The Boys from Binjiwunyawunya

by Robert G. Barrett

  Richard’s was built on the corner of a sort of arcade leading into an international-class hotel built all around it like an old Gothic building you’d expect to see somewhere on the Rhine. There was a discreet neon sign above the huge door, lots of shiny brass railings, windows all over the place and several neat little trees out the front. A small set of steps and another brass railing led up to the disco. The whole place looked terribly, terribly pukka and mega-trendy. Norton figured this would be where every snob, scene-stealer and social cockroach in Melbourne would put on their glamour gear and make a beeline for it on Saturday night, hoping to see their photo in the papers the next day. But Norton couldn’t have given a stuff who went there. He had a wallet full of money and Pamela waiting for him inside. He joined a small group of dressed-to-kill Saturday nighters and followed them up the stairs.

  The Saturday nighters got in no troubles, even getting a half smile from the dark-haired girl on the door as they went through. But the steps were as far as Norton got. The girl on the door nearly had a stroke when she got her first glimpse of Les. If the wooden door hadn’t been so big, she would have slammed it in his face. If there had been a moat around Richard’s, she would have filled it full of alligators, raised the drawbridge and sent down a shower of arrows. Norton’s friendly smile was met by a very frosty one.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s members only in here.’ She had hostile, overly made-up eyes and a tight, sour little mouth that was so small it looked as if she’d need a shoehorn to take an Aspro.

  However, Les was expecting this. The old ‘members’ only dodge is the first thing people on doors put on you if they don’t like the look of your head. Les and Billy used it plenty of times themselves. And Norton knew that at the moment his head wasn’t the most likeable look in Melbourne either.

  ‘Yeah, fair enough,’ he smiled, ‘but I’ve arranged to meet some people inside. They’re expecting me. And I’m pretty sure they’re members.’

  The girl on the door ignored this, stepping back to let some people in and keeping a steely eye on Norton as she did.

  ‘Miss,’ said Norton politely. ‘If you don’t mind. I’m down from Sydney and these people are waiting for me inside. You’d probably know them yourself.’

  At the mention of Sydney the girl on the door seemed to bristle. ‘I don’t care if you’re down from Jupiter,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s members only here. And you — are not coming inside.’

  Norton gave a little exasperated sigh and a gesture with his hands. ‘Look miss,’ he pleaded, ‘I’m not trying to be clever, or put something over you. But these people are expecting me. How about just letting me in for five minutes and I’ll see if I can find them. They should be in the dining room. Or could you page them for me and let them know I’m here. The girl’s name is Pamela. And one of the men’s names is Richard. He’s a film director.’

  At the mention of Richard there appeared to be a brief flicker of recognition in the girl’s eyes. However, she had made up her mind that Norton was off tap and that was it.

  ‘We do not page people here,’ she huffed. ‘And you are not getting in. Now I’m getting busy and you are blocking the stairs. Would you please go away.’

  The girl was just being unreasonable and bitchy now. Fair enough, Les did look like the wreck of the Hesperus, but he was being polite and he was dressed cleanly enough; it wouldn’t hurt her at least to check some ID or get someone to escort him inside to see if he could find his friends. Billy and Les had done it plenty of times themselves for people at the Kelly Club when they’d come up looking a bit too casual but needing to see someone inside. But he was getting absolutely stonewalled by the girl and he could see what should have been a good night being completely stuffed up. Norton was also starting to get the shits.

  ‘Ohh look, for Christ’s sake, what’s wrong with getting someone to go inside and see if those people are in the dining room. Jesus, it’d take you two bloody minutes.’

  The girl on the door became more defiant and hostile than ever. ‘I am not paging anyone for you,’ she snapped. ‘And you are not coming in. Now will you go away? I won’t ask you again.’

  ‘Ahh won’t ask me again,’ mimicked Norton. ‘What are you? A wombat from Mars? You’d think I had two bloody heads or something.’

  ‘Oh, you want to get clever do you.’ She reached above her head. A few more Saturday nighters filed in and next thing two huge bouncers in short-sleeved white shirts and bow ties appeared behind her.

