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Authors: Robert G. Barrett

You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids (29 page)

BOOK: You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids
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‘Queensland girls,' said Les happily.

‘Yeah. That's the good news. The bad news is only one of them's any good.'

‘Whereabouts are they sitting?' asked Billy.

‘Just over there,' said Danny, nodding straight across from the bar.

Sitting directly opposite them at the end of a low, narrow wooden table with their backs against a wall made of more wooden louvred doors with soft lights shining through the louvres, were two slightly bored looking blondes in their mid-20s.

One was short and petite with a close-cropped, urchin type hairstyle that suited her pixieish, almost boyish face. She was wearing a tight-fitting, low-cut black dress with a long split up the side and from where he was standing up against the bar Billy could see she had nice tight little tits and a fairly good pair of legs and like Big Danny said, was a pretty good little sort. However, like Big Danny also said that was the good news as her girlfriend was a different kettle of fish altogether.

Where one blonde was petite and quite pretty the other was big and lumpy and wouldn't have looked out of place packing down in a scrum for South Sydney. She had hair like Harpo Marx and so many double chins she probably needed a book-mark to find her collar. The way she was dressed suggested she either lay-byed her clothes off the rack at K-Mart or stole them from the Smith Family. But she had a big, dumb, happy over-made-up face and was doing most of the talking for the two of them, giggling all the time as she'd tap her girlfriend on the arm and enthusiastically point different things out to her all around the room.

‘Well. What do you reckon?' said Big Danny, laughing like a hyena with a fish-bone stuck in its throat.

‘What do I reckon?' replied Billy with a grin. ‘I reckon mine's all right. I don't know about yours, Les.'

‘Well I do,' growled Norton, ‘and the answer is no. N-fuckin'-O.'

‘Come on Les, don't be a nark,' said Billy. ‘I'll go for the little one. You grab the big one, she's more your size anyway.'

‘Turn it up Billy,' replied Norton. ‘I wouldn't be seen dead with that big fat thing.'

‘She's not that fat.'

‘Not that fat? She looks like some one's been up her arse with a bike-pump. If she ever fell over she'd rock herself to sleep trying to get back up.'

‘Now she's not that bad.'

‘Not that bad. Have a look at her big fat head. She's got more chins than the Hong Kong phone book. I reckon if there was a peeping-tom in her neighbourhood he'd pull her blind down.'

Big Danny laughed and ordered another round. ‘Listen girls,' he said handing the boys their drinks. ‘I'll leave it to you to argue about the two lovelies. I've gotta get back on the George Moore, there's a few startin' to come and go now.' He finished the rest of his can in a swallow, wiped the foam heartily from his mouth with the back of his hand and patted Les and Billy on the shoulder. ‘I'll see youse after.'

‘Righto. See you Danny.' The boys watched silently as Big Danny weaved his way through the crowd and disappeared in the direction of the door. Eventually Billy turned to Les. ‘Well, what are we gonna do about these two sheilas?' he said.

‘I'm not going to do a great deal at all to tell you the truth,' replied Les.

‘Look, mate, just do us a favour,' pleaded Billy looking over at the two girls from Brisbane and then back at Les. ‘I'll front the little blonde, if I look like doing all right just give us a back-up and talk to the big one for a while, that's all.'

‘I'm not goin' to dance with the horrible big thing and there's no way in the fuckin' world I'm goin' to walk out the door with it.'

‘No. Just come over and have a mag to her if I look like doing all right with the other one.'

Norton paused for a moment then shook his head and looked at the floor. ‘Yeah righto,' he mumbled reluctantly.

With a grin like a kid in an ice-cream shop Billy slapped Norton lightly on the cheek then blew him a kiss. ‘Who loves ya, baby,' he said and walked quickly over to the girls' table — the next thing he was leading the smiling little blonde towards the dance floor.

The big one caught Norton's eye and seeing him standing there alone in his tuxedo immediately figured out he was Billy's mate, so she flashed a big dopey smile over at him then sat there with an expression on her face like a big silly dog waiting for its master to throw a stick so it can go and chase it. Norton caught her eye, smiled briefly then turned to the bar and ordered another drink, hoping it would be a long time coming; unfortunately the girl behind the jump knew who Les was and although there were plenty of others waiting he had a fresh beer in front of him in about ten seconds.

