Читать книгу Mordialloc - James Maclean - Страница 26

‘Mate, for one, you’re not her type. Secondly, her father wouldn’t let you with within 10 feet. Don’t even waste your time,’ said Floyd McGuinness to Bullet Bulowski.

It was a sunny Thursday afternoon. The boys were enjoying a relaxing afternoon ‘shooting the breeze’ at the Bridge Hotel. Nobody had much in the way of finances, but after sidelining the services of the expensive lawyer, Kenny’s dad had been a bit more liberal with his son’s pocket money. Kenny’s mother had also stopped her daily pilgrimages to St. Bridget’s Church, up on the hill. It might have meant a hit to the parish finances, but it was a win for Al Coen.

Today the boys genuinely had something to celebrate. Big Glen Harkin had finally got the call to come down to St. Kilda Football Club. He’d been for a few try outs, but this was the day he signed on the dotted line. Glen and Bullet still weren’t privy to the little Frank Cook scheme, but they appeared to have forgotten the party anyway. Glen couldn’t keep a secret at the best of times, and Bulowski just didn’t care. Subtle reassurances, if they needed anything at all, were clearly enough.

‘Well mate, I’ve always thought Jenny was kind of cute,’ continued Bulowski. The bruise on his temple was still prominent; his poorly capped tooth already discolored from nicotine. ‘You treat her like shit for two years, then drop her like a hot coal the minute you finish school; why would you care?’

‘I couldn’t care less,’ replied Floyd evenly. ‘I just don’t know why you’d be interested, that’s all.’

‘Interested, Christ, what’s not to be interested! A big mistake by you buddy, big mistake!’

‘Yeah, maybe I’ll give your little friend Sharon a call too then, Bullet!’ said Kenny, entering the fray. On his third pot of beer he was feeling pretty confident. ‘Can we assume that one’s all off too?’

‘It was never on!’ replied Bulowski, rinsing the dregs out of his glass and dropping it with a ‘thud’ on the bar. ‘And maybe if you did, she’d stop hounding me! But, if you think you’re going to pick her up on that push bike of yours, then dink her down to the Beaumaris cliffs for a bit of slap and tickle, you might want to think again, Slick!’

‘Yeah, ha, ha! I thought I might pick her up in my old man’s car and take her to a movie. Something a little romantic to get her in the mood. Then, I’ll woosh her off to Ricketts Point, near the Beaumaris life saving club, to watch the stars!’

‘Nice plan Kenny, real nice!’ exclaimed Bulowski thoughtfully. He took a broken pencil from the back pocket of his faded 501s. ‘It’s gotta be worth a shot, Here’s her number. Who knows, she might even be happy to hear from you. Unfortunately son, there’s one major flaw in your overall strategy.’

‘Yeah, what’s that?’

‘I don’t care how keen she is; no self respecting bird is going to be caught dead riding shotgun in a golden brown Mitsubishi Sigma,’ Bulowski was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Am I wrong, Floyd?’

‘Look,’ replied Floyd, still simmering. ‘She was happy to get paraded around Mordialloc on the back of that unregistered death-trap you call a motorbike. Then she went the distance between the bathing boxes on the foreshore. I reckon Kenny might make second base, in the back of his old man’s car!’

Bulowski could only chuckle as he kissed the note and handed Kenny the number.

‘Where the hell’s moneybags Harkin anyway?’ Floyd cursed. With the barmaid demanding payment for a fresh round, he reluctantly went for his wallet. ‘He was supposed to be here an hour ago; I’m basically out of cash.’

‘Any recommendations on music?’ asked Kenny, poised to take notes on the scrap of paper Bulowski had just given him. ‘Dad’s just got a new tape deck in his car; four speakers and an amplifier, the full package.’

‘Meatloaf, “Bat out of Hell”!’ replied Bulowski, without a pause to think, Floyd nearly choking on his fresh draft. ‘But just make sure you’ve got your seat belt on kid. That “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” gets her every time!’