White Shoes, White Lines and Blackie

by Robert G. Barrett

  By the time the bloke had rung the ticket up on the till and turned back to Les, Norton had his Nikes off, sitting on the counter and the R.M.Williams on his feet. The bloke blinked a little at the Nikes.

  ‘Put them in the plastic bag, will you, mate,’ said Les. ‘I’ll wear the boots home.’ The bloke blinked at Les and kind of shook his head as he placed Norton’s trainers in the plastic bag. ‘And get yourself a drink too.’ Les gave the bloke five dollars more than was on the ticket, tucked the bag up under his arm and walked out of the mall.

  If Norton had looked like your usual mug tourist getting around earlier, now walking back in a T-shirt, shorts and R.M.Williams riding boots with no socks, it was as if the biggest mug in Australia had just hit town. Les checked himself out in a shop window going past and he looked like a cross between Li’l Abner and Gumby. And every spieler, spiv and dropkick within cooee knew it. He hadn’t even made it to the post office corner before he’d been almost goosed and rolled, gigged at and offered everything from a solid gold watch to a block of land guaranteed to treble his investment plus a boat and a week at Neptune’s Casino thrown in. By the time Les had crossed Cavill Avenue he felt like sinking one of his R.M.Williams in the next white shoette’s persistent snatch and right up the next smarty’s arse. Norton made it to the flats with his temper in check, just. But he’d managed to scuff up the rubber soles and break the boots in a bit.

  There was no sign of life out the front or upstairs, and Les wasn’t sure whether to be curious or not. Oh well, he shrugged. Who gives a stuff. The less people to annoy me at the moment the better. He went straight up to his flat, got out of the R.M. Williams, placing them under his bed, then walked round in his bare feet for a while: thinking. Something else had been playing on Norton’s mind, badly. He got a glass of water and put some ice in it then looked at his watch. Oh well, he sighed to himself. I’ve got to do this sooner or later. Let’s hope the Norton luck hasn’t completely deserted me. You never know. I might be able to wriggle my way through this. Les took a sip of cold water, picked up the phone and pushed the buttons.

  ‘Hello,’ came a girl’s voice at the other end.

  ‘Could I speak to Desilu, please?’

  There was the pause Norton was expecting and the girl’s voice cooled and slowed down noticeably. ‘This is Desilu speaking.’

  ‘Hello, DD. It’s Les. How are you?’

  ‘Oh Les. How nice to hear from you.’

  Norton could hear the icicles of sarcasm dripping from the line at the other end.

  ‘Yeah. Did you get my message last night?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I did. Some dope rang up, said you’d been in an accident and you were all right and you’d ring back. Thanks for ringing. It was more than generous of you.’

  ‘Yeah. Well, that’s why I’m ringing you now.’

  ‘Oh, are you? Gee! Doesn’t the time fly.’

  ‘Yeah. Look I know…’

  ‘Listen, Les.’ DD’s voice was slow, deliberate and definitely lacking in humour. Norton held the phone away from his ear a little and prepared himself for the blast. ‘We had a pretty good time the other night and you’re a great bloke. Just like a lot of other great blokes around. You’re up here for a good time and you got a better offer. Well, good on you. But I sat around here till twelve-thirty, like a stale bottle of piss. All dressed up, ready to go out. It was tops. I felt like a nice dill, and I just can’t wait to do it again. Now you decide to ring me up the following afternoon. Thanks heaps. I had a terrific night. Accident! Bullshit! Up yours sport — as far as you can get it.’ ‘Jesus! You haven’t even given me a chance.’

  ‘A chance. Ha! You had your chance, pal. And blew it. So listen Les… whatever your name is. Do me a favour will you?’

  ‘Yeah, what DD?’ answered Norton, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

  ‘Get stuffed and go to the shithouse. And goodbye. I’ve got things to do.’

  ‘All right, okay,’ cut in Les. ‘If that’s how you feel, terrific. You reckon I’m bullshiting about last night. Beauty. I couldn’t be bothered arguing with you — boofhead. So what are you doing now, besides sitting around with the shits?’

  ‘What am I doing?’ huffed DD. ‘I’m packing the last of my stuff. And later on this evening I’m going out with a friend. Then in the morning I’m catching a bus home. On my own. Alone. Out of here and away from jerks like you.’

