Davo's Little Something

by Robert G. Barrett

‘I am not drunk,’ said the blonde defiantly. ‘And I’m certainly not a lout.’

  ‘Not drunk?’ said Davo. ‘Have a look at your eyes. They’re like two bubbles running around in a piss-pot.’

  ‘How dare you,’ blinked the blonde.

  ‘Anyway, if you like,’ continued Davo casually. ‘You can buy my friend here and I a drink—to make up for your churlish behaviour.’

  ‘Buy you a drink?’ blinked the blonde again. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to send me your drycleaning bill. You look like you might have got one or two drops of beer on your K-Mart shirt.’ She flicked at a couple of imaginary spots on Davo’s sleeve.

  Davo held out his hand and grinned. ‘Okay, just give us three dollars and I’ll call it square.’

  ‘I know what I’d like to give you.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Davo wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. ‘That sounds alright. Better than three lousy bucks to get my shirt cleaned.’

  The blonde stood there for a moment then smiled and made a bit of a swipe at the grinning Davo.

  ‘Anyway—what are you doing?’ asked Davo.

  ‘Well—I’m must standing over there having a quiet drink with my girlfriend. Why?’

  ‘We might come over and join you,’ shrugged Davo.

  ‘You sure you’ll be safe?’

  ‘I’ve got my mate here to look after me.’ Davo smiled at Colin. ‘What do you reckon. We go over and make their night for them?’

  Colin smiled back at Davo and shrugged his shoulders. ‘What’ve we got to lose?’

  They picked up their beers and followed the blonde the short distance to where her smiling girfriend had been watching all this curiously.

  Davo introduced Colin and himself and it turned out the girls were Ailie and Donna. They came from the Central Coast and were staying at a friend’s place at Coogee; they were going back tomorrow afternoon. Davo told them how he lived just up the road and to save having to bullshit too much told them Colin was a truck driver and he was a butcher but he got hurt bad in a car accident and had been off work for some time. The girls weren’t too bad to talk to but somehow they seemed to give the appearance that they were a cut above everybody else and if not actually on themselves, they definitely considered themselves to be something special for some reason.

  ‘So what do you girls do for a living up on the beautiful Central Coast?’ asked Colin, more out of curiosity than just to make small talk.

  Donna looked at Colin a little haughtily for a moment. ‘We work on the local radio station,’ she sniffed, with a toss of her head.

  ‘You what!!?’ chorused Davo and Colin, blinking and laughing at Donna at the same time.

  ‘We work on the local radio station, 2RA,’ repeated Ailie slowly. The way she said it and the look on her face when she did suggested that it was a bit of a big deal to work there; a glamour job, like programming on 2MMM or on a leading AM station in Sydney and that Davo and Colin should have been suitably impressed. This was probably the reason why the two girls thought they were something special because back in their own little dungheap on the Central Coast having a job on the local radio station would possibly rate a little higher on the local social scale than being say a telephonist or working in a supermarket. However, instead of being impressed Colin and Davo almost fell about laughing.

  ‘You don’t work on that bloody 2RA do you?’ sneered Colin.

  ‘Yes, that’s right. Why?’ replied a somewhat admonished Donna.

  ‘You know what the RA stands for don’t you?’ chortled Colin.

  ‘Yes. Regional Authority,’ cut in Ailie, quite nonplussed at Colin and Davo’s supercilious attitude.

  ‘Yeah pig’s arse it does,’ said Colin. ‘It stands for radio arthritis.’

  As they stood there laughing at the two rather po-faced radio stars Colin and Davo reflected on the couple of weekends they’d spent on the Central Coast in a weekender at Bateau Bay belonging to one of Davo’s uncles. The house was in a bit of a gully and all they could pick up was Channel 3 in Newcastle on TV and this certain local radio station and neither of them could believe anything could sound so bad. It was all ads, the disc jockeys had about as much personality as a frozen chicken and the music was mind destroyingly dull, consisting mainly of old dreary 1960s pop ballads with a sprinkling of dull slow mush from the top 40. But just gloomy unimaginative music in general, and never any foot-tapping Oz rock. It was almost like being locked in a 1950-1960 time warp.

