked my lips in anticipation of the next.

Maverick strolled back over to me and handed me a fritter while he began digging into his own. “C’mon Hunter, let’s go see the bro Marty.”

“Who’s Marty,” I asked, taking a bite and following him along the dock.

“He’s the bro,” said Maverick, shortly.

“Yeah but, who?” I asked again.

“He’s my mate,” Maverick said again, mysteriously.

We walked along a yard of boats, Maverick's head remaining on a swivel, keeping an eye out for what could be his friend's Boat.

After a while, we ended up coming across a boat that Maverick figured may belong to his friend Marty. So he hopped aboard and knocked on the cabin door. It was a sailing boat and spoke the language of Old Money.

An older gentleman must’ve been about 60-odd, with plain white hair and a beard to match poked his head out from the deck below. “Oi!” he exclaimed.

Mav spun around In a jolt, “Shit, sorry mate, just looking for Marty.”

“Marty? Who the bloody hell is that?” The older gentleman spat at him.

“Marty Glover. He’s about 30 and has a beard. Actually…you look like you could be his Dad aye, that’s hilarious.” laughed Mav in disbelief.

“Get the fuck off my boat you drongo, I’ll call the cops.” warned the older gentleman.

“Yeah, alright.” agreed Mav, as he pried himself back up onto the dock, and we continued our walk along.

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“Maybe he’s out at sea?” I asked Mav.

“Nah, he can’t be,” replied Maverick.

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“Because that would make all of this pointless, wouldn’t it.” finished Mav, looking around.

Suddenly Maverick's eyes locked onto a boat from across the yard. His friend Marty was cooking up a storm on his gas cookers. With a brew in hand. Marty raised his BBQ tongs to the sky and clanged them in a greeting.

Maverick raised an arm and began to jog along the pier, headed for Marty’s humble abode.

“Kia Ora, brother.” Greeted Maverick, slapping Marty’s hand.

“How’s it bruv.” Marty returned, keeping an eye on the eggs he was frying. “Keen on a feed?” he asked.

“Oh, I’m sweet bro, just ate,” stated Mav. “This is my brother Hunter.”

“Hey man,” I said, waving my hand.

“Chur bruv,” replied Marty, flipping his eggs.

Marty wore the typical filthy attire of a seasoned fisherman, an old warehouse hoodie, grippy gum boots, some stained sweatpants, and a cigarette pinched between his lips.

He fixed himself a plate of food; two Sandwiches on thick Tuscan Mixed Grain Bread, filled with a generous slither of melted cheese, tomato sauce, streaky bacon strips, and a fried egg.

He removed his sunglasses and began tucking into his meal. “What brings you round these ways?” Marty asked.

“Just got a new Supra. Trying to figure out who I can sell it to. Figured you’re the richest guy I know.” replied Maverick, rubbing his hands together.

“True?” asked Marty, chewing a mouthful.

“Yeah man, that’s right,” replied Mav, eagerly awaiting an answer.

“Wish you would’ve texted or something before coming over, 'cause I’m broke aye. Do you not see the boat I’m in now? My missus took everything.” replied Marty, licking a dripping egg yolk from his sticky bait fingertips.

“Shit, true, I didn’t think about that.” replied Maverick, scratching the back of his head, “What happened there?” he asked further.

“The fuck do you mean what happened there? The old bag got pissed off with me and shacked up with some multi-millionaire down in Queenstown. Had to give her half my shit in the divorce, she took the kids and everything else. I’ve got half a mind to blow my brains out, but instead, I just cook up food and go fishing whenever I want.” slurred Marty.

“Yeah, shit man. Sorry to hear that. I mean, it doesn’t seem so bad…things could be worse.” replied Maverick.

As much as deviled luck could ever strike, a pelican plucked the bacon egg sandwich from Marty’s hands and continued on its flight.

Marty threw a lump of bait at it and cursed abuse in its direction.

Maverick watched as the bird continued to fly into the horizon, and another picked up the floating bait from the ocean bed, “Things'll get better mate, don’t you worry.” he promised, still horizon gazing.

