And De Fun Don't Done (25 page)

‘To tell you the truth, things are going pretty good. What about yourself?'

Lori the Texan didn't mind a chat. She filled Les in on life on the marina, aerobics, a part-time job she had at a movie theatre, etc, etc. Les told her he'd moved into a condo, he hadn't bought any horses yet, he was hiring a car tomorrow, America was great and he was looking forward to seeing some more of it.

‘So anyway, Lori, I should have this car tomorrow. I was wondering if you're doing nothing tomorrow night, would you like to come out with me? Have a nice meal, show me around Siestasota? Anything you like. What do you reckon?'

‘I reckon that sounds like a great idea, Les. I ain't got nothing on tomorrow.'

‘Okay. I'll call over. Give me your address, I'll get over there alright. I got a map.'

Lori seemed to think for a moment. ‘Listen, Les. I think it might be best if I came and got you. Besides, don't you aussies drive on the wrong side of the road?'

‘No, we don't. You do.'

‘I'll still come and get you though.' Lori seemed definite about this.

‘Well, okay. If that's alright by you?'

‘Manatee's not far from here. Then maybe we can go out in your car. At least this way I know I'm going to get home in one piece.'

‘I take that as an insult,' sniffed Norton. ‘But okay. If you insist.'

Les wasn't going to argue; it couldn't be creamier. He gave Lori his phone number and address, chatted on for a while longer then said he'd see her around eight-thirty tomorrow night. Both parties were looking forward to it.

Well there you go, smiled Les, rubbing his hands together after he'd hung up. A nice night out with a nice-
looking girl, a good feed somewhere, then see if I can drag ‘the whacko from Waco' back here. Back here? She's gotta come back here to either pick up her car or drop me off. Then it's up to the old Norton charm. Les winked at himself in one of the wall mirrors. Go get 'em, killer. Les poured himself another glass of orange juice and was once again contemplating his luck when there was a knock on the door. He took a sip then answered it.

‘Hello,' he said cheerfully. ‘You must be from the Salvation Army. Just a moment and I'll get you something.'

‘Hi, Les,' said Laverne. ‘How are you?'

‘Couldn't be creamier,' beamed Norton. ‘Won't you come in?'

‘Les,' said Laverne, as Norton closed the door, ‘this is Ricco.'

‘G'day, Ricco,' said Norton, offering his hand. ‘How are you, mate?'

‘Good day, cobber,' answered Ricco in this horrible affected cockney accent as he pumped Norton's hand. ‘How are you goin' there… mate?'

Norton winced. ‘Nice to meet you too, Ricco.'

Ricco was in his thirties, as tall as Les, though not as well built, with neat brown hair combed straight back off his forehead, and was good-looking in a hard, street-wise fashion, something like the limo driver. He wore tailored grey trousers and an expensive black shirt and shoes. A gold chain hung round his neck and a thin gold watch sat on his wrist. He was well manicured and cologned and for someone just about to have a backyard barby looked more like he was going to see a Broadway play. Laverne looked as pretty as before and happier in a pair of blue shorts and a blue and while polka-dot top. They sat down on the lounge next to the door, Les sat opposite; if Les was giving Ricco half a check out, Ricco was sure doing the same thing to Les.

‘So,' said Norton, smiling from one to the other, ‘you're the dopey bitch that stuffed up Hank's business? And you're the jerk from New York she left him for just because you've got more money?'

Laverne and Ricco exchanged kind of bemused glances. ‘Yeah,' nodded Laverne. That's us.'

‘Yeah. That's us,' echoed Ricco expressionlessly.

‘Well, it's nice to meet you anyway. Can I get you a drink or something?'

‘Stay there.' Ricco got up and helped himself to a Coors from the fridge. While he was there he had a look around then turned on the air-conditioner; half for comfort and half to let Les know who owned the place. He settled back on the lounge and took a swig from the bottle, looking evenly at Norton the whole time. ‘So what's been happening, Les?' he said, in a nasally thick, New York twang.

“Not much, mate,' shrugged Les. ‘I only just moved in.'

‘Been quiet, have you?'

‘Like a mouse wearing slippers.'

‘That's not what Joey Hubcap told me.'

