Читать книгу Mordialloc - James Maclean - Страница 21

‘I can’t go down for this. You hear what I’m saying?’ Big Glen Harkin was whining. He had Floyd by the arm. Floyd wasn’t sure if it was a threat or not but it certainly hurt. ‘I’m looking to be drafted by an AFL club any time now, and I can’t afford this!’

‘Hell of a party!’ proclaimed Bullet Bolowski from his chair in the corner. He shuddered as the cold from the beer reacted with a very recently chipped tooth.

It was a Tuesday night and, against all legal advice, the concerned parties had convened a little ‘get together’ at the nearby Mentone Hotel.

‘Glen, don’t be such a big girl!’ countered Floyd shaking his arm free. ‘From the bruise on Dougie’s chick’s face, you’re lucky to be getting out of it this so lightly!’

‘What the hell was in that poison you served up, anyway?’ Glen continued. ‘I swear to god I’d only drank about four beers, and then a heap of that shitty punch. No surprise if some dickhead probably spiked it! How’s that my fault? And as for that tool Tim Hill, if I ever see that bloke in the street, I hope he can run!’

‘Maybe you just can’t hold your liquor,’ ventured Kenny Coen, bravely. ‘Always gotta play the big man; well you’re not looking too big now!’

Floyd was going to tell him to cool it. They were finished at St. Stephens though. Kenny could look after himself.

‘You listen to me, you little Jewish prick,’ Glen started. ‘How long do you think you’ll last inside prison before some big Aryan ape makes you his girlfriend? All your sniveling and whining won’t help you then. Those blokes think of that as foreplay!’

‘For the hundredth time, I’m not bloody Jewish, you big oaf!’

‘Well, you look Jewish, so that’s good enough for me.’

‘You wouldn’t know what a Jew looked like, you moron! The very idea of religious classification based on outward appearance is as ridiculous as your current hair cut!’

‘They look just like you!’ scowled Glen, giving it too much thought. Then, with the lightening fast reflexes he’d displayed many times previously, he moved. Kenny received a solid clip on the head. The argument was over.

‘Well, if nobody said anything to the police then we’re all in the clear,’ said Floyd for about the fifth time in an hour. They had gone over and over the facts. If they all stuck together, it was one word against four. It should have given them cause for relief but nobody looked too relieved; it was still a mighty big “if.”

‘And what about you, Bullet? My lawyer reckons you might have a claim against the coppers for police brutality,’ mentioned Kenny Coen.

Bulowski’s front tooth was obviously causing some discomfort. He also had a hell of a bruise on his right temple. ‘You should’ve at least had a lawyer present for your interrogation. That was a bad move.’

‘A lawyer for what?’ ventured Bulowski. ‘For one, they charge like wounded bulls unless they’re trying to pork your mum! No offence Floyd.’

‘None taken.’

‘And secondly, I had nothing to say.’

‘Well you must have told them something?’ challenged Glen Harkin suspiciously. ‘Why else would they do such a hatchet job? It just doesn’t make sense?’

Bullet licked his front tooth, taking another solid jolt from the exposed nerve.

‘They were trying to pin me for my activities earlier in the evening,’ he said finally.

‘And why should they give a shit about that?’ Glen pressed on.

‘Well, I told them to give Rhonda a call if they wanted confirmation on anything. You do remember Rhonda, don’t you? So near buddy, yet so far away!’

Glen caught the sarcasm.

‘Her step-dad’s also the desk sergeant at the Mentone cop shop.’ Continued Bulowski. ‘He wasn’t too happy. No, my friends, apparently he wasn’t too happy at all. Hopefully this is all I’ll get. He was dirty all right, but he is saving his best for our mate Timmy Hill. It seems the fool arrived to pick Rhonda up, complete with a big bunch of flowers. He even shook the bloke’s hand and promised to get her home at a reasonable hour. He thought they were going on a date!’

‘It’s still no reason to be so harsh on you, the chick was about 21,’ injected Kenny, a sniveling voice of reason. ‘It’s hardly like she’s gonna be a virgin.’

‘But, following our romantic interlude, I made the mistake of dropping her home. It was certainly the gentlemanly thing. Unfortunately, the temptation of a freshly manicured nature strip on the back of beer and romance was more than I could withstand.’

‘You didn’t!’ cut in Floyd, suddenly grinning.

‘Oh brother, did I what!’ replied Bulowski. He chuckled to himself, massaging his bruised temple, and smiling at the recent memory. ‘I revved it into the red-line, dropped the clutch and near cut the nature strip in two. Not quite my best effort, but still a quality trench. Ya gotta respect the ANZACs. I saw the light come on upstairs but I was off, bloody turf flying everywhere. Rhonda would have loved it though; shit like that really turns her on.’

‘Nice!’

‘Pretty stupid if you ask me,’ said Kenny, dumfounded by his friend’s total disregard for convention.

‘Not really,’ replied Bulowski smirking. ‘I was kind of thinking they’d pin the whole thing on our mate Tim. I was fairly sloshed at the time. I figured he was the poor bastard that had taken her out. I didn’t admit to anything, but they knew it was me. Kind of funny how things all turn out, ain’t it?’

‘Yeah, a real barrel of laughs!’ replied Glen. He was remodeling his new haircut in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He puffed, releasing a solid chest of air.

Nobody was laughing.