  They weren’t so much huge as they were tall. The darkhaired one with the moustache on Norton’s right was six foot six. His mate had to be close to six foot ten. The taller one had a fleshy sort of mouth and a pinched nose that didn’t look like it had stopped too many punches for a bouncer. But they both had long, powerful arms and neither was carrying much fat. Norton tipped them to be Aussie Rules players.

  ‘What’s the trouble Julia?’ asked the taller bouncer.

  The girl on the door jabbed a finger with plenty of nail polish on it at Norton. ‘This... this person here. I’ve told him he can’t come in, and he refuses to go away.’

  Norton looked up at the taller bouncer towering over him two steps above. ‘Mate,’ he pleaded. ‘I’ve arranged to meet some people inside, that’s all. And the girl won’t let me in for some reason.’

  The taller bouncer shrugged his shoulders. ‘Nothing I can do about it mate. She’s the boss. If she says you can’t come in, you can’t come in. Sorry.’

  ‘Yeah, but Christ.’

  ‘Mate, she’s in charge,’ said the bouncer with the moustache. ‘Whatever she says goes. Nothing we can do about it. Sorry mate,’ he added with a shrug.

  At least the two bouncers weren’t putting any shit on Les and were showing a bit more commonsense and manners than the would-be glamour on the door. Not that that was going to do Norton’s chances any good. It was futile and starting to become obvious that he was going to miss out on his date with Pamela.

  ‘Ohh I don’t bloody well believe this,’ he said, shaking his head in exasperation. ‘Fair dinkum. I’ve come down from Sydney and these people are waiting for me inside. What have I got to do to get into this joint?’

  Full of cheek now that she had the two bouncers behind her, Julia gave Norton an extra supercilious look. ‘You could try going back to Sydney and getting another head,’ she sneered.

  The two bouncers remained silent, trying not to smile as Norton rapidly came to the boil. But even through his rage and frustration, Norton could see the hopelessness of it all. The only way he was going to get into Richard’s would be to go through the bouncers. Which didn’t appear to be a particularly easy job as it was. And say he did manage to flatten them. You could bet there’d be more inside. And say he did fight his way to the dining room and found Pamela, he’d be covered in blood with all his clothing torn when he did. That would look good wouldn’t it? Then he’d probably get lumbered with an assault charge on top of it. No. It was all over now. Norton’s big Saturday night out in Melbourne had just gone down the gurgler thanks to one snooty girl on a door.

  ‘Yeah righto,’ he sighed, looking daggers at Julia. ‘Thanks a bloody lot.’ He turned on his heel and walked back down the steps, just as another half dozen Saturday nighters trotted happily up.

  ‘Sorry old mate,’ he heard one of the bouncers call out. Norton dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

  Go back to Sydney and get another head, he muttered darkly to himself. Fuckin’ smart arse. I’d like to go back and kick her right in the snatch, the rotten fuckin’ bitch. The moll. She’s certainly stuffed up my night. And got away with it. Norton let go another string of curses, then he suddenly propped and scratched his chin thoughtfully, his eyes sort of darting fiendishly from one side of his face to the other. He gave it a minute or two, then walked back to the disco.

  Julia’s eyes narrowed with anger and annoyance when she saw Norton at the bottom of the stairs. She was about to reach above her head when Les made an easy gestu
re with his hands.

  ‘Hold on a second miss,’ he smiled sweetly. ‘I don’t want to come in. I was just wondering though if you’d care to do me a favour?’ Julia glared at him impassively as Les stepped up a little closer. ‘If Richard, the film director I mentioned earlier, should happen to ask if I’ve been here looking for him, could I leave a message with you?’

  The girl nodded curtly. ‘Yes very well. What is it?’

  ‘Would you tell him Nigel called and I’m going straight back to Sydney. And we’re moving Monday’s shoot from Manly to Spit Junction. Okay?’

  ‘All right.’

  Les smiled at her. ‘Do you know where Spit Junction is?’ he asked, almost melodiously.

  ‘No I don’t.’

  ‘Well it’s right here darling.’

