They sat down at the table and started spooning large helpings of sate-chicken, garlic-prawns, fried-rice and other tasty dishes into their mouths. Norton was going at it like a school of piranhas but Sophia was almost matching him bite for bite. All the time she had this tigerish gleam in her eyes. When they finished there wasn’t a grain of rice, a skerrick of meat or a drop of soy sauce left. Sophia rose from the table and started to clean up, Les sat there and polished off another four cans.
‘I might — ah stick the TV on,’ he said tentatively.
‘Good idea.’
Hello, she’s gonna have a rest, thought Les. He made a bee-line for the TV, switched it on and lay back on the large ottoman lounge with a cushion under his head. Bill Collins had hardly introduced an old Humphrey Bogart movie, which Norton fancied watching, when Sophia zeroed in alongside him; the tigerish gleam was well and truly in her eyes now.
‘Take off your shorts,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Take off your shorts. Come on.’ Before Les had a chance to argue Sophia had dragged his Stubbies off and flung them across the room. From out of her handbag she produced a large jar of Vaseline. ‘Just lie back and relax, she said. She took a scoop of Vaseline from the jar and started massaging it into Norton’s burning loins. This is all right, he thought as he lay back and relaxed, letting Sophia do her thing.
Under her gentle touch the pain was almost starting to go away. However it wasn’t long before the constant massaging caused a definite stirring in his loins. Oh no, thought Les, stay down you bastard. But Norton’s old boy, like a punch-drunk fighter that can’t tell when he’s had enough, started to rise to the occasion again. It no sooner had than Sophia had her clothes off and was straddling him with a vengeance. Norton didn’t even get a chance to see a commercial, let alone any of the old Humphrey Bogart movie.
Whether it was the spices in the Chinese food that did it or what, Les couldn’t tell. But somehow or other Sophia just seemed to come on stronger than ever. By stopping every hour or so to massage Les with Vaseline she managed to keep him going all night, almost grinding him through the ottoman lounge, then just before midnight she switched the TV off and dragged Les into the bedroom for what he hoped and prayed was going to be the grand finale. Although his pride wouldn’t let him admit it to Sophia, deep inside Norton felt that he was almost gone and by now he knew that he needed another root like Custer needed more Indians. But Sophia would show no mercy.
Around lam Les was lying on the bed in a state of semi-shock, he was dog tired but in too much pain to go to sleep. His loins were throbbing and the sweat on his back was running into all the scratches, making them sting like a thousand sandfly bites. He was dying to use the bathroom but by some strange quirk of fate Sophia had fallen asleep next to him and Les was terrified that if he moved she would wake up and start attacking him again. Eventually he could hold out no longer.
Slowly, cautiously he eased himself up painfully from the bed and tip-toed quietly to the bathroom, closing the door gently behind him before he turned on the light. After he’d finished he examined himself closely in the full-length mirror. What he saw scared shit out of him.
His old boy was dangling there like a skinned whiting fillet, just to look at it made it hurt; it was that red and chaffed it glowed in the dark. His bloodshot eyes had ugly dark circles under them and were sunken deep into his head, the skin seemed to be drawn across his face like a ghastly mask. It reminded him of photos he’d seen of some prisoners in a Russian labour camp. His back was a welter of bruises and criss-cross scratches that were starting to weep openly; noticing how his ribs appeared to be sticking out he stepped on to a set of bathroom scales.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he said out loud. ‘I’ve lost nearly ten kilos in three days.’
As he stared in horror at the face reflected in the mirror it suddenly dawned on him why Sophia’s husband died of a heart attack at thirty. The poor bastard, he thought, she’s shagged him to death and now she wants to do the same to me. Christ, what am I gonna do? A sudden knock at the bathroom door nearly made his heart jump straight up into his mouth.
‘Are you all right in there?’
‘Yeah, yeah. I just feel a bit sick.’
‘What’s the matter?’
‘I — ah — think one of those prawns must have been a bit off. I’ll be out in a second.’
He flushed the toilet, gargled a bit of water then stepped out of the bathroom clutching his stomach and moaning. Sophia was standing there, a concerned look on her face.
‘Oh Les, are you all right?’ she said.
