Norton finished that beer, got another one then sat back down and reflected some more on the day’s events. It had certainly been different, even with Ricco pulling the stroke that he did. Les had never been out at sea and seen or been in a storm as fierce or treacherous as that, especially the way it just came and went. He looked out across the verandah to where it was quite sunny outside now and about half a dozen people were splashing around in the pool. And what did Laverne say when they were coming back up the Key after the dolphins had gone? Florida was due for a big cyclone any time now. It had been over ten years and they generally came in ten- year cycles. Well, if that’s a small quick one, I’d sure hate to see the real thing. Norton’s second beer was that good he decided to have another one and listen to the radio for a spell while he figured out what he was going to do that night. There would have to be some action in Sepposota on Thursday night: and it’s certainly good drinking weather. Then Norton started to cackle into his beer. I should give Hank a ring, see what he’s doing. Norton’s cackling turned into a horrible laugh. I wonder if he’s still home?
Three quick beers on an empty stomach kind of bowled Les a little so he thought he might grab forty winks before he went out. He turned off the radio and ended up sleeping for around two hours. When he got up he had a swim followed by a shower and a close shave. Although his stomach was rumbling a bit by now, Les still didn’t feel all that much like eating because of the heat. But a good feed of vegetables wouldn’t do any harm, and there was still plenty left. By a stroke of luck Les discovered that what he first thought was some sort of a minidishwasher was in fact a microwave oven; all the buttons and gauges on the front were different from the one back home that Warren had snookered off some advertising job. This didn’t deter Norton from peeling too many potatoes, onions and carrots, etc. Half he put back in the fridge, the other half he put in the microwave then heaped butter and cajun dressing all over them. All up, not too bad at all. One can’t go out pouring piss down one’s throat on an empty stomach, mused Les, as he washed another piece of cauliflower down with some more orange juice. He followed this with a cup of coffee then a large delicious and more country and western after he’d cleaned up.
After he finished his first bourbon, Les poured another bigger one, then thought a little more on where he might go that night. He wasn’t necessarily out to meet another girl; after coming across Hank then putting up with Ricco, Les just felt like finding a laugh somewhere and listening to a band; and having a few drinks of course. Club BandBox would definitely not be the place to be seen; if it was still open. Gator Man’s could be okay. But what about that little place over at St Almonds Circle? Reggae Mambo’s. The band there was good, so were the drinks and the punters. Plus, with the front open, you could go outside and get a bit of fresh air. Still sipping his bourbon Les looked at the card sitting next to the phone then dialled.
‘Hello? Is Joey there please?’
‘This is Joey.’
‘G’day, Joey. Do you fancy running a poor, lonely Australian tourist over to St Almonds Circle?’
Joey started chuckling into the phone. ‘Les, my man. Hey, how are you doin’?’
‘I’ll be doin’ it on foot if you don’t get your arse over here in say… thirty minutes.’
‘Thirty minutes? You got it, big guy.’
‘See you then, mate.’
Well that’s that, smiled Les, putting down the phone. Now it’s time to frock up and rev up. He finished his drink while he pressed a clean pair of jeans, a blue button-down collar shirt and ran a wet sponge over his sneakers. There was another milkshake container under the cupboard so Les made another gigantic, travelling delicious. He was test driving it while John Anderson drawled and twanged his way through ‘Steamy Windows’ when there was a knock on the door. Les picked up what he needed, turned off the lights and opened the door. Joey had pretty much the same jacket and driver’s gear on as before.
‘G’day, Joey,’ smiled Les. ‘How are you goin’, mate?’
‘Hey Les,’ beamed Joey, as they started walking to the limo. ‘Look at you, baby. You look like a million dollars.’
‘Yeah. All green and wrinkly. You know how to get to a place called Reggae Mambo’s, over at St Almonds Circle?’
‘Hey. Are you kiddin’? I can take you anywhere you want and get you anything your little aussie heart desires — mate.’
‘Good. Well get me over there in one piece and I might even let you bring me home afterwards. And there might even be a drink in it for you.’
Joey pointed to the drink in Norton’s hand as he opened the back door. ‘I thought that might have been for me.’
‘Not tonight, Josephine.’
Norton climbed in the back and they cruised off towards town. Joey gave Les the old mates treatment on the way — good to see you again, how have you been, etc, thought he probably meant it. Les didn’t let on too much. He remembered when he first met Ricco and how Ricco had said Joey Hubcaps had told him about Les and Lori number one. He told Joey he’d hired a car and that was why he hadn’t needed the limo. But tonight he was out on the town again and he’d be needing a ride home or whatever at closing time, which was midnight. Joey was keen and said he’d be waiting out the front. Before Les knew it they were there and Joey had pulled up right outside. The punters drinking out the front and a few others coming and going gave an interested glance when Joey came round and opened the back door; possibly they were expecting Madonna or MC Hammer and didn’t quite know what to think when Norton climbed out holding the last of his travelling delicious. Les didn’t know what the fare was. He just handed Joey two twenties and the empty milkshake container, said he’d see him later and stepped through the crowd. The same solid bloke in shorts was on the door; he gave Les a smile and a very approving once up and down as he walked in.
