The Day of the Gecko (18 page)

Les watched TV for a while longer, then, leaving the TV on, he had a shave in Susie's en suite and changed into a pair of jeans and a maroon striped, button-down-collar shirt. When he came back out, the major was
standing in front of the TV also wearing jeans plus a grey-check button-down-collar shirt. With his brown hair swept loosely across his forehead, he looked good and he was all smiles.

‘So how do we get there?' he asked.

‘Walk down to Six Ways and get a cab,' answered Les.

‘Well, come on, Ringo. Let's go.'

‘Okay. Joost give me time to fix noombers, John.'

Les tapped in the security code and they strolled out the front for the short walk down to Six Ways. Five minutes later they were in a taxi and about ten minutes after that they got out at the lights on the comer of Bronte Road and Ebley Street in Bondi Junction. The major was rubbing his hands together and Norton could hear the band finishing some song as they crossed Bronte Road. Les pushed open the glass doors out front of the hotel, paid the owner waiting on the till near the end of the bar, then after getting stamped by the bouncer, they stepped inside just as The Beatnix kicked into ‘Honey Don't'. The band was up on stage at the opposite end of the bar, done up in their grey suits with no lapels, going for it and sounding more like The Beatles than The Beatles. The drummer, who was belting out the words as well as the beat, sounded exactly like Ringo Starr; the same Liverpool accent, the same nasally, monotone voice. Norton glanced at the major and it looked like his eyes were starting to glaze over.

‘Les,' he grinned, gesturing with his arms, ‘what can I say? They're sensational.'

Norton smiled back. ‘Do you want a drink?'

‘Jim Beam and soda. Plenty of ice. Thanks, mate.'

Les left the major near a table beneath the bank of TV sets above that end of the bar and went over and placed his order with the dark-haired barmaid. While he was waiting he had a bit of a look around. It was quite a reasonable crowd for a Thursday night, mostly wearing T-shirts and jeans or dressed very casually. There were quite a few girls standing around on their own, jigging along to the music. Some of them were good sorts, but most were pretty plain and definitely none of them were starving. Les returned with the drinks to find the major doing a bit of Chubby Checker to ‘Twist And Shout'. Norton gave him his drink and joined in a little with the major and the other punters boogieing around him. The major threw his Jim Beam down fairly smartly, so Les went to the bar for another two and came back just as The Beatnix slipped into ‘Eight Days A week'. It was a good singalong — the band had the punters going and, with a couple of Bourbons under his belt, Norton was glad now they'd came up. The Beatnix finished that song then slipped into ‘Can't Buy Me Love'.

‘I might go down a bit closer,' said The Gecko.

‘Okay,' replied Les. ‘I'll wait up here under the TV sets.'

With his drink in one hand, the major twisted and shouted his way through the crowd, disappearing somewhere near the speakers. Yeah, go for it, Garrick, Les smiled to himself, happy just to stand up the back and listen to all the old Beatles songs and happy that he'd managed to show the major a good time again. Les had a few more drinks while the band played what
seemed like an endless variety of songs before some of the lights came back on and they took a break, saying they'd be back soon with the second half of the show. Les got another bourbon and waited back under the bank of TV screens for the major.

Almost fifteen minutes went by and he didn't return, so, feeling a little concerned, Les decided to go and look for him. He couldn't see him in the crowd and he wasn't near the speakers. Then Les spotted him between the end of the bar and the pinball machine against the wall and a slight shudder went through Norton's body. The major wasn't in a fight or an argument or trying to kill anybody. It was worse. He was chatting up two girls — a blonde and a brunette — and doing pretty good; he was cracking jokes and the girls were laughing. The blonde was hanging off his arm and didn't look too bad. But her girlfriend should have been out biting a postman or in a backyard somewhere, digging up someone else's old bones. And they were both pissed.

The major's girl was around thirty, tall and gangly with no tits, frizzy blonde hair and an acne-scarred face heavily covered with make-up. Two clumps of red plastic hung from her ears and she'd squeezed her skinny behind into a pair of white jeans, matching white boots, a red T-shirt and a white jacket. Her girlfriend wasn't as tall but she was four times as heavy with dark hair, spiky on top and long at the sides over a long, dark face and long, dark lips. Despite another thick coating of make-up, a visible moustache covered her top lip. There was a mole on her chin and her eyebrows met in the middle. Her outfit was a pair of
baggy black jeans with white stitching, a black T-shirt and a blue collarless top with four big, white buttons down the front. Standing in the flickering light of the pinball machine, she somehow reminded Les of a Klingon. The major caught Norton's eye and happily gestured with his drink.

