Dream City: City Limit

By RJ Smith

In a nameless harbour city, James Mathers is a 30 year-old intellectual property lawyer who appears to have it all. But James is unsettled inside, having realised the prestige attached to his job is all an illusion.

 

When James discovers his girlfriend is cheating on him, he takes a room at the Dream City casino, a city within a city where a new logic seems to rule. At the Dream, James encounters Anton, a brilliant former classmate expelled in the tenth grade.

 

With Anton, James travels into the Dream's dark heart, and is soon unable to distinguish the stakes of the gaming lounge from those of the supposedly real world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: RJ Smith
• Release date: Jul 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781393966494

RJ Smith

RJ Smith is an Austrialian writer living in France. 

Book preview

1

Thursday means two things. It means he’ll be back late dealing with requests from his clients in Tokyo. And it means he’ll go to Rob’s once he is done and blow off some serious steam. Tomorrow he’ll be busy with follow-ups before the weekend. But feeling like shit once a week gives him the illusion of control. The sense that, while the firm controls his actions while he’s within its four walls, he controls his mind.

‘James,’ a voice calls from the hallway.

Trevor is at the doorway, his arms spread out in a what-the-fuck gesture. James had been staring out the window. Mouth agape. Eyes vacant. He knows the city like the back of his hand. But he never tires of studying its colours and angles and contours and the way the land rolls into the sea.

‘Jan’s office. Coming?’

James had forgotten about the meeting. He keeps a straight face. Always act natural. Show no emotion. Especially if you fuck something up. That was the second piece of advice he was given upon arrival at the firm five years earlier.

‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Let’s go.’

He picks up a notepad and follows Trevor, his palms sweating as they walk through the hallway adorned with tasteful contemporary art.

‘Gentlemen,’ Jan says. ‘Take a seat.’

Ted and Michelle, the contract lawyers, purse their lips while James and Trevor shuffle into their places to the right of the mahogany desk.

Jan has received a fresh discovery order, and explains what she wants from the four associates for the next phase of the case.

The case. That cursed, interminable Yamuka. Jan has dragged it out for the last two years. It’s a not a bad strategy. Yamuka has no chance of winning in court. And the longer preparations take, the more likely the other side is to settle to avoid more eye-watering lawyer fees. The fact that the case is making the firm rich is in Jan’s mind a happy coincidence.

‘We’ll need that before close of play,’ Jan concludes. ‘Any questions?’

James and Trevor’s eyes meet. James knows they’re thinking the same thing. Neither says anything. Jan hasn’t mentioned Michael’s disappearance since it happened, which James takes as a signal to leave the matter alone. The practice of law is knowing when to keep your mouth shut. That was the first piece of advice he was given upon arrival at Hunter Fielding.

*

In the evening his thoughts are foggy, his eyes sore. Yet he has no desire to go home. Work sucks the life out of him. And only living, not sleep, will return him to equilibrium.

He emails Jan his file and walks to her office, motions he has gone through so many times he forgets Jan is one of the most powerful players in the firm.

She is on the phone to her husband when James arrives, her room dark except for the computer screen which throws white light onto her face, giving her a saintly, ghostlike aura.

Jan waves him inside. James sits in front of her and tries to look both focussed and distracted while she carries on her conversation.

‘Sorry about that,’ Jan says and hangs up the phone. ‘Let’s have a look here.’

She puts on her reading glasses. The light from the screen shines brighter on her face as she scrolls through the file.

‘All right,’ Jan says. ‘This looks fine.’

James returns to his office, picks up the phone and tells the night receptionist to order him a taxi.

Arriving outside a minute later, a platinum service cab is waiting to pick him up.

‘Two fifty Gibbs Street,’ James says.

The car takes off.

‘Long day, boss?’ the driver says, looking at James through the rear-vision mirror. The driver has a thick moustache and wears a pressed suit and flat cap.

‘Sure was.’

‘What’s that up there, a law firm?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Nice building. My son wants to be a lawyer.’

James wants to say something encouraging, but doesn’t have the energy to lie.

‘Not many people out,’ he says instead.

‘New government rules. No going out after midnight. It’s dark days for cabbies.’

The car stops outside Rob’s apartment block.

‘Have a good night,’ James says.

