As fate struck, there was an opening in the following day. We waited around twiddling our thumbs for a few hours, and then finally we were directed on where to park our car aboard the ship.
As the Galant crept along the ship deck, I felt the engine begin to strain and putter out, until it died out altogether.
I tried again and again to get it started, but nothing would work. In the middle of the deck, blocking the traffic behind us, an older gentleman wearing faded Denim jeans, a black hoodie and a worn denim battle jacket helped tow us along to our position.
I thanked him profusely, and we all moved inside the waiting area on board. I decided to go out and get some fresh air, as the ship moved away from the dock in the bay.
I stood and pondered as my eyes drifted to my newly dead car. I hoped that its dying act had been a fluke and that perhaps once we got to Nelson, everything would be alright.
I Had no idea what it could’ve been, perhaps years upon years of service had taken its toll. Either way, it had been a faithful stallion and had seen perhaps every corner of the north island.
I was quite sad to see it sitting there in the loading bay, as I watched it from a seated area; knowing that I may not see it in action ever again. It is what it is.
As I walked from the upper deck of the interislander and moved towards the seated area indoors, it seemed that Maverick had become friendly with the man who had helped tow us aboard.Atleast from what I could overhear.
“Oh, Marshall, this is my brother Hunter. He’s the one that’s been having car troubles. Figures you might know a yarn or two about how to fix it.” Stated Maverick, scratching at his face.
“Maybe, I could do. It’s an older model is it?” Marshall asked me, behind a mop of curly black hair.
“It’s 2005,” I replied, assessing the situation.
Marshall paused and brushed a few lochs of hair aside, “Sheesh, that side of the millennium? Can’t say I know for certain. But I might be able to see what I can do. Names Marshall anyway, kid, and you’re Hunter?” He asked me, outstretching a row of knuckles.
I bumped his knuckles, “Yeah, that’s right. I’m Hunter. It’s no worries man, I just need to get to a mechanic. Shouldn’t be too big of an issue. Cars been through worse.” I started, stretching my arms as we crossed the cook strait.
“Yeah fair. Still, doesn’t charge to let me have a gander at it. I’ll get my mate to look over the engine quickly. We’ll soon enough be able to tell what the problem is.” replied Marshall, dusting off a denim sleeve.
I suddenly caught sight of his denim battle jacket, covered in Band memorabilia and patches, some of which he may have attended and some maybe not. He looked like a wild character. One I may not indeed wish to know.
“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, taking a seat next to Mav.
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“Marshall was just telling me he’s on his way to a festival in Nelson,” added Maverick, directing his attention towards Marshall himself.
“Yeah, that’s right. A bunch of hippies and other rave fairies.” laughed Marshall. “Me, personally, I barely touch the stuff. Not really my cup of tea, nowadays. That being said, I tend to dabble in DMT from time to time.”
My jaw dropped, “DMT? That’s that crazy psychedelic dreams are made of right? Literally.”
“Yeah that’s right Hunter, you’d be right on that. I smoke a lazy bowl of it maybe once every couple of weeks. Not enough to blast off or anything, but just to make sure the shit I’m selling is top-notch. I make it from this bark I import.” Marshall explained, checking a notification on his flip phone.
“I can tell you’re legit from that flip phone you’ve got for yourself there.” Noted Maverick, in a spiralling descent of madness.
“Fuckin’ oath. You’ve gotta get yourself one of these bad boys. Just snap 'em once you’re done and you’re out. I don’t toy around with those smartphones aye. The ones with the cameras and microphones on both sides. You’re just asking for trouble.” He stated, patting down his battle jacket pockets, “Speaking of which, now that we’re out of the 5g ranges do you wanna have a puff on this spliff with me? I’m hanging for a toke.” Marshall asked, presenting a large doobie.
I saw Maverick suddenly perk up, consider, and then wave his hand, “I don’t smoke anymore bro. But I’d be keen to chop up shop on the deck.”
“Yeah, alright. How about you Hunter, do you smoke?” He asked me.
I knew the answer but I added some time for sociable reason, “Nah mate, I’m all good.”
Marshall nodded his head in disapproval, “Yeah alright. Suits yourself.” Shoved the doobie into his mouth, and made his way towards the upper decks.
I figured Maverick wanted his privacy, so I started to get comfy In my seat. But Maverick grabbed me by the collar and insisted that I come with. So I did.
Marshall raised the black hood underneath his denim battle jacket and lit up his doob. Maverick joined his side by the railing, and I stood behind him.
“Yeah, I’ve got myself a bit of an Op going on inside that old bus aye.” Laughed Marshall.
“True? Grow op?” asked Maverick.
Marshall swayed his head from side to side, “Sort of…I make everything. Except for Crack and heroin. Mostly Acid.” he replied.
“And you sell it to the hippies at trippy festivals?” Maverick asked.
“That’s exactly right man. The only reason I tell both of you is because, well, I can tell you’re pretty lit yourself man.” Marshall explained with a following laugh.
Maverick didn’t deny these allegations. And I remained silent, like a wood post.
“I’m not judging man, I’ve had my phases. But I tell you man these hippies eat the ‘cid up like hotcakes. This time of year I’d usually be selling mushrooms. But my connection up north happened to get an extra shipment of acid, so I’ve been working my way down peddling this stuff. The reason I ask is that you two look like you might be in a bit of trouble, and maybe in some need of assistance.” Marshall droned on.
Maverick shrugged his shoulders, “What’s the go?” He asked.
Marshall hit a drag of his doob once more, “I want you to help me unload this stuff at the festival. And I’ll get your brother's car up and running.”
Maverick looked at me, read my blank expression and relayed his own intention to Marshall, “How much are we talking?”
Marshall laughed, “I’ve got sheets upon sheets of the stuff.”
Maverick nodded, his eyes never blinking. “I’ve never sold that before.”
Marshall patted Maverick's shoulder, “It’s easy as anything. You just go up to a group of knotheads and ask them if they’re after any double-dipped 500ug Acid. They’ll be eating out of your palm for as long as you’ll feed it to them.”
Maverick thought this over in his mind, I could see him visualising the stacks in his mind. “How much do I need to flip?” he asked him.
“A sheet for the car, anything more we split fifty-fifty.” replied Marshall, toking on his doob, “deal?” he asked.
Maverick nodded in a daze of confusion, I could see that the hours had stacked over him, “I think you’ve got yourself that deal, yup.” he replied.
“That’s what I like to hear,” replied Marshall, flicking the roach to the birds. “Easiest few thousand you’ll ever make, I’ll tell you that much.” He finished, making his way back inside.
Suddenly Marshall turned to face me. As if realising that I was still there, “Are you on the roll, Hunter.” He asked me.
I felt the space for which I could decline had shrunk. And I could only say yes. So I replied with, “Yeah, that sounds good.” and gave Marshall a row of knuckles before he left for inside.