The Lawson Boys: Alex

by Angela Verdenius

  The Lawson Boys: Alex

  By Angela Verdenius

  (The Lawson Boys book 1)

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2012 Angela Verdenius

  Cover image courtesy of Les3photo8 & dreamstime.com

  Cover by Joleene Naylor

  Smashwords License Statement

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  I found that some overseas readers were having difficulty with the Australian slang, so I thought a list of the slang I’ve used will help while reading the following story. If I’ve forgotten any, I do apologise! Also, you’ll find some of our Aussie words have different spelling to the US.

  * please note that sizes in the US and Australia differ, so when reading of a set dress size, check the conversion on-line if you want!

  Cheers,

  Angela

  Australian Terms/Slang

  Got his/her/their goat – annoyed him/her/them

  Dander – temper.

  Moosh - slang for face/mouth

  Torch - flashlight

  Mobile phone - cell phone.

  Bloke/s - men

  Iced coffee/chocolate - a milk drink flavoured with chocolate or coffee.

  RAC - Royal Automobile Club of Western Australia. Covers insurance, holidays, loans, etc.

  Tim Tams - a brand of Arnott’s Biscuits. Yummy!

  Chemist - pharmacy

  Buggered - many Aussie use it as a slang word for ‘broken’ (it’s buggered), ‘tired (I’m buggered), and ‘no way’ (I’m buggered if I’m going to do that). Just some examples.

  Bloody - a swear word ‘no bloody good’, in place of ‘no damned good’

  Tucker - food

  TLC - Tender Loving Care

  Biccies - biscuits. The same as cookies.

  Boofhead - idiot, simpleton, etc. It’s an insult, though sometimes we use it as a term of affection. It depends on how it is said and meant.

  Sheila - female.

  Hoon/s - person/people who indulge in antisocial behaviour. Great explanation in Wikipedia

  Primapore - sticky patch with a pad in it. A medical dressing.

  Panadol - paracetamol.

  Milo - chocolate malt drink. Can have it hot or cold. Yummy!

  Budgie smugglers - men’s bathers, small, brief and tight-fitting.

  Tea - some people call the evening meal dinner. In my family, we’ve always called it tea, as in breaky, dinner and tea, or breaky, lunch and tea.

  Donger - penis

  Yamaha & Suzuki - ‘brands’ of motorcycles.

  English Blazer – really yummy men’s after shave!

  Pub - hotel.

  If someone’s tickled pink, they’re - delighted

  Giggle-box - TV, television

  Lug - face

  Shag - sex

  Pedal Pushers - three quarter pants/knickerbockers

  You wally - silly,

  Beaut - beautiful, awesome, great, wonderful

  Crash cart - resuscitation trolley in a hospital or medical setting - used for life threatening situations such as cardiac arrest.

  Ute - small truck

  Dill - silly, idiot

  Snaggers - sausages

  Soft drink - soda, fizzy drink

  Barbie - BBQ

  PCYC - Police and Citizens Youth Club

  Milo - a kind of chocolaty drink you can have hot or cold. Yummy!

  Vegemite - most Aussies find this spread yummy, many non-Aussies find it too salty. Here’s the hint - if you ever have Vegemite, use it spread thinly, never thickly!

  Chips - in Australia we have cold crunchy chips from a packet, or hot chips known in some countries as French Fries.

  Whopper - a lie

  Lolly - sweetie, candy

  Servo - service station

  Nooky - sex

  Driving - In Australia, you cannot get a driver’s licence to drive a car until you are 17 years old. You get your Learner’s Permit (which requires you to drive only in the company of a qualified driver), then at 18 you can go for your Probationary licence (you can drive on your own but at restricted speed limits), and then finally you are a fully qualified driver.

  One

  Driving along the highway towards the small town, Alex sighed in contentment as the cool breeze blew in the open window and past his face. Outside were trees, bushes, wild flowers and farms.