Reggae Mambo’s was bopping away just nicely. It wasn’t quite packed but close enough, with pretty much the same kind of casually well-dressed crowds as before and a number of good sorts standing around. The same band was down the back finishing the last portion of their ‘attitude check’ before slipping into a more up tempo version of Garth Brooks’s ‘Nobody Gets Off In This Town’. Les found a space at the bar next to two spunky black girls in blue bum-huggers that hugged their solid little bums delightfully, and had no trouble at all ordering a margarita and a Wild Turkey highball. The margarita went down in about four swallows; the highball took a little longer. Clutching his drink Les found another spot at the bar, not far from the front door, where he sipped his highball and thought some more about his trip to America while he checked out the punters. It was a good spot to stand, a bit of fresh air was coming in from the front and the music was drifting down from the back while the crowd sort of milled around him, ebbing and flowing and having a good time. It was kind of odd in a way, being in a strange bar on the other side of the world, not knowing a soul. But Les, a little revved up from the drinks, was enjoying it. He would have enjoyed it more, however, with a couple of mates; the heads on some of the seppos and their mannerisms were nothing short of amazing at times. Norton was checking out some bloke with a black crewcut and hornrim glasses, wearing the most atrocious pair of green and pink shorts he’d ever seen, worse than anything in Revenge of the Nerds, when he heard a voice slightly to his left.
‘Well, if it isn’t the emu man from down under.’ It was Terri, the boozy little Texan girl he’d met when he was in there before with the late Captain Rats.
‘Hello, good-looking,’ smiled Les. ‘How are you tonight?’
Calling Terri good-looking was definitely giving her a giant rap; she looked just as dumpy as before, her face just as shiny and her blue shorts just as baggy.
‘I’m just fine,’ she replied, before slopping down some more beer. ‘So what brings you here tonight?’
‘The moon, the music and beautiful girls like you,’ smiled Norton, raising the last of his drink.
Terri knew Les had to be joking; the music maybe.
Then again, she accepted Norton’s statement and smiled back without saying anything.
Norton downed his highball and was about to turn to the bar. ‘I’m going to have another drink. Can I get you something?’
‘Sure. I’ll have a Millers Draught.’
‘One “Genuine Millers Draught” coming right up.’
Les only had to turn around and in a couple of minutes he had a beer for Terri and the same again for himself. Terri mumbled thanks then swallowed about a third of her plastic mug of beer in one go. Although she was sort of alright, and probably just a battler doing her best, Les didn’t particularly wish to be in Terri’s company. But it was someone to talk to while he looked around and listened to the music. So Les chatted away to her over their drinks about absolutely nothing that remotely interested him, except that she agreed it certainly had been hot during the day and the storm was bad. Finally she said, ‘Say, why don’t you come over and have a drink with my friends over there?’
Norton looked towards where Terri had nodded her head. It was the three English blokes he’d noticed when he was there before. They were talking to three of the same pretty-looking girls that were there before as well in their shorts and the T-shirts with the funny-looking parrot wearing sunglasses on the front. The girls looked as if they’d just arrived; a waitress was standing next to their group and one of the English blokes had just paid her for some drinks which he was handing around.
‘Yeah, righto,’ said Les, figuring Terri wanted to drag him over to show she could get herself a bloke. At least over there he could politely get rid of her and they looked like much more interesting company. ‘Why not?’ He downed one drink and holding the other followed her over. The team were all nattering and drinking away but stopped as they approached.
‘Hey, everybody. This is my buddy from Australia, Les.’
Norton smiled a little self-consciously and raised his glass. ‘Hello. How’s things?’ Several smiles and muted greetings rippled around the table.
‘From Australia, old boy?’ smiled one of the three blokes. He had dark hair and a fullish sort of face, wearing jeans and a black vest over his white U2 T-shirt. Up closer he didn’t sound so English. ‘You’re not a union man by any chance are you?’
‘Yeah,’ answered Les. ‘I used to play union at school.’
‘Same as us, old chap. Which school?’
‘Dirranbandi Boys’ Grammar. I played breakaway.’
‘Splendid,’ beamed the bloke in the vest. ‘I played for Eton. These two oafs played for Cambridge.’
‘Go — Cambridge,’ said one his friends.
‘Did you get to see the world cup this year?’ asked Les. ‘Certainly did,’ acknowledged Vest. ‘Your chaps went rather well.’
‘Yes, you could say that,’ winked Norton. ‘Waderyer- wannabe. A walla-wallaby.’
‘Anything but a froggy,’ said the same friend.
‘Agreed,’ nodded Les.
The waitress reappeared and Les noticed the boys didn’t mind a drink; they’d just about demolished the previous round. ‘Can I buy you fellahs a drink?’
‘Okay, old chap,’ replied Vest. ‘That would be absolutely splendid.’
‘What about you, girls?’
‘Sure,’ smiled one. ‘Thanks.’
Les made a gesture towards the waitress and they ordered everything from draught beer to Pina Coladas to a Corona for Les this time as well as a margarita. The drinks arrived promptly, Les paid the waitress, giving her a ten dollar tip: which didn’t go unnoticed. Norton’s shout seemed to break the ice and from then on a jolly time was had by all.