He opens the door and steps onto the footpath.

‘Take care boss.’

James rings Rob’s apartment. The security door struggles open against the force of the wind, which eddies and whistles through the empty lobby.

Rob’s door on the tenth floor is ajar, a chorus of voices audible from inside. James greets the faces in the crowd and walks onto the terrace. Rob appears a minute later with two beers.

James draws on his cigarette, the mild chill of the early October air caressing his face and arms.

‘How’s Yamuka?’ Rob says.

‘Don’t ask.’

‘Any sign of Michael?’

‘None. We’re getting slammed.’

Rob works for a partner in the real estate team who is known for his generosity, a fact James is reminded of every time he looks at Rob’s face. He has the same mischievous smile James remembers from their first year of law school. As though everything were curious and amusing. A permanent, child-like wonderment.

‘I’ve gotta take a leak,’ James says and stubs out his cigarette.

‘You know where to go. There’s a surprise in there for you.’

These are the words James has been waiting for. He leaves his empty bottle on the marble benchtop and steals through the crowd.

He peers over his shoulder while he stands at the toilet relieving himself. A plate sits on the cabinet above the sink. The razor and silver straw reflect rays from the vanity light above.

James sits on the edge of the bathtub, separates a small segment of the powder, leans forward and snorts half a line with his left nostril, the other half with his right.

Little by little the guests leave, until James and Rob are the only ones left in the apartment. The plate is between them, the silent tableau comforting and familiar.

Rob is talking about the firm again.

‘Do you think you’ll ever leave?’ James says, strokes of crimson painting the morning sky.

‘Not any time soon. I’ve got a mortgage to repay.’

‘Fair enough.’ 

‘How about you?’ Rob says.

James looks up at him.

‘Any plans to buy?’

James shakes his head. Time to go home.

2 

James is on his second espresso, staring at two hands that don’t feel like his own, wondering what he can say to Anna to smooth things over.

He arrived home at 6 am and passed out on the couch. When his alarm went off at 8.30, Anna was gone.

They usually catch the bus together on Friday mornings. Anna might have gone to the gym or had an early meeting. Or maybe she’s just disgusted by the sight of him, and doesn’t want to hear his excuses.

James’ thumbs hover over his phone, his tired face staring back at him on the shiny black surface.

––––––––

Sorry about last night

––––––––

Finished late and didn’t want to wake you

––––––––

How does that new Japanese place sound tonight?

––––––––

We’ve been meaning to go for ages!

––––––––

Mel from work having bday drinks

––––––––

Won’t be too late xxx

––––––––

Kisses. She isn’t mad. And he won’t have to go out in his current state. It is basically the perfect outcome.

The weight of dread is lifted. James feels light and giggly and above all empty, having been unable to stomach anything but coffee all morning.

He calls reception and orders another. A cappuccino this time. And a croissant to go with it.

Italian coffee. French pastry. Ocean views. Things aren’t so bad. Jan was even in a good mood when she summoned him to her office at 10 am. She’d received positive feedback from the clients about his work, and gave him an unusually small list of tasks to complete before the end of the day. He’ll get out by seven. Maybe six.

*

Jan appears at his door. James jolts upright from the slovenly position he’d sunken into.

‘Hi Jan,’ he says.

‘I’m out for the weekend,’ she says. ‘Send those documents over before you go.’

Way ahead of you, James thinks, but simply says: ‘No worries.’

James gives Jan a few minutes to leave the building, types the email and saves it as a draft to send from his phone once he gets home.

Outside, the sun is shining. James inhales the city air, feeling like a convict fresh on the streets from hard time.

On the North Shore Bridge, the city drifts into the distance in the taxi’s rear-view mirror, the light of the setting sun bouncing off the steel and glass edifices on the north side of the harbour. 

In his apartment, everything is as James left it. The blanket crumpled on the couch. A reminder of his state the night before. Everything else in order.

James switches on the television. A well-groomed reporter discusses assaults on city streets, his tone one of righteous disgust.

James picks up his phone and scrolls through a food delivery app, eventually settling on a gourmet burger and fries.

*

The next thing he knows it is morning. There are scraps of food on the table in front of him. Beams of light from the half open blinds stripe the room. The blanket pulled over him as it was twenty-four hours ago.

