Davo's Little Something (5 page)

With a bit of a smug grin on his face Davo walked round and got his coat and apron off the rail as the others gave a few whistles and made various comments. There was a sudden silence for a second or two then Len's voice boomed out over the others.

‘Ohh what's that silly bloody thing you've got hangin' down the back.' As soon as the others noticed it the jeering and catcalls started up again. ‘You've got to be bloody kiddin' haven't you.'

Davo turned his head around and gave the back of his hair a little flick. ‘What are you talking about,' he grinned. ‘That's my rat's tail—it's the grouse. You lot want to start livening yourselves up.' He began putting his gear on while Len and Eddie started taking theirs off.

‘Fair dinkum, Davo,' said Len, shaking his head. ‘What next?'

‘I reckon it looks alright,' said Kathy.

‘Thanks, Kath. I always said you had a bit of class.'

‘Ohh you reckon anything'd look good, Kath,' said Eddie.

‘You know what it reminds of.' Len reached over and began feeling it between a beefy forefinger and thumb. ‘A little driedup dog's turd.'

‘Like I said before,' sniffed Davo. ‘You straights give me the shits.'

After a few more derogatory comments about his hair, Len and the others went to lunch leaving Davo and the same crew as before in the shop. Davo kept himself busy breaking up a couple of calves while Dennis changed the sawdust in the
cool room. Davo chatted with Kathy who was glad to see he had started to move his act into the eighties and jokingly suggested he might like to come out the back and have a bong or a bit of speed or some acid. Davo was just about to tell her where she could stick her LSD when the phone rang.

‘Hello, butcher shop,' he said, picking the receiver up off the wall.

‘Yeah, is Bob Davis there please,' came a man's voice on the other end.

‘Speaking.'

‘It's Colin. How are you mate?'

‘Colin. What's doing son.'

‘Not much. Listen I gotta work back a couple of hours or so tonight. I got a late trip to Wollongong—so I might be a bit late. I should be round your joint by nine or so. Okay?'

‘Yeah, sweet.'

‘You still keen to go out?'

‘Yeah my oath.' Davo took a glance round the butcher shop. After the shit I'm going to have to put up with in here all afternoon I'll feel like a few drinks tonight he thought.

‘Righto.'

They chatted on for a few more minutes then Colin said he'd better get going so he hung up saying he'd see Davo that night.

‘Big night out tonight Davo,' said Kathy a little derisively as Davo walked back over to the block he was working on. ‘Gonna give the new hairstyle a test run are we?'

‘Kath. When me and Colin go out together we've got sheilas hanging off us like chokos. And tonight it's going to be even worse.'

‘Blokes hangin' off you'd be more like it,' came Dennis's voice from just outside the cool room where he was holding a bag of sawdust.

‘How would you like a good boot right up the arse—you pimply faced little prick.'

Before long the others were back from lunch. Len kept Davo busy breaking up more lambs and pigs, while he put up with more comments and innuendos about his rat's tail, till finally afternoon tea rolled around. Then it was fat Helen's turn to
mooch all over him, running her fat fingers through his hair as she blew in his ear and told him how lovely she thought he looked. By the time they started cleaning up at 4.30 to knock off at five, Davo was more than happy to get out of the place.

‘Well thank Christ that's over.' Davo finished scraping the two wooden blocks with a wire-brush, banged the accumulated muck off into the fat-tub, then sprinkled a handful of flour over the two blocks to soak up the grease; finally giving them a brush-over with a small whisk broom.

‘Wasn't that hard a day was it?' asked Len, smiling up from the notebook he was writing down the day's output in.

‘Only having to put up with you and the rest of these wombats.'

‘Well what do you expect coming in here looking like that you imbecile,' chimed in Eddie.

‘Ohh why don't you get back to Grafton—you hillbilly.'

‘Now don't be like that, love.' Eddie laughed and put his arm around Davo's shoulders. ‘You coming over for a beer?'

‘No, not tonight, mate. I'm going out with Colin.'

‘Yeah? Where yez goin'?'

‘Just down The Cock n' Bull. I'm not having a real giant one though.' He hung his gear up and washed his hands, flicking the screwed up paper towel at Dennis's neck. ‘See you all tomorrow.'