  ‘Well, bloody good for you, DD. I hope you have a ripper trip and don’t get a crook back. But I’m going to tell you something before you go — you ugly, horrible, skinny-looking bag.’

  ‘I…’

  ‘I’m going to be round your place at four o’clock this afternoon.’

  ‘You…’

  ‘And if you’re not there, you scrawny rickshaw-driving scrubber, I’m going to kick your door in and piss down all your front steps. And I might even piss all over that budgerigar, or whatever it is, while I’m there. You got that, boofhead?’

  ‘I…’

  ‘Four o’clock this afternoon. Desilu Doodleson, or whatever your bloody name is, Les Norton will be calling. And be there. Or bloody else.’

  Norton gave it about a second or so then banged the phone down. Not all that hard. But hard enough to sound hurt, offended and angry. It was the only play he had. DD had certainly got her two-bob’s worth in and if Les had of grovelled and begged forgiveness, she would have immediately told him to go to the shithouse again. She was too steamed up. Les had to backfoot her. And what did his dear old dad always say? What does every Australian woman read, constantly? Vague Magazine. DD would be sitting there, wondering quite what was going on. She’d certainly upset Les, which was exactly what she’d intended to do and done an absolutely splendid job at it too. He’d gone through the roof. Had she judged the big goose a bit hastily? Oowah! Norton stared at the phone. Well, what else could I bloody do. And shit! It’s not as if I took some sheila out behind her back. Christ! With a girl like her you’d have to have a pumpkin for a head if you did. Les gave a dry laugh. Of course I could always tell her the truth; that’s if she’s there. On the other hand, she might just think, who does this big mug think he is, and not be there. As for kicking her door in, I’m not that big a dill. Les couldn’t help but gaze at the phone. Shit! Wouldn’t it be a bastard to miss out on something like that. It could be a long, lonely drive back to Sydney. Though somehow I’ve got a feeling DD’ll be there at four o’clock. Even if it’s only to throw a jerry full of piss over me and tell me to fuck off. Another dry smile formed on Norton’s face. Oh well. At least I’ll get a chance to say goodbye. Les shook his head. Australian women. Ain’t they just the most adorable creatures? Anyway, no good sitting round here like a lovesick puppy. There’s things to be done. Like getting rid of last night’s evidence. That Jag doesn’t actually look like I’ve been driving it quietly round the streets of Surfers Paradise. Norton got up, went to his room and changed into a dirty T-shirt and shorts, then still in his bare feet, went downstairs and got the car out of the garage.

  Being half asleep at five in the morning and having a master key both to the flats and the garages, Norton had inadvertently put the Jag in a different garage than normal. It was the same size as the other one, though in that one Les had noticed a hose and bucket amongst the bits of junk laying around. Apart from a couple of old banana-chairs and one or two empty cartons, this one was about bare. Where he’d nosed the Jag in, there was a bench against the wall with a few things strewn around; being a bit of sticky-beak, Norton went over and glanced through what was there. There wasn’t much. The most noticeable thing was a piece of solid grey sponge rubber, about half a metre square by about thirty centimetres thick, next to a couple of tubes of Super-glue. The slab of sponge rubber looked like it had a piece hacked from one end. A piece of that might do to clean the car with, thought Les. Norton looked at the slab of sponge rubber, then he thought of something else. Then he looked out the open garage door and started to smile. What was it KK had sai
d to him in the limo on the way to Fedora’s that night? Something about stitching up a record deal with Crystal. An answer to an innocent remark by Les that had cracked up both KK and Crystal. Next thing, Norton’s smile had turned into a grin. Yeah I’ll bet you did, you little cunt. I’ll just bet you did. In fact, I fuckin’ know you did.

  Norton quickly got the Jag out of the garage, leaving the door open for the exhaust fumes to escape, and moved it down in front of the other one. Just as quickly, he ran upstairs, got a kitchen knife from one of the drawers and ran back down again. It took him about five seconds to hack off a piece of sponge rubber about a foot wide. With that and one of the tubes of Super-glue, he got out of the garage, locking the door behind him. With a flick of his wrist, the lump of sponge rubber landed up on his front sundeck, followed by the knife and the tube of Super-glue. Norton then opened the door t6 the usual garage and in a few minutes had the hose connected, a bucket filled and with a rag and some detergent he’d found was washing 1,500 kilometres of dust and insects off the Jag, whistling quite happily to himself, at times even laughing out loud. Well, he mused, I don’t think you have to be Einstein to work out what’s going on now. The only thing is; where’s the earn? The good, old earn. And I don’t mean the one on the mantelpiece holding grandma’s ashes. The one I promised Murray. Norton scraped a locust and two Bogan moths off the bonnet and smiled up at the sky. Now you wouldn’t have me make my loving brother and his beautiful family go without, would you? Norton scraped at the remains of the insects, then winked at the sky. No, I didn’t think you would.