‘Les. There you are. Come over and meet the girls.' Norton walked over and the major introduced the blonde first. ‘Les, this is Doreen, and this is Coral.'

Norton did his best to smile and make eye contact. ‘Hello, girls,' he said, ‘nice to meet you.'

‘Hi, Les,' they seemed to chorus.

‘Doreen was just saying to me,' said the major, ‘she said, “Frank, you're one of the nicest blokes I ever met.” Didn't you, Doreen?'

The blonde nodded enthusiastically and smiled at Norton. ‘I did, too. He's lovely,' she said, and cuddled up closer to The Gecko.

Norton understood. ‘Well, that's nice, Frank,' he said. ‘I'm real glad for you.'

The major smiled his Gecko smile at Les, pleased that Norton had picked up his message. Then, before Les could get a chance to put his foot in things, he started tap-dancing away with some conversational spiel, managing to give Les a quick briefing of the situation at the same time. Both girls worked as typists for the same oil company at Botany and both lived in the same flat at Coogee. They originally came from Lithgow and had been living in Sydney for two years. ‘Frank' had told them he was the Town Clerk at Ballina, down for a conference, and he was going back tomorrow. When the ball landed in Norton's
court, Frank returned it for him, saying Les was a truckdriver for Ballina Council. He said that Les was his driver and that he was going back to Ballina the next day also. They were both staying at Les's sister's place in Bondi. Whatever it was The Gecko told them, it went over as smooth as custard, as they slurped happily away on the second round of Bacardis the major had bought them. Doreen was all over The Gecko like a cheap suit and, with Norton trying to be nice just for the major's sake, Coral was giving Norton a few very heavy once-up-and-downs as she started inching up a bit closer to him.

Les downed his bourbon and unleaded, and rattled the ice in his empty glass. ‘I'm going to get another drink. Anybody else want one? Girls?'

The major shook his head. ‘No need to,' he said, ‘the girls are going.'

‘Oh?' said Les, trying hard not to show his joy. ‘That's a bit of a shame.'

‘Yeah, but it's all sweet, Les. We're going with them.'

Norton's joy evaporated even quicker than it began. ‘We are?'

‘Yes,' cooed Doreen, snuggling up closer to The Gecko. ‘Me 'n' Coral were going to go because we were hungry. And Frank said he'd take us out for dinner and drinks. Isn't that lovely?'

‘Dinner? Drinks?' said Les. ‘Where?'

‘What was the name of that place you said we were going to again, Frank?' said Coral.

‘Redwoods,' smiled The Gecko. ‘Down at Bondi.'

‘And we're going to have sushi,' said the blonde,
smiling at Les as she held onto the major. ‘I've never tried it, but it sounds really nice.'

‘Neither have I,' said Coral. ‘But I'll give it a lash. I'm starving. What about you, Les?'

Les nodded blankly at her. ‘Yeah,' he answered, just as blankly. ‘I suppose I could eat something.'

‘Well, come on then,' said The Gecko. ‘Let's go.'

Norton's eyes were starting to bulge a little. He stared at the major and desperately pointed to where the band was getting changed behind the speakers into the Sergeant Pepper's uniforms for the next bracket. ‘What about . . .?'

The Gecko made an offhanded gesture. ‘We'll catch them next time we're in town. Right now, I've got to catch some fish for sweet little Doreen here's sushi.'

‘Ooh! Isn't he lovely,' squealed the blonde.

Les nodded flatly. ‘Yeah, one of the best,' he muttered.

