And De Fun Don't Done (21 page)

‘Not much,' shrugged Nadine. ‘What about you? How's your goofy buddy?'

‘Me?' Norton tossed back his head. ‘Christ! You wouldn't believe what's been happening to this poor lost tourist.'

‘Well, why don't you tell us about it?' said Lori.

‘Okay,' nodded Les. ‘But only on two conditions.'

‘What's that?'

‘We move round the bar a little, so I can sit my big Khyber down. And you let me buy you both a drink.'

Nadine winked at her cousin. ‘Sounds fine by me.'

Lori winked back at her cousin then smiled up at Les. ‘Me too.'

There was an empty bar stool next to Lori, so they wriggled round the corner a bit, away from the people walking past, and Les sat down. After a quick consultation he ordered three margaritas. When they arrived the barmaid smiled and shook her head; Les gave her ten dollars anyway and left some more money on the bar. After that the drinks just kept flowing. Les paid for some, some were on the house and it was almost a repeat of Friday night, only better. Les told them some more about
Hank and what a wombat he was, about meeting Laverne and moving into the condominium, even about Joey the limo driver and giving him the twenty dollars. Les cracked jokes while the girls laughed and got drunk. Lori said how she'd been training with the circus and suggested Les come down and get up on the trapeze; he'd probably look good in a pair of satin tights. Les said he'd rather stick his head in a lion's mouth, if they could find a lion with a mouth big enough. Nadine said the only training she'd been doing was chasing her two horrible kids round the house with a baseball bat. They got even drunker, the band came on and started playing quite a few Australian songs in with the others. Les said if the girls didn't have a dance with him now and again he'd sit at the bar and sing the lyrics. After three bars of Norton murdering ‘Beds Are Burning' Lori and Nadine took it in turns dancing while the other watched their bags and seats. The night was a hoot.

Before long they were all starting to roar. Harris and Otis would walk past now and again; they wouldn't say anything, just look at Les, shake their heads and smile. Well, how good's this? thought Norton. The band had taken another break and Les was sucking on another margarita while the DJ played some more disco when he noticed Nadine looking at her watch every now and again. Hello, he thought to himself again, this time not quite as pleased. Here it comes. The old wind up. Time to go home to the kids. Goodnight, Les. Thanks for a wonderful time. We'll probably see you up here again. Oh well, not to worry. It's still been a top night, and I'm here for another three weeks yet. Despite being a trifle disappointed Norton kept smiling.

‘Well, Les, you sweet gorgeous thing,' slurred Nadine, ‘I have to go.'

Norton gave her an understanding smile. ‘I can appreciate that Nadine, my sweet little sugar glider. It wouldn't look too good those poor kids of yours wondering where their mother is, and she bowls in pissed out of her brain on cheap tequila.'

‘It's not quite… like that,' hiccuped Nadine.

Les was going to say something else when one of the girls he'd seen earlier in the nurse's uniform selling shots walked up carrying a handbag and a set of keys. Although she was wearing jeans and a Club BandBox T-shirt there was no mistaking the pixie blonde face.

‘You ready, Nadine?' she asked. ‘If you can stand up.'

Nadine rocked to her feet and picked up her handbag. ‘It's all his fault. He's a bad influence.'

‘Gee. And all the time I thought I was being a good bloke.'

‘I'll see you when you get home, Lori.' Nadine smiled at the look on Norton's face. ‘It's alright, Les. I'm getting a lift home with Lilla. She finishes her shift early on Sunday night.' The nurse smiled briefly at Les as if she was tired and keen to get home. ‘So I'm leaving my cousin with you.'

Norton turned to Lori. ‘You're not…?'

Lori shrugged. ‘Not unless you want me to?'

‘So you look after her, Mr Les Norton from Australia. Now where did you say you live again?'

‘Where do I live? Shit!' Les had to think for a moment. Then like a big, silly, honest kid he pulled a piece of paper out of his jeans, unfolded it and put it on the bar. ‘There it is. Mum wrote it out for me before I left. I was supposed to pin it on my shirt.'

Nadine blinked at it for a second or two then kissed Les on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Les. I'll… see you after, Lori.'

‘See you, Nadine. Night, Lilla.'

