White Shoes, White Lines and Blackie

by Robert G. Barrett

  ‘I dunno,’ replied Murray, ‘I thought I looked pretty good myself.’

  ‘For a while there I didn’t think you’d turned up. I was starting to shit myself.’

  ‘But I did, didn’t I?’ grinned Murray.

  ‘Yeah, you sure fuckin’ did all right,’ acknowledged Les.

  There was a deafening silence between them for a moment or two, then Les banged his bottle of beer on the floor, leapt off the sofa and grabbed his brother in a bit more than a brotherly hug. Murray put a headlock on Les, then they both started shaking and bashing the shit out of each other. Laughing uproariously and giving out with plenty of those Queensland yee-hahs and hoo-ees while they slapped each other silly. Finally Murray shoved Les off the bed and Norton fell back on the sofa, tears of laughter trickling from the sides of his eyes. His brother was in much the same condition.

  ‘Well, did we flog those cunts or what, Les?’ said Murray, picking up his bottle of beer and sitting on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Flog them? Jesus Christ! Captain Bligh couldn’t have flogged them any more than that.’ Les reached over and clinked his brother’s bottle with his. ‘I’ve been in a few stinks but that was a ripper. I never seen so much blood. Best part about it, bugger all of it was mine.’ Les threw back his head and roared again.

  ‘Those poor mugs. They didn’t know what hit them.’

  ‘Hey, I’ll tell you something though. Even though I snotted those two mugs first up, they were no slouches. It wasn’t all peaches and cream. And when those two big bouncers lobbed, I thought, hello, we’re in a bit of strife here.’

  ‘Yeah. I was getting a bit worried myself,’ Murray winked as he grinned at his brother.

  ‘The next thing Grungle comes in through the window.’ Les roared again. ‘I don’t know who got the biggest shock. Me or the mugs.’

  ‘Didn’t take the old bloke long to sort out whose side he was on, did it?’

  ‘No, it sure didn’t.’ Les had another slurp of beer. ‘So what’s the story there, Muzz? How come he lobbed? And what’s he doing out the front with the landlady? And what’s this Blackie business?’

  ‘Well,’ Murray sprawled back along the bed, ‘I didn’t really feel like leaving him at home and giving Elaine another chance to poison him with her cuisine. And knowing what a dill you can be at times, I decided it might be an idea to bring him along.’

  Les gave bit of a self-conscious shrug and looked down the neck of his beer. ‘Yeah. I have been known to get things wrong now and again.’

  ‘Ohh when fuckin’ don’t you, you big goose?’ Murray gave a bit of a chuckle and continued. ‘Anyway, I got here about nine this morning. Settled in and all that. Went up and checked that joint out, bought that clobber so I’d blend in with the natives. Hey, and don’t knock the clobber. I was doing all right with a couple of school-teachers from Adelaide at the bar till you fucked things up for me.’

  ‘Sorry about that, Boz Norton.’

  ‘Anyway, the… ah landlady’s a bit of a friendly old bird. And when she saw Grungle with that rubber mask round his eyes and when I told her he’d been bitten by a taipan, she said to let him stay inside. I’d just as soon leave him in the ute in case some cunt tries to knock it off. And when she asked me his name, I didn’t feel like saying Grungle. So I told her ‘Blackie’. I’m incognito, so I thought I’d do the same for the old bloke.’ Murray grinned. ‘It’s not a bad name for a dog. Suits him.’

  Les shook his head. ‘No way, Muzz. He’s fuckin’ Grungle.’

  ‘Call him what you like,’ winked Murray, ‘but don’t call him late at meal times. I forgot to feed him this arvo too.’

  ‘Yeah. I noticed that in the Boulevarde.’ Les shook his head and laughed. ‘Fair dinkum, Muzz, what’s going to happen when those mugs arrive at the hospital? And how are they going to explain all that to the cops when they lob on the scene?’

  Murray shrugged. ‘Fucked if I know. Fucked if I care either for that matter. It wasn’t my dog.’

  ‘Yeah. How would they recognise it anyway. That’s what I said to that silly fuckin’ Yank sheila.’ Les told his brother about the trip back to the flats in the limo, with KK and Crystal all covered in blood and Crystal finding the eyebrow on her jacket. ‘Fair dinkum, Muzz, you should’ve seen them. They looked whiter than you did in your Boz Scaggs outfit. He’s got her down the beach now spewing her heart up. And fuckin’ good enough too. Smart-arse bitch.’