The bloke in the vest was Marlow, his two mates with brown and sandy hair dressed pretty much the same were Vaughn and Teague. They had a lot of style about them and their handshakes were warm. The three girls were Duena, Roxy and Moya and looked almost identical. Blondish brown hair, wide eyes set in pixie faces on whippy little bodies and up closer they looked even more attractive in their shorts and T-shirts. Duena was about two inches taller then the others. Les judged them to be in their early twenties and the blokes all around thirty going on sixteen: a bit like himself. Norton told them the same lie he’d told Lori number one; he owned a bar back in Australia with his brother and he was on a holiday in America looking for ideas to take back home. This went over quite well. It turned out the boys weren’t actually English, they were Irish, but had all been educated in England. They were marine engineers and all worked in London for the same firm, which was owned by Teague’s father. They too were on a kind of working holiday selling hovercrafts to the yanks and were going back the following Monday. Les said he still had two weeks or so to go. The three girls worked round the corner as waitresses, as did Terri. Les tipped the owner would have the three little spunks working on the tables to get the male punters in, which was how they’d all met. Terri’s date was too big and her attitude not quite up to it to get the blokes in so she’d stay out in the kitchen. The girls all liked Norton’s accent as well as the others’ and Norton liked theirs. They all enjoyed each other’s company and the drinks went down just as enjoyably.
It appeared to be catch and kill your own with the three spunks, nobody seemed to be with anyone in particular. But they all seemed to be getting around to it and the English blokes were there first so Les didn’t try to monster his way in. As it was, Norton was quite happy just to find someone to have a laugh and a drink with, and with this team he’d hit the jackpot; the lads certainly liked a laugh and they loved a drink. So did the girls; although for some reason Moya seemed a little more reserved than the others. Norton bought another round of drinks. The boys were obviously well heeled and weren’t going to be outdone so they reciprocated in kind. The waitress who’d zeroed in on them just kept going backwards and forwards to the bar, either with their empties or to bring more back, and as they got progressively drunker she made herself a small fortune on the night. So they drank up, they sang, they all finished up on the dancefloor at different times and it was one of the funniest nights Les had ever had. It was that good he was wishing it would never end, especially when one of the waitresses told him he was a good dancer. Unfortunately it did end; at twelve o’clock.
The band had stopped, the lights were turned up and they were finishing their last round of drinks while the punters started drifting out into the night. Norton was in a great mood and so were the others, even Terri. They were laughing about nothing in particular when Marlow spoke.
‘Well, what do you think we should do now?’
There was a bit of a mumbled, shrugging reply as they all looked at each other waiting for suggestions. Norton didn’t know whether he should have said it, but before he knew it, he did.
‘I got a good idea.’
‘What’s that?’ said Marlow.
‘Why don’t we have a party back at my place?’
‘Jolly good idea,’ said Vaughn, giving Les a friendly slap on the back. ‘Where’s your place?’
‘Just out on Manatee. About fifteen minutes from here.’
‘You got anything to drink?’
‘Heaps.’
‘What about music?’
‘Music? Mate, the music I got would make the blind see, the lame walk and the deaf and the dumb hear and talk.’
‘Sounds alright to me,’ said Roxy. ‘But how are we going to get there? You guys have only got that little sports car. And there’s eight of us.’
This was Norton’s big moment, and no one would ever be able to take it away from him. ‘Hey, no worries,’ he grinned. ‘I got a limo waitin’ out the front.’
A little mystified the others finished their drinks and followed Les out onto the sidewalk. He waved one arm over his head and whistled. Seconds later Joey cruised up in the shiny blue stretch limousine. He got out, walked around and opened the back door. As Joey stood there he looked at the three spunks, shook his head and winked at Norton.
‘You’ve done it again.’
Norton just smiled drunkenly.
‘We’re talkin’ Great Gatsby here, son.’
Everybody was suitably impressed, especially Terri; Norton was everything he said he was and more. He was the true messiah. The arrival of the limo easily worked out the travelling arrangements and who was going to finish up with whom also. Les, Marlow, Terri and Moya bundled into the back of the limo, the others went round and got the sports car. Joey knew where to go, he waited a minute or two for the others to follow, as soon as they pulled up behind he drove off. Les mentioned that this could turn out to be a good night, he had plenty to drink and there was plenty of music. Then Moya mentioned that she had to be home by three at the latest, which was when her boyfriend arrived back from Tampa where he worked as a musician. The others would all be paired up by now so it would be left to Les and Marlow to fight it out for the affections of the fair Terri. Norton figured he’d lose on a TKO in the first round. He wasn’t all that mad keen to do any porking that night in the first place, especially with Terri, no matter how drunk he was. She’d been pitching up to him a bit back at the bar and when Les would play her a little wide she’d start pitching up to Marlow, thinking it would make Les jealous. Now she was doing it again in the back of the limo and looking over at Les to see what his reaction would be. But Norton kept looking at Marlow. He was starting to piss in Terri’s pocket now, lying to her about how lovely she was, yet all the time he had this weird look in his eye. Before long they arrived at the condo.
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