And De Fun Don't Done (56 page)

‘Ire, mon,' said the barman. He poured two glasses of orange juice and placed them on the bar.

The one wearing jeans got up, took the drinks, mumbled a kind of shy thanks to Les then sat back down. As she did, the other one motioned for Les to join them. Les thought for a moment. Yeah, why not? he sighed to himself. It's someone to talk to, I suppose. He picked up his Red Stripe and walked over to their table.

‘Hello, girls. How's things?' he said as he sat down.

They both mumbled something and continued to stare into space. Then the one in shorts pointed to Norton's T- shirt. ‘A wa daht?' she asked.

‘It's a wallaby,' replied Les. ‘It's an Australian animal. Like a kangaroo.'

‘Australian,' said the one in jeans. ‘You no' merican?'

Les smiled and shook his head. ‘No. Australian.'

‘Oh. Daht's good.'

Les nodded. ‘Yes. Exciting, isn't it?' Though I reckon you pair wouldn't care if I was in the Khmer Rouge as long as I bought you a drink, thought Les. ‘So what's your names anyway, girls? I'm Les.' The one in jeans was Delta. The other was Esme. Then they went back to staring mournfully into space. ‘So what's doing anyway, girls? Are you staying here? And how come you're so miserable? You look like you've just shit yourselves.' The girls stared at Les for a moment, exchanged glances, then Esme started up.

No. They weren't staying there. They'd both caught a bus over from Kingston, expecting to get work at the hotel. When they arrived there was none. Maybe next Thursday. In the meantime they were stone, motherless broke, had nowhere to stay and all their worldly possessions were in the plastic bag under the table. Part of the deal with the job was that along with the princely sum of $400 a week Jamaican they got a small room to share. But seeing as they weren't working there yet the woman Les met at the desk wouldn't let them stay there. So along with being broke and homeless, they were tired, hungry, thirsty and killing time till the bar closed so they could go and sleep in the park or the gutter or wherever. And it looked like being three long, hungry days till Thursday. Esme's bony face was pretty long at any time, but as she spoke it seemed to get longer and longer till it was almost hanging between her knees. Christ, thought Les. No wonder the poor bastards aren't laughing. And I thought I had it tough. Four hundred bloody bucks a week. And to think I just gave that to five sheilas down the road I'd never met just to get rid of them. It's a funny old world.

‘Well,' Les said sympathetically, as Delta and Esme resumed staring morosely into space, ‘I've heard some tales of woe in my time, but that's a pisser. You're the original. Fragged and far from home.' They stared at Les. ‘You're knackered.' They looked at each other, then stared at Les again. ‘You're doing it a bit tough.'

‘Tuff?' said Esme.

‘Yeah,' nodded Les.

‘Ya. Tuff, mon,' said Delta gloomily.

Christ! Haven't I cracked it for a couple of nice drones to have a drink with? How am I ever gonna get a laugh out of these two? Forget the shout. But what a low bind to be in. Having to sleep in the park and no chops. I can't see that happening somehow. Norton winced slightly inside. He knew he was going to end up giving the girls some money. But, shit, he was getting sick of it. He didn't arrive in town to take over from the Department of Social Security. Then if he did give the girls some money they might take it the wrong way — or take it the right way. And Les wasn't at all keen. Though up closer they weren't all that bad. Esme, the older of the two, didn't have a bad pair of legs — except for where she'd given them a rough shave and the hairs were sticking up like broken toothpicks. Les was going to have to work something out. In the meantime, just a few drinks and talk Edgar. The bus ride over from Kingston must have been sensational.

‘Anyway, don't worry about it too much, girls. Brer Wallaby's in town. So come on, drink 'em up and I'll get you another one. Then I might tell you about what a good bloke I am.' Delta and Esme looked at each other, shrugged, then instead of sipping their orange juices got into them like they'd just finished a triathlon. Les ordered the same again for them, plus a rum-punch for himself; leaving some monopoly money on the bar when he picked them up.

