by J A Scooter
Then one became a little reckless.
“Andrew - tonight, don’t pray hard to be good, just pray to be hard. The girls will look after the good.”
The family groaned, but Nicolette and Marissa laughed as loudly as others who heard and weren’t the least embarrassed, but Nicolette got the better of him.
“It’s obvious there is no point in you saying prayers, unless you pray for something to get hard with.”
The resulting explosion of mirth was even louder than before. If Andrew’s friends thought they could embarrass the two dainty ballerinas, they were mistaken.
The Australian summer heat was stifling, but in the house, the thick walls of stone and the air conditioning kept the heat at bay.
Quickly the house filled with visitors and the women in the traditional Australian country fashion gravitated to the kitchen. Their men folk, following behind, carried baskets of food. The ovens were soon full and rich smells wafted onto the verandahs where tables had been set up to seat all the guests.
It was a traditional Christmas Dinner where the extended family of friends and relatives pitched in, welcoming Peter.
The festive occasion was a rousing success.
Until he sat beside Jennifer, Peter didn’t realize how large her family was. He tried counting the aunts, uncles and cousins until he finally gave up and just concentrated on talking to Jennifer. He noted it was no use trying to talk to Andrew. He was far too busy trying to impress his two ‘Christmas Presents’.
Later that night, when the summer heat had abated, Andrew took his two visitors out into the warm summer night, with Peter and Jennifer following.
Standing under the gum trees with the heavy scent of eucalyptus hanging in the air, Peter drew Jennifer’s head to his chest and paused to reconsider his life. He realized it had changed and would never be the same again. With his arms around the woman he loved, he knew he now had a special person to care for.
The lone wolf of his past had faded into the shadows, never to return.
He had a family!
Chapter 11 Back to Reality
Towards the end of January, Peter returned to his workshop with Jennifer on his arm.
Joe noticed the change in Jennifer and the ring on her finger. Smiling broadly, he bellowed his welcome for all to hear.
"So here's the blushing bride-to-be! I'm very pleased for the two of you." Dragging Jennifer from the office, he took her into the workshop where he spread the news.
It wasn't long before Bob and Ted arrived. They weren't surprised when Joe broke the news of the engagement by returning Jennifer to the office to flash her engagement ring at them. It was obvious to all that she was wearing Peter's ring with much pride.
"We wondered when you'd get around to it."
Ted began questioning. "When's the happy day? Where are you going to live?"
"You'll have to change your wicked ways, Peter,” Bob commented. "How about bequeathing me your little black book? There should be plenty of blondes in it, but I doubt if there are any redheads."
Not in the least embarrassed by the friendly banter, Jennifer was content to feel Peter's body against hers as she clung to his arm.
Ted agreed to become Peter's best man and Bob was delighted to be a groomsman.
"The wedding will be held at Jennifer's family's church, a cathedral near Jennifer's home, so there'll be a party of us flying down to Melbourne on Easter Sunday afternoon. There'll be the two of you and your partners."
Seeing the crestfallen look on Joe's face, he grinned.
"Joe, ring Maria immediately and tell her I'm taking the two of you to Melbourne and these two ruffians with their poor partners. Also ring Jack, the retired manager of the BMW Dealership next door. He and his wife will be coming. All expenses will be paid by the company. Mark, ring your wife as we're inviting the two of you as well. The Sydney contingent will make a plane load."
Ignoring Ted's startled look he continued. "Now to find Susie and her husband because we're inviting them too."
Bob smiled broadly. "I've some news for you. Since you abandoned us here, I've been headhunted to become the Manager of the Lexus Dealership down the road.
"I don't know how it happened but since taking up the position I have worked nonstop. Yet I am enjoying the 24/7 week. Every day brings a new set of challenges and, well, I am thriving on it.
"I'll even arrange to take you for a test drive if you have the money.” His laughter showed that under the new businessman the old Bob was still alive and well.
