‘No. Not in the least.’
The sun finally went down behind the hills ringing the lake and Les and Tony walked back to the car.
Seeing as they’d given their booze supply a decent nudge the night before, Les stopped at the bottle shop on the way home and bought another bottle of Jack Daniel’s and more mineral water, while Tony bought a six-pack of JD and Coke.
Back at the flat, Tony beat Les to the bathroom then they made themselves comfortable in the loungeroom and got into the drink while they talked about the wedding and blokey things as Norton’s ghetto blaster pumped out a steady stream of old rock ’n roll favourites in the background.
‘So where’s the reception again, Steelo?’ asked Les.
Tony nodded behind the flats. ‘About half a click down the road overlooking the beach. They’ve rented a big place especially for the occasion.’
‘Beautiful,’ smiled Les, raising his drink ‘We can walk down with a travelling delicious.’
Tony raised his can of JD and Coke. ‘We sure can, dude.’
‘And what’s with the “no presents” on the invitation? Give a donation instead?’
‘Yeah. Deadline reckons it’s better if everyone throws in a few bucks, rather than have him finish up with twenty electric toasters and a hundred tea towels.’
‘Good idea,’ said Les. ‘Okay. I’m in for a hundred.’
‘Me too,’ smiled Tony.
Les handed Tony two fifties, Tony got a distinctive blue envelope from his room and placed their money inside along with a sheet of paper signed by both of them wishing Steve and Saretta all the best. Tony then sealed the envelope and put it in the back pocket of his jeans.
‘Did Deadline tell you I’m heading north tomorrow? So I won’t be able to drive you back to Sydney,’ said Les.
‘Yeah. No problems,’ replied Tony. ‘I can get a lift home with Cunzdrug and Errol.’
‘Beauty.’
‘So where are you going?’ asked Tony.
‘Lennox Head,’ lied Les. ‘To see a bloke I used to play football with. Burt Zane.’
‘I know Burt,’ said Tony. ‘He was a good second rower. Till he fucked his knee up.’
‘Mate. He could tackle. I know that,’ smiled Les.
They threw down a few more drinks. Tony bonked a few girls and photographed several young models, while Les scored a couple of tries under the posts and sorted out the odd mug with Billy Dunne. Finally Tony looked at his watch.
‘We may as well get going,’ he said. ‘Deadline and the boys’ll be wondering where we are.’
‘Yeah. Good idea,’ agreed Les. ‘Let’s blast off.’
Along with the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, Tony placed his six-pack of JD and Coke into a plastic shopping bag, then, carrying what they were drinking, Les and Tony left the flat and headed for the wedding reception.
The venue was a huge wooden house, built with Blueys Beach at the rear. A double garage faced the street and on the right a set of stairs lined with candles led up to the front door. Les and Tony followed the candles and stepped through into a large open deck area, scattered with outdoor furniture. Right off the front door was a bathroom and toilet and next to that a sizeable loungeroom with a set of stairs running up to the next floor. The loungeroom faced a bar on the left side of the house where two girls were pouring beers and handing out glasses of wine, and next to the bar was an open kitchen staffed by people in black or white uniforms passing out food or working at the hot plates. The house finished at a wide sundeck built above a backyard full of trees that commanded a beautiful view of Blueys Beach shining in the moonlight. The reception was crowded and two girls in white uniforms were easing their way through the guests with trays of food. Steve was joking with two mates near the loungeroom while Saretta was seated inside on a black leather lounge with her father and two bridesmaids. Cruisy lounge music was playing in the background, the children had been all put to bed and Steve’s friends were getting into the occasion. Around them, in a sea of alcohol, the two families in brown and blue were doing their best to forget past differences and straining to enjoy themselves as best they could.
‘Well, isn’t this nice, Steelo,’ said Les, helping himself to a chicken kebab going past on a tray. ‘A nice big place full of nice big people.’
‘Yeah. And all nice and pissed,’ said Tony, grabbing two spring rolls from another passing tray.
A short wall ran between the deck and the bar and Les pointed to an empty table in the corner. ‘Why don’t we place our drinks on that table? I’ll get some ice and soda water. Then we might mingle.’
‘Righto,’ nodded Tony.