‘Ooohh,’ replied Norton. ‘Oohh, I don’t feel real good at all. Must’ve been those bloody prawns.’
‘I had some and I’m all right.’
‘I must’ve cracked it for a dud one. Give us a hand into bed will you.’
Sophia helped Norton on to the bed where he lay moaning softly and clutching his stomach.
‘I’ll get something,’ said Sophia. She returned with a wet face cloth and started mopping his face. ‘You do look a bit pale.’
‘I’ll be okay,’ said Les. ‘Just let me lay here for a while.’ He lay there with his eyes closed for about ten minutes, then started to snore softly, pretending he was asleep. He could feel Sophia staring at him but after a while she gave a sigh, turned out the bed-lamp and went to sleep herself. Before long Norton relaxed, then slipped into unconsciousness himself.
Saturday morning was a carbon copy of Friday. Norton’s sleep was broken by Sophia’s moaning as she prepared him for her morning glory; a groggy check of his watch revealed it was 6am. Oh God, here we go again, he thought and braced himself for the onslaught.
Sophia savaged him till about 8.30am. Till finally she gave one last scream of exhilaration then fell on the bed next to Les gasping with satisfied bewilderment. ‘Ohh! How good was that?’ she cried and threw her arms across Les’s chest.
Norton lay there shuddering like a pole-axed bullock; for the last hour tears had been streaming down his face. He was in so much pain he thought he was going to go mad and he knew that if Sophia had gone another ten minutes, with his last ounce of strength he would have punched her fair on the jaw.
‘Yeah. Bloody unreal,’ he groaned.
They lay on the bed in silence for a while till eventually Sophia got up and started getting dressed. ‘I suppose I’d better get going,’ she said. ‘It’s almost nine o’clock.’ She bent down and gave Les a big wet kiss. ‘But I’ll be back darling. About three.’
‘Beauty,’ groaned Les.
She gave her hair a quick tidy in the mirror and picked up her handbag from the dressing table. ‘You stay here,’ she said smiling over at Les. ‘I’ll bring back everything we need. I’ll get some meat and make you a nice big carpet bag steak for tea. Plenty of oysters.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And I’ll get you another case of beer.’ She paused for a moment. ‘You — don’t like stout at all, do you Les?’
‘Not particularly.’
‘Mmhh. Oh well, never mind.’ She blew him a kiss from the door. ‘See you at three.’
‘See you then.’
Les lay there with his face in the pillow listening while she got in her car and drove off down the street, giving the horn a couple of beeps as she went. Oh shit, he thought, how am I going to get out of this? He worried about it for a while but tiredness overcame him and he dozed off.
Three kookaburras in a tree next to the bedroom, arguing fiercely over an unfortunate little grass snake one of them had caught, woke him just after midday.
‘What was that?’ he said, raising his head off the pillow. For a moment he thought he was back in Dirranbandi. He glanced at his watch; it’s after lunch, he thought, I’d better get up and have a shower. He swung his legs off the bed and sat there staring numbly at the floor for a moment then headed slowly towards the bathroom.
The hot water stung all the cuts and abrasions on his body, the soap made it worse; bu
t after a lengthy burst of cold water he felt noticeably better. Almost wide awake. He checked himself in the mirror, shuddered at what he saw, then went out to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee; towelling himself as gently as possible. With a steaming mug of brew in his hands he sat in the lounge sipping it slowly and staring glumly into space. His eyes had narrowed and worry lines an inch deep were forming on his craggy forehead, adding menace to the darkness that was spreading across his face.
How the hell am I going to get out of this? he thought. If I stay here with her I’ll be dead by Monday, or that close to it it doesn’t make any difference. If she keeps it up I’ll finish up doin’ me block and hitting her on the chin, then I’ll be on an assault charge and she’ll probably say I tried to rape her. Hah. Or I can turn tail and piss off, like a dingo, and know some sheila’s held the wood over me; I’d never be able to look myself in the eye again. Neither of the three options appealed to him. He glowered into the empty mug for a few minutes his anger steadily increasing then got up to make some more coffee.