"And your ex-customer, the blonde Susie - well, she spends her day running between the BMW Dealership next door and the Motel alongside my Lexus Dealership. Her husband, The Commander - as we call him - has retired from the RAN. He's now the manager of the BMW Dealership. Susie is the manageress of the motel up the road.
"There have been some big changes while you were away - oh, and yes - Ted's gone up in the world.” Bob's eyes just did not stop twinkling. "He's gone up all right! Top floor management and he's the auditor for your workshop, and has added the BMW Dealership, my dealership and the motel. I think there's been a takeover."
Peter couldn't help smiling at how Bob kept saying, 'My dealership' and was especially pleased at how his plans had worked out.
Remembering some more news, Bob added, "How much longer Susie will be running the motel, I can't guess, as she's pregnant - so she's constantly reminding us."
Further conversation was impossible. A whirlwind of noise hit the office. Susie had arrived, ignoring the men and going straight to Jennifer to hold her left hand, making all the appropriate female noises of appreciation over the engagement and the ring.
"Women!” Peter mused, astounded that the two of them hugged, and cried, and laughed, and sobbed without pausing for breath. Finally, he called a halt. "Susie, you're invited to our wedding on Easter Monday in Victoria. Yes, don't look so surprised. You and Bill are invited - all flights, clothing and accommodation will be at the company's expense. Everything's arranged.
"Jennifer will be taking all the women in our Sydney contingent shopping for new outfits at my expense. This tightwad is opening his wallet and letting the moths out. Jennifer will also be taking the men from the bridal party Ted, Bob and Andrew to get them dressed in something she chooses. We can't have them turning up in overalls and gumboots!"
Peter breathed a sigh of relief that thankfully no one thought of asking why he wasn't included in the outing to purchase suitable men's clothing.
"The trip and the clothes are at my expense as a thank you for your support and consideration since I arrived in Australia. You have all had a lot to put up with but in spite of that, you remained my friends, so now I say thank you."
With a sly look at Ted, Peter chuckled. "Besides, I'll make Ted think up all kinds of reasons why these expenses are to be paid by the taxation department."
Ted almost choked.
Everyone wanted to say something, all at the same time and the noise was horrific. Objections to Peter paying, pleasure at being invited, congratulations to the engaged couple - everyone had something to say.
Peter overrode the bedlam.
"Stop! Listen all of you. Jennifer and I want no arguments. Susie, do you remember your advice to me? 'Get in there and fight. Jennifer is worth fighting for.' Well I fought and won - and I will keep fighting for her until the day I die."
Holding Jennifer very tightly, he looked at them all.
"Your official invitations will arrive soon, and I'd like you to note that there'll be no wedding presents. Absolutely none! Not one for heaven's sake. Instead, we'll be very pleased if some of you donate to the Westmead Hospital Children's Cancer Appeal. Certain companies have agreed to match your donations so that perhaps children will eventually be free of this dreadful scourge. The Victorian and New South Wales Branches of the appeal will split all donations.
"Don't look so surprised, Bob. What can anyone give me when I have Jennifer?” Peter dipped his head to brush his li
ps gently across her cheek.
With a wink and a sly glance at Jennifer, he turned to Bob and Ted. "By the way, there's the matter of a small bet you two have lost."
Later, when all the commotion had ceased and everyone had returned to their jobs, Ted dragged Peter outside to point at a Chinese sign high up under the eaves where it was visible to all the passing traffic on the main road.
"That appeared just after you left for Melbourne, and no matter what we do to paint it over, the following morning it re-appears.
"Since it first appeared the shop's been flat out, not to mention the number of BMW's sold, and Bob's had a field day with his Lexus shop. Susie's motel is constantly booked out.
"Frankly, it's strange as the clients - the customers - have been Chinese, Malays and Thais, not to mention the number of Indians. Moreover, we're all considering taking up language courses, and boy can they drink. We daren't take them to the pub, as we're the ones under the table. They have hollow legs. The only one able to stay with them is the Commander."