  Murray was laughing and shaking his head at the same time. ‘What about that bouncer Grungle jumped up and grabbed on the moosh. I saw him on the floor as we were leaving, and his face looked like Freddie Kruger’s.’

  ‘That’s probably whose eyebrow it was.’

  The boys laughed and sipped their beer, then the conversation died away a little. Les sat there looking at his brother who’d driven all that way to back him up without question and in doing so had saved Les’s neck. Certainly Les had jumped in and helped Murray against the terrorists. But that was just a slaughter and Les was there, he would have done it anyway. There was something different about what Murray had done for Les and now it was time to repay the favour.

  ‘So Muzz, loving brother of mine and head of the family during my absence. Earlier in the piece I mentioned something about there might be a bit of an earn in this for you.’

  Murray nodded sagely. ‘Yes, you did say something, now that I come to think of it.’

  ‘Well, Muzz,’ Les had a grin from ear to ear, ‘here it is, mate.’ Les threw the plastic bag onto the bed.

  Murray opened it and pulled out a piece of sponge rubber much like the one Les had been shaping in the flat only a lot neater. Murray looked at it, squeezed it, then looked at his brother. ‘What is it?’ he said, screwing up his face. ‘It looks like a tit.’

  ‘That’s pretty much what it is, Muzz. A tit.’

  Murray gave it another squeeze. ‘Well, what the fuck do you want me to do with it?’

  ‘You can play with it, put a love bite on it, take it to bed and tit fuck it if you like. But let me tell you the whole story. Then I think you’ll know what to do with it.’

  ‘I can’t fuckin’ wait.’ Murray looked at the piece of sponge rubber with disdain. Les was about to speak when there was a knock on the door. ‘Yeah, hello,’ called Murray.

  The door opened and there stood Mrs Llivac, all smiles. ‘Oh I’m sorry to disturb you but I’ve just brewed some fresh coffee and I was wondering if you and your friend would like some, Aubery. And a piece of my pie. I’m sure Aubery would like some more of my deep-dish apple pie, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, righto, Kay,’ answered Murray. ‘I’ll be in that.’

  ‘What about you, Mr Menzies? Would you like some coffee and pie?’

  ‘Ahh… I don’t know, Mrs Llivac,’ replied Les. ‘I have to get going soon.’

  ‘Well, I’ll put a little extra on the tray in case you change your mind.’

  Mrs Llivac left, giving Les a smile and Murray a look that almost scorched the pillows behind his head. Les stared for a moment at his brother, who was still nonchalantly sipping his beer but who also seemed to go very quiet all of a sudden.

  ‘Aubery eh?’ said Les. ‘Would you like some coffee, Aubery. And some of my deep-dish apple pie, Aubery. Not bad room-service for this time of night. The dog’s sitting out in front of the TV farting its head off. She’s sitting there with a box of chocolates, her eyes spinning round in her head like two bubbles in a piss-pot. And the look that old auntie gave you when she left, it’s a wonder the bed didn’t catch on fire. What the fuck’s going on between you and the landlady, Muzz? Or is it Kay?’

  Murray gave a bit of a shrug and sipped his beer. ‘It’s short for Kalita. Means ‘sweetheart’ in Arabic.’

  ‘And?’

  Murray stared back at Les. ‘Oh all right, Dick Tracy. You needn’t worry about the landlady’s deep-dish apple pie. I’ve been givin’ her deep-dish Queensland pork sword since about an hour after I got here. And on the
hour ever since.’

  ‘You dirty low bludger.’

  ‘Hey. Don’t worry about the fourth of July. That old seppo goes off like that bomb we fired off last night. Only a bit louder.’

  ‘What about your wife and kids, you low dropkick?’ demanded Les, although it was all he could do to keep a straight face.

  ‘Well, what’s a man supposed to fuckin’ do?’ said Murray. ‘I get in here this morning full of speed. And it’s all smiles and “Oh hello Mr Thomas. I was expecting you. And I do so love your outback accent. It’s just so cute.” And I said to her, “Don’t worry about my accent, gorgeous. You talk sweeter than whitebox honey yourself. In fact, Mrs Llivac,” I said, “your voice is the rain that’d break the drought and make the flowers bloom in the garden of my heart.” She said call me Kalita. I said call me Aubery.’

  ‘You’re suave, Muzz. I gotta give it to you.’

  ‘Anyway, about an hour or so later, I’ve got cleaned up and I’m sortin’ things out and she comes in on the pretext of changing a light-bulb. I give her a hand and while she’s up on the chair, somehow my hand slipped up her dress.’