  No desert, no flying dirt, no burning heat through his uniform as he returned fire on the Taliban. No wondering who was friend or foe, especially when an Afghanistan soldier they’d been training had turned on his unit and killed three Australian soldiers before the unit had managed to bring him down. Shit, he’d thought the man had been an all right bloke, he’d seemed to really want the war to end, and then damn if he hadn’t turned on the very men he’d befriended and killed some of them.

  Yeah, some R & R back home in Australia was just what Alex needed. Getting away from war for awhile, enjoying well-earned time with friends and family.

  And fixing a problem that was long overdue to be fixed.

  The looming sign stated that the town of Whicha was less than ten kilometres away.

  His problem lived in Whicha.

  Coming to stay with his old friend was good for R & R, helping Paul with his carpentry business, relaxing, not having to watch his back, but he had an ulterior motive for visiting Paul, and that ulterior motive was his problem.

  Taking a deep breath, Alex slowed down to the designated speed sign he passed and watched as new buildings appeared, interspersed with older designs. It had been some years since he’d last been here and the small town had grown a little. Not a lot, he was pleased to see, but a little. You just couldn’t stop progress.

  Larger plots of land gave way to smaller blocks before he entered the township itself. It was old, some of the original colonial buildings still standing and being lived in or used as shops. Quaint was the word his sister would have used to describe Whicha. Small, quaint, and probably everyone was related to each other in some way. That last was debatable…in a small way.

  Smiling, Alex pulled up at a service station to refuel the Jeep before pushing onward, passing a small supermarket, a couple of clothes stores, some other small businesses, the local pub, and finally the café.

  Parking outside the café, he gazed thoughtfully at the curtained frontage. According to Paul’s emails, she still worked at the café part-time. He wondered if she was working today. The door remained shut, but suddenly a section of the curtain was pushed back by a toddler sitting near the window, and he saw her standing directly in front of the table beside the window, her pad and pen in hand while she spoke to the woman with the toddler.

  Harly Bentley. He’d know her anywhere, even though it had been years since he’d seen her. Thick black hair twisted up into a careless bun on top of her head, her skin creamy, eyelashes so thick and black, and a mouth that even now, all these years later, he could remember their softness.

  Her over-generous curves were poured into a pale blue uniform dress with a frilly apron tied around her waist, and her manner was no-nonsense, he could just about feel it from the way she pointed at the menu while speaking to the woman.

  Jotting down the woman’s answers, Harly glanced at the toddler and the woman turned and took the curtain from his little fist. But right before the curtain fluttered back into place, Harly loo
ked up and directly at him, and he was struck by her eyes, pale grey, so startling between those thick, black eyelashes. She frowned slightly, a puzzled expression on her face, and then the curtain cut her from view.

  Releasing a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, Alex relaxed back in the seat and loosened his hold on the steering wheel.

  Harly Bentley was his problem.

  Should he go inside and face her? No, that wouldn’t be good, there’d be nowhere to talk, to get the truth from her. Maybe he should go and drop his gear off at Paul’s before ambushing her as she was leaving. Running his fingertips lightly along the steering wheel, he debated the wisdom of either move before finally putting the gearstick in reverse and backing back out onto the quiet road.

  Ambushes were best planned.

  Paul’s carpentry business was easily found in a back street and from his directions it wasn’t hard to find. Parking in the customer area, he got out and walked across to the workshop, following the sounds of voices and radio music, which was a little on the loud side.

  Stopping at the garage door which was rolled back to show three cars in various stages of repairs, he glanced around until he found Paul.

  Shaking his hand and swearing a blue streak, Paul hadn’t really changed, just gotten a little older. No longer the gawky teenager, he had filled out and matured, but he was still the same accident-prone bloke, it would seem.

  “Bloody useless piece of-” he began, only to stop when he caught sight of Alex in the opening, and a big grin crossed his face. “Alex!”