Despite the bagging he'd been getting all afternoon and what he thought were unwarranted remarks about his friend Wayne, Davo was in a pretty good mood as he strode down the aisles, dodging the mainly women shoppers pushing their grocery-laden trolleys. I might just grab myself a half-dozen apples he thought and headed for the fruit and vegetable section. Luckily fat Helen wasn't around when he got there so he was able to pick out six good Jonathans, have them weighed, into his work bag and get away fairly smartly. As he was walking down one of the aisles towards the checkouts, he noticed a familiar figure toiling over a large cardboard box, restocking the shelves with kitchen cleansers and detergents. It was young Jimmy Lessing.

Jimmy was about seventeen, a bit on the thin side, with straight dark hair and plenty of good looks in an almost girlish sort
of way. He'd worked in the supermarket for nearly two years, but was studying art, hoping to be a signwriter or maybe a commercial artist. An extremely polite, likeable young kid, he got on well with everyone who worked there and had an especially good rapport with Davo. Jimmy also had a very good-looking eighteen-year-old sister, Sandra, who worked part time in a chemist shop not far from the supermarket. Davo had got to know Sandra through Jimmy and thought the sun shone out of her; and the funny thing was Sandra rather fancied Davo, who never realised this and never thought to ask her out always thinking she was too young and he'd only make a fool of himself.

Jimmy never noticed Davo behind him, who tapped him on his left shoulder then moved to his right. Jimmy turned round to his left, then, slightly confused, turned to his right, where Davo was standing watching him with his usual cheeky grin plastered across his face.

‘Davo,' said Jimmy, returning the grin. ‘I might've known it'd be you. How are you, mate?'

‘Not too bad, James my boy. How's yourself?'

‘Pretty good thanks.' Jimmy stared at Davo curiously for a moment trying to figure out what was different. ‘Ohh wow,' he finally said. ‘I like your haircut. That's really neat.'

‘You reckon?' Davo turned slightly side-on to give Jimmy a better view.

‘Ohh yeah, it looks great. Where'd you get it?'

‘Vermillions.'

‘Fair dinkum? Wow, do you go there?'

‘My oath. A good sort like me—where else would I go?' ‘Fair enough.' Jimmy gave a chuckle and continued packing the shelves. ‘I'd better keep doing this while I'm talking to you just in case old Brinsden comes along. You know what he's like.'

‘Yeah. A fat pain in the arse. Hey while I'm on the subject of good sorts. How's your sister these days?'

‘Good. She's working this afternoon. Why don't you call in and say hello to her on the way home.'

‘Yeah alright, I will.'

Davo stood there talking to Jimmy for a few more minutes
about this, that and the other then said he'd see him tomorrow. He paid the girl on the checkout for the apples, opening his bag for her inspection and joking that he had a whole pig stuffed in the crutch of his jeans, then collected his change and melted in with the rest of the shoppers going past the front of the store.

The Chem-Mart pharmacy, where Sandra worked, was in the same shopping complex only a few yards round from the supermarket. Davo thought he could see her crouched down in one of the aisles as he stopped outside the front window; he paused there momentarily. S'pose I may as well go in and say hello he thought. Buy a tube of toothpaste or something. That'll give me an excuse to hang around for a while.

Davo's secret fondness for Jimmy's sister wasn't just because she was young and goodlooking and nor just for the sake of getting her into bed. Not that he would have minded. Nor was it just the silly infatuation of an older man for a girl much younger than himself. Davo genuinely thought the world of Sandra. They had a chemistry and a certain rapport between them, which, along with her bubbly personality, both tantalised and delighted Davo. He was always wanting to ask her out, but her being eighteen and him in his thirties he thought it a bit ridiculous. And he tried not to hang around her too long in case he ended up saying or doing something stupid and making a complete fool of himself. So for the time being he just kept himself sweet and hoped that maybe one day, you never know, something might happen.

Sadly, poor Davo couldn't see the wood for the trees and never knew that Sandra felt pretty much the same way about him. The boys in her age group she used to hang around with at Bronte, where she lived, only ever talked about surfboards, Cold Chisel or pot. And they spent every living minute trying to get into her and her girlfriends' pants while bludging money from them at the same time. Davo, with his kind, sensitive nature and cheeky sense of humour was almost a knight in shining armour. And, secretly, like a lot of young girls, she had an impulsive desire to be wined and dined then swept off her feet and seduced by an older man. Someone with feelings and a little compassion; and Davo slipped into this category
just nicely. But in the meantime she could dream—and so could Davo.

