You Wouldn't Be Dead for Quids (23 page)

Lawrie pulled out his wallet which was thick enough to choke a hippopotamus and rifled it a couple of times like a deck of cards.

‘She's available,' said Terri shortly. ‘I'll go and ring her.' Five minutes later she was back. ‘She'll be here in 20 minutes.' She turned to Norton and smiled. ‘You're going to love Renee, Les.'

‘If she's just half as nice as you Terri, she'll do me,' said Norton raising his glass.

They sat there drinking, laughing and carrying on, stopping only to let an ubiquitous waiter with the scent of a rather large tip set firmly in his nostrils take away the empties and refill the ice buckets. Suddenly Jill looked up and started waving across the room; Norton glanced over in that direction and his jaw nearly
hit the floor. Walking towards them, wearing a light blue, backless, almost frontless dress with a huge split up the side was a tall, leggy redhead with the biggest pair of tits Norton had ever seen. Every eye in the place was on her and escort or not she was the biggest spunk to walk through the door that night.

‘Christ Les,' said Lawrie. ‘How would you like them for speakers in your house. You'd have to have them 50 feet apart.'

She arrived at their table with a big smile and confidence written all over her face; she'd knocked everyone out and she knew it. Les rose from the table and got her a seat. As she sat down next to him Jill introduced her around.

‘Much doing tonight is there?' Jill asked her.

‘No, it's been pretty quiet actually,' replied Renee. She had a slow, deep voice that both fascinated and appealed to Les.

‘Well, there's plenty doin' here,' said Terri, her eyes spinning from all the French champagne. ‘So hold on to your girdle, love, cause I think it's gonna be a big one.'

She wasn't far wrong. They gave the shampoo an awful nudge, with the girls nearly wetting themselves at some of the stories the boys were coming out with. Anything they wanted they could have and they were just having a ball and getting paid for it. Norton couldn't believe it either. Coming to Brisbane to do the ad was a buzz in itself and he bumps into two of his best mates and they're half a million dollars in front; they were equally as rapt in seeing Les after all these years. The only sour note on the night for Norton was the fact that he had an expense account and the boys wouldn't let him go near his pocket. Then they hit the dance floor.

In no time at all they had their section of it all to themselves as they tore into the boogaloo, the bump, the Dirranbandi shuffle and other crazy moves no one had ever seen before. Renee was a pretty hot mover on the dance floor and before long she had Norton doing steps that made Michael Jackson look like a water buffalo with a club foot.

‘Well this ain't too bad,' said Lawrie as they took a breather and tore into some more champagne while a photographer hovered over them taking photos. ‘But we got a little something better back at the hotel. Haven't we Joey?'

Joey gave a sly grin. ‘We sure have,' he said.

Norton looked at them, stroked his chin thoughtfully and
smiled. He had a bit of an idea what they were on about.

‘Well, what do you reckon girls?' said Lawrie. ‘You want to take the party back to our hotel. We might just have a little surprise for you.'

‘Whatever suits you suits us,' said Renee, her hand on Norton's knee.

‘Okay. We'll finish these and Harold Holt.'

They knocked over the remaining three bottles and got the waiter to have a cab waiting for them out the front, then after tipping him admirably they all trooped out of the Underground. Norton couldn't help himself and dated the snooty receptionist on the door; she screamed and immediately called the bouncers but they took one look at Norton, winked and opened the cab door for them. They climbed in noisily, sitting all over each other and headed for the Hilton.

When they pulled up outside they were making more noise than a horde of marauding English soccer fans but the doorman welcomed them with open arms. His palm had obviously been well greased beforehand.

‘Mr Walters, Mr Lynch. Have an enjoyable evening, did you?' he beamed.

‘Reckon,' said Lawrie. He pulled the doorman aside and a fifty changed hands. ‘We might be having a little drink in our room, see that we're not disturbed and tell room service we'll probably be needing them. Okay?'

‘Certainly sir. No problems at all.' He tipped his hat to the girls. ‘Evening, ladies.'

The girls smiled drunkenly back, then they all bundled into the lift and went to their room.