  “Hey,” Alex replied. “I got here.”

  “Good to see you, man!” Crossing the oil-stained floor, Paul looked as though he wanted to hug Alex, but being a man’s man, he punched him in the shoulder instead. “God, it’s been ages!”

  Alex punched him back. “A few years.”

  Paul looked him up and down before giving in to his emotions and throwing his arms around Alex to give him a brief hug followed by lots of back slapping to reinstate his manhood. “Shit.”

  “Oh, that’s lovely.” Alex grinned back at him. “Know how you’re feeling, man.” And gave him another shoulder punch.

  Beaming widely, Paul slung an arm around his shoulders and turned to the two watching men. “Jack, Will, this is Alex, my best friend.”

  “The soldier, huh?” Will came forward, extending his grimy hand. “Paul’s mentioned you.”

  “Likewise,” Alex replied, though Paul had only referred to his workers as the men, sprinkled with occasional names as he’d described some idiot thing they’d done.

  Jack shook his hand as well. “Reckon you’re needing some time off after the shit happening over there.”

  “Yeah.” Not wanting to talk about the war, Alex glanced around the huge work shed with a frown. “I thought you were into carpentry, Paul?”

  “I was. Am.” Paul wiped his hands on an equally oil-stained rag. “I bought this business a couple of months ago. I’m no mechanic, but Jack and Will here are the best. I mainly do my carpentry, but when it’s quiet I come over and give the blokes a hand.”

  “And a finger,” Jack replied dourly.

  “Yeah.” Holding up a finger that was looking a little swollen at the tip, Paul waggled it in the air. “Bloody tools here are greasy.”

  “That’s because they’re used in a lot of oil and grease situations,” Will replied. “It’s not like your carpentry gear, full of sawdust. Mechanics is a real man’s work.”

  “Excuses.”

  Alex’s eyebrows rose. “So when did you get time to study mechanics?”

  “Oh, here and there.” At Jack’s snort, Paul added, “Oh, fine. I mainly help them by being their gopher when it’s busy, but…” He glared at his workers. “I do know a bit about engines!”

  “I’ll give you that,” Jack said.

  “Thank you, Aunty Jack.” Paul glanced at his watch. “I didn’t realise this was morning tea break.”

  “It wasn’t, but might as well be now,” Will retorted cheerfully, heading to a doorway in the far wall. “Coming?”

  “Nah.” Paul started unbuttoning his overalls. “I’m going to take Alex home and get him settled, go for a drink. General perks of being the boss.”

  Jack rolled his eyes and now Alex saw the similarity. Jack and Will were related in some way to Paul. Small town.

  He waited beside the Jeep while Paul got changed, then he followed his friend’s Ute as Paul led him through town to his house.

  Paul’s wife was waiting at the door when they pulled up, and she gave Alex a hug as he neared the door with his bag in one hand. “About time you came, stranger!”

  “Becky.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, feeling the warmth of old friends surround him. “How could you desert me and marry this jerk?”

  “He was getting into too much trouble.” Becky gave Paul a peck on the cheek.

  “Really?” Paul’s eyebrows rose, a wicked gleam entering his eyes. “That’s all the greeting I get?”

  Becky shrieked in delight as Paul swept her into his arms and dipped her low to one side, holding her as he almost devoured her mouth. When he finally pulled her upright, she was flushed and gasping for air.

  “Oh my.” She panted, straightening her blouse which had come free of her skirt.

  Paul leered.

  “Nothing has changed, I see,” Alex observed. “Still the same horny teenagers.”

  “Teenage sweethearts.” Sliding her arm around Paul’s waist, Becky smiled up at him. “Horny teenagers.”

  “Horny adults,” Paul added cheerfully. “She’s pregnant.”

  “My congratulations.” Alex gave Becky a light kiss on the cheek.

  “Proved my manhood.” Paul stuck out his chest.