Looking even more serious, he added, "And there's a greater problem - Security. Some goons bailed Mark up in the office demanding protection money, threatening that if they weren't paid a monthly commission there would be a lot of damage done. Have you any suggestions?"
Amused, Peter could only chortle at Ted's concern.
"You and Bob met your match in the pub eh? Moreover, some people want to argue with us - pick a fight so to speak. Well, we'll just have to start our own security company. I believe I know how to get the men who'll fit the bill. No need to worry, I'll look after the problem. And leave that sign there, okay?"
Inside the office, the women were still talking - almost breathlessly - certainly in a manner than meant the men weren't to listen - dresses, materials and babies.
Enduring their chatter for a while and realizing how long he had to wait for the wedding, Peter changed the topic.
"Now about racing... I have a few ideas..."
The women laughed.
Within days Peter had discussed security with the Commander who promptly employed ex-Special Forces personnel, and Susie had them all fitted out in most stylish of uniforms. Their new security company was off to a good start.
Nothing further was heard from the bullyboys and Peter was relaxing in the office when the words, "Hey you, Scarface! Where's the Boss?” He snapped his eyes up from the accounts.
The bloated ‘toad’ was leaning on the counter, his bushy black eyebrows crawling over his dark sunglasses and his black hair was greased into place.
Not once since leaving Sydney and being with Jennifer's family had Peter given the scar a thought. Fingering his scar, he growled his answer. "You're talking to him."
Sweeping his glasses off to poke them into Peter's chest, the ‘toad’ demanded, "You're to fix my car and fix it good."
"Sorry, we're too busy to take another car."
Ted's words had jumped into Peter's brain. 'That's business you don't want.' Besides, the ‘toad's’ arrogance only made Peter angry as he swept the sunglasses out of his chest.
"Perhaps you didn't hear me. I want my car fixed,” the ‘toad’ insisted, poking Peter in the chest again to emphasize his point, "and fixed good." He waddled into the street, his wobbling paunch leading the way, and unfortunately, Peter followed him. A shiny black Mercedes was in the driveway, its front bumper crumpled and one headlight smashed.
Peter didn't need the work and the insurance assessor would have a fit when he called to check the quote. Across the street in a similar car sat two men, watching Peter as he wondered if they were friends of the ‘toad’. He shrugged off the thought and began writing out a quote.
"Forget the paper work.” The ‘toad's’ words lashed out at him.
"The insurance company..."
"This is a cash job and I want the car finished by tomorrow afternoon.” The ‘toad’ would accept no argument as he rained money onto the car bonnet like confetti at a wedding. The man had become impatient and turned to leave. "Four thousand dollars - that should cover it."
The green mini flashing past him into the workshop took his eyes as he continued.
"Don't worry. In my stable I have plenty of ponies only too happy to earn it back."
Peter tried to put him off. "I can't..."
The man's face contorted into a mask of hatred and fury as he whirled on Peter, waving a clenched fist under Peter's nose.
"That car will be ready at 4.30 tomorrow or you'll have no workshop."
He turned away just as Jennifer alighted from her car. Her skirt flew high as it caught in the breeze and her long legs drew the man's attention. An astonishing look of unbridled lust flashed across his features - a look he didn't bother to conceal. He licked his lips.
"Who's the red-headed tart?” he asked.
He didn't notice Peter's look of revulsion and didn't recoil from his rage.
"That's my fiancée."
"She'll make a good pony,” he remarked. "A very expensive pony to ride once she's broken in,” he called over his shoulder as he waddled across to the other car. The passenger door flew open and Peter recognized the driver as Pretty Boy.
"Everything all right, Boss?"
Pretty Boy's voice was high pitched and Peter wondered about his sex.
"Oh, yes, as usual.” The fat man's braying laugh floated through the open car window as they drove off.
Waving, Jennifer rushed off to confer with Susie, leaving Peter to grin happily at how the women's friendship had flourished.
He wheeled the Mercedes into the workshop where, much to Joe's horror, Peter demanded that work start immediately on the vehicle.
Within a few minutes, Joe was back.
