Guns 'n' Rose (20 page)

Even though they were in a completely no-win situation, Les felt like snotting a couple of bouncers just because of the way they were carrying on. But Jimmy was a little out of order and the end result would have been Les getting his nice new vest torn off his back. The tubby bloke in the white tuxedo next to the DJ looked imperiously down on the whole scene for a moment like Emperor Nero at the Colosseum, then briefly nodded his head once towards the door and gave them the equivalent of the thumbs down. Out.

Norton held his hands up in front of him. ‘Okay, okay. We're leaving.'

Les put his head down and turned towards the door, not wanting to cause any more trouble. This, however, didn't stop the bouncers from applying a range of arm bars, choker holds and wrist locks so they could make a bit of a scene and toss them out a-la-carte.

‘All right, you hillbilly pricks,' cursed Norton, as they were speared across the dance floor to the jeers and heckles of the dirty dancers and just about everybody else in the place. ‘I'm bloody well going. You don't have to make a song and dance about it.'

Les snatched a quick glimpse of the people around him laughing and felt like a complete and utter dill. Alongside him Jimmy's feet were off the ground as they shunted him out backwards. From Norton's point
of view it looked as if he were moonwalking. Oh well. So much for Friday night at Terrigal Pines Resort, thought Les, as they went past the toilets. I can't see myself getting in here again. They were just at the foyer when Les felt two hard, quick punches up under his right ribs; he wasn't expecting it and it bloody hurt. He managed to twist his head around and saw it was the bouncer he abused on Wednesday night. Les was about to abuse him again when he felt another punch crunch into his left ear, slamming it against the side of his head. He wasn't expecting this one either and it hurt worse than the other two.

Why, you rotten cunts, he fumed. Before Les knew it they were bundled unceremoniously past the people in the foyer and literally booted out the front door. Jimmy managed to land on his feet okay. Les tripped over someone's foot just outside the entrance, half spun around, then went sprawling on his backside. He managed to break his fall and got up glaring at the bouncers, his face almost crimson with both embarrassment and rage. People in the foyer and outside were looking and laughing at him, the bouncers were grouped in front of the door and there wasn't a great deal Norton could do; not unless he wanted to cop a lot more punches than he had so far and get his good vest ripped to pieces. But this didn't stop Jimmy. He got behind Les as if Norton was stopping him.

‘Don't hold me back,' he said, throwing punches around Norton's shoulders. ‘I'll kill the cunts. Let me at them.'

‘Suits me,' said the bouncer in the black coat who'd punched Les in the head. ‘Come on, you little cunt.'

Les turned around and grabbed Jimmy by the scruff of the neck. ‘Come on, Mike Tyson. Let's get out of here.'

‘Yeah. Piss off.'

‘Go on, fuck off.'

‘Yeah. Get back to Sydney you pair of poofters.'

Norton let Jimmy go and, with the crowd still laughing and the bouncers jeering, started walking towards the corner. He straightened himself up and, still filthy about getting punched for nothing, rubbed his ribs and his ear. They both hurt and you could bet he'd have bruises there in the morning.

‘Well, what can I say, Jimmy?' he growled. ‘We weren't even in there long enough to finish two drinks. Nice one, mate.'

‘Ahh, fuck the joint,' said Jimmy. ‘Anyway, it was worth it to see the look on that fat frump's face. I've always wanted to do that.'

‘Yeah, well you sure got your fuckin' wish again, didn't you?' Les put his head down and started trudging up the hill.

Jimmy stopped and put his hands in his pockets. ‘So, where are you going?'

Norton pointed up the mini-mountain. ‘Home. Where the fuck do you think I'm going?'

‘What's wrong with the limo?'

Norton gave a slow, double blink as Jimmy casually pulled his mobile phone out of his jacket. In all the fracas you'd think that would be the first thing to be lost or broken. But no. In fact, as Norton rubbed his ear and had another look, Jimmy didn't have a crease in his clothes or a hair out of place. Les could hardly believe it. Shaking his head, he turned away and noticed the
church across the street. Yeah, somebody's blessed around here, he mused, that's for sure. But it sure as hell ain't me. Norton gazed absently at the church and noticed the big clothing bin out the front for the poor and needy. It appeared to be overflowing and placed round the front of it were more plastic bags of clothes and things. Then the little light bulb above Norton's head suddenly switched itself on. He turned back to George's nephew standing with the phone to his ear.