  Colin had even rung the station and asked if they ever played any music for the under sixty-fives, to which the girl on the switchboard sniffed that it was adult contemporary music: to which Colin told her she should have it shoved up her arse. Then they got talking to some local surfies and some girls they met and it seemed there was quite a lot of pensioners in the area and the station catered mainly for them. Which was how it got the nickname radio arthritis or 2RA because your ears have got wax. Most of the young people in the area couldn’t get the Sydney FM stations and either listened to Newcastle or nothing at all. Which was what Colin and Davo had preferred to do. Even when Colin had bought a bag of pot and they smoked a couple of joints, instead of making the music sound better it only seemed worse again; so they listened to the TV for the news and hung around in silence till it was time to go out somewhere.

  ‘So,’ said Davo, after he and Colin had settled down a bit. ‘You’re a couple of hot-shot glamours from the local pop scene on the Central Coast eh? It must be alright sitting around listening to Matt Monro, Kamahl and Roger Whittaker all day. You heard that new album out by Barry Crocker. Barry Crocker live at the Port Macquarie Retirement Centre? That’d go well on 2RA.’

  ‘Yeah, what do you wear when you go to work?’ said Colin. ‘A blue rinse in your hair. A nice twinset with a string of pearls round your neck?’

  ‘I suppose you wear sensible shoes too,’ said Davo.

  ‘Oh look . . . the station’s not that bad,’ said Ailie, a little hesitantly.

  ‘Not that bad,’ guffawed Davo ‘Turn it up. You hear better music on 2SM every time a pope dies.’

  ‘I suppose you’re into heavy rock are you man?’ said Ailie.

  ‘Yeah,’ replied Davo breezily. ‘I like that group Deep Petrol and that other mob with the bloke with the bald head. Sun Tan Oil. They’re alright.’

  ‘I like Pink Zeppelin and Led Floyd,’ chimed in Colin. ‘They ever play any of that on 2RA?’

  ‘Well . . . I admit,’ said Donna ‘that the station can be . . . not . . . quite up-to-date at times.’

  ‘Not quite up-to-date? Listen Donna,’ said Colin, placing his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘This is going to come as a bit of a shock to you. But Buddy Holly’s dead. So’s Johnny O’Keefe. Even Elvis has gone. Fair dinkum, he has. The Korean war’s over, colour TV’s in all the shops. The Yanks have even landed a man on the moon . . .’

  ‘Oh alright. There’s no need to rub it in,’ pleaded Ailie.

  But rub it in the boys did: and unmercifully. But strangely enough the more they rubbished Ailie and Donna, the keener the girls became. Maybe they were into some sort of sadomasochism or maybe after being treated like mini-starlets back on the Central Coast Colin and Davo’s lampooning attitude towards them had them slightly mesmerised. Besides the boys were coming out with some funny lines and they were better looking and better dressed than most of the men in the hotel. After a few more drinks, for which Davo insisted on paying his share although either Colin or one of the girls would go and get them, they were all as thick as thieves; laughing like mad with quite a few sexual innuendoes being bandied about and sniggered at as well. Eventually the girls went to the toilet, together, ostensibly to relieve their bladders but more than likely to plan their strategy for the night. While they were away the boys plotted theirs.

  ‘Well, what do you reckon?’ said Davo.

  ‘What do I reckon. I reckon those two sheilas are that hot for a root their arses are nearly on fire,’ replied Colin enthusiastically.


  ‘You think so?’

  ‘Ohh, mate. What do you think they’re down here for? They have one up there and half the joint knows about it the next day. Down here they’re sweet. There’s only you and me.’ Colin slapped Davo happily on the shoulder and grinned. ‘The old team’s back in action again.’

  ‘They do look like a couple of hotties—that’s for sure.’

  ‘I reckon straight back to your place and crank up the old Irish coffee machine.’

  ‘Suits me,’ replied Davo.

  Colin took a mouthful of beer and looked at Davo for a moment. ‘Hey, ah . . . how are your headaches going anyway?’ he asked, just a little suspiciously.

  ‘Huh? Oh. . . they’re not too bad. I ah . . . had a bit of a twinge a while ago, but I’ll take a digesic when we get home,’ lied Davo in reply. ‘We could even use it as an excuse to get going.’

  Colin nodded his head slowly. ‘You sure you can handle a nice map of Tasmania tonight?’

  ‘It’s been a while—but I think I’ll manage it. Anyway, here come the two radio stars.’

