“Would you like me to make you some toast for breakfast?” His mother asked.
“Yes please.”
“Jam? Honey? Vegemite?”
“Honey.”
Mark sighed. “He’s twenty years old, Jenny, I think Levi can make his own breakfast.”
“A boy’s never too old to have his mother make his breakfast,” she said, standing up. “Besides, you’re forty-five and I made you your breakfast this morning.”
“Touché my dear.” Mark picked up his newspaper again and continued reading.
Whenever all three of them were in the same room there was a slight air of tension that Levi’s mum had to manage like she was brokering a weapons deal with Iran. Mark was not a fan of Levi, and while he would never outright say he hated him, Levi knew his stepfather did. Even though his mum and stepfather had been married for seven years, and Mark had been the only father figure in Levi’s life since he was thirteen, the bond between stepfather and stepson had never grown into a warm one. Mark already had a son to his first wife, and he didn’t want to care for another. Especially one who wasn’t blood.
Still, Levi was smart enough to know not to bite the hand that fed him. At least not too hard. He could be a spoilt brat all he liked provided he didn’t overly step the mark. Mark was an arsehole, no two ways about it, but there was more than one kind of arsehole in this world and Mark wasn’t the worst. He was a pompous, rude and up-himself arsehole but he wasn’t a violent arsehole like Levi’s real father had been. Given the choice, Levi would choose life with Mark Candy over Barry Buttwell any day of the week.
A marriage between a broke single mother and a recently-divorced millionaire was always going to be fertile ground for gossip and vicious whispers of gold digging. These whispers weren’t wrong. Levi didn’t doubt that his mother loved Mark in her own way, but she loved his money and the security it provided more.
And what was Mark’s motive for rushing into a union with a broke solo mother? Sex. Despite the man being an uptight, conservative fucktard, he wasn’t immune to the weakness all men suffer from—thinking with their cock. And that is exactly what he had done when he decided to pursue Levi’s mum, who even now in her early forties—and with the help of a little makeup—could give women half her age a run for their money in the looks department.
Levi’s mum brought him over a plate of toast absolutely smothered in mānuka honey. He wasted no time digging into the meal, letting it soak up the booze from last night that was swirling in his stomach.
“Oh dear, not again,” Mark said sourly.
“What’s that?” Levi’s mother asked, staring at her husband.
“They’ve had another smash ‘n grab at a dairy again. Police say it’s the third one this month, and this time the owner was actually inside when they ran the car into the wall and he was left with a broken leg.”
Levi’s mum shook her head. “That is shocking. Which dairy was it? Do they say?”
“Coronation Avenue. Police say they’re seeking anyone who has spotted a maroon-coloured Toyota Ute.”
“So they literally drove into the dairy and then drove off?” Levi’s mother asked in shock.
“Yes, darling. I think that’s how a smash ‘n grab goes.” Mark tut-tutted sanctimoniously. “It is absolutely despicable what some people do.”
“Maybe if the government didn’t keep increasing the price of cigarettes then people wouldn’t go stealing them,” Levi said, dropping this in like an afterthought to the conversation.
Mark glared at him. “Maybe if filthy smokers like yourself learnt some self-control to kick the habit and stopped costing our healthcare system millions of dollars, we wouldn’t have criminals resorting to this kind of bullshit that hurts innocent people.”
“Language,” Levi said cheekily.
“I think I can say the word bullshit in my own house, Levi.”
“It’s my home too, isn’t it?”
Mark tilted his head smugly. “Anytime you would like to be a real man and get a job and start paying the mortgage then by all means you can call this your house.”
“Stop it you two,” Levi’s mum interjected. “I don’t need you both squabbling and bringing me down before I go to the temple.”
The temple wasn’t a temple at all, just some oversized dwelling on a plot of land that attendees referred to as The Community. It was run by Johan Niemand, a former science teacher turned self-confessed guru and mystical healer. He had transformed his home and lifestyle block into a spiritual retreat where wealthy locals like Levi’s mother could go to pray, meditate and do whatever the hell it was they did.
Levi’s mum had discovered the new age hangout six months ago, and since then had dedicated all her spare time to going along and helping Johan and the other followers develop what they considered paradise on earth.
“Just remember, Jenny, if they give you a glass of Kool-Aid, please don’t drink it,” Mark said.
Levi suppressed a laugh, not wanting to annoy his mother and not wanting his stepfather to think he found him funny. Secretly he agreed with Mark’s disdain for Johan’s community.
“I wish you wouldn’t make fun of my beliefs,” she said. “It would be great if you both came with me and checked it out for yourselves. It would do you the world of good to experience the tranquillity and peace out there.”
“My wife and money already spend enough time there without me needing to go,” Mark said with a smirk.
Levi’s mum playfully whacked her husband’s shoulder. “Watch it, bozo.” She giggled and stood up and gave Mark a kiss on the cheek. “Anyway, I shouldn’t be too long. An hour or two at the most.” She waved goodbye and walked out of the kitchen, heading towards her date with spirituality.
Mark stood up and started doing lunges, stretching his hairy legs in his skimpy running shorts. “Right, it’s time for me to go get this six pack I’ve always wanted.”
“You’ve been running ever since I met you, if it hasn’t helped give you abs yet then I don’t think it’s gonna happen.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.” Mark patted his stomach. “I’m not in that bad shape for a guy my age.”
“True, but guys your age are too old to have abs.”
Mark laughed. “I’d like to see what you look like when you get to my age with all the junk food you eat. I can guarantee you won’t look half as good as me.”
“I can eat what I like and never put on weight.” Levi took a big bite of his toast, munching loudly.
“That’s called youth, Levi, and it runs out eventually.” Mark eyed Levi’s physique. “You could actually do with beefing up a little, no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend.”
“You make it sound like I look hideous and we both know I’m not. And as for me not having a girlfriend? That’s because I choose to be single.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep. Love is for the weak.”
“Dear god. You’re barely into your twenties and you’re already a bitter old man.”
“I think the word you are looking for is wise.”
Mark changed stretching moves, grabbing his left foot and tugging it up behind his butt. “I for one am a great believer in love, which must mean I am the weakest of them all.”
“You ain’t wrong there, Usain Bolt.”
Mark switched feet, stretching his other leg. His blue eyes began to narrow and he put on his nagging face. Levi sat and waited for the impending moan to come. “Just in case I don’t see you before I get back,” he started, “I wanted to ask you to please make an attempt at cleaning your room before you go away for the weekend. We have Lynn coming tomorrow and I don’t pay her enough to expect her to sort through your disgusting bedroom.” He sighed loudly. “You should be old enough to know how to put your own manky socks in the laundry basket, and bring your dirty dishes down to put in the dishwasher. Your room is an absolute pig sty, Levi.”