Lori's cousin gave them one last boozy smile before her girlfriend dragged her away and they were gone, leaving Norton and Lori to work out the rest of the night between them. As well as not being able to believe his luck again, Les felt great; drunk but not in the least bit tired. That training on the bike and in the pool, getting rid of Hank, and a sound sleep in the afternoon washed down with about 2000 margaritas and other mixed drinks had him jumping out of his skin. And he remembered Lori saying she'd been training hard with the circus too. The way she
hit the dancefloor and glistened, Les didn't doubt her. This could be a very interesting evening, with a little more luck. He moved his stool a little closer and took her hand.

‘Well. Here we are, Lori, me old mate,' he said, looking deeply into her eyes. ‘Drunk again.'

The beautiful trapeze artist nodded. ‘I'd go along with that.'

‘It's your cousin's fault. Christ! I thought I could put them away. She leaves me for dead.'

‘Nadine. When that girl gets a roll on — stand back. But, God! I can't remember the last time I saw her laugh so much.'

‘Yeah. Well, it costs you nothing to laugh. That's what I always say.'

‘That's… a pretty good saying.'

‘Would you like another drink?'

Lori gave Les a solid slap on the arm. ‘My bloody oath. Isn't that another one of your Australian sayings?'

‘Close enough, mate,' smiled Les.

Norton was about to order when he heard a horribly familiar voice from just behind him.

‘So how's it going?'

Norton looked around and couldn't believe his eyes. It was Hank. He looked half full of ink, his eyes were spinning around as usual and being half tidy he'd somehow managed to get in. No matter what he looked like he was the last person on earth Norton wanted to see.

‘What do you want?' Norton was incredulous.

Hank took a drag on his cigarette. ‘I figured you'd be in here. I was driving past so I thought I'd call in, have a drink with you.'

Les groaned and shook his head. ‘Ohh, thanks.'

Lori seemed to wake what was going on. She gave Hank a boozy once up and down then turned to Les. ‘This isn't…?'

Norton jerked his thumb towards Captain Rats. ‘Yeah. This is Hank.'

Lori didn't bother to introduce herself. She just stared at Hank. ‘You're not the jerk went diving and all the crap hit him in the face?'

‘Yep. That's Hank.'

Lori started to crack up on her bar stool, Hank's eyes spun around and sitting next to her Les started laughing too. However, underneath, Les felt like grabbing Hank by the throat and choking him. He couldn't believe the mug turning up here. Not that there was much chance of him stuffing Norton's night up, but you could bet he'd hang around like a bad smell and do his best. And Les thought he'd got rid of him. Again he was in a no-win situation, because if he belted Hank he'd probably make a dill of himself in front of Lori and everybody else. But as Les sat there an idea formed in his evil mind. There just might be another way of doing this. If a couple of cool cats were as hip as Les hoped they were. In the meantime, just suck Hank in and bag the shit out of him. That would be fun, no matter what. Lori brought her head up off the bar and Les ordered two more margaritas and a beer for Hank.

‘There you are, knackers,' said Les, pointing to it on the bar. ‘Get into that. And while you're at it, tell Lori how you like riding your bike on the beach. Martin Vinnicombe.'

Lori spluttered into her drink. ‘Ohh yeah. Tell me all about your Italian racer.'

After that it was just rubbish Hank night; Les had given Lori plenty of ammunition earlier and being a woman she didn't need any help firing it. Hank just stood there and copped it, eyes spinning as he dragged on his cigarettes and beer. The more they poked shit at him the more he copped it, in silence. Les knew he was a glutton for punishment, but this was completely absurd. Lori even offered to light one of Hank's cigarettes, but she'd lost her Italian racing cigarette lighter. Plus, she didn't smoke. Nevertheless, even though it was priceless bagging Hank, Les was still wishing him to the shithouse. Finally after all the non-stop laughing, Lori put her hand on Norton's leg.

‘I have to go powder my nose.'

‘I think I understand,' winked Norton.

Lori headed for the Ladies, leaving Hank standing next to Les like the proverbial stale bottle of piss. Les stared at him but didn't feel at all like getting a mag going. Suddenly one of the wooden cogs inside Hank's empty head seemed to click into gear. He put his beer on the bar.

‘I'm going to the John.'

As usual, Hank turned and abruptly disappeared into the crowd. Les watched him sourly for a second or two then caught the bargirl's eye and asked her if she'd mind keeping an eye on their seats and the money for a minute. No sooner had she said yes than Les got up and walked out to the foyer. Harris was talking to his brother and noticed the look in Norton's eye when he walked over. Now it was the big Queenslander's turn to put his arms around someone's shoulders and play Arthur Daley.