  ‘Right on her old deep-dish apple pie, Muzz.’

  ‘Don’t worry about her apple pie,’ winked Murray. ‘The crust was firm, it smelled all right, and it was that hot I reckon she just got it out of the oven. So rather than let it cool off, I slipped her one. And I’ve been slippin’ her one ever since. In fact the only times I managed to get away was to buy the white clobber and leave Grungle in the ute outside that bar. Where, I might add,’ said Murray pointing his now empty beer bottle at Les, ‘I got a bluey for parking. I didn’t see any of those meter-maids come round and fix it up for me either.’

  ‘Oh, I think I might be able to cover that for you, Muzz,’ Les gave his brother a dry smile.

  ‘So that’s the story anyway, Les. Say what you want, but I dropped a heap of Green Arrows I got off a truckie and they sent me old boy into a frenzy.’ Murray scratched vigorously at his balls. ‘I’m still speedin’.’

  Les shook his head, still trying to keep a straight face. ‘Fair dinkum, Muzz, you disgust me. Illegal drugs. Extramarital sex. You’re good.’

  ‘Elaine’s sweet. I rang her earlier. All the family’s still out St George, I told them I was down here with you, giving you a hand and it might take a bit longer than I thought.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure it will.’ Les wiggled his eyebrows at Murray. ‘Won’t it, Aubery?’

  Murray gave a bit of a shrug. ‘So what’s with this tit anyway?’ he said, picking up the piece of sponge rubber. ‘What am I supposed to do with the fuckin’ thing?’

  Les was about to speak when there was another knock on the door. Mrs Llivac walked in carrying a tray with a plunger of coffee, cream, sugar and several slices of apple pie. She smiled pleasantly at Les, scorched another one at Murray and placed the tray on the dressing table.

  ‘If there’s anything else you want, Aubery,’ she breathed, ‘just call.’

  ‘Oh I will, Kalita,’ smiled Murray. ‘Don’t you worry about that.’

  The landlady smiled at Les again and closed the door behind her. Les smiled at his brother. ‘Just call, eh. Yeah righto, Kalita, my little artichoke heart, I’ll do that.’

  ‘Leave me alone, will you.’

  The coffee smelled good, bloody good. So did the apple pie. Les was now glad Mrs Llivac had brought an extra cup. He and Murray poured themselves a cup each, got a piece of pie and settled back.

  ‘Righto, Les. Now where was I?’ said Murray, making himself comfortable on the bed. ‘You told me a few things going out on the SPATV about the Yank sheila rippin’ off the casino and this other one you’re porkin’just up the road. But what’s the story on this tit. And where’s my earn come in?’

  ‘Okay, Muzz, you want the whole John Dory, do you. Well, here it is.’ Les settled back on the sofa and looked at his brother over the top of his cup of coffee. ‘Murray, this whole thing has been one giant con since the minute I left Bondi. In fact since the minute I met that shifty little KK. I’m supposed to be minding him and Crystal Linx while she’s out here promoting this record and doing all these publicity shots, and topless and all that. Yet when I get here, the swimming pool in the flats is drained. Now it’s funny how things stick in your mind. I have to admit I was a bit disappointed because I fancied sitting around the pool on my arse while I was here. But I just thought it a bit strange, because if you’re going to do all these topless shots, in the backyard next to the pool would be the simplest and easiest place to do them with, no mugs around getting in the road. Plus I also got to admit, I wouldn’t have minded having a look at those big boobs myself.’

  ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t blame you,’ agreed Murray. ‘Bob Telfer’s got them all over his garage. They’re rippers.’

  ‘Then there’s these blokes call round in a van with ‘Mermaid Pool Service’ on the side who know Kramer. Now they could fix the pool in five minutes. On top of this, Crystal never goes down the beach, never wears anything too revealing and gets around almost looking like one of those Muslim sheilas. In fact, you’d have more chance getting a look at the Queen Mother’s ted than you would at Crystal’s set. Then for a sheila that’s supposed to be out here drumming up publicity with the media, all she does is abuse them. She’s the most foul-mouthed tart I ever come across. The press hated her from the word go and wouldn’t piss on her if she was on fire, let alone give her any decent publicity. I ended up belting a couple of journos one night trying to get pictures of KK drunk and spewing out the side of the car. I almost wish I had now. But for someone who’s trying to promote a record, it just seemed a pretty weird way to go about it. It was almost like she was avoiding the press. In fact KK told me that if any reporters came around I was to tell them to piss off. The whole thing just didn’t seem… kosher, I suppose you could say.’