  Ailie and Donna returned from the Ladies and they all resumed drinking and laughing. Donna was obviously keen to get her hands on Colin and Ailie, with about ten Jack Daniels and Coke in her, was spreading herself all over Davo like peanut butter. Colin was spot on in his assumption that they were down in the big smoke to get their bilges pumped out.

  They had another round of drinks and Davo said he was starting to get a bit of a headache from the noise and smoke—he admitted it had been a while since he’d been out—and suggested they all go back to his place for a few drinks, a talk and a listen to some music; with Colin doing plenty of prompting in the background. The girls had a mandatory discussion between them for about five seconds and the next thing they had their bags under their arms saying ‘Let’s go’. As they headed for the door Colin gave Davo a huge wink over Donna’s shoulder and you could almost see him trembling with lust and anticipation.

  Outside the hotel Ailie hooked her arm inside Davo’s and Donna did the same with Colin as they sauntered happily towards Colin’s station wagon. Being Thursday night with late shopping in the junction Colin had had to park a little further away than usual but no one minded as they were all having quite a bit of fun laughing and talking as they strolled along. They were only a few metres from the car when Davo instinctively turned around to see two fairly solid young blokes in T-shirts and jeans not far behind them. The way they were swaggering as they walked seemed to ring some sort of alarm bell in Davo’s head so he slipped his arm out of Ailie’s. Colin was completely oblivious of them and went round to the driver’s side, leaving Davo standing on the opposite side of the car with the two girls waiting for him to open all the doors from the inside. All the while out of the corner of his eye Davo kept watching the two young blokes, and by now he noticed they were a bit drunk. As they drew level the taller of the two, a fairhaired guy a little taller than Davo, stopped and grinned at him.

  ‘Hey, matey,’ he leered, looking first at Davo then at the two girls, while his mate, with a half-drunken smile on his face stood behind him.

  ‘Yeah, what?’ replied Davo expressionlessly.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind fuckin’ your girl.’

  Davo looked him up and down and sneered. ‘Oh piss off, you flip.’

  Colin glanced over from where he was having a bit of trouble getting the key in the door while Ailie and Donna stood there blinking nervously; suddenly, all those stories they’d heard about Sydney being a concrete jungle seemed to be coming true.

  ‘What’s going on?’ said Colin.

  ‘How would you like to make me piss off arsehole,’ continued the tall hoodlum, ignoring Colin as he glared at Davo.

  Without warning and without him being able to control it, something inside Davo began to boil over. He knew he should have cooled it and he knew he’d only bring himself undone but he went into some sort of a daze and seemed to forget where he was and who he was with. As the adrenalin hit the pit of his stomach and burst through his system he cleared his throat, grinned evilly at the hoodlum and spat all over the front of his Foster’s Lager T-shirt. The hood looked at the spittle spreading over his chest and his eyes glowered at Davo as Colin started walking round the front of the car while the two girls cringed towards the rear.

  Glowering with rage the tall hood began to move towards the grinning Davo, just as Colin came round the front of the car to take a hand in things. He needn’t have bothered. The hoodlum had barely moved into range when Davo whacked him with a left hook that, gloves or no gloves, hit him in the face with a sound like someone throwing half a house brick at a pumpkin; and it did about the same amount of damage. Arms flailing crazily, his feet went from under him and he crashed down onto the pavement half on his side. He raised his head up in amazement for a split second, wondering what on earth had just hit him, then lay there out cold, blood bubbling over his lips and down both sides of his mouth.

  Automatically Davo shaped up and began to advance towards the hood’s mate—who was just about to get on the toe and leave his friend rather than cop another one of Davo’s surprise thunderbolts—when the sight of Colin standing wide-eyed at the front of the car stopped him.

  ‘Jesus bloody Christ,’ was all Colin said. The two girls just stood there with their hands over their mouths not saying anything: but they were echoing the same sentiments.

  Like he was coming out of a trance, the sound of Colin’s voice stopped Davo in his tracks and he then realised what he’d just done. He silently cursed himself. Christ, now he’d blown it for sure. But there was only Colin and after tonight they’d probably never see the two girls again. Maybe he was still safe.