  Norton sucked some air in through his nose, hawked at the back of his throat and spat right in Julia’s face. It was a mammoth gob. It didn’t travel far but it splattered all over her face like lumps of a jellyfish that had drowned in Coca-Cola. Julia let out a piercing shriek and mopped at her eyes and what was left of her make-up.

  ‘See you later — you miserable lookin’ drop kick,’ smiled Norton. He trotted back down the steps and walked briskly up Collins Street in search of a cab.

  Norton was about a hundred or so metres from the disco when he heard a voice call out, ‘Hey you.’ He looked over his shoulder and the two bouncers were standing out on the footpath pointing at him. He ignored them and kept walking. ‘Hey you with the red hair,’ one of them shouted out again. ‘Come here.’ Norton turned around to give them the finger and noticed they’d started walking briskly towards him. He propped for a moment and debated whether it would be worth confronting them. Even though they’d both get an awful shock if they tried anything with him, would it be worth wrestling around on the footpath getting his shirt and good leather jacket ripped? Also, his face was sore enough as it was without having to cop a few punches on it. On the other hand, it would be nice to take out his ag on the two big palookas. They were probably thinking he was just some big slow-talking Wally and it would be an enormous laugh to see the looks on their faces when the shattering left hooks and uppercuts starting landing. A tram rumbled past gathering speed as it lumbered up the hill in Collins Street heading towards the city. Ahh bugger it thought Les. He sprinted across the road and jumped on the running board.

  He swung out the rear door on one arm like a monkey, grinned and gave the two bouncers the finger. ‘See you next time I’m in Melbourne, you big pair of poofs,’ he yelled out. ‘Give my love to that moll on the door.’

  The two bouncers stopped, looked at each other, then started sprinting after the tram.

  ‘Yeah, come on you big pair of sheilas,’ laughed Norton. ‘See if you can catch the gingerbread man.’

  Les was grinning confidently as he swung out the rear door of the tram. It was a fair hill they were going up and the tram was doing around twenty or thirty kilometres as it rattled noisily along. Norton’s grin suddenly turned to wide-eyed wonder. He’d underestimated the sprinting power of the two big Aussie Rules players. Not only were they keeping up with the tram, they were gaining on it rapidly. The taller one was galloping along like an antelope, taking strides about three metres long. Before Les knew it, they were almost at the door.

  ‘Go up the front door Rick,’ yelled out the bouncer with the moustache. Rick did just that as the other bouncer made a lunge for Les.

  Christ almighty, thought Norton. How fit are these two big mugs? I could be in a spot of bother here. Oh well. No time now to be rooting around.

  Just as the dark-haired bouncer made a grab for the rail, Norton stepped inside the tram a little, swung his foot back and punt kicked him straight in the face. The hardened toe of Norton’s R. M. Williams riding boot caught him straight under the chin, shattering his jaw and almost ripping his head off his shoulders in the process. The bouncer screamed and flew crazily back from the doorway, clutching at what was left of his mouth and teeth. He fell heavily on his side, tried to get up, then pitched forward on his face, out cold on the road.

  This left his mate Rick. The tall bouncer heaved himself up into the front compartment, sucked in a lungful of air and began advancing towards Norton. The dozen or so people in the tram, couples and parents with children, were beginning to wonder what was happening to their Saturday night as they rocked around in their seats. The eyes on the bleached haired conductress standing behind the driver’s cabin were starting to bulge a bit too. She’d just seen one bloke nearly get his head kicked off, some big red-haired bloke cackling like a maniac as he hung out of her tram like a chimpanzee, and now some monster with hate-filled eyes had just lumbered through the door next to her. She didn’t have to wait long for the action to start.