  Les was still whistling and thinking when a plain white Ford pulled in the driveway. Frank and Steve were in the front, KK and Crystal were in the back. Leaving Frank behind the wheel, Steve got out and opened the back door.

  They couldn’t miss Les hosing the Jag, so all three walked over. KK was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, same as Steve; Crystal was wearing a loose-fitting red floral dress. Both were carrying small overnight-bags.

  ‘G’day,’ said Norton. The hose had a kind of gun on the end. Les put it down and started wiping the windshield.

  ‘Hello, Les,’ said Kramer. ‘How are you feeling? Did you get our message?’

  ‘Yeah,’ nodded Les. ‘No one’s been around.’

  ‘And how are you today, Rocky?’ gibed Crystal. ‘Ready for another whirlwind one-rounder?’

  ‘Yeah,’ smiled Norton mirthlessly, ‘I can’t wait for you to line me another one up.’

  ‘Don’t sweat it, big guy.’ Crystal still had half a sneer on her face. ‘Here. I brought you a present.’ She opened her overnight-bag and handed Les a small plastic bag. Les opened it. Inside was a roll of Elastoplast, a bottle of iodine and a rock cake in a smaller paper bag.

  The tired smile still on his face, Norton looked at Crystal. ‘What’s with the rock cake?’

  ‘Eat it, Dempsey. It’ll harden you up.’ Norton was about to tell her where she could stick it, when Crystal turned to KK: ‘I’m going inside. I’ve had enough of this goddam sun. I’ll see you upstairs.’ Without waiting for an answer she disappeared inside the flats.

  ‘I hear you had a bit of bad luck the other night,’ said Steve.

  Norton took off his sunglasses and gave Steve a look at his two black eyes. ‘Yeah. I suppose you could call it that,’ he said, and put them back on.

  ‘Sorry me and Frank weren’t there. We’d have given you a hand.’

  ‘I’m sorry you weren’t either,’ said Les. ‘But thanks all the same.’ Norton gave a shrug. ‘Still, it could’ve been a lot worse.’

  ‘What do you intend to do?’ asked Steve.

  Norton shrugged again. ‘What can you do? It’s just one of those things. I just got to cop it sweet. Who gives a fuck anyway. I’m out of here tomorrow.’

  Steve looked evenly at Norton. ‘I don’t know much about where you come from in Sydney, Les, but believe me, Surfers Paradise isn’t all glitter and glamour and have a nice day, like on the tourist brochures. There’s no shortage of cunts up here.’

  ‘So I believe.’

  Steve turned to Kramer. ‘We have to get going, Kelvin. Mr Black’s expecting us back. I imagine he’ll ring you this evening — or whatever.’

  ‘All right then’ nodded KK.

  ‘See you, Les.’ Steve gave Norton a friendly wink. ‘Look after yourself.’

  ‘Don’t worry, mate,’ lied Norton. ‘Ain’t nothin’ gonna happen between now and when I leave tomorrow. Believe me.’ Les returned Steve’s wink. ‘See you, Steve. Cheers.’

  Steve got in the Ford alongside Frank and they drove off. Norton put the plastic bag Crystal had given him on the roof of the car and continued working.

  ‘So what have you been doing, Les?’ asked KK, watching Norton, the stolid and dutiful servant wiping away at the Jag. ‘And what’s with the car? You don’t have to. The fuckin’ thing’s going back today.’

  Norton the dutiful servant and battered minder shrugged. ‘I spent last night at some friend’s place. They got a farm out the back of Murwillumbah.’

  ‘What did you do out there?’

  ‘Not much. Sat around, had a mag. Smoked a couple of joints, listened to a bit of music. I didn’t feel like doing a great deal.’

  ‘No. I don’t suppose…’

  ‘Anyway, I got some shit and mud on the car getting out there, so I thought I’d clean it off. I wasn’t doing much, just hanging around feeling sorry for myself.’ Les wrung the cloth out into the bucket. ‘What about yourself? What have youse been up to?’

