solid jolt from the exposed nerve.
‘They were trying to pin me for my activities earlier in the evening,’ he said finally.
‘And why should they give a shit about that?’ Glen pressed on.
‘Well, I told them to give Rhonda a call if they wanted confirmation on anything. You do remember Rhonda, don’t you? So near buddy, yet so far away!’
Glen caught the sarcasm.
‘Her step-dad’s also the desk sergeant at the Mentone cop shop.’ Continued Bulowski. ‘He wasn’t too happy. No, my friends, apparently he wasn’t too happy at all. Hopefully this is all I’ll get. He was dirty all right, but he is saving his best for our mate Timmy Hill. It seems the fool arrived to pick Rhonda up, complete with a big bunch of flowers. He even shook the bloke’s hand and promised to get her home at a reasonable hour. He thought they were going on a date!’
‘It’s still no reason to be so harsh on you, the chick was about 21,’ injected Kenny, a sniveling voice of reason. ‘It’s hardly like she’s gonna be a virgin.’
‘But, following our romantic interlude, I made the mistake of dropping her home. It was certainly the gentlemanly thing. Unfortunately, the temptation of a freshly manicured nature strip on the back of beer and romance was more than I could withstand.’
‘You didn’t!’ cut in Floyd, suddenly grinning.
‘Oh brother, did I what!’ replied Bulowski. He chuckled to himself, massaging his bruised temple, and smiling at the recent memory. ‘I revved it into the red-line, dropped the clutch and near cut the nature strip in two. Not quite my best effort, but still a quality trench. Ya gotta respect the ANZACs. I saw the light come on upstairs but I was off, bloody turf flying everywhere. Rhonda would have loved it though; shit like that really turns her on.’
‘Nice!’
‘Pretty stupid if you ask me,’ said Kenny, dumfounded by his friend’s total disregard for convention.
‘Not really,’ replied Bulowski smirking. ‘I was kind of thinking they’d pin the whole thing on our mate Tim. I was fairly sloshed at the time. I figured he was the poor bastard that had taken her out. I didn’t admit to anything, but they knew it was me. Kind of funny how things all turn out, ain’t it?’
‘Yeah, a real barrel of laughs!’ replied Glen. He was remodeling his new haircut in the mirrored wall behind the bar. He puffed, releasing a solid chest of air.
Nobody was laughing.
CHAPTER fifteen
‘Come a little closer, darling,’ Floyd whispered softly to Jenny Jones. ‘I’ll show you the Southern Cross constellation.’
‘I’m happy sitting where I am,’ she replied calmly. ‘And can we change the radio station to something a little more upbeat. What are we listening to anyway? Songs of Love? Since when have you been interested in this kind of crap?’
‘It must be something Graham left in the car.’
It was Saturday night, three weeks after the party. There hadn’t been any further legal developments as far as Max the lawyer knew. It was a long shot, but they were all kind of hoping the whole rape business would just go away. Floyd had been grounded since the event. It was pretty embarrassing for a bloke of 18; but it was that or move out. His mother wasn’t bluffing. Graham had been given his license back. His old Dodge Phoenix was also back on the road. Floyd spied a prime opportunity to break his three week drought. The lovely Jenny had been stand-off-ish since the party. Even after she aced her French exam Floyd was still struggling to get back into her “good books.” He’d given her the mandatory week to cool her heels, but now here they were, two weeks further down the road. Her behaviour and attitude were bordering on plain rude.
Finally, after a persistent week of calling, and then the promise of a big surprise, she’d relented. Two bottles of wine were pre-stashed under the front seat of the big old Dodge. He had some clean bedding packed onto the back seat,. There were even a few ‘slow tapes’ on stand by in the glove box. Floyd was back in the game.
Hearing her snide comment in reference to the doona rolled conspicuously in the back, he’d been happy to see she hadn’t completely lost her sense of humor. All angles were covered. Floyd was sure in his heart, checking his reflection in the dash mounted rear view mirror, this make up session was going to be one of the classics.
Feigning interest in a supposedly rare galactic phenomenon, they were finally in the car park facing out onto Mordialloc pier. The outline of the rotunda was in the distance and the tea trees were rustling under a gentle breeze. The night was oozing with ambience. It was a crescent moon; the shining stars were just another complement to the whole beautiful effect. Complete solitude would have sealed it. Unfortunately though, they weren’t the only ones absorbing nature’s grandeur from the pier car park on this particular Saturday night.
He’d noticed the white Holden station wagon as soon as they arrived. It was jammed tightly up the far end, partially obscured by foliage. The ladders on the roof gave it away.
To think that its owner, Terry Kollins, T. K., a.k.a. “The King,” had played football with his uncle Graham 15 years earlier was impressive stuff. If his uncle were to be believed, the legend went back even further. It was all significantly enhanced by the rumour he still slept on a single bed. Some captains, it seemed, weren’t afraid to go down with the ship!
‘You’re looking a little cold all the way over there, Jenny J. Why don’t you come over here and let me give you a little massage,’ said Floyd. He was using his sweetest voice. Cold as bloody ice, he wanted to scream. He’d arrived at these crossroads before though; a delicate hand was the key.
‘I’m fine where I am,’ she responded matter-of-factly. ‘And would you mind not singing along to the music. I have a bit of a headache.’
‘But I’m not just singing, my darling, I am serenading… ’cause it was cold and lonely in the deeeep of niiight... and I could see paradise by the dashboard liiiightt...’
‘Floyd, please!’
‘Alright, alright, keep your hat on. Shit, this isn’t still about the party, is it? Geez, how many times does a man have to say he’s sorry? It was all a bit of a misunderstanding at worst; you blitzed your French exam! I’m not expecting roses, but a “thank you” wouldn’t hurt.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘Who put you in the taxi and sent you on your way, fresh and sober; and at a reasonable hour? Most blokes I know would’ve conned you to stay around and help with the clean up. Not me! I know how important your exams are to you. I put that first. Now, come over here and give your hero a kiss.’ Floyd could see it in her eyes, she was weakening.
‘And what about Timothy Hill, and the carload of tarts that arrived about an hour after I left?’ She was breathing fire, but it was diminishing.
‘Shit, that’s a bit harsh, don’t you think? They dropped in on the way home from the city. Tim was already legless. We didn’t think it right to let him drive them any further. Bullet knew one of the birds from around the traps. We all got to talking and they decided to stay for a drink. We’ve been over this.’
‘Got to talking, eh? So tell me again how a cigarette lighter gets wedged up some poor guy’s arse?’
This is brutal.
‘Look, like I told the police,’ Floyd exclaimed. ‘I really don’t remember what happened. I don’t remember Tim leaving and I can’t discuss the case any further because I signed a special police form. Just from what I have told you now, I could go to jail. You wouldn’t want that, would you?’
Floyd didn’t give her a chance to answer. He shimmied quickly across the seat and had her in his arms. His timing was a little off, the kiss cumbersome, but he locked on. He held her tight. When he did finally release,