‘Hey, Jimmy, how long before that limo'll be here?'

‘About five, maybe ten minutes.'

Les took his vest off and started undoing his shirt. ‘Here, hold these and wait here for me.' He stripped down to his T-shirt and jeans and jogged across to the clothing bin.

The plastic bags contained mostly old clothes with a few plastic toys, books, or kitchen things and whatever. Les rummaged through them looking for something that would fit. He ended up with a red and black check pyjama top, an old, grey felt hat with no band inside, a red chiffon scarf with a silver thread and a pair of white, plastic sunglasses with one lens missing. He tucked the pyjama top into his jeans, knotted the scarf round his neck, jammed the old hat on his head, then knocked the one lens out of the sunglasses and slid the frame over his nose. Not sure how he was going to work this and feeling like a complete nerd, he straightened the brim of the hat again, then strolled casually back down to the disco.

By the time he got there, all the hoo-ha had settled down and there was another knot of people out the front waiting to get in. Les gave a little smile when he saw the bouncer who hit him in the ribs standing on the
right side of the door and the dark-haired one that punched him in the head standing on the left. The thin bloke in the white tuxedo was next to them and the rest of the bouncers were in the foyer getting ready to go back inside. Les got in the queue and shuffled up to the entrance, waiting for the bouncer to tell him to piss off. Instead, neither bouncer gave him a second look. Les couldn't believe it and it threw him a little. He stopped in his tracks and stared at the bouncer on his right. The bouncer stared right back.

‘What's up, mate?' he grunted.

Norton absently pointed to the foyer. ‘I can go in?'

‘Yeah, go on, mate. You're right.'

Les gave the bouncer a wide, happy smile. ‘Thanks, mate.'

The bouncer still had a look of annoyed indifference on his face when Norton dipped slightly to his left and with plenty of shoulder in it, king-hit him flush on the jaw. His back teeth shook loose; his jaw swung round the other side of his face, then swung back as Norton hit him with a right uppercut on the chin, smashing it like a china cup. He followed it with another quick left over the top that put a split round the bloke's eye about the same size as half an egg-ring. With blood bubbling out of his mouth and running down the side of his face, the first bouncer fell to his knees, then pitched face forward onto the deck; lights out. It took Les about one and a half seconds to throw the three punches and by now he surmised the other bouncer would come to life. Les was right. He turned around as the bouncer ambled towards him only to walk face-first into Norton's murderous short right coming straight at him and timed perfectly. It
pulverised his nose across his cheekbones, sending a spray of blood over the two closest punters. The bouncer gave a moan of pain and dropped his hands as Norton slammed a knee into his groin, doubling him up with an even louder moan of pain. As he bent forward, Les grabbed him by the back collar of his jacket and speared him head-first into the wall. He hit the deck alongside the other bouncer, lights out also.

Well, that'll do me for the time being, thought Les. I'm not that big a nark. Women were screaming, there was blood everywhere, and through the windows he could see the other bouncers coming back out to see what was going on. He was about to turn round and run towards where he'd left Jimmy when he felt someone jump on his back. What the fuck!? Les tucked his chin in and got a glimpse of a white tuxedoed arm round his face. Shit, cursed Les. I forgot to expect the unexpected. He sucked in a deep breath, gripped the two arms around his shoulders by the sleeves, bent forward sharply dipping his knees and flipped the bloke in the white tuxedo over his head. He catapulted into the bouncers stampeding through the door and they all fell in a great sprawling heap of arms and legs in the doorway. Les had a quick look then spun around ready to bolt, only to find his path blocked by yet another bouncer. It was a blonde-haired woman in a white shirt and black slacks standing in front of him in a kind of unarmed combat stance. Norton moved towards her expecting her to get out of the way, but she stood her ground and started to circle Les. She was game. She was also thinking Les might think twice before belting a woman and if she could delay him long enough the other bouncers would be on their feet and
able to grab him. Les turned his head quickly to see they'd just about got their act together and had blood in their eye—Norton's. Shit! Then he noticed the two parlour palms in heavy ceramic pots next to the door.