‘Fuck it!’ he cursed out loud. ‘I only came here for a bit of peace and bloody quiet, there’s been nothing but trouble then that bitch has to turn up.’ He flung the coffee mug into the sink, breaking the handle. ‘Why me?’ he roared through gritted teeth waving his arms around the kitchen in frustration. ‘Why bloody me?’ He was just about to put his massive fist through one of the redwood teak cabinets when unexpectedly the phone rang.
A feeling of extreme trepidation swept over him. It’s got to be bloody her, he thought; she’s ringing to say she’s coming over early. He stood in the kitchen staring at the phone, transfixed with fear and hate as it kept ringing for almost three minutes. I suppose I’d better bloody answer it. Reluctantly he walked to the lounge and picked up the receiver.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello Les. It’s Price, how are you son?’
A great sigh of relief oozed out of Norton’s body. ‘Oh Price, how are you? It’s good to hear from you.’
‘Yeah. Listen Les, I’ve got some horrible rotten news for you, mate.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Mate. I’m going to have to cut short your holiday.’
‘YOU WHAT?’
‘Ohh, Les, I can understand you blowing up. I know I promised you two weeks up there but all the trouble’s blown over and I’m opening the club tonight. I need you back here.’
Norton stared into the mouthpiece. ‘You want me back tonight?’
‘Yes mate. Sorry.’
Norton was speechless, he kept staring at the mouthpiece. ‘No, no that’s all right Price,’ he said quickly. ‘I’ll be there, don’t worry.’
‘Ohh good on you, Les. I know how you must feel and I hate having to do this to you but don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll see you tonight then?’
‘Yeah, no worries, I’ll be there for sure. Goodbye.’
Norton stared at the phone for a moment then a grin like a split in a watermelon spread across his face and he sprang into action.
Within 30 minutes Les had the house tidied up, the broken mug fixed, his clothes packed and thrown with the remaining beer and groceries on the back seat of his car. He scribbled a quick note to Sophia explaining briefly what had happened and telling her he’d ring her from work. Don’t know how though, he thought as he slipped it under the large brass knocker on the front door, I don’t even know your phone number. And I don’t want to. He gave it and the house a last look and sprinted for his car. The next thing he was belting his old Ford along The Entrance Road, looking in the rear vision mirror for speed cops or possibly a white BMW and heading for the freeway back to Sydney.
The pale blue neon light of the Kelly Club threw an almost translucent glow over the two men in tuxedos standing casually at the entrance. The shorter man was peeling an orange, the taller one was leaning against the wall not doing very much at all.
‘Well,’ said Billy Dunne tossing the orange peel into the gutter. ‘Wasn’t much of a holiday was it?’
‘No. Not really,’ replied Les Norton.
‘I suppose you must have the shits having to come back so soon.’ He offered Les a piece of orange, Les shook his head. ‘I had a prick of a time myself.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Yeah. Never stopped bluein’ with me missus the whole bloody time, smashed the windscreen of the car half way down, one of the kids has trod on a broken bottle and got eight stitches in his foot. I’ve had an argument with me brother in a pub over nothing and ended up flattenin’ two of his mates. Fair dinkum, Les, I was glad to get back to tell you the truth.’
‘Go on, eh?’ replied Norton.
‘Yeah. Not like you, you lucky bludger. That nice big house, the pool, all on your own. At least you got a few days of peace and quiet.’
‘Yeah, it was just great.’
‘Anyway you can always go back up again I suppose if we get another break.’
‘What was that?’
‘I said, I suppose you’ll be heading straight back up again if we ever get another break.’
‘Billy,’ replied Les slowly. ‘If Price ever offers me two weeks of peace and quiet in Terrigal again, you know what I’m gonna do?’
‘What?’
‘I’m going straight to the nearest travel agent and book a fortnight in Beirut.’
The garish neon lights blending in around them as Kings Cross started to come to life on Saturday night added a distinct touch of surrealism to the whole scene.
Grungle
When Les Norton first came to Sydney and settled in Bondi, he lived in the usual variety of places new settlers to the Eastern Suburbs generally live in. Boarding houses, hotels, sharing flats and houses with other people, flats on his own, etc, till finally after working a year at the Kelly Club he bought an old semi-cottage in Cox Avenue, Bondi. Though Norton didn’t actually buy the house out of shrewd judgment or a masterly plunge in real estate; it was almost given to him on a plate.
