Guns 'n' Rose (26 page)

‘I reckon your bedroom, captain.'

Norton tapped his fingers on his chest. ‘Picard to Enterprise. Two to beam up.'

Les steered Paula towards his bedroom where they
started peeling off their clothes. Norton was as keen as mustard now and so was Mr Wobbly; especially when Paula got down to her black stockings and a pair of skimpy blue knickers with little white stripes across them that sat over her bush and spread across her hips just nicely. She was out of them about the same time Les was out of his, then he placed his hands on her shoulders and they fell back on the bed.

Les kissed Paula on the lips and face, nibbled her neck and rubbed her boobs. Paula slipped her tongue into Norton's ear and took hold of his dick and gently squeezed it. Les pushed her boobs together and started sliding his dick in between them, even sliding it a bit too far and it slipped into Paula's mouth. But she didn't mind in the least and gave the knob a delightfully wet polish that almost sent Norton cross-eyed. He kissed her again, then stroked her clit for a while till he decided that was enough buggerising on the holodeck. It was time to go into warp drive. He eased Paula's legs apart, got between her and slipped Mr Wobbly's evil little head in first, then the rest. Paula was a big solid girl and so was her ted. But it was warm and snug and after a few shoves Les slipped into top gear. Paula didn't buck around or scream out to the world what a great time she was having, but by the smile on her face and the way she kept running her tongue over her lips, Les had an idea she was more than enjoying herself. So was Les. Before long it started to get too enjoyable. Les began pumping away faster and Paula's tongue started flicking faster around from one side of her mouth to the other. Les pushed her knees up and arched his back, Paula pushed up and wiggled her
backside around, Les jammed his eyes shut, heard a roaring in his ears, then with a shuddering moan emptied out.

Les flopped down on the bed alongside Paula and put his arm under her head. As well as being a trekkie, Paula was good fun in the sack and Les was keen to see her again before he left if she felt the same way. Les also knew the others would be playing games till all hours yet, so he was keen to see if Paula wanted to go another round or two before she beamed out. Norton was about to get a towel from the bathroom, get cleaned up a bit, then start up some small talk when he heard all this commotion and banging coming from the kitchen and noticed light from the hallway shining beneath the bedroom door. Next thing there was a rapid banging on the bedroom door.

‘Paula, are you in there?' It was Megan. Her voice was very shrill and she didn't sound at all happy. ‘Paula, how do you open this bloody thing?' The door knob rattled violently, then the door burst open and Les could make out Megan framed in the half light from the hallway. ‘Paula, get out here in the kitchen and bloody be quick about it.' Megan left the door ajar and stomped off down the hallway.

‘Bloody hell!' exclaimed Les. ‘What was that all about?'

‘Ohh, I don't know,' said Paula, ‘but I reckon I better have a look.'

Paula strapped herself into her bra, got her clothes on somehow, then disappeared out the door. Les waited till he got himself together a bit then climbed into his tracksuit pants and a T-shirt and walked out to the
kitchen. The light was on and Paula was standing next to the refrigerator looking noticeably ashen-faced. Megan was standing next to the sink looking awful. Her clothes and hair were a mess, one eye was closing and turning black and she was dabbing a hankie against a fat lip that was trickling blood.

‘Shit! What's going on?' asked Les.

‘Jimmy just bashed Megan up,' said Paula, ‘and she's rung a taxi. We're going home.'

‘What?' Les couldn't believe what he was hearing. But he could believe the look on Megan's face. Unlike in the restaurant, where it was all sweetness and light, now it was a mask of pure, black hatred.

‘Your bloody little mate did this,' she almost spat. ‘Beat me up for no reason at all.'

‘He what? Jimmy? I don't believe it.'

‘How do you think I got this? Walking into a bloody door? The rotten little bastard. I knew he was no good.'

Les looked at her and felt quite uneasy in the pit of his stomach. ‘Shit! I'm sorry, Megan. I mean, I don't know what to say. I just can't believe it. You were both getting on famously the last time I saw you.'

‘Yeah, well, you can believe this. I'm getting some photos taken tomorrow when this colour's right up, then I'm going to the police. See how tough your friend Jimmy is when I have him charged with assault. And a few other things too.' Megan cast her eye around the house. ‘Nice home he's got here. And I know plenty of nice cops.'