Tony placed the plastic bag on a white outdoor table while Les stepped round to the bar and got two glasses of ice and a bottle of soda water. While he was waiting, Les turned to the open kitchen and noticed a tall man in a black T-shirt morosely turning kebabs on a hot plate. He had a neatly trimmed beard and long black hair pinned back in a ponytail that exposed a thick gold earring. Well, look who’s on the job, mused Les. Richard the jealous boyfriend. And he doesn’t look any happier than he did this morning. I’m not sure where his head’s at, but I think it might be best if I try and keep Steelo away from him till we leave. Les got his ice and soda water and walked back to the table.
‘Well done, Les,’ said Tony, taking a glass of ice and pouring his can of JD and Coke into it. ‘I might even add a bit of your Jack Daniel’s.’
‘Help yourself.’ Les made himself a delicious and watched as Tony topped up his glass with bourbon.
‘Ohh, yeah,’ said Tony, smacking his lips. ‘That certainly hits the spot.’
‘It certainly does,’ agreed Les.
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Tony. ‘Those spring rolls were the grouse. I’m going down to get some more.’
‘Get some more?’ said Les. ‘Where?’
‘Where?’ Tony nodded past the bar. ‘Where they’re cooking them, you big goose. Where do you think?’
‘Let me,’ smiled Les. ‘I’ll get them.’
‘No. I’ll get them,’ said Tony, placing his drink on the table. ‘What do you think I am? A fuckin cripple? Besides, I want to give Deadline his envelope.’
‘Okay. You’re the boss,’ replied Les. ‘I’ll wait here.’
Stepping away from the table, Les watched Tony walk up to Steve and hand him the blue envelope. Steve shook Tony’s hand, then turned around, waved and smiled a thank you to Les. Les smiled back and raised his glass. After a moment or two Tony left Steve with his mates and walked down to the kitchen.
A couple of people moved away and Tony stepped up to a skinny blonde girl at the counter wearing a white uniform. They exchanged smiles then the girl picked up two paper plates and stepped across to Richard. Richard placed a serving of spring rolls and kebabs on the plates before absently turning around towards the counter. The second Richard saw Tony, he stiffened and his eyes started spinning around in his head like Tibetan prayer wheels. The blonde girl handed Tony the plates and Tony eased his way towards the deck area totally oblivious to the filthy looks he was getting from the kitchen. Keeping the guests between himself and the other end of the house, edging forward, Les watched Richard pick up a spatula and, still staring daggers at Tony, stab angrily at the food on the hot plates. Sipping his bourbon, Les stepped back to their table.
‘Here you go, Ugly,’ said Tony, placing the paper plates on the table. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks, Steelo. You’re a legend.’ Les picked up a kebab and chewed a piece off. ‘So what did Deadline have to say?’
‘Ohh, he was rapt,’ replied Tony. ‘He’s coming over in a minute to have a drink with us.’
‘Good.’ Les finished his kebab and picked up his drink. ‘Hey, Tony,’ he said. ‘I think there’s something I should tell you.’
Tony finished his JD and Coke and put his glass down. ‘Tell me when I get back from the brascoe. I got to have a snakes.’
‘All right,’ nodded Les.
Tony walked across to the toilet and in full view of Richard stood outside and waited for the person inside to finish. Still keeping himself inconspicuous, Les edged up to the bar and pensively watched Richard glaring like a madman at Tony. A stocky woman in a blue dress stepped out of the toilet and Tony went inside. He’d no sooner closed the door when Janet’s cousin Andrew walked in the front door wearing his blue uniform. He spotted Richard looking towards the toilet, gave him a wave and started walking down to the kitchen, not seeing Les near the bar. Hello, Richard’s mate’s here, noticed Les. I wonder what he wants? Probably a free feed, I would imagine.
Andrew walked up to the counter and Richard immediately left what was on the hot plates and got into an animated discussion with his friend. Richard was pointing angrily towards the toilet when the door opened and Tony came out wiping his hands, before walking across to the table to get a fresh drink. This was enough for Richard. He tore off his apron, flung it on the counter and stormed up through the guests to Tony. Tony was about to take a sip of his JD and Coke and join Les when Richard loomed up in front of him and pushed him in the chest, spilling Tony’s drink over his shirt.