Les told them he was a farmer back in Australia, he was on holidays and had just spent two weeks in America. He got here Saturday, but had to cut his holiday short and was leaving Wednesday. He was also moving into the Biltmore in the morning as this place didn't turn him on all that much. He was sorry he had to go so soon because he liked Jamaica; especially after meeting two sweet young girls like them. Les even kissed Esme's fingertips and was surprised to find her fingers underneath were soft and pink, almost like a baby's. Esme giggled and the
girls smiled at Norton's innocent joke and, when they did, their lovely white smiles lit up their faces momentarily and their true beauty shone through. Les ordered some more drinks while he bullshitted away and somehow between their patois, English and Australian slang they got a conversation going. Les even asked them what some of the reggae songs were coming over the speakers, and got told names like Shaggy Wonder, Dignitary Stylish, Yellowman. They could have been a trifecta at Bulli Dogs for all Les knew, but the music wasn't too bad and the more rum-punches he sunk the better it got. The night cruised along and Les didn't even notice the Hitler Youth Movement had left when he got up for what were going to be the last drinks for the night. The barman hinted politely that he was going to have to shut shop. Fair enough, thought Norton. He was starting to feel a bit stuffed anyway. He placed the last drinks on the table, knowing the girls had been in a fairly earnest discussion while he was up. Well, here it comes. Now what? I can't see them coming back to my room. Not with me half pissed.

‘Well, girls,' he said, raising his glass, ‘looks like these are the last. Then it's off to… wherever.'

It looked like Esme was going to be the sacrificial lamb. If not her, Delta. ‘So yu just got de room on you own, Les?'

‘Yes Esme, that's right,' replied Les.

‘Yu want tik me wit yu?'

Les smiled and shook his head. ‘No. Not tonight, Esme. Thanks.'

Esme's face dropped a little. ‘Yu don't lik me?'

‘No, you're wrong, Esme. You're unreal. I haven't been able to keep my eyes off you all night. Anyway, what about Delta?'

Esme's eyes dropped again. ‘Yu want Delta?'

‘No,'smiled Les. ‘I was just wondering what happens to her?'

‘She be okay.' Esme's eyes widened. ‘Yu want bot us?'

‘No,' laughed Les. ‘I don't want either of you. I'm
knackered. I just want to go to sleep.' Les cradled his head against his hands and closed his eyes for a second. The girls' faces went back to abject misery and dejection again. They'd played both their bowers to no avail. It looked like the park was coming up. ‘But I'll tell you what I will do,' said Les. Suddenly their faces lit up just a little.

Through the night, Les had been checking out their jewellery. They wore cheap, but pretty, bead necklaces, leather bracelets in yellow, black and green, and these junky rings on their fingers. They weren't super tacky; even nice in a way. On their index fingers they wore a pewter and a copper ring with some kind of design in the metal. Even at Paddy's Markets they wouldn't have been more than a dollar each, tops.

‘I'll tell you what I'll do,' said Les. ‘I'll buy those two rings off you.' They fitted loosely and before they knew it Les had hold of their fingers and the rings off. ‘How much do you want for them?' Like a miserable Bondi landlord Les looked at the two rings on the table and pulled out what money was in one pocket; there was a little over $200 Jamaican. ‘Is that enough?' Delta and Esme blinked at the money then at each other, not quite believing what they were seeing. Les narrowed his eyes. ‘Alright,' he said, going for his kick again. ‘I'll throw in some more.' He dropped $50 American on the table. The two girls nearly fainted. ‘And that's my final offer. What do you reckon?' Wide-eyed, Esme and Delta looked at Les, looked at each other, then scooped up the money. Les slid the rings on both his little fingers like he was a mug. But a happy one. ‘And that's not all I'll do,' he said, ‘seeing as you've got nowhere to stay for the night. Do you want to sleep in my car?'

‘In your car?' said Esme.

‘Yeah,' shrugged Les. ‘I know it's not much. But…'

The two battlers looked at Les like he'd just offered them the Sir Robert Helpmann Suite at the Sebel Townhouse, and nodded their heads in disbelief. ‘Well, come on. Finish these and I'll unlock it for you.' They finished their drinks and Les picked up their plastic shopping bag.
‘I'll even give you a hand with your Giani travel case.' He gave the barman a wink, who winked back, and Les walked the girls out to the Honda.

Speedy's mate was leaning against the office wall smoking a cigarette. Half drunk Les told him what was going on and what he didn't understand the girls filled him in on with patois. He was too tired or uninterested to give a stuff one way or the other. He nodded something as Les unlocked the car.