A couple of Painters and Dockers, hit men, came up from Melbourne to do a job on a night club owner at the Cross, and not being the two brightest hit men in the business they got Price Galese mixed up with the bloke they were supposed to neck. Naturally enough it was the last job they ever did; or in this case tried to do. About a week after botching their contract they finished up wired to a couple of Holden gearboxes, feeding the snappers at the bottom of Port Phillip Bay; their heads and torsos well and truly ventilated with rather large holes. Which a .38 calibre revolver at close range is apt to make.
Their bungled attempt was made outside the Kelly Club early on a Thursday night as Price was walking back to his car. Norton, being born and bred in the bush and the son of a spiritually minded mother, had this uncanny sixth sense that always seemed to tell him whenever something wasn’t quite right. So even though it was early and still relatively quiet he decided to walk Price up to his car.
‘You’re a bit of an old sheila at times Les, aren’t you?’ said Price to his big doorman as they sauntered slowly along the footpath in Kelly Street.
‘Ah, I just felt like stretching me legs to tell you the truth,’ replied Norton laconically. His narrowed eyes darting all over the street.
As they got to Price’s Rolls, Norton noticed the unusual way a dark blue Valiant seemed to cruise directly towards them. Saw the glint of a gun barrel reflected in the neon lights around them and flung himself in front of Price; badly bruising him but undoubtedly saving his life as a fusillade of automatic weapon fire slammed into the Rolls, shattering two windows and blowing away the outside rear vision mirror.
Norton stopped two bullets, one through the shoulder another through his thigh. They were only superficial and luckily he wasn’t hurt very badly at all, but as far as Price was concerned he owed the big red-headed Queenslander his life and did everything he could to make it up to him.
However, Norton stubbornly refused to accept a thing. He offered him half a million in cash. Norton refused to take
it. He offered to buy him a new home. Norton still said no. A trip overseas, his wages doubled and a share in the casino. But nothing could break Norton’s pertinacious resolve. All he’d say was, ‘That’s what you’re payin’ me for, ain’t it?’ shrug his big, broad shoulders and smile.
This annoyed the absolute shit out of Price. He owed Norton his life and wanted desperately to repay him; so he cooked up a scheme with his brother, one of Sydney’s leading barristers, to sell Les a house. Price knew Les only lived in an old flat in Bondi and he was always saying that if he ever got enough money together he’d like to buy a house of his own. So Price bought the old semi, nothing too flash of course as he didn’t want Norton smelling a rat, and got the message back to him through his brother that there was a deceased estate up for sale and if he got in lively he’d pick it up for around $10,000. Price would guarantee him the finance.
Now Norton might not like to accept charity but when it came to the chance for an earn or a bargain there was none smarter, and having a reputation for being so mean he wouldn’t lead a blind grasshopper to a lawn Norton had no qualms whatsoever at making a hustle because some poor old pensioner had kicked the bucket. As far as Les was now concerned Price’s favour had been returned, Price felt a lot better and Les was absolutely jubilant. He finally had a home of his own; and he’d got it under his own steam.
It took about six weeks for the contracts to be finalised then Les moved in, after brassing his Jewish landlord for exactly that amount of rent. Norton didn’t do this out of malice or prejudice; he did it simply to save money and knowing that if you live in Bondi and have a Jew for a landlord it’s more or less compulsory for the ‘goyen’ to have a go and try to get their own back. Norton always reckoned it was worth ten years of his life just to see the look on Benny Rabinsky’s face when he found he’d been taken to the cleaners for around five hundred bucks.
The team at the Kelly Club all contributed a little something towards helping Les move into his new home. Some cutlery, a few gadgets for the kitchen, the girls ran him up a few curtains, the boys all shot in and bought him a washing machine. Price Galese insisted that Les let him shout him a good ottoman lounge and Billy Dunne lined up a couple of willing thieves to have the place carpeted at the right price. In about a week Norton had the old semi looking pretty schmick, it was all nice and comfortable inside and he was just starting to get to know some of his neighbours.
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