He took a pull on the can then slowly turned around — Fatso was still staring over at him. God, how am I going to get out of this? he thought. Norton would have been quite content to just stand there drinking beer and watching all the different types go past, but he'd promised Billy he'd back him up, so taking a good solid pull on his can of beer and feeling more than just a little embarrassed he ambled slowly over to the big blonde's table.

‘Hello there,' he said as pleasantly as he could. ‘All right if I sit down here for a few minutes.'

‘Sure,' replied Fatso, her eyes sparkling. ‘My girlfriend's just gone for a dance.' She couldn't believe her luck. A man, well dressed and not half a bad style either, actually walking up to her and asking if he could sit next to her. Australia certainly was the land of opportunity. ‘I think that was your friend she just got up to dance with.'

‘Yeah it was,' replied Norton. ‘I'd ask you for a dance myself but I just had a cartilage operation on my knee and it's still pretty sore.'

‘Oh, that's bad luck. Oh well, doesn't matter. We can just sit here and talk.'

‘Yeah.' Norton took another pull on his beer, almost draining it.

‘How come you're both wearing tuxedos?' asked Fatso. ‘Have you just finished work?'

‘No, we're Masons. We've just finished a late meeting at the lodge.'

‘Ooh, you're a Mason?' Fatso's eyes lit up. ‘I've never met one before. You've got all those funny little hand signals haven't you? How about showing me some.'

Norton looked at her blankly for a moment. Christ, are you dumb or what? he thought. ‘Well I'm not allowed to divulge the secret signs,' he said ‘but I can show you one of our IQ tests.'

‘Ooh ooh. Show me, show me.'

‘Righto. Put your left hand on the table, palm down.' Fatso avidly did as she was told. ‘Now watch carefully,' said Les as he placed both his hands, palms down, alongside hers. ‘Are you watching?'

‘Ooh yes.'

Norton then criss-crossed his hands several times over the top of hers then placed them alongside her hand again.

‘Are you watching carefully now?'

‘Yes.' Fatso never took her eyes off the table for a second.

Norton criss-crossed his hands over the top of hers again, slowly then quickly, then he placed his hands alongside her hand again and looked her right in the eye.

‘Okay,' he said slowly and deliberately. ‘Now which is your hand?'

Fatso looked at him for a moment, looked down at her hand without moving it, then looked back at Les. ‘The — one in the middle?' she said hesitantly.

Norton felt the nerves in his jaw muscle tic as he tried not to laugh at the serious look on the blonde's fat face. ‘You're sure on the ball, love,' he said, reaching over and patting her on the shoulder.

‘Ooh, that was an easy one,' she said gleefully. ‘Show me another.'

‘I'll — ah show you some more later on.'

‘You promise?'

‘Yes, I promise.'

Norton drained his can and looked around the room for a waitress, catching one's eye about two tables away. ‘I'm going to get another beer,' he said pulling some money out of his coat pocket. ‘Do you want a drink?'

‘Yes please. Gin and Coke with a dash of bitters. Is that all right?'

Norton's stomach turned slightly at the thought. ‘Yeah. No worries,' he winced.

Norton ordered the drinks and turned to the dance floor where he could make out Billy's head bobbing up and down among the other dancers. He had a grin from ear to ear and was obviously enjoying himself immensely as he and the little blonde twisted and bumped their way through the sweating, colourfully dressed people packed on to the tiny dance floor. He caught Norton's eye and gave him a wave; Les waved back but more in an upward motion with his middle finger stuck out.

‘What's your name, anyway?' asked the fat blonde.

Norton turned and looked at her for a second; I suppose I may as well tell you some of the truth he thought. ‘Les. What's yours?'

‘Francis. But everyone calls me Fran.'

‘Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Francis.'

‘Me too, Les.'

The drinks arrived and Norton payed the waitress, who looked at him quizzingly as she wondered why he of all people would be sitting with and buying drinks for what was unmistakably the fattest, ugliest girl in the place. Norton sensed what the waitress was thinking and pushed Fran's drink over to her, gulping down almost half of his beer in one go as he tried to hide his embarrassment.

‘What sort of work do you do, Les?'