‘Listen, do you blokes reckon you could do an old mate a bit of a favour?'

Harris and his brother were very understanding, they were also quite amused at Norton's request, and Harris was impressed too when Les discreetly slipped him a hundred dollars. He was back on his seat, getting into his drink, when Lori returned and sat back down. She picked up her drink and they clinked glasses.

‘So what do you think of Hank?' asked Les.

‘My God! What a jerk. And you let that moron stay at your house back in Australia?'

‘Yeah,' nodded Les. ‘Dunno bloody how. Anyway, when he comes back just humour the poor mug. I reckon he'll hit the toe soon.'

‘Hit the toe?'

‘Yeah. Shoot through like a Bondi.'

‘Bondi?' Lori looked even more confused. ‘Isn't that where you live?'

Les smiled and patted her on the leg. ‘Don't worry about it, Lori. It's all sweet.'

Well, I suppose it costs you nothing to be nice, thought Norton, as he watched Hank arrive back from the toilet. He stood more or less between Les and Lori with his back to the dancefloor below, lit another cigarette and took a
mouthful of beer. Lori was shaking her head slightly as she looked at him.

‘So where did you go earlier?' asked Les, his voice dripping with false mateship.

Hank shrugged. ‘I had things to do,' he drawled. ‘Went to a club out on Bennington. Saw a blues band.'

Yeah, I bet you did, thought Norton. ‘Alright, was it? Did you have a good time?'

‘Yeah. It was neat.'

Lori gave Hank a boozy once up and down. ‘Hey, Hank baby. Did you meet any nice — sheilas — out there?'

Les shook his head as he watched her cackling into her drink. Shit! Just what have I started here? he thought.

Lori ripped a few more into Hank, while he stood there in silence sucking on his cigarette and another beer Les bought him. The wooden cogs inside his peanut mind seemed to be grinding around as if he was searching for the perfect squelch to demolish both Les and Lori for all time. Before he had a chance to get it out, an hispanic-looking couple walked past. The man was wearing black pleated trousers and a silver shirt and looked hard as a rock; with his broken nose and the scar tissue around his eyes he reminded Les of the two Mexican lightweight boxers he'd seen on TV earlier. His girlfriend had flashing dark eyes and teased black hair over a whippy figure squeezed into Levis and an orange T-shirt cut low in the front. She was walking ahead and as she went past Hank she made sure she bumped him hard enough to spill his beer; some on her, most of it on him. Captain Rats's eyes went spare. He glared angrily at the beer on his shirt then at the girl.

‘You goddamn stupid bitch,' he howled.

‘Hey, what's it with you, asqueroso? You did it.' The girl glared back at Hank as she wiped a few drops of beer from her T-shirt.

‘I did it?' Hank howled even louder. ‘Why, you dopey fuckin' whore…'

The boyfriend kind of glided in between them. ‘Hey, cateto. You don't talk to my woman like that.'

‘Fuck your broad. And fuck you too, you celery- picking sonofabitch.'

‘And fuck you too — gringo.'

That's when Les knew the man was a fighter. The boyfriend dropped slightly and came up with a left hook, as only Mexican boxers can, that hit Hank right under the ear. Poor Hank's knees went, his arms flew back and the look of utter disbelief on his face suggested it was probably the first time anyone had ever given him a well- deserved smack in the mouth. Before Hank had time to drop or do anything, the boyfriend doubled up with another left hook. This one landed flush on Hank's nose, hard enough to knock him back over the railing and down into the punters on the dancefloor. Which wasn't quite according to plan.

Les had gone over to ‘his old mate' Harris and told him that the mug from the other night was in here annoying him and he wanted him thrown out, discreetly but painfully, and the more things that got bruised and broken the better. Les knew they couldn't really do it, but the lazy hundred bucks would soon find someone in the crowd that could. In a free enterprise country like America, cash and the right connections can get you just about anything. So they'd organised for one of Otis's boxer pals, who needed a dollar, to give Hank a rather severe slap. They'd then come over, pick up Boofhead and toss him out, making sure he got a few more bruises as they did. That was the idea anyway, but the little Mexican had a punch like a kick from a mule.