‘What the…?’ said Tony, going backwards.
‘Did you have a good time last night?’ demanded Richard.
Tony gave Richard a bewildered once-up-and-down. ‘What are you talking about, you goose?’
‘Ruby. The girl you were with last night. That’s my fuckin girlfriend.’
‘She is?’
‘Yeah. So what have you got to say about it?’
Tony thought for a second. ‘Nothing really,’ he replied. ‘Except you’re a lucky man. Because she’s an unbelievable fuck. And she could suck paint off the Harbour Bridge.’
The tall rangy cook immediately exploded. ‘Aaarrgghh!’
Seething with rage, Richard brought his right arm back and punched Tony hard in the face, sending Tony into a couple behind him dressed in brown. Stunned, and with blood pouring from his nose, Tony did his best to stay on his feet when Richard grabbed him with his left hand and started pummelling Tony’s head with his right. Tony was having absolutely no luck at all, so reluctantly Les decided he’d better step in before Steelo finished up looking like topside mince. Putting his drink down, Les moved quickly through the guests and pulled Richard off Tony.
‘Righto, tough guy. You’ve proved your point,’ said Les. ‘He’s had enough. Leave him alone.’
‘Who the fuck are you?’ snarled Richard.
‘A friend of his. Now piss off. Go on, you’ve had your fun.’
‘What? Fuck you.’
Richard drew back to head-butt Les. Les brought his hand up to his forehead and all Richard’s big bony head collected was the heel of Norton’s fist. Les slammed his left knee into Richard’s groin and as he doubled up with pain, grabbed him by the front of his black T-shirt and smashed two short rights into Richard’s face, splitting his eye open and mashing up his mouth. Richard started to sink so Les brought his right knee up into his face and Richard’s nose turned into a squashed blob of bone and gristle resting under one eye. Les dropped Richard on the floor and turned just in time to see Andrew knocking people’s drinks over as he charged through the guests to get at Norton. Les stepped back a little and Andrew ran straight into a hideous left hook that tore his mouth open, knocked out all his front teeth and buckled his knees. Blood bubbling down his chin, Andrew’s eyes glazed over and he was about to join his teeth rattling around on the floor when Les bent down, hooked his right arm under Andrew’s crotch, got hold of his jacket with his left arm, then stood up and with a quick shoulder wheel easily flipped Andrew back amongst the bemused guests standing round the bar. The tall security guard’s left arm landed on the bar as he came down, knocking over a tray of beers, and his right arm hit a woman in a brown dress across the ears, knocking her hat off and spilling her drink over her.
And that was it. The catalyst the party had been waiting for. Everybody wearing blue figured somebody wearing brown had spilled their drink over them, and everybody wearing brown thought exactly the reverse. Within seconds, the reception erupted into a huge, rolling blood feud, and if somebody in blue couldn’t find somebody in brown to punch or kick and if somebody in brown couldn’t find someone in blue to kick and punch, they turned on the nearest waxhead.
Ducking under a bar stool flying past, Les picked Tony up from where he was sitting on his rump on the floor and placed him on a chair at their table. The blood had stopped flowing freely from Tony’s nose and was now just a steady trickle.
‘Are you all right, Steelo?’ asked Les, as a flying bottle smashed against the wall behind their table.
‘Ohh, what the fuck happened?’ groaned Tony, staring at the blood all over the front of his shirt.
‘You started a fight,’ answered Les. ‘And you got sorted out for your trouble. You idiot.’
‘I started a fight?’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Les. ‘Have a look around you. This is all your fault. You’re a madman.’
Tony looked up in horror. ‘Oh shit!’
People were going through windows, getting thrown over the bar or tossed off the balcony. Saretta’s father had two men wearing brown in headlocks and was banging their heads together. Saretta, her hair all over the place and a huge rip in her wedding dress, was sitting on some woman in brown’s stomach, smashing a high heel into the woman’s face, while the woman was reaching up, trying to scratch Saretta’s eyes out. Near the bar, a man in blue fighting a man in brown was going all right till a woman in a smart brown dress smashed a champagne bottle over the man in blue’s head, knocking him cold. Cunzdrug, his blond hair a bigger mess than ever and his crisp white shirt covered in blood and hanging off his back in tatters, was standing in the lounge fighting a solid man in blue and giving quite a good account of himself when another man in blue whacked him across the kidneys with a bar stool. Cunzdrug went down and both men started kicking him till two of the groomsmen, their white shirts torn to shreds, jumped in and saved him.
