Smoky Joe's Cafe (12 page)

I nod back at Shorty. ‘Be about half an hour, maybe a little longer.'

Shorty smiles, ‘Righto then, that'll just give us time for a deeply cleansing ale, pub will be open by now.' The chairs scuffle backwards on the polished jarrah
floor. Boys can't get to the bar downstairs quick enough for the ‘hair of the dog' and I wish I was goin' with them.

I catch Gazza's eye as I'm going out and I can read what's going on in his head clear as daylight. He's shaking it slowly from side to side and what he's saying inside is, ‘Jesus, Thommo, you oughta belt her one. I wouldn't put up with that kind a shit from my missus!'

I admit, I'm not much meself, but I'm glad I don't wear Gazza's head atop me shoulders. He's a good warrior but he has his moments. After Vietnam he joined the French Foreign Legion, which scrambled his brains even further.

Macca puts his hand on my arm as I go through the door, but he don't say nothing. He's a good bloke, Macca. Like Mo, not much said, but always there at your side when you need him.

I know Wendy will want to doll herself up a bit and, as every bloke knows, that takes a bit of time. I'm kind of grinning to meself as I walk down the street on the way to Smoky Joe's. These dumb bastards don't know what they just agreed upon. Wendy Thompson ain't a woman to be denied. Besides, she's not got a brain freshly fumigated by last night's piss fumes.

It don't take too long to get Wendy to the meeting. She worms her way into a pair o' fresh jeans by lying on the bed and pulling them up over her bum, wriggling and puffing like she's fitting on a new skin.

‘Hey, you've got no panties on,' I say, pointing to the unzipped jeans. She's lying there, topless, looking beautiful, and I'd be telling a lie if I said I didn't feel a stirring.

‘Don't fuss, Thommo, panties would show through, it's the new look. Now help me with the zip, will ya?'

‘Jesus, Wendy, them jeans are so tight if I zips ya, it'll cut a very painful path through the jungle!'

She laughs. ‘That's why I need you, Thommo. I need both my hands to push down my tummy to avoid just such an eventuality!'

‘I suppose a quickie would be out of the question?' I ask, hopefully.

‘What!' she yells and stabs a finger down at her jeans, ‘And have to do this all over again! Get real, lover boy, I'm dressing for a different sort of action.'

‘Take a deep breath then,' I instruct. Then I zip her, successfully missing the forest canopy. She slips on a light blue sweater that's not exactly flat in the front nor sagging neither. She ain't that big in the front but her nipples point to the moon and there's as nice a handful
available as any man could wish for. I admit the look ain't exactly what you'd call subtle and a married bloke like me ought to say something as a matter of duty. But after this morning I'm not game to open me big mouth. Besides, to tell the truth, I'm concentrating on fighting the battle of the bulge down in me own jungle region.

Thank Gawd, she don't put on high-heel boots but slips on her loafers. Then she slaps on a bit of lippy and some blue stuff around the eyes, grabs her handbag and a shopping bag. I wonder why she needs the bag and she sees me looking at it. ‘Gotta go to the chemist on the way back,' she says and we're ready to go.

Wendy's a real good sort. She'll turn any head in the street, even other birds look at her. The young jackaroos in from the bush hang around the pavement and wait until I go out the back before they come into Smoky Joe's, just so they can be served by her. Not just the young ones neither, the rice-a-risos from the irrigation area and the cow cockies too. She could've had anyone she wanted and the poor little bugger landed up with me. When the two of us are together somewhere, you can see it in the eyes of the blokes, they're wondering how come a big ugly bastard like me managed to get a cracker like her?

Wendy's got this natural blonde hair, it's not like
your canary yellow, sort of tawny, cut short in what she calls 'a bob'. It's dead sexy, even if I say so meself. Having Anna hasn't changed nothing and she's slim as a twig and her bum is firm as two tennis balls kissing.

I'm well aware she's probably dressed a bit over the top for the meeting. Most of the blokes are in thongs and stubbies, Animal's not even wearing a T-shirt, though he's carrying that many tattoos it looks like he's got on some sort of fancy hairy garment. On the other hand, Wendy don't do too much she ain't thought about first. Like she don't normally go on display and I can't help feeling she's been expecting me to come and fetch her all along.