Les stared at her, trying not to believe what he was hearing. ‘Are you fair dinkum, Megan?'

‘What?' She turned to Paula. ‘You saw this, Paula.
You know what happened. You too, Les. You saw it. You're both witnesses.'

Paula looked at Les. ‘Ohh, I reckon I'm with her, Les.'

Norton looked back at her. ‘Yeah, I reckoned you might have been.'

Les didn't for the life of him know what to do. Whether to lend assistance, try to calm Megan down, offer her a Panadol. He wasn't quite in a panic, but this was pretty heavy shit. Megan had definitely been punched in the face. Besides wondering what to do, Les was also wondering where Jimmy was. Norton's questions were answered by the tooting of a horn outside.

‘Ohh, I reckon that'll be the taxi,' said Paula.

‘Good. Let's get out of here.' Megan dabbed at her lip again and already her black eye seemed to be getting worse. ‘Well, come on, Paula. Are you coming?'

Norton made a helpless gesture with his hands. ‘Well, goodnight Paula. Shit! I'm sorry about this. I was hoping I might have seen you again.'

‘Don't worry, Les,' hissed Megan, ‘you'll be seeing her again all right. In court.'

‘Goodnight, Les.'

‘Yeah, Paula. Goodnight. Goodnight…'

Before Les could say Megan, she'd stormed off down the hallway with Paula in tow, slammed the front door behind her and taken off in the taxi, leaving Norton in the kitchen still wondering what was going on and wondering what he was going to do. About the only thing he could do for the moment was have a glass of cold orange juice. Les poured himself one and was about to put the container back in the fridge when he heard a voice near the kitchen door.

‘Don't put it away. I'll have one, too.' It was Jimmy, standing behind him in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt. He took the container from Les, poured himself a glass of orange juice and drank nearly half. ‘That crazy fuckin' aunty gone?' he said.

‘Yeah,' nodded Les. ‘She just left in a taxi with Paula.'

‘Good.'

‘Jimmy, what the fuck's going on? You should have heard what she said before she left. Mate, it wasn't real good.'

‘I half-heard her going on about something. I was having a leak.'

Les told Jimmy about Megan raving away in the kitchen and how Paula was backing her up. ‘Jimmy, she's going to the cops. If she does, you're in deep shit. Have you see her face?'

‘Ahh, fuck her. The silly old moll.' Jimmy drank the rest of his orange juice and refilled his glass.

Norton couldn't quite believe Jimmy's indifferent attitude. But there's always two sides to a story. ‘So what happened anyway?'

‘She said, “Hit me”. So I did.'

‘Hit her?'

‘Yeah. She's fuckin' mad. She went off her head and got me to do all these weird things with her. Then she asked me to hit her. So I belted her one.'

Les gave Jimmy a double blink. He knew Megan was a little kinky and liked a bit of the bizarre. But Jimmy had completely blown it. ‘She probably meant she just wanted a bit of a slap and tickle.'

‘Yeah, well I gave her what you gave that bouncer
outside the disco. A left hook, a right uppercut, then another left over the top. And down she went like a bag of shit. She got up all right, but I was too busy lying on the bed laughing.'

Norton slapped his forehead. ‘Jimmy, you idiot. You don't hit women.'

‘Ahh, who gives a fuck? It'll do her good anyway, the dopey old bat. I'm only sorry I didn't kick her in the ribs.'

Norton shook his head. ‘I don't know what to say, Jimmy. I honestly don't know what to say.'

Jimmy raised his orange juice. ‘How about “goodnight”? I'm knackered and I want to go to bed. I'll see you in the morning.' Jimmy got to the doorway and stopped. ‘If I'm not up, will you give us a yell about nine or ten.'

‘Yeah, righto.'

‘And don't worry about it, Les. It's nothing. Remember, we got a good day on tomorrow.'

‘Yeah, terrific. See you in the morning.'