‘Joey Hubcap?' Norton looked at Ricco for a moment. ‘You don't mean the limo driver, do you?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Oh! Well, yes I did have a girl back here last night. But she was a decent type. Not just some moll I picked up.' ‘Hey, I don't care if you brought a two-bit hooker back here. But just don't bullshit me with this quiet. You know what I'm sayin'?'

‘Well, I didn't quite mean it like that, Ricco. I just didn't want to start up with a big come on about all the sheilas I've been getting and all the piss I've been drinking. But if your mate Hubcaps said I had a pretty good time,' Les smiled and winked as he matched Ricco's even stare, ‘he definitely wasn't bullshitting you.'

“Hey, don't sweat it. Joey said you were aces.' Ricco raised his bottle.

‘So what happened between you and Hank?' asked Laverne.

‘Hank? Well, it's a bit of a shame, Laverne. But Hank and I had what's called “a parting of the ways”.'

Les told them a few things about Hank. Mainly what a miserable lemon he was and you couldn't even have an
opinion about anything, let alone tell the flip anything. How he bagged the condominium, put on the drama over a cigarette, pissed off then followed Les down the Club BandBox and started a fight. Les had previously arranged to meet Lori down there and he managed to drag her out in the middle of the brawl; which was one of the reasons he brought her back to the flat, to settle the poor girl's nerves.

‘My God!' gasped Laverne. ‘That was on the news. Four people got shot. There were stabbings. The whole place got trashed. And you're saying this was all Hank's fault?'

Les nodded sincerely. ‘Yeah. I told you he was a ratbag.'

By now Ricco had finished his Coors without once taking his eyes off Norton. ‘Okay,' he said, ‘if I'm gonna cook these burgers I guess we'd better get going.'

‘Righto, I'm ready to go.' Les got to his feet. ‘Give us your empty bottle,' he smiled down at Ricco. ‘I'll stick it in the garbage tin.'

Les locked up the flat and they trooped out to Ricco's car; Ricco drove a brand new, dark blue Mercedes with tinted windows. After opening the door for Laverne, Les climbed in the back and settled into a cocoon of opulence and comfort that smelled of air-conditioned sterility.

‘You hungry?' asked Ricco, as he started the engine.

‘Yeah. I'm a bit peckish,' answered Les.

‘We're having burgers and salad. I make great burgers.'

‘Sounds alright to me. And thanks for inviting me over. I hope I haven't put you to any trouble.'

‘No trouble at all.'

They turned right out the front and started heading towards where Les went shopping earlier. Before they reached the supermarket corner Norton turned to Laverne.

‘Laverne,' he hesitated a little, ‘this probably isn't any of my business, but I have to ask you. How could a girl as pleasant and good-looking as you go out with an idiot like Hank? Was he blackmailing your family or something?'

Laverne smiled. ‘No, it wasn't quite like that. I don't know what the jerk's told you.'

As they drove on, Laverne told Les a bit about herself. She'd moved down to Florida from New York about two years ago after getting a divorce. She was lonely, she met Hank on the rebound and sort of went out with him for around six months; then she had a hard time getting rid of the idiot. As for stuffing up his lousy business, she tried to help him, but, as Les knew, he couldn't be told anything and completely stuffed things up himself. She never left Hank for Ricco. He came from New York also, they knew each other back there, and, like her, Ricco had also gone through a divorce. They bumped each other in a shopping mall in Siestasota, then things just started to happen and they had been together for almost a year now. From the way they exchanged glances and the way Laverne had her hand rested on Ricco's leg while he drove Les got the picture. All that was missing was a big purple heart hanging between them with an arrow through it, and if Laverne was suffering leaving Hank for Ricco she certainly wasn't showing it. She owned the condo, which she'd bought with Ricco's help, and lived with Ricco. Hank had been using it as a mail drop because he was on the skids and owed money everywhere. For some reason she liked Les the minute she saw him and knew what he'd be going through stuck out at Swamp Manor, and he was doing her a favour staying there and keeping an eye on the place till some people moved in next month.

Les, for his part, told her the truth about himself. Where he lived in Australia, what he did for a living, how he met Hank in Oz, and how he happened to be in Florida. He didn't say how he organised the fight in Club BandBox, but he did say he had plenty of money with him and if she wanted some rent while he was in the condo she was more than welcome, to which both Laverne and Ricco politely told him to stick it in his ass. Next thing they were driving down a wide street full of expensive- looking homes and they pulled up in Ricco's driveway.
The house was big and white but before Les could get a good look Ricco hit a remote button and the double garage door swung up and they pulled up inside next to what looked like a two-tone brown Ford LTD. Ricco hit the remote again and the garage door swung back down.