‘There you go, girls. You've got the flat till the morning. Now come here.' Les pulled Delta over and gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘There you go, Del, me old mate. Sleep tight.' She tensed at first then relaxed. ‘You too, Es, my little Jamaican princess.' Les did the same to her and she looked at Norton with the Caribbean splashing around in her eyes. ‘Happy dreams, mate. I'm just sorry I can't give you one of my pillows.' Esme climbed in the back, Delta got in the front and Les closed the doors. The last he saw of them was their faces staring back through the windscreen as he waved a smile behind him and walked off.

Fair dinkum! The things you do when you're half drunk, Les mumbled to himself as he lay back on the pillows with just his jox on. The room felt like all the air- conditioner had done was make a noise and drip more slimy water out the front. Les turned it off and was staring up at the ceiling through half-closed eyes. Fifty bucks for those two rings I tossed on the dresser. They wouldn't be worth a zac. But I s'pose they'll make a funny souvenir. Anyway, what could you do? Poor little bastards. Wouldn't it be lovely sleeping in the park around here? And what a low dropkick that sheila must be, not letting them stay here. There's no one in the fuckin'joint. Oh well. At least I did someone half a favour. He yawned and closed his eyes. I got a big day tomorrow too. I got to visit that big house. Probably have another look at the mosque again. I mean the manse. Move into the Bilt- more. Meet Millwood and do lunch. Have dinner. Whatever. Les let out one last, long yawn. Yeah, whatever.

Les knew he was going to be robbed when he checked out; from what he'd seen so far of the dropkick in the office it was inevitable and he wasn't even going to argue. He was more curious than anything else as to how the rob would come about and how strong it would be.

Despite the heat Les had slept in a little, but now he had his bags packed once more, the same clothes on as last night and was ready to go. Breakfast was two Hershey Bars he'd bought in Florida and thrown in his bag at some time, washed down with a glass of water. There was a dining room at the hotel; however, Norton was determined not to spend a cent more in the place than he had to. After a quick look around to make sure he hadn't left anything he picked up his bags and walked down to reception.

Lucretia Borgia wasn't in the office and there was no sign of Esme or Delta. Sleepy was seated out in his guard box. Les rang the bell and a minute or so later Lucretia appeared from behind the floral curtain, scowling and miserable as ever. She saw Norton's bags and looked at him.

‘I'd like to check out please,' said Les.

Lucretia nodded and began making up the bill. She pushed some buttons on a battered-looking computer, wrote a couple of things down then pushed the bill across for Les to sign. Les looked at it, and there was the rob. Straight up. The drinks and phone calls were all kosher. But she'd charged him for two nights. It was a blatant rob because all Les had said was he might take an extra night.
Might
. He'd booked an extra night at the Biltmore just in case there was trouble with the planes. But here? No, it was a full-on rob and no amount of begging, pleading or arguing would change a thing. Not that Les intended to beg, plead or argue. But Price always said, if you get robbed and there's nothing you can do, cop it sweet and don't let on you know. Let the robber think that, although they've dudded you and got their earn, they've dudded themselves at the same time and could have got more. It takes the edge right off the rob. Like if some team
of mugs break into a place and steal a half a million dollars then find out in the papers the next day there was another million in a drawer they missed. It does tend to sour things.

Norton stared at the bill for a moment, wrinkled his brow and looked at Lucretia. ‘Are you sure you haven't made a mistake here?'

‘You said two nights,' she replied stonefaced.

Norton looked at the bill and his face wrinkled even more. ‘This is for two nights? It can't possibly be.'

‘You said two nights.' Lucretia was adamant.

Norton made a dismissive gesture with his hands. ‘I'm not worrying about that. It just seems so cheap.'

‘Cheap?' Lucretia gave a double blink.

‘Yes. All those drinks I had last night. The phone calls. That magnificent view by the swimming pool. My room was absolutely fabulous. And huge. I had one of the best night's sleep I've had for years.' Les shook his head in dismay. Lucretia's miserable face got even more miserable. ‘If I'd only known you had such bargain rates here I'd never have moved out. I'm paying twice as much where I'm going and it's not half as good. And the only reason I'm going is to meet up with a friend.' Les shook his head and sighed. ‘Dear oh dear. I don't know.'