"What's going on?” he asked. "There's a pistol strapped to the steering column on that car. I feel bad about this job. There's something wrong about it. Why did you take it on? Shouldn't we just refuse to take it?"
Joe seemed angry and so ill at ease that Peter wondered whether to push the car into the street and leave it, but the ‘toad's’ threat sat heavily on his mind.
He explained the confrontation with the ‘toad’ while Joe listened thoughtfully. Suddenly realizing the significance of the 'ponies' comment, Peter suddenly felt nauseous and began to heave, particularly as the bastard had mentioned Jennifer in that guise.
"That bugger's bad, very bad,” was Joe's opinion and his face told Peter how serious he was. "We'll work on the car together and get it out of the way."
He gripped Peter's shoulders with a fierce intensity that matched the repugnance in his voice.
"Men like him forced my father out of business and made him get out of Sicily, only to kill him when he established himself here.” Then his eyes clouded with loathing and his voice hardened in anger. "If this bastard wants a fight then he's got one."
Later that day, after the workshop had closed and they were alone, Joe and Peter examined the car carefully.
"Look at this Peter. Don't you think this is rather odd?"
Grunting at the weight, Joe took the spare wheel from the boot. "There's no way of pumping up the tire. The nipple hole is filled with putty and the wheel is far too heavy."
"Strange, but look at this, too,” Peter answered. Cradled in his hands was the pistol that had been strapped under the steering column. On one side of the handgrip were the outspread wings of an eagle and the swastika emblem of Nazi Germany. Along the blunt barrel was stamped P38. Its gunmetal grey with the black grips gave it a powerful malevolency.
"I've seen pictures of those. It was German Army issue - a Walther P38.” Joe's comments were terse. "He's not carrying that around for fun. It would blow a tidy hole in anyone. For God's sake put it back before the damn thing goes off."
"I wonder if he'd miss a few little cartridges.” Musing, Peter released the safety catch and opened the breech. "You work on the car while I do some adjustments to his pistol."
"Get rid of the damn thing.” Joe was worried. "For God's sake put it
back and wipe your prints off it."
With his mind elsewhere, Peter didn't reply but wandered across to the workbench where he became engrossed in working on the gun, gripped tightly in a vice.
The glare of a welding flame caught Joe's attention but he turned away to return to the car. He didn't see Peter remove three cartridges from the magazine.
Carefully Peter pulled the bullets from the cartridges and tossed them into the waste bin. He poured the gunpowder from the three cartridges into the now cooled barrel. Next, he deliberately cut the primers from their casings, removed the rims and pushed them up hard against the gunpowder. He worked with such practiced and considerate ease that to an onlooker it would have seemed he had been constructing booby traps all his life.
With the gun in his hand, Peter wandered back to Joe.
"There, that'll give Mr. ‘Toad’ a surprise when he pulls the trigger. Dad, take the shocked look off your face. Anyone who pulls that trigger will blow his own hand off. The ‘toad’ will be laughing for weeks at our little joke."
He returned the P38 to its hiding place under the steering column.
Joe had an idea of his own. "You've prepared a surprise - well I think I will have to add to this lucky dip. I'm convinced we're going to have some trouble with this bloke so I'll add some surprises too."
Without waiting for Peter's approval, Joe strained to release the tire from the rim. Inside were small packets of white powder tightly packed to keep the tire in shape.
"Surely, we have a tube that will fit.” Joe paused to think. "No, I believe we have a complete wheel with the same tire in the storeroom.” Off Joe went, mumbling quietly to himself then returned, rolling a wheel in front of him. "This should do."
Not knowing what Joe planned, Peter was still willing to follow his lead. This criminal had troubled Peter with his comment about Jennifer. He was angry, determined not to stand back. The toad would never ride rough shod over Jennifer or over him.
They replaced the spare wheel with the new one and slammed the boot lid shut before Peter realized he had only the key to the ignition. "How did you open the boot, Joe? The interior switch to open the boot doesn't work and we've only the ignition key? Where's the key?"