‘Here, blondie, have this.' Les picked up one of the parlour palms and flung it at the woman bouncer.

The soil-filled pot thumped into her chest and the parlour palm smacked her in the mouth and she went down backwards like she'd been crash-tackled, still holding the ceramic pot with a faceful of wet dirt. By this time the bouncers were all on their feet and what should have been a quick sprint to the limo was now an attempt at the world record for the hundred-metre dash with the enraged bouncers about two metres behind him.

Les bolted down the steps in two bounds then across the road to the corner and was going all right—except there was no sign of Jimmy. Shit! Where is he? Les had a bit of a start, so he turned around for a quick look and whether it was his imagination in the dark, he wasn't sure, but the bouncers seemed to be catching up. They were yelling out to each other and those with coats on were ripping them off; they weren't giving up and they were going to have Norton's arse by hook or by crook. If I can just get a bit further up the hill, puffed Les, they might spread out a bit and maybe I can turn round and snipe a couple. If not, this hill's steep, I'm full of food, half-f of drink and in deep, deep shit. Les was about to rip the hat and pyjama top off when a row of lights pulled up alongside him and a door opened.

‘Sorry, I can't give you a lift, mate. There's no room, not even down the back.'

‘Like fuckin' hell there ain't.'

Les dived straight onto the floor of the limo, Jimmy slammed the door and, with the bouncers banging at the windows, they cruised off up the hill leaving the group cursing in their wake. Norton sucked in some air while he thanked his lucky stars he got away safely. Then he got up and sat down next to Jimmy. Folded neatly on the seat in front of him was his vest and denim shirt.

‘Enjoy yourself, Freddy Krueger?' asked Jimmy.

‘Yeah,' replied Les, ‘as a matter of fact, I did. About the same as you did in the disco. Where the fuck did you get to anyway?'

‘I walked back down to have a look. I saw the whole silly fuckin' thing.'

‘Did you?' Les grinned and bunched his fists. ‘What did you think?'

‘What did I think?' Jimmy shook his head. ‘I just thought what a fuckin' idiot you were.'

‘Thanks a fuckin' lot.'

‘No. All jokes aside, I do have to admit one thing about you, Les.'

‘What's that?'

‘You certainly know how to dress. That outfit suits you to a tee.'

Les looked evenly at Jimmy. ‘Bullshit! You're only saying that just because I look like an abo.'

Jimmy shook his head. ‘No, Les, you don't look like an abo. You look like a Queenslander.'

‘That's it, Jimmy. Get fucked.'

‘Droll, Les. Verrry droll. And quick too.'

The limo dropped them home and they went inside. Les got out of the old clothes and threw them in the Otto-bin saying he was going to have a shower. Freddy
Krueger probably owned the hat and the pyjamas could have belonged to someone who'd died from the bubonic plague. Jimmy said he might have one drink and watch TV for a while.

Under the shower, Les was happy to find the bruises round his ribs and on his ear weren't that bad after all and the hot water and soap got rid of all the sweat and anything else hanging around. It made Les feel good, but for some reason all he wanted to do was get into bed. He climbed into a clean T-shirt and shorts, got a glass of orange juice and joined Jimmy in the loungeroom. Jimmy was almost asleep in front of the TV, watching David Letterman. They would both have liked to have discussed the night's events, but by the time they got to see Robby Robinson and The Band and Letterman do his top ten reasons, that was about it. Jimmy said he'd see Les in the morning. Would he get him up by nine if he slept in? Okay. See you in the morning, James.

Norton switched off the TV and the lights and climbed into bed. That was when he realised why he was so keen to get in there. The fresh, clean sheets. Ahh, yes, how good's this? Les scrunched up into the pillow and wondered what Jimmy had lined up for tomorrow. Whatever it is, I imagine there'll be somebody there for him to insult. How's the little prick's form, telling me I look like a Queenslander. You can bet he got that off his fuckin' fat uncle. Despite the indignity of it all, a smile flickered round the corners of the big Queenslander's mouth. Before Norton knew it he was snoring peacefully again.