Before Norton could do or say anything else, the others finished their drinks and they were out the front of the hotel where a taxi happened to be waiting at the lights. They bundled in; Les in the front, the major and the two lovelies in the back. The taxi headed towards Bondi Beach with the major pissing in the girls' pockets and cracking more jokes in the back, while Les fumed silently in the front. Isn't this lovely? he growled to himself. You can bet your life he'll want to drag the two of them back to Susie's place so he can try and get into the blonde's pants. And in the meantime, I've got to walk into Redwoods with that wobbegong on my arm. Oh God! Norton shook his head. Still, you never know. It might be a quiet night and
there'll be no one in there I know. Or maybe with a bit of luck we're both barred because of that fight and they won't let us in. Anything, please. The Gecko prattled on in the back about absolutely nothing, while Les tried to bury himself in the front seat. They cruised down Bondi Road before stopping for the lights at The Royal Hotel. As they drove off, Les suddenly felt a soft typist's hand come over and lightly stroke his neck; it gave him both goose bumps and sent a shudder running down his spine. When the taxi stopped outside Redwoods, the driver gave Les a lurid wink as if to say, ‘You're on a good thing, mate'. They bundled out and Les paid the fare.

Despite Norton's hopes and prayers, his luck was right out and things couldn't have been worse. Jee was on the door and his big, happy face broke into about a hundred smiles as soon as he saw them. Jee shook Norton's hand and thanked him for helping to get rid of the five mugs the night before; Les had been right earlier when he jokingly told Garrick they'd be the heroes of the day. Jee greeted the major like he was a member of the royal family and treated Coral and Doreen as if they were Nicole Kidman and Madonna. Then, when they walked inside, there were people Les knew everywhere. Joe Heets, the bloke that put the girl in the back of the Rolls-Royce, was standing at the bar with two models. Another bloke Les knew who ran the surf shop just up the road was there with two of his waxhead mates and another bloke Les had met that owned a yacht; they were talking to a team of young glamours from the north-side surfing scene. Every table was packed with well-dressed men or women
who were either eights or nines. And I'm standing here with Phyllis Diller and the Klingon, thought Les, as everybody in the place that knew him seemed to smile and nod hello at once. Oh well, at least there's no empty tables. That means we'll have to go out the back where no one can see us. But no. Norton's run of bad luck continued. No sooner had they walked in, when four people seated along the comer of the bar got up and left.

‘Hey! How lucky's that,' said the major, and herded them towards the empty barstools.

Les sat on the end barstool next to the wall, underneath the glass cabinet containing the Redwoods T-shirts. Coral sat next to him, then the major and Doreen. Norton had just squeezed his backside onto the barstool when an arm snaked around Coral and an empty hand appeared next to him. Les pushed $200 into the empty hand, it disappeared and the major started playing Champagne Charlie. Margaritas? Of course, girls, crooned The Gecko, waving fifty dollar bills everywhere. They go down splendidly with sushi. The Margaritas soon arrived along with the food waitress and a bourbon for Les, while he tried to hide as best he could in the comer. Isn't it amazing what a good time you can have when you're spending someone else's money, he thought, watching the major give the barman a tip that would have fed a family in Somalia for about a year. Yes, I'm so glad I was able to show the major a good time again. Around him, everybody he knew was either staring at them or taking quick glances. You could bet word about the fight would have got round and they were whispering about
that. You could also bet they were whispering about why Les was in there with his mate, spraying up two drunken scrubbers.

Another round of Margaritas and a bourbon for Les arrived on the bar about the same time as two large sushi platters, complete with bowls of soya sauce and little wooden chopsticks wrapped in paper. Sitting on the two wooden boards, it looked all very neat, very dainty and very tasty. Oh well, what the fuck thought Norton. He wasn't a mad sushi fan, but he may as well have a pick. He broke open a pair of chopsticks, stirred some horseradish into a bowl of soya sauce, dipped one into it and started chewing away along with a pick of pickled ginger. Although, to Les, sushi was an acquired taste, it didn't go down too bad. The major didn't bother with his chopsticks and Doreen and Coral didn't know what they were eating, so they weren't going to stuff around trying to shovel whatever it was into their mouths with two little, wooden knitting needles. If you could dunk donuts, you could dunk sushi. In minutes, there was rice, ginger, splashes of soya sauce and everything else, from one end of the wooden platters to the other and across the bar. Les was no epicurean, but he couldn't remember the last time he felt so embarrassed. He put his chopsticks down and sucked on his bourbon.

‘Hey, this stuff's not bad!' squealed Doreen.