The jeans were spread out on the bed when I come in and also the sweater. She's got her mate, Brenda Hamill, visiting. Brenda sometimes serves in the cafe, so we don't even have to close down for the arvo. The old cockatoo can look after Anna and if there's any problem Brenda knows what to do.

I tell meself I don't deserve a bird like Wendy. If she tells me to get outta her life it'll take her about ten minutes to find another bloke a whole heap better than yours truly. Christ, I love that little bird so much it fucking aches.

We get to the pub and Wendy tells me to wait on,
she needs to go to the Ladies. Why do chicks always have to enter every toilet they pass? She comes out a couple of minutes later and I can't believe me eyes, she's wearing these black boots. The heels are about six inches high and the tops come to just below her knees. She sees the expression on my face and puts her finger to her lips, stops me saying something I ought.

‘It's the new look,' she says, grinning. ‘C'mon, let's go, lover boy.'

Well, maybe it was Shorty's cleansing ale, or Wendy's entrance that does the trick. Suddenly the whole room is alert and I can see the boys are eating her up with their eyes. Why shouldn't they, I'm doing the same meself and she's the piece of pie in me own pantry.

Shorty is still playing sergeant and now he clears his throat. ‘Okay, fellas, settle down now!' He's already met Wendy and knows she's a doll, on the other hand he's never seen her geared up like this. He clears his throat again. ‘Gentlemen, huh, this is Wendy, Thommo's wife, make yerselves known by name starting from the back.'

Each does the same, sort of half standing up and saying their name. They get a smile from Wendy they're gunna dream about in private later on. Animal can't conceal his feelings and is already droolin' at the mouth.

‘Well, yeah,' Shorty says, looking sort of sideways and downwards, not actually at my wife, ‘Wendy, I've got to be honest, the boys here, well, ah, they're, you know, not all that keen on what Thommo says you've asked.'

‘And you?' Wendy asks, putting Shorty on the spot.

‘Well, yeah, me too,' he mumbles.

‘I don't blame them.' Wendy turns and smiles at Shorty, ‘Or you, Sergeant di Maggio.' Then she looks around with this serious expression. ‘I didn't fight in Vietnam. Or witness my mates die. You've been together a long time. Why should you trust a civilian? I wouldn't if I was in your place.'

That's bloody clever. She don't say, ‘Why should you trust a woman?' So now all present can save face. We're not bird-bashin' or nothin' like that, just being ourselves, Vietnam vets not trusting no one but our own kind.

Wendy flashes me a smile, ‘If Thommo's anything like the rest of you, you don't even have any civilian friends. Nodding acquaintances maybe, but not what you'd call a trusting male relationship outside a veteran.' She looks about and it's obvious she's hit a home run. Now she kind a grins, but it's sort of sad. She looks down at the floor, and then up through her lashes sideways, ‘It's no secret that living with a Vietnam vet isn't
easy.' She is silent a moment as though she's thinking how she should say something, then she says, ‘A veteran's wife is also a veteran, also a victim of the Vietnam war. What she's definitely
not
is a civilian.'

She says this real quiet. The boys laugh, but it's not funny like it's a joke she's made. I can tell they're tuning onto her wavelength pretty damn fast. You can see they're thinking, ‘This chick understands us, she knows what it's like.'

‘Well, yes, Mrs Thompson,' Lawsy says from the back of the room, ‘that's not precisely the same thing, is it?' We all turn to look at him. ‘We only trust those who've gone through the same experience. Who have been to Vietnam as a soldier.'

I hold me breath, Wendy's not gunna stand for that. Lawsy's another of the single blokes amongst us and maybe he doesn't know what the women have to go through. But Wendy doesn't take exception.

‘Only trusting your own kind, that's both a strength and a weakness, Mr Laws,' she replies. If Lawsy wants to be a pain in the arse by calling Wendy Mrs Thompson, she's gunna give him as good as she gets.

‘How come a weakness, Wendy?' Shorty interrupts.

‘Well, the strength is what Mr Laws says,' Wendy says, looking at all of us except Lawsy. ‘You trust each
other completely and that's good.' She looks over at Shorty, ‘The weakness is that you will be operating in an environment you don't understand. The civilian environment. If Thommo's typical, in all the years since Vietnam you've never really settled down, have you? Now you're about to operate a giant scam, a very delicate one at that, and you're going into another sort of jungle, the civilian jungle.' She stops and looks around. ‘And you're unarmed and badly prepared.'