  Becky laughed and slapped his arm before turning to Alex. “I’ll show you to your room. Here, let me take your bag.”

  “No worries.” Alex pulled it out of reach of her hand. “A gentleman never lets a lady carry heavy things.” He glanced slyly at Paul.

  “Hey,” said Paul mildly, “I don’t let her carry anything heavy.” In one move he swooped Becky up into his arms and carried her laughing and protesting through the doorway. “I carry all the heavy stuff around here.”

  “You jerk! Are you saying I’m heavy?”

  “Honey! Never!” Lowering her legs to the floor, Paul leaned against the wall and with exaggerated panting, wiped his brow. “Jesus, think I’m gonna have a heart attack.”

  Seeing as Becky was a petite woman in both height and build, and Paul towered over her and was built mostly of muscle, Alex shook his head.

  Unconcerned, Becky reached up and patted Paul’s cheek. “Oh, sweetie. Never mind, I hear abstention from sex is good for heart conditions.”

  “Like hell.” Lifting his arms, Paul flexed his muscle. “Built like an ox and make love like a wild man.”

  “I don’t think I need to be hearing this.” Alex laughed.

  “We’ll try to keep it down tonight.” Paul winked. “Becky put you in the furtherest bedroom just for such reasons.”

  “Ignore the moron, Alex.” This time Becky did blush, but her eyes twinkled as she shoved past her husband. “I’ll show you to your room and you can settle in.”

  Once in the bedroom allotted to him, Alex waited until Becky had left before he looked around. It was nice, comfortable and homely. Crossing to the window, he glanced out to see the quiet street, the homes and gardens. Whicha was a typical small town where everyone knew everyone, and as a boy he’d loved coming here to stay with Paul for holidays. The town hadn’t changed from what he could see, apart from a couple more businesses and houses.

  He wondered how much Harly Bentley had changed.

  “Alex?”

  Turning back to the room to see Becky in the doorway, he raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

  “I’ve arranged to have a small barbecue tonight. Nothing big,” she added hurriedly. “Just a couple of friends you knew. Is that okay?”

&nb
sp; “Sure. Be nice to catch up with everyone.”

  “Great. It won’t start until about seven thirty, as Paul has a job to finish and then he’ll pick up Harly on his way home and bring her here. Remember Harly Bentley?”

  He wasn’t likely to ever forget her now. “Oh yeah.” He smiled slowly. “Tell you what, why don’t I pick her up?”

  “Really?” Becky suddenly shook her head. “Oh, no, you just got here, you don’t want to go out and start-”

  “No worries.” Tucking his hands into his pants pockets, he stood easily. “It’ll be nice to go for a cruise around town, see what’s changed. I can pick her up on my way back. Give me a chance to chat to her, anyway.”

  “Well…okay.” Becky smiled. “I’ll give you her address before you go and let her know that you’re picking her up.”

  “No.” He smiled back in a friendly manner, not giving a clue as to his darker thoughts. “Let’s surprise her.”

  Becky laughed. “Sure, why not?”

  Yeah, why not indeed.

  Becky left the room and Alex gazed unseeingly at the spot she’d vacated. Harly Bentley, his problem. He’d come here to sort out his problem.

  He’d come here to sort out Harly Bentley.

  Time to plot the ambush.

  ~*~

  Wiping down the last of the tables, Harly stood back and cast a critical glance around. Yep, everything in the café was clean and tidy, ready for the next day. She’d filled every salt, pepper and sugar shaker, wiped down the tables and benches, cleaned out the coffee pot, while the cook cleaned his section of the café and young Mark, the teenage son of the owner, Maryanne, swept the floor and helped with the dishes.

  Maryanne locked the door and stretched her arms while yawning. “Good days work, people. Now go home.”

  “Lovely.” Harly jerked the apron strings loose while walking through into the small room off the kitchen. Tossing the apron into the laundry basket, she added, “Such a good day that we get double pay?”