‘Not a bad digs you got here,' said Norton. The suite was about three times as big as Les's, beautifully appointed, with it's own bar and stereo.

‘Three hundred a night. You'd want something,' said Joey.

Lawrie rummaged around looking for some glasses and Les knocked the tops off two bottles of bubbly. As they were doing this Terri produced a small, thin package wrapped in alfoil and a packet of cigarette papers from her handbag. ‘Anybody fancy a smoke?' she asked looking around the room.

‘You can put your pot away love,' said Joey, groping under the bed for his suitcase. ‘I've got something a bit better than that.'

Norton threw back his big red head and laughed. ‘You haven't got what I think you've got have you?'

‘Some nose candy?' said Jill, her eyes lighting up with expectation.

Joey ignored her and stood up holding two bottles full of a clear, pinkish purple liquid. ‘Here you are girls,' he said, a triumphant grin on his face. ‘All the way from downtown Dirranbandi. Prickly pear wine.'

‘Prickly pear wine?' chorused the girls.

‘My fuckin' oath,' said Joey. ‘Dirranbandi Drambuie.'

Norton looked at him, a suspicious smile on his face. ‘You didn't give any of that to the horse, did you?'

Joey flashed Norton a villainous grin. ‘Only gave him two cups and old Flash thought he was Phar Lap. Won by 10 lengths.'

Norton threw back his head, slapped his thigh and roared laughing as his thoughts drifted back to the first time he drank prickly pear wine.

He was about 20. Two mates of his father's, a couple of old opal miners from Lightning Ridge, brought a flagon up when they stayed with the family one weekend. They were a couple of funny old dudes about 70 with long hair and earrings and he remembered them and his father laughing their heads off as they poured Les and his brothers a large glass each. Nothing happened at first but about 20 minutes later Les didn't know what hit him. He went out the front of their property and the moon looked like a huge shimmering silver plate that seemed to take up the whole sky. Stars and comets were literally dancing through the heavens and the night was so clear and velvety soft he felt as if he'd dissolved into it. Strange thoughts raced through his mind as the trees changed into the shapes of animals and he could distinctly hear them talking to each other. Music, coming from a radio on the verandah, seemed to envelope him in a vibrating silver fog and he could see the notes as they left the radio. The trip only lasted a couple of hours and though it was a little frightening at first Norton thought it was one of the most beautiful experiences of his life and backed up for more.

He couldn't figure out what did it but a couple of weeks later one of his brothers handed him a copy of the National Geographic with an article in it about Mexico and how these natives in the hills extracted mescalin from the peyote cactus for
religious ceremonies. They put two and two together and after asking a mate of theirs, a chemist with the Department of Agriculture, it turned out that prickly pear is full of mescalin and that's what caused the trip.

Norton was still laughing as he watched Lawrie fill six glasses with the almost honey thick liquid; strands of wine wisped between the bottle and the glasses like glistening purple cobwebs. ‘Okay girls,' said Lawrie. ‘Bottoms up.'

‘Ooh, it's funny stuff,' said Renee, wrinkling her nose as she drained her glass. ‘It's almost tasteless. What's it supposed to do?'

‘You'll find out soon enough,' said Les. ‘Here, wash the bitterness away with some more shampoo.' He reached round and topped up everybody's glass.

They sat there talking and laughing amongst themselves. After about 15 minutes the first tingle went up Norton's spine. He looked at Renee and she was sitting there wide eyed just staring at her hand. She caught his eye and started to laugh, then Les started to laugh and as he looked around he noticed all six of them were starting to crack up with Jill on the floor in a collapsed state of the giggles.

Lawrie struggled to his feet, turned up the stereo and killed the main lights, leaving just the soft glow from the bed lamps. The next thing they were all down to their underwear.

‘What do you think of the old Dirranbandi Drambuie, Renee?' said Les, hooking his thumb under her bra strap.

‘Mmmhh. You can't get it in 44 gallon drums can you?' she replied slipping her hot moist tongue in his ear.