Norton belched quietly into his hand and looked at Francis for a moment. ‘I'm a dental technician,' he said.

‘Really? You don't look like a dentist.'

‘No. I work out at Manly Aquarium. I make false teeth for gummy sharks.'

‘Oh.' Francis paused for a second. ‘That'd be a tricky job. I've got an uncle who's a vet,' she said in all seriousness.

‘Go on, eh?' Norton looked absently at Francis. Christ, just how dumb are you he thought. I wonder what they nicknamed you back in Brisbane. Probably Fat Francis or Fat Fuck or what about Francis the Talking Fuck. With raised eyebrows he took another large pull on his can. ‘And what sort of work do you do, Francis?'

‘I'm a hairdresser. My sister and I have a salon in Brisbane.'

‘What, just the two of you?'

‘No, we've got eight girls and two apprentices working for us.'

‘Yeah? You must be doing all right.'

Francis just smiled.

‘I thought you might have been a hairdresser,' said Les.

‘Oh. Why's that?'

‘Because you've got such lovely hair.'

Francis blushed slightly and started to get a bit soggy round the crutch as Norton immediately zoomed up the charts to become number one on Fran's Top Forty. After that last remark he was Fran's Paul Newman, Elvis Presley and Bob Hawke all rolled up into one.

‘So what brings you down to Sydney, Fran?' Norton took a sip on his beer and belched lightly into his hand again.

‘Well. I shouldn't really be telling you this and don't say I told you, but my sister's down here for an operation. She's going to have a cyst removed from her womb.' Francis giggled into her drink. ‘We told the big guy on the door she was a Meter Maid from Surfers down here for a TV commercial.'

Norton laughed politely. ‘You know, it's a funny thing, Fran,' he said, ‘but a mate of mine's wife just had exactly the same operation and they ended up sewing a little window inside her fanny.'

‘A window?'

‘Yeah. Now she's got a womb with a view.'

Francis looked at Norton for a moment then threw back her head in a deep throaty laugh of bouncing fat tits and rippling double chins. ‘Oh Les,' she cried reaching over and slapping him on the arm. ‘I think you have me on a bit at times.'

Norton was laughing heartily too and strangely enough, for all the derogatory remarks he'd made about Francis, he found he was taking a bit of a shine to her. She was no doubt as thick as pig shit, definitely as naive as they come and uglier than a hat full of arse-holes, but somehow Norton couldn't help but like her — and after all she was a Queenslander so she couldn't be all that bad.

‘I'm from Queensland too, Fran, to tell you the truth,' he said.

‘Really. What part?'

‘A little place called Dirranbandi.'

‘Dirranbandi. Why Les, I was only out there a couple of months ago.'

Norton sat up straight and his eyes started to sparkle. It was the first time since he'd been in Sydney he'd met anyone that had even heard of Dirranbandi let alone been there. ‘Fair dinkum?' he almost shouted at her.

‘Yes. I've got an uncle's got a property out at Woolerbilla on the Culgoa River.'

‘Woolerbilla. Shit, I used to go pig shootin' out there.'

‘The last time I was out there we had a picnic about ten kilometres out of Dirranbandi at a little place called Crystal Springs on the Narran River. It's beautiful out there.'

Norton smiled warmly across the table at Francis. ‘It sure is,' he said, more than just a little bit sentimentally. ‘It sure is. Christ, Francis, let me buy you another drink.'

Norton looked around eagerly for a waitress. The band had stopped playing and he didn't notice Billy and the little blonde standing at the edge of the table — Billy had a very surprised look on his face. He'd expected to come back and find Les with an absolute and complete case of the shits. Instead, he was almost shocked to find him and the fat blonde laughing and chattering away like they'd been friends for years.

‘Excuse me, miss,' he said to Francis. ‘But is this man annoying you?'

Norton looked up abruptly at the sound of Billy's voice. ‘Oh hello,' he said. ‘John Travolta's back. How'd you go out there, Trav. Did you get down? Get back up again?'

‘We killed 'em mate, don't you worry about that,' said Billy, as he and the little blonde sat down facing each other. The little blonde's eyes were swimming as she looked at Billy and you didn't have to be Albert Einstein to see he'd swept her off her feet.

BOOK: You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids
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