Les finished his orange juice, turned off all the lights, then went back to his room. He stripped off and got under the shower, still not quite believing what had happened. Although he tried to enjoy the nice warm water and soap suds, it was no good. It
had
happened all right and Jimmy was in bad trouble. Even if it was only half his fault, Megan had him bang to rights, and that wasn't even taking into account that Jimmy was already a prisoner out on some sort of leave. Jimmy was up shit creek without a paddle and there was every chance Norton was going to be involved too. Then there was the small matter of a box of machine guns
sitting in the boot of the car. It didn't seem to get much better after Les dried off, put on a clean T-shirt and got into bed. Apart from the food and the weather, Norton's holiday in Terrigal was turning into a disaster. In the meantime, though, Megan wouldn't get the photos till her face coloured right up and by the time she got the photos round to the cops and they got their shit together, it'd be late Sunday or early Monday before they'd be banging on the door. Whatever—Norton's holiday was going to be cut short. Very short. For the time being, though, about the only thing Les could do was try and get a good night's sleep. It had been a long and winding day, with not a bad root thrown in at the end.

 

 

 

The following morning Les was up and had his act together by around eight-thirty. Outside it had clouded over a little and what wind there was appeared to have swung round to the north-east. He wasn't feeling all that hungry as he stood in the kitchen sipping a glass of orange juice, so rather than have breakfast down the beach Les decided to get the papers, have something light at home and watch the ‘Sunday' programme on Channel Nine. Norton zapped down to Terrigal, doubleparked outside the newsagency and was back in the loungeroom with a cup of coffee and some toast watching Jim Waley right on nine o'clock. The feature story was something about the IRA; Les half watched ‘Sunday', half read the Sunday papers and mainly thought things out and planned his next move.

Thanks to Jimmy being a complete little smartarse, running round with guns and belting women, life on the beautiful Central Coast had suddenly become extremely tropical. And Les was more than a bit dirty because he was starting to enjoy himself. The food was sensational and some of the girls weren't too bad
either. But the wallopers would be around shortly and as well as Megan and the boot full of machine guns, there was a chance Norton could get pulled in for assaulting those two bouncers, along with the girl, and possibly that mug down the beach with the dog as well. So it was time to split—and the sooner the better. But there was no need to go racing out the door now, thought Les, and let Jimmy think he'd shit himself. No, I'll stick around and act like nothing's happened, let Jimmy think he's Joe Cool. I'll even go and see this band and check out all the old motorbikes with him. That sounds like fun and I want to enjoy my last day up here in Terrigal. Besides, driving into Bondi during the daytime on Sunday is like hell with neverending traffic lights. We should be back by seven or so. That's when I'll depart and miss all the traffic. And as I'm going tell little shitbags exactly what I think of him. See you, mate. You won't be needing this food in the fridge or the booze either. And if you're not back in the nick before Wednesday I'm sure the limo can run you up to the gate, you little prick. I should be back home by around eight-thirty, nine at the latest. I won't tell Price or anyone I'm back. Just go straight home, put my feet up and watch TV. Hello, Warren, nice to see you. Did you miss me? Then after I've filled Price in on what's been happening and told George exactly what I think of his nephew, I'll continue my holiday somewhere else. How about down the South Coast, where I wanted to go in the first place?

Feeling a lot happier now that he knew exactly what he was doing, Norton continued to half read the papers and half watch TV. He finished his coffee and toast and
somehow felt that had sharpened his appetite as well. Les was about to go back to the kitchen and organise some more food when Jimmy came up the stairs into the loungeroom, wearing his tracksuit pants and a blue T-shirt.

‘G'day, Jimmy,' said Les brightly. ‘How are you feeling, mate?'

‘Not bad, Les. How's yourself?' Jimmy sounded a little surprised or vague even, as if instead of being all bright and cheery he was expecting Les to have a fullon case of the shits with him.

‘Pretty good. There's some fresh coffee in the kitchen. I've been down and got the papers if you want to have a look.' Les kept his eye on the TV while he spoke to Jimmy as if he was concentrating on what was on.

‘Yeah, righto.' Jimmy went to the kitchen, came back with a cup of coffee and sat down in one of the loungechairs. ‘What's this all about?'

‘The IRA and Sinn Fein.'

‘Any good?'

‘There's plenty of bombs going off.'

They watched the last of ‘Sunday' more or less in silence. It ended with a guitarist, then some ads, and Les switched the TV off.