Norton gave a double blink as they stepped up from the garage into the kitchen; Ricco acted indifferently but he noticed Norton was impressed. The kitchen was about half as big as Norton's house. Super modern in black, red and silver, high ceilinged with a cooking island in the middle big enough to land a helicopter gunship on. The stove was one of those ultrasound ones Les had seen on ‘Beyond 2000'; it caught his eye along with a small espresso coffee machine sitting on an alcove in one wall.

‘I'm goin' out to fire the barbecue,' Ricco said to Laverne. ‘You wanna show Les the rest of the house?'

‘Alrighty,' answered Laverne. ‘Then I'll start on the salads.'

Ricco disappeared through some doorway and Laverne showed Les around, pointing things out in a kind of sing-song, gameshow host voice. ‘This is the lounge. This is the main bedroom. Here we have a bathroom.' The place was about as big as Price's; but where Price went more for antiques, Ricco's place was more like a mini museum of modern art. Abstract paintings and murals hung on the walls, strange-looking marble and bronze statues sat on smoked glass tables and reflected in some walls which were entire tinted mirrors. It was all pastel colours, the carpet throughout the house was a light blue and smoother than a bowling green. There were five bedrooms; the main one was done out in an Asian style with a futon, waterbed and a monster screen TV. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings, a set of marble steps flanked by two onyx statues led up to the massive front door. Everything reeked not only of money, but class and good taste as well. A couple of steps led down from the loungeroom to an oval-shaped swimming pool enclosed in green mesh, something like a trapezium; beyond that, manicured lawns led up to bush
and trees and a distant lagoon. Ricco was down one end of the pool area, pottering around over a barbecue, and Les could smell and hear the faint sizzle of hamburgers cooking. At the other end of the pool Les had to smile. Several long-tailed lizards were outside clinging to the green mesh, being eyed off by a red and green parrot, about twice as big as a kookaburra, sitting on a stand. It looked across at Les and gave a kind of soft squawk that seemed to be telling Rico there was a stranger in the place.

Les smiled and gave it a bit of a wave. ‘G'day, mate. How are you goin' over there?'

‘So. Do you like the house?' asked Laverne.

‘Yeah, reckon,' replied Les honestly. ‘It makes my place at Bondi look like a bark humpy.'

Laverne looked at Les expressionlessly. ‘I might start in the kitchen. Why don't you go talk with Ricco?'

‘Okey-doke.'

There was a table and chairs laid out near the barbecue area and a fridge built into the wall next to it. Ricco was sipping on a bottle of something called O'Doulls while he stood guard over his hamburgers with a metal spatula.

‘Well, Ricco,' said Norton, ‘this is definitely a nice place you've got. It sure doesn't look like you're starving.'

‘I'm a millionaire,' replied Ricco, without looking up from the six hamburgers sizzling on the barbecue.'

‘Yeah? Good on you,' said Les.

‘My wife made me a millionaire.'

‘She did? That was nice of her.'

‘Yeah. I used to be a multi-millionaire. Now I'm just a millionaire. It was real nice of her, the bitch.'

‘Touché,' chuckled Les. He watched Ricco for a moment deftly flicking at his hamburgers. ‘What's that you're drinking?'

‘O'Doulls non-alcoholic beer. I should have offered you one. They're in the fridge. Help yourself.'

Les wiped some sweat from his eyes. ‘Okay thanks. In fact, that's what I need. I've been drinking piss since I got here like it's going out of style.' Les helped himself to a cool and frosty one. It was something like the Coors
Cutters, only with a richer taste, and went down quite easily. ‘So if you don't mind me asking, Ricco, what do you do for a quid?'

‘What do I do for a quid?'

‘Yeah. What do you do for a living? I mean, you don't drive a Mercedes and own a place like this changing tyres at the bus depot for sixty bucks a day.' Les took another swig of his beer. ‘You seem like a pretty interesting sort of bloke. Tell us a bit about yourself—if you want to. If you don't, I'll mind my own business.'