‘Shit. You know what we forgot, Steelo?’ said Les.
‘What?’ said Tony.
‘Our cameras,’ replied Les. ‘How good’s this?’
‘Ohh, get fucked, Les.’
Another bottle smashed into the wall behind them and a plastic chair came skidding across the floor and cannoned into their table when Steve lurched out of the loungeroom holding a man in brown in a headlock and punching the man in the face. His shirt torn off his back and huge rips in his green trousers, Steve was going all right till the man in brown got hold of one of Steve’s legs and flipped him over, turning their fight into a biting, gouging wrestling match on the beer and blood sodden floor.
‘Come on, Steelo,’ said Les. ‘I think it’s time you and I made a discreet exit.’
‘You’re not fuckin wrong,’ cursed Tony, spitting a gob of blood onto the floor.
Les bundled the last of their booze back into the plastic bag, along with the remaining kebabs and spring rolls. He was about to help Tony up when he noticed a familiar patch of blue amongst the mess on the floor.
‘Hey, wait here a sec, Steelo,’ said Les.
Les was about to go over and pick up the envelope when a man in a torn brown suit stood on it and shaped up looking for someone to fight. Les stepped over, tapped the bloke on the shoulder and when he turned around, belted him with a crisp right uppercut. The man dropped to the floor, Les picked up the envelope, shoved it in his jeans and went back to Tony.
‘You right, Steelo?’ asked Les, picking up the plastic bag.
Tony rose slowly to his feet. ‘Yeah. Let’s get going. This is totally fucked.’
With no sign of any let-up in the fighting and people even at each other’s throats in the bathroom, Les and Tony made their way to the front door and took the stairs down to the street.
Tony was unsteady on his feet and very quiet as they made the slow journey home. Les, on the other hand, was more upbeat. He took a hit straight from
the bottle of Jack Daniel’s, capped it and put the bottle back in the bag.
‘So, what made you want to start a fight back there, Steelo?’ Les asked, taking the bourbon’s bite through gritted teeth.
‘Start a fight?’ replied Tony. ‘Fuck off, will you. I was just standing there and that big hillbilly ran up and punched me in the fuckin head.’
‘Yeah? Come on, Steelo. There’s got to be more to it than that.’
‘Oh, he rambled on about something about Ruby being his girlfriend or some bloody thing.’
‘So what did you say to him?’ asked Les.
‘Nothing,’ lied Tony. ‘I just said I didn’t know. Sorry.’
‘But you did know Ruby had a boyfriend,’ said Les.
‘Well…yeah,’ replied Tony. ‘But I didn’t know he was a full-on bad news fuckin imbecile.’
‘Be nice if he turned on me as well,’ said Les. ‘I could be walking around smelling the roses through a broken nose too.’
‘Ohh, fuckin bullshit, Les.’
Les shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Steelo. I’m not sure I can trust you any more. I think you’re a crazy drunk, a lecher and a liar.’
‘Get fucked, Les,’ said Tony. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
Les and Tony were almost at San Remo when the first police car came howling round the corner, followed by an ambulance. They watched another police car go screaming past, then crossed the road and walked upstairs into the flat.
Once inside, Les turned on the lights, closed the door and placed the plastic bag in the kitchen. He took out the booze, then put the kebabs and spring rolls on a plate. Tony poured himself a glass of water and flopped down on the lounge.
‘You want a kebab, Steelo?’ asked Les, indicating the plate.
‘Do I want a kebab?’ sputtered Tony. ‘Have a look at my fuckin mouth. I’m lucky I got any teeth left.’
‘I can cut one up for you,’ suggested Les. ‘Like they do for the old people in the nursing homes.’
‘Ohh get fucked will you, Les,’ replied Tony. ‘You’re a fuckin goose.’
High Noon in Nimbin Page 7