Les took her gently by the hand and led her into the closest bedroom, where he eased her softly on to the bed, removing her knickers at the same time. Renee lay her head back on the pillow, closed her eyes and smiled as the music coming from the other room seemed to engulf her in a floating melodic fog. She couldn't believe her luck. Here she was full of the best French champagne, tripping off her head and although really he was just a customer she genuinely liked Les and his mates and already they'd dropped a thousand dollars in her bag. And now she was going to get what was promising to be a nice enjoyable fuck thrown in. She threw her arms around Norton's neck, wrapped her gorgeous long legs around his waist and got into it with him.
There's got to be worse ways than this of earning a dollar, she thought.

The first rays of sunrise stabbing painfully into his eyes like streaks of horizontal lightning coming through the curtains, woke Norton about 6am, filling his mind with confusion. But when he saw Renee's head on the pillow next to him and heard Lawrie's snoring coming from the next room the realisation of where he was and the memories of the previous night's events flooded into his fog-bound brain. Christ, he thought, looking at his watch, I'd better get moving. Mitchell will be banging on my door at 10 o'clock.

He rose gingerly from the bed and dressed as quietly as possible, picking out his clothes from amongst all the others strewn untidily around the suite. His head ached considerably and his mouth tasted like an Iranian tank driver's jock strap. The last thing he remembered was them all running around naked, drinking champagne from the bottle and singing the Mickey Mouse Club song with the girl's bras over their heads. He clicked the door softly behind him and caught the lift to the foyer.

The night porter was still on duty. ‘Good morning, sir,' he said pleasantly. ‘Looks like being a beautiful day.'

‘You ought to see it from my side, mate,' replied Norton groggily.

He caught a taxi drifting idly past the front and went straight to his hotel, stopping once at a newsagency for a packet of Vincents powders and a large bottle of soda water.

Back in his room he dumped three APCs in a large glass and topped it up with soda water, then closing his eyes he downed the whole bubbling, frothy pink mess in one go. After gagging for a few seconds he let go a belch that rattled the chandelier in his room and made his eyes water profusely, then crashed out on the bed.

Right on 10am the phone next to his head started ringing. ‘Hello Les. How are you feeling?'

‘G'day, Mitchell,' he croaked into the receiver. ‘How are you?'

‘Real good. Listen, I've got to go now but a driver will call for you at 11.30. Can you be ready then?'

‘Yeah, sweet.'

‘Okay. I'll see you at the pub. Goodbye.'

‘Righto, see you.'

Norton lay there for a moment rubbing his eyes and debating whether to get up or prop a while longer. His head still ached a bit but he'd felt worse, though when he couldn't remember right off. He decided to get up.

He rang room service and ordered scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, a large pot of coffee and a litre of orange juice with plenty of ice then got under the shower. Fifteen minutes of intermittent hot and cold water had him feeling almost alive so he tore into his breakfast.

After the last of the coffee he felt considerably better. His headache was bearable and the nausea had disappeared, he just felt awfully seedy and the last thing he wanted was a beer but he knew what was in front of him, so he braced himself for the event. At 11.30am sharp, the phone rang to tell him the driver from the film company was waiting out the front; two minutes later he was in the front seat of the Fairlane heading for the Ipswich Arms Hotel.

The hotel was a typical Queensland pub, built up off the ground with a green corrugated iron roof. A verandah ran around the entire building, facing on to a large, neat beer garden full of native trees and plants out the front. The driver whisked him straight round the back where the make-up lady was waiting for him in a storeroom she had converted for the occasion.

She was a blue-eyed English blonde and very petite with a lovely personality and a typical dry English sense of humour.

‘Hello,' she said pleasantly, guiding Norton into a chair and draping a nylon cape around his shoulders. ‘You must be Les. My name's Annabelle.'

‘G'day Annabelle. How's things?'

‘Pretty good. Looking forward to the ad are you?'

‘Dunno. I've never done one before.'

She laughed. ‘Well you're going to love this one, there's about 200 people in there to keep you company.'

‘Two hundred? Shit, they must have hired some blokes.'

‘They didn't hire anyone. These are all locals, you and two girls are the only ones getting paid. The rest are just here for the free piss.' She started trimming the hair around Norton's neck. ‘And they've been into it for two hours,' she added.