  Norton met the big bouncer in the middle compartment, where the two pairs of double seats face each other, which was as good a time as any for the occupants to move. He zapped out a straight left which slammed flush into Rick’s nose and if it hadn’t been broken before, it certainly had now. It splattered across his face like a burst sachet of tomato sauce, flicking blood over the backs of the retreating passengers. However, the big Aussie Rules player got in a clubbing straight right into Norton’s left eye at the same time. It hurt like hell and Norton saw stars as he slammed back against the brass rail behind him. Les knew the only way he was going to beat the big bouncer was to get in under him. He bounced forward, smashing horrible lefts and rights up into Rick’s ribs and solar plexus. The relentless rain of punches didn’t do the big bouncer’s ribcage or internal organs one bit of good at all. He gasped and froze with pain as the air was gradually pounded out of his body. Norton banged his head up under his chin and slammed a knee into his groin; a couple of left-hooks opened up his mouth and shattered a few teeth. Rick suddenly found himself in one giant mess of trouble and wondered what sort of a beast he’d got hold of as Norton let go with another barrage of punches that seemed to get fiercer and heavier.

  The kids on the tram were loving it; it made Raiders of the Lost Ark look like Sesame Street. Their parents were horrified. The young girls were screaming and hanging onto their terrified boyfriends. The conductress’s face was starting to turn the same colour as her uniform — bilious green. She yanked frantically on the emergency chord just as some flying blood spattered across her and the advertising on the compartment behind her.

  The tram lurched to a stop. Norton and the bouncer rocketed into the front compartment almost squashing the conductress up against the driver’s cabin. Norton dragged Rick off the wall, sunk a right up into his sternum and another into his face, then spun him around and kicked him up the backside out the door of the tram. The big Aussie Rules player hit the roadway in a tangle of arms and legs. His head came up just in time to see Norton come leaping out of the tram and the Cuban heels of his boots land on his chest, with fifteen stone of enraged Queenslander behind them. If the onslaught of punches inside hadn’t done Rick’s internal organs much good, the final serve completely destroyed them. He gave one hideous moan and passed out.

  Norton looked down at what was left of the blood-spattered bouncer and gave a little grunt of satisfaction. The passengers and the driver were hanging out of the tram staring at him. So was the conductress. Norton caught her eye and grinned.

  ‘I’ll get off here — if you don’t mind. Thanks love.’

  He gave her a wave and trotted round in front of the tram just in time to flag down a passing taxi. It was the same driver who had picked him up at St Kilda earlier.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, as Norton plonked himself down in the front seat, ‘didn’t I just drop you off at Richard’s?’

  ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ grunted Les.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Ahh, the cunts wouldn’t let me in.’

  The driver laughed but didn’t say anything at first. ‘Can’t understand why,’ he finally said as he dropped the flag fall.

  ‘No. Me neither,’ grinned
Norton. ‘Oh well. It didn’t look like much of a joint anyway to tell you the truth.’

  The driver laughed again. ‘So where to now?’

  ‘Same place you picked me up in St Kilda.’

  ‘No worries.’

  The girl on the switchboard didn’t notice Les or the condition of his head as he entered the foyer, which was probably just as well. He stormed past her to the lift and clomped down the hallway to his room. Well isn’t that just great he cursed as he kicked off his riding boots and grabbed a can of VB from the freshly restocked fridge. Stinkin’, rotten, snooty fuckin’ Melbourne bitch. Gobbing on her wasn’t enough. She’s the one I should’ve belted. Not those two other silly big mugs. He gave a bitter chuckle as he sucked on the can of beer. I wonder how the heroes are feeling right now? Sore I hope. Norton noticed he was having a little trouble opening and closing his left eye. He went into the bathroom and checked his face in the mirror. If it had a bit of colour in it before, now it looked like a Ken Done T-shirt. There was some bark missing from the burnt side of his face, a gouge mark on the other, and his left eye was turning purple and starting to close. Christ almighty he muttered to himself. Have a look at me. It’s a pity they’re not casting for a horror movie down here. I’d be a walk-up start. He went back into the bedroom, flung himself angrily onto the bed and glared up at the ceiling. He started thinking about Pamela and her unbelievable body, the time he should be having right now and the time he could have been having afterwards. And what am I doing, he wailed to himself. Sitting in a stinkin’ motel room, picking my bloody toes. He finished the can of VB, found a bottle of J and B and made himself a Scotch and dry strong enough to make you want to go out and head butt a mountain goat.