Lawsy ain't through with her yet. ‘I thought you said you weren't a civilian, that wives are veterans as well?'

It's a good point and I can see some of the boys are smiling. Lawsy's got this sort of half grin on his gob, like he's cross-examining her in a court of law.

‘Ah, but I'm a veteran who never got lost in the jungle, Mr Laws.'

‘And what exactly does that mean?' Lawsy asks. I think he's beginning to enjoy himself.

The sunlight from the window is behind Wendy and her hair is like a golden halo. ‘Mr Laws, with the greatest respect, it is well known that your law practice in Griffith is a revolving door for both staff and clients. It's not that you're not a brilliant lawyer, because your reputation precedes you. It's because you have all the
problems of a Vietnam vet. In other words, like Thommo, you're operating in an alien environment. Not a very big one either, Griffith is hardly the big smoke.' She pauses, ‘Or don't you agree?' Wendy says, smiling at him.

‘Bugger me!' Spags whispers next to me, ‘She's right about Lawsy!'

Lawsy half rises, he's a bit red in the face. Christ, it's gunna be on for one and all and, frankly, I think me wife's gone too far this time, stepped way over the mark. You can't humiliate a bloke in front of his mates like that.

But Lawsy suddenly grins, ‘Wendy, I'm sorry, please call me Lawsy. Perhaps it would be a good idea to start all over again?'

‘Of course!' Wendy says, smiling. ‘And I'm sorry about the crack about the revolving door.' She gives him a sunburst from her pearlies that fair nearly knocks us out of our chairs.

‘Jesus, Thommo, you've got one out of the box there, mate,' Macca whispers.

‘No, Wendy, please don't apologise, you're right,' Lawsy continues. ‘What you said about me and my law practice is true.'

None of us vets has ever seen Lawsy eat crow.
He's the brains in our mob. I've got to hand it to him, what he's said wouldn't be easy for any bloke to say to a girl.

‘I think she's right about us,' Flow suddenly announces. ‘I vote Wendy in.'

Goddamn, Flow! Not now, not yet! An endorsement from Flow Murray at this point would just about screw everything up.

Thank Christ, Shorty ignores him and takes over again. ‘If you're right and, as you claim, we don't understand the civilian jungle, and I'm not saying you are, then why would bringing you in help us?'

Wendy brushes her hair back with a flip of the hand. Now she looks deadly serious. ‘Shorty, all I've got to go on is what Thommo told me this morning. That you propose to grow dope and sell it for the benefit of veterans' children who have suffered from birth defects as a result of Agent Orange. I am deeply grateful that you have decided Anna, our child, should be the first recipient.' She pauses and looks at him, ‘Is what I've said correct so far?'

Most of us nod, ‘Yeah, fair enough,' Shorty grunts, looking down at his boots.

‘Well, then, before I answer your question, I'd like to ask you all a few questions,' she says real polite and
then sort of half smiles. It's her dangerous smile and I'm glad the rest don't know it. ‘May I?' Wendy asks.

‘Fire away,' Macca says. I can see he's seriously in love with me wife.

This is the business end, what she's come for.

‘Well, let's take it for granted that Spags Belgiovani and you,' she nods at Shorty, ‘know how to grow marijuana, but can you tell me how you are going to get it to your customers?'

‘Bikie gangs. Mine and Killer's,' Animal shouts, dead chuffed he can make a contribution at last. ‘We's got chapters, brothers all over the fu . . .the country.'

‘That's transport, not distribution,' Wendy replies.

I can't believe me ears. Where does she get this stuff from, she a bloody school teacher when she isn't running a greasy spoon?

Animal looks confused and Killer Kowolski next to him shrugs his shoulders, ‘A deal is thirty bucks. It ain't hard, lady. We'll work the pubs, if it's okay by you?'

‘Fair enough,' I think.

‘Killer, how much do you think a bone-marrow transplant costs?' Wendy asks him.

‘I wouldn't have a clue, lady,' Killer says. Killer likes his women to know their place, which is basically on the pillion seat of his Harley.

‘Twenty thousand dollars. That's an estimate and if we can find a donor.' She reaches for her handbag and takes out a calculator and punches the buttons. After a few moments she looks up. ‘At thirty dollars a bag that's 666 deals, the Devil's number. That just takes care of Anna, now what about the other kids who need help?' She looks at Killer, ‘How long is it going to take you and Animal to sell that many deals through the nation's pubs?'