  ‘Christ almighty,’ said Colin again, slowly shaking his head as he stared at the unconscious hood lying in a steadily increasing pool of blood on the footpath. Not only was he shocked at the mess the bloke’s face was in, but since they were kids Colin had scarcely ever known Davo to throw a punch. ‘Jesus, Davo. What did you hit him with?’ he said again.

  ‘I didn’t hit him,’ said Davo quickly. ‘I only pushed him. He must have been drunk and fallen over. He must have hit his head on the footpath.’ Davo looked over at a highly sceptical Colin who obviously didn’t believe him. ‘Come on. Let’s get in the car and piss off.’

  Colin had another look at the unconscious hood and at the other hero who was still standing there trying to dissolve into the wall. ‘Yeah righto,’ he blinked, still not quite believing what he’d just witnessed. He got the door open and they all bundled inside for the short drive back to Davo’s.

  ‘Are you sure you only pushed that bloke?’ said Colin, watching Davo in the rear-vision mirror. Davo was sitting in the back next to Ailie.

  ‘Yeah, that’s all. He was pissed and fell over.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Anyway it served the goose right,’ said Davo, trying to sound flippant as he put his left hand on Ailie’s knee. ‘You can’t go around saying things like that in front of nice country girls.’

  Ailie put her hand on top of Davo’s. ‘So you just pushed him eh?’ she smiled.

  ‘That’s all,’ replied Davo. ‘I was only trying to protect your honour.’

  ‘And you just pushed him.’ There was a sizeable piece of skin missing from one of Davo’s knuckles where his fist had caught the hood in the teeth. Ailie ran her fingers gently over it then smiled at Davo again like a cat that had just eaten all the cream.

  Before long they were all settled comfortably in Davo’s lounge listening to the FM stereo. The Irish coffees had been made, the lights were dimmed and they were sitting back on opposite lounges sipping their hot drinks. The incident with the hoodlum was over but for Colin Andrews it was definitely not forgotten. The Bob Davis he was out with tonight was nothing like Bob Davis his butcher mate of old and what had just happened in Bronte Road only added to the enigma. There was something wrong here and something more than just a little bit frightening; however, f
or the moment he would put it out of his mind. Donna’s loose-fitting top had begun to slip over her shoulder to reveal her black bra-strap and a fairly firm mound of nicely tanned tit, and with the Irish coffee starting to surge through him he was just about ready to rip her collarbone out with his teeth.

  They had another coffee each and chit-chatted away for a little while longer to allow for a certain amount of protocol before they paired off into the bedrooms—they didn’t want the night to be a straight-out orgy. Naturally, it was Colin who made the first move. Davo was giving Ailie’s neck a bit of a stroke and she was beginning to breathe a little heavy when he saw Colin quietly take Donna by the arm and lead her towards the spare bedroom—it was a photo-finish who went through the door first before it clicked shut behind them.

  Davo slipped his hand behind Ailie’s head and softly drew her face towards him. It started off as a gentle kiss but then her arms suddenly snaked around his neck and she crushed her lips hungrily onto his; the next thing she gave a little sigh and her hot sweet tongue darted hungrily into his mouth.

  Davo ran his hand under her top, hooked his thumb in the front of her bra, lifted it up and cupped his hands over her breasts, gently stroking the firm, erect nipples between his fingers. Ailie squirmed against him on the lounge, pushing her crotch against his thigh and moaning softly as Davo ran his tongue around her ear, over her neck and slowly and agonisingly across her nipples, then he slipped his hand onto her crotch rubbing it steadily while he kissed her lips and breasts. Ailie squealed some more then bit his lip and grabbed at his fly.

  ‘Oh God. Take me into the bedroom,’ she moaned.

  It was then that Davo noticed that something was wrong. Normally, by now, after a heavy bout of kissing and groping and specially after having a nice tongue slipped into his mouth and ear, Davo would have had an erection hard enough to jemmy open a window with. But now there was nothing. He was flaccid, completely limp: and he was more than a little worried. Since he’d got out of hospital and started training, concentrating only on that and killing skinheads, he’d never even thought about sex. He wasn’t going out anywhere so why bother. As soon as his head hit the pillow at night he was asleep and as soon as he got up in the morning he went straight into his training. He’d never really noticed he hadn’t had an erection in all that time, sex was the last thing on his mind. Though he imagined when the time did come he’d be more than up to it. But now this.