  ‘Yeah, it does a bit,’ nodded Murray.

  ‘Now, in amongst all this rattle arrives this South African rooster called Meyer Black and his two gun-toting heavies — who it turns out aren’t a couple of bad blokes. Black’s supposed to run the record company in Brisbane that Crystal’s putting out her record through. Yeah bullshit! I ring up Price, and Black’s in charge of a record company about as much as old Darcy Dugan was in charge of the Commonwealth Bank. He’s a smuggler and an arms dealer amongst other things. And him and KK are as thick as pig shit; they’re always pissing off together and they go out on his boat. Very pally.

  One day early in the piece, one of Black’s heavies comes round in that pool van with an overnight-bag and leaves about ten minutes later. And he definitely didn’t put a drop of water in the pool. So I’m just about positive KK’s up to something. Yet on the other hand, why would you put something on in the middle of all this media bullshit and lairising around Surfers? You’d think that’d be the last thing you’d want? Mind you, Muzz, while all this is going on, I’m just acting the big, dumb minder. Not saying a word to no one, just doing what I’m paid for. But the whole thing didn’t make sense.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a funny one all right,’ agreed Murray. ‘Hey, what about the landlady’s apple pie? It makes sense, don’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, you’re not wrong,’ said Les. ‘If her hair pie’s half as good as this, Muzz, you’re on a good thing.’ Les reached across for another slice of pie and continued.

  ‘Okay. So I meet DD, it’s out on the run with KK and I watch Crystal fleece the casino. And Muzz, it was one of the best things I ever seen. So between that and talking to her earlier I figure Crystal might be a dropkick. But she’s got a heap of balls. I’m trying to fathom this out when KK’s mates gave me that serve. So it’s out to get brother Murray for a square up. Hah! Wasn’t that a good move?’

  ‘Get out. You loved it. When was the last time you saw an atom bomb go off?’

  ‘Yeah, terrific, Muzz. When I get back to Sydney the CIA’ll probably be knocking on my door. Anyway, while I’m in town, I take your advice and have a feed at
the Spanish restaurant. And what do I find? This.’ Les pulled the double page from the Spanish magazine he’d found out of the back pocket of his track-suit pants and handed it to Murray. ‘Check that out, Muzz. Crystal Linx in all her glory. And that magazine’s about three weeks old.’

  Murray unfolded the two pages, spread them out on the bed and grimaced. ‘Bloody hell! Compared to the ones in the little photo they look like a couple of Tai-Chi slippers.’

  ‘Yeah. Harry the barber could strop his razor on them. Now, Muzz, they’re definitely not the two giant gazonkas I’ve been perving on all over Surfers since she got here. And when she arrived, some journo in Brisbane yelled something out to her about whether she’d been in a clinic in Europe, having a go at her. They’re photos of the lovely one, drying out or whatever in a health spa, probably in Spain or the South of France. Some paparazzo snuck them off and flogged them to that magazine.’ Murray stared at the photos and slowly shook his head. ‘Now either she’s changed her pill or taken enough anabolic steroids to arm wrestle Hulk Hogan to get into shape like that — or something else.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re right,’ nodded Murray. ‘There wouldn’t be enough silicone on Ninety Mile Beach to get them back together again.’

  ‘So I’m mulling all this over in my head driving back from Dirranbandi. And when I arrive half knackered — and probably suffering from radioactive poisoning’ — Les gave his brother a thin smile — ‘I blunder into the wrong garage, and what do I find? A big lump of sponge rubber, just like that on the bed, and tubes of Super glue. Now, Murray, you don’t have to be Albert Einstein to figure out what’s going on.’ Les looked directly at his brother. ‘Kramer’s got Crystal to come into Australia as a mule.’

  ‘A mule?’ Murray looked at Les. ‘I’m still trying to work out what a fuckin’ paparazzo is. I think we had a feed of them in Goondiwindi one night.’

  ‘They’ve done a run, Muzz. Crystal’s smuggled a great swag of dope in, in a pair of false tits. It all falls into place. Flying out of New York in the middle of winter all rugged up. Abusing the press the minute she gets off the plane. Kramer drumming me all the time to make sure no one goes near her tits. All the lairising and running around. It was just a big smother. With boofhead Les caught up in the middle. Though I gotta give it to the little bludger — and her — they were bloody good.’