When Davo came up behind her Sandra was stacking shelves too. Even from behind, Davo couldn't mistake that shapely little bottom and beautiful, long blonde hair, shining almost like silk.

‘Excuse me miss,' he said, standing almost over her as she reached into the cardboard carton, ‘Could you give me something for a bit of pre-menstrual tension?'

Sandra turned around and looked up curiously. When she recognised who it was her soft green eyes lit up and she broke into a grin to reveal two rows of perfect white teeth like strings of pearls.

‘Bob. I should have known it was you.' She gave his leg a little slap and stood up. ‘How are you, darling?' she said, looking up into his eyes as she wiggled her eyebrows seductively. ‘I'd give you a kiss big boy,' she added, in a deep, flat Mae West type of voice ‘but the boss is watching and I need the job. I'm putting my young brother through art school.'

I'd like to give you a kiss too you gorgeous little thing thought Davo, looking at her two tiny moist lips, completely devoid of make-up yet still as pink and soft as rose petals. ‘That's alright, Sandra, I understand,' he grinned. ‘I always have that effect on women. How are you anyway?'

‘Good. Better when I see you of course.' Then she noticed his haircut. ‘Ooh you've had your hair done,' she exclaimed. ‘Where did you get that? It looks unreal.' She reached up and ran her slender fingers through his hair, lightly tickling the extension at the back.

‘I got it at lunchtime round Vermillions. The boss, Wayne, did it.'

‘Wayne St Peters did it, did he. I might have known. Gee he did a good job.'

‘Thanks.' Davo started to shuffle his feet a little nervously. ‘Anyway you'd ah . . . better give me a tube of Colgate fluoride and ah ... a box of Kleenex tissues, and I'll get going. I'd better not be hanging around here too long—I don't want to get you the sack.'

‘That's alright. What's your big hurry anyway. I was only
kidding about the boss, he's gone round the TAB. Stay and talk to me for a while.' Sandra tugged lightly at the front of Davo's windcheater. ‘It's not often I get to talk to some one as tall and good-looking as you.'

Davo smiled as his cheeks coloured slightly. Christ he thought. I wish you were fair dinkum. ‘Well. . . okay then. What would you like to talk about?'

They chatted away happily, about nothing much in particular, for a few minutes while Sandra kept re-stocking the shelves. Work. Her brother's art course. About it being half-way through June and how much they both hated winter. Then Davo told her about how he and Wayne were going to the Santana concert on Thursday night.

‘Santana—and Mondo Rock. Gee, Bob, that's going to be a fantastic concert. I wish I was going with you.'

‘I only wish I could take you Sandra. I really do.'

She paused and looked him directly in the eye. ‘Oh well, you never know. Maybe some other time.'

‘Yeah . . . maybe.'

But there was something in the way she said it and something in the way she looked at him that made Davo think. Shit! I wonder if I should ask her out? I've been pussyfooting around her now for over a year. I suppose I should. Christ, she can only laugh at me and tell me to piss off. But as it stood, their relationship was a lot of fun. They'd kid each other and maybe squeeze hands now and again or blow each other silly kisses and although Davo often thought of asking her out, somewhere, deep in his heart, he knew it was impossible. Christ, she was barely out of school and he was a middleaged, divorced man. It was ridiculous, maybe some time in the future when she was a little older; if she hadn't met anyone by then. The best thing to do was dream about it, because once he asked her and she said no the dream would be over, possibly forever, so why shatter the illusion. And what is it the kids say? Never trust anyone over thirty.

But they also say ‘faint heart never won fair lady' and she looked so beautiful standing there with those wide, innocent green eyes and that enigmatic smile on her face. Ah bugger it. Davo sucked in a deep breath. Why not.

‘I'll tell you what,' he said a little hesitantly, as he looked at her and shuffled his feet nervously for a moment before he spoke. ‘There's a bit of a turn on over at Watsons Bay this Saturday night. It's a barbecue. If you're not doing anything I could take you to that. I mean . . . you know. Only if you want to,' he added, with a selfconscious shrug of his shoulders.