  ‘Us?’ KK blinked at Norton through his glasses for a second. ‘We spent yesterday and last night at Meyer’s place. And went out on his cruiser this morning. Had lunch with him. Just playing it very low key. Keeping away from those fuckin’ reporters.’

  Les nodded. ‘There has been a couple of car-loads come round. I told them to piss off. I just didn’t want to say anything in front of Crystal. I wouldn’t like to upset her.’

  ‘No. She’s not real rapt in Australian journos at the moment. Not after what they said about her in the papers.’

  ‘Yeah. Like I said to her, I couldn’t understand that.’

  ‘There’s been a bit of a change of plans too, Les.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Crystal’s flying out at nine tomorrow morning. Which means we’ll be leaving for the airport around seven. Are you still capable of fending off any mug reporters tomorrow, between here and Brisbane?’

  ‘Yeah, sure.’

  ‘And we’ll fly back to Sydney from there.’

  ‘Yeah, no worries, KK. Good as gold.’

  Kramer stared at Les pottering around with the car and shook his head. Any doubts he might have had about Les being a twenty-five-carat boofhead were completely swept away. Norton had had the shit kicked out him, been used and abused and except for a couple of shitty meals had been treated like shit in general. Yet here he was, washing the car, still fending off reporters and ready for duty first thing in the morning again. Anybody else would have told him to stick his job in his arse and split. But not Norton. Kramer had to shake his head again. What a nice mug. I might even give him a cheque for the rest of that money I owe him.

  ‘Hey, listen, KK.’Norton stopped and looked up from what he was doing. ‘There’s something I have to tell you.’

  ‘Yeah, sure, Les.’

  Norton pointed to his black eyes. ‘Apart from this, I’ve had a pretty good time up here, KK. And I appreciate you giving me the work. Shouting me all that grouse food. Plus that flat thrown in. It was real good of you.’

  ‘Shit! That’s all right, Les.’ KK couldn’t help but shake his head again. Brother, you are definitely getting a cheque.

  ‘So I just didn’t want you to think there were any hard feelings, that’s all. Or I’ve let you down or something.’

  ‘Ohh, shit no, Les.’

  ‘And after all. This is part of the job — ain’t it?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, I suppose you could say that, Les.’ A
cheque? I should give him a cheque? This schvantz is good for an IOU.

  ‘So seeing as you’ve done me a favour — and I think you know Crystal tossed a few bucks my way the other night too, don’t you?’ KK smiled and nodded. ‘How about letting me return the favour?’

  ‘I…?’

  ‘Seeing as we’re leaving early tomorrow, how about letting me shout you and Crystal a couple of quiet drinks somewhere tonight? Go out about nine. Be home by eleven. Have a couple of drinks, a yarn and a few laughs? On me.’

  Before KK knew it he was nodding his head. ‘Yeah all right, Les,’ he said. ‘I’ll see Crystal. But I’m sure she’ll want to come.’ KK smiled at Norton. ‘Where are you thinking of taking us? Neptune’s Casino?’

  Norton returned Kramer’s smile. ‘No. There’s a little place just up the road from here. The Boulevarde in Begonia Street. You know it?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It should be pretty quiet there Monday night. And I know one of the sheilas who works there.’ Les shrugged. ‘We’ll just have a few quiet drinks and be up bright and early in the morning.’

  ‘Yeah, okay, Les. That sounds good.’ Kramer was almost dumbfounded. Why aren’t there more mugs like this in the world?

  ‘Good.’ Les went back to wiping the car. ‘So what are you doing now, KK?’

  ‘I’m going upstairs to pack a bit of gear, and just take it easy for the rest of the afternoon.’ KK winked at Norton. ‘I have to put a bit of a smile on Crystal’s face before she goes back too.’

  Les winked back. ‘Half your luck.’

  Kramer started towards the flats. ‘I’ll see you later on tonight, Les.’

  ‘Righto,’ answered Norton. ‘I’ll keep an eye on things round here. And I’ll give you a tap on the door around eight-thirty or so. See what’s happening?’

  ‘I’m sure Crystal will be cool.’

  ‘I hope she’s at least got a smile on her face.’

  ‘See you, Les.’

  Norton waited till Kramer got to the door. ‘Oh KK,’ he called out. Kramer turned round at Les still working on the car. ‘What time has this got to be back?’