“Yeah, I doubt that, heavily,” replied Marty, knocking back a bite of his sandwich with a glug of beer. “I can say this much to ya. Never loan your Woman, Car, Tools, or Bank Account.Because if you do; It’s a surefire way to poverty.”

I held in my guilty laughter. Luckily Marty didn’t take much notice.

“You fullahs want a beer? I’ve got 'em chilling on ice.” he offered.

Maverick looked at me, I shook my head.

“I’ll have one bro, hard,” Maverick stated.

“Buckets in the cabin,” replied Marty, gesturing Inside.

Maverick moved inside the cabin, I heard him rummaging around.

Marty turned to me, as he chomped back another bite of his sandwich. “You’ve just been kicking it with your bro have ya?” he asked me.

“Yeah, pretty much,” I replied, trying not to visibly show my discomfort regarding the buckets of burley and bait lying around the boat's deck.

“You look a bit straight. What made you decide to hang with him?” asked Marty in a fixed gaze.

“That’s a long story that one. To be honest, I just wanted to hang with Maverick at first, but all this crazy shit has happened…it’s a lot to get into.” I concluded.

Marty nodded and looked down at his sandwich, “Fair enough.” as he took another bite.

Maverick waddled out with a bottle of Speights and twisted off the top. He glugged back a couple of mouthfuls and cheers’d Marty. The old; never below ya, never above ya, always beside ya type of cheers.

The day began to drag on. We were all huddled around the deck, in different seats, under itch blankets, as an inferno sunset began to form.

Mav and Marty were both a few beers deep, none of which seemed to have much of an effect on either. Suddenly Maverick arched his back and leaned in and asked Marty something that I couldn't quite hear, Marty nodded, and the two of them made their way towards the cabin.

I presumed we were heading indoors, since night was beginning to set in and it was getting cold on the water, so I followed after them.

"Nah, nah, Hunter, stay out here," Maverick ordered, beginning to shut the door.

"Get fucked man, it's cold," I replied.

"Just hold up," said Maverick, before shutting the door fully.

I waited outside for a moment, I heard rustling around, then the crunch of a lighter flicking. I didn't smell weed, I smelt nothing. I was pretty certain that they may have been smoking meth. I felt a sick turn in my stomach. The filth that had gathered over my skin the last few days felt extra unpleasant at this moment.

I had never drawn a line in the sand, but it was an instinct that I felt in my very bones; when Maverick smokes crack, I don't wanna stick around for the aftermath.

I didn't have a place to go, and I was in an unfamiliar town on unfamiliar waters. Despite this, I still hopped up onto the docks and made my way back over towards the beach, hopped inside the Navara, which was surprisingly still parked there and crashed out.

I awoke to the tapping of fingerprints on the window, Mav standing there watching me through the glass. He'd somehow acquired a hoodie and was itching and scratching at his face, looking around as if being hunted.

I rolled my window down to hear what he had to say.

"Wha-what are ya up to Hunter, just tell me what you're thinking bro, just tell me, bro, I don't care bro. Straight up I don't care," he muttered in a thick slur.

"I don't wanna be around you bro, get away from me," I replied.

"Ohhh, don't be like that Hunter, was just about to get us both a room down at that hotel down the street." he continued, scratching his arm.

"I don't care, bro, just leave me alone man, I wanna sleep," I replied as I shut my eyes once more.

"You can't say a car seat is as good as one of those Hotel Beds mate, can't tell me that." Insisted Maverick, looking over at a couple walking along a nearby footpath.

I hated to admit it, but he was right on that one. These seats were dreadfully uncomfortable and I wondered if I'd even truly drifted off to sleep or if I'd just clamped my eyes shut in darkness long enough where I had only thought so.

"I'll come back to the Hotel if you let me sleep. I'm not staying up all night with you." I replied.

"Yeah, nah, that's sweet as bro. No worries, I'll let you crash out. Just wanna know you're all good aye bro, that's all families are about aye, bro." He finished.

I rolled my window up, hopped out of the Truck, locked it and began walking with him towards a nearby Hotel.