He struggles to his feet. In the bedroom, Anna is sleeping peacefully. James strips off his clothes, and Anna doesn’t stir as he climbs into bed beside her.

When he awakes he is alone, the sound of small bottles opening and closing the only sign of life in the apartment.

Anna enters the room.

‘Good morning,’ James says.

‘Hi,’ she replies, clipping in an earring.

‘Going somewhere?’

She looks at him blankly.

‘Rochelle’s baby shower, remember?’

Anna told him about an outing with the girls several months ago. She has a habit of telling him about events so far in advance it seems they will never happen. Then when they do it is his fault for not remembering.

‘That’s right,’ he says. ‘You’ll be back tonight though, right?’

She shoots him the same reproachful look.

‘Tomorrow night,’ she says and pulls on a floral dress James has never seen before.

He rolls onto his back and stares at a mark on the ceiling.

‘I guess I forgot,’ he says, and hates how feeble he sounds. ‘We’ll have to go for dinner tomorrow night.’

‘Sure,’ Anna says, pulling on her shoes. ‘I’ve got to go.’ She kisses him on the cheek. ‘Don’t look so sad. It’s only twenty-four hours.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ James says and forces a smile.

‘I’ll text you when I get there.’

Anna rushes into the living room, picks up her overnight bag and shuts the door on her way out.

*

James sleeps all day, finally migrating from bed to the couch as the sun begins to set.

On television Wests are playing Norths. The team of his youth versus the team of his well-heeled neighbours.

At full-time, he orders a cab.

‘Watch the game, chief?’ the driver says once James has climbed in.

‘Just turned it off.’

‘Better luck next time,’ the driver says with a broad smile. The comment catches James off guard. ‘Don’t get upset mate,’ the driver says, still with the provocative grin. ‘You’ve got the Bullets next week. Even Norths can beat the Bullets!’ The man lets out a high-pitched laugh.

‘No, I’m not—’ James starts. The man waits for him to go on. ‘Never mind.’

On the bridge, the city takes a new aspect. Before the lights of the buildings reminded him of his office. Now they tell him he is free and everything is possible, like stars in an uncharted expanse.

James leans back, the steel beams above the car racing by his field of vision.

On Henry Street, tourists and drunks stalk the streets like stray cats. Punters line up to get some more beers in before the trains stop running and the taps run dry.

The taxi traverses the dimly lit tunnel at Central Station, turns onto Gibbs Street and stops at the base of Rob’s building.

‘That’ll be twenty-eight dollars,’ the driver says.

James hands him thirty. ‘Keep the change,’ he says.

‘Good luck next week,’ the driver says, his laughter still audible several steps from the car.

Arriving in the apartment, leftovers are cooling on the counter from the meal Rob has just cooked his parents. There is no other sign anyone was there.

James pictures the empty takeaway boxes and beer bottles scattered around his own living room. Part of him envies how together Rob is. But James also has the sense that, while Rob’s future is all laid out for him, some mystery, at least, surrounds his own.

‘Roast beef,’ he says as Rob pulls two beers out of the fridge. ‘A lawyer and you can cook. Your parents must be proud.’

‘My brother’s a partner. Lives on the harbour. I’m hardly the golden boy.’

‘Your brother’s a bit of a wanker,’ James says.

‘A rich wanker.’

‘You will be one day, too. Rich, I mean.’

‘I’m not so sure. I have certain expenses my brother doesn’t have. He doesn’t even drink.’

‘He must be the only teetotal lawyer in town.’

Rob hands James one of the beers.

‘Cheers,’ they say.

Everything goes silent while the two lawyers take a sip. James rarely sees Rob on weekends. Rob is his mid-week enabler, their encounters mediated by cocaine and the throes of the work week.

‘Haven’t seen you in casual clothes for a while,’ Rob says, as if reading James’ mind. ‘Where’s Anna?’

‘Away for the weekend.’

‘You’re a free man.’

‘I slept most of the day. Got up and watched the footy. I can’t remember the last time I did that. It was amazing.’

‘I spend most of my free time trying to find a girlfriend. The grass is always greener.’

On their second beer, Rob disappears into his bedroom.

‘Here we are,’ he says, arriving