Free Between the Devlin and the Deep Blue Seas by Robert G. Barrett Page A

the main thing on Les’s mind was what was living just across the hall in flat three. After a while he locked up the storeroom and his flat and headed back to Bondi, stopping to get a barbecued chicken on the way.
    Warren was still looking all bright eyed and bushy-tailedthat night, when they got into the chicken with a bit of salad and baked potatoes. He was going on about how he could stay off the piss forever and wondering whether Les could do the same. He made a big deal of drinking another glass of mineral water with a slice of lime in it and looked up from his plate at Les.
    â€˜So, what have you been up to today, landlord?’ he asked.
    â€˜Not much,’ replied Les. ‘Put the car in for a grease. Had lunch with a couple of old mates. Went for a walk around town. Just enjoyed my leisure time. What about yourself? How was the pickle factory?’
    â€˜Flat out. We’re up to our necks in a big promotion for a travel company at the moment.’
    â€˜You’re not looking for a male model, are you? I could do with a quid. I am out of work, you know.’
    Warren took another sip of mineral water. ‘Male models, yes. Semi-housetrained orang-utans — no.’
    Norton smiled. ‘You going out tonight?’
    â€˜No. What about you?’
    Les shook his head. ‘To tell you the truth, I’m just starting to enjoy these early nights. I feel tops.’
    â€˜Me too. In fact while I’m off the piss, I might stay celibate too.’
    â€˜You may as well. All the sheilas have been giving you the arse lately. The word’s finally got out that you’re a dud bash.’
    â€˜Pig’s arse,’ snorted Warren. ‘I am known throughout the advertising industry in Sydney as “the man”.’
    â€˜Yeah. The man who can’t get it up. Listen, mate, I’ve seen you on the nest in there some mornings and you’re hopeless. It’s like watching a pigeon trying to fuck a paper aeroplane.’
    â€˜Bollocks! At least I do bring a few good sorts home. Better than those cheesy old mutts you drag through the door.’
    Les smiled and conceded Warren the point. You won’t be saying that when I bring Miss Picasso back for coffee and ted at chez Norton, you little shit, he thought.
    Again they watched another video of Warren’s choice and again they were in bed around midnight. Warren had a big day at the office the next day and had to make an early start. Norton had other plans.
    Their paths crossed briefly in the morning with Warren wishing that he didn’t have to go to work seeing it was such a nice day. Les just said stiff shit and went for another run in Centennial Park. When he returned home his flatmate was long gone.
    Naturally Norton had been reflecting on Blue Seas Apartments during his training session, not so much about the predicament he was in, more about who was in flat three. Sandra Jean Garrett, unbelievably spunky artist. To have any chance with her, he was going to have to be pretty cool about it. He’d also have to be Johnny on the spot, and that meant moving his swag into Blue Seas, which he could handle for a few days until he gained her confidence. But winning the fair maiden’s hand and then taking her back somewhere decent to get her pants off without letting her know he was the landlord was going to be a tricky business to say the least.
    Les was pondering on this as he sorted out some blankets, pillows, shaving gear and other odds and ends after he’d showered and had breakfast, when the phone rang. It was Billy Dunne.
    â€˜Billy! What’s doing, mate?’ said Les brightly.
    â€˜Not much,’ replied Billy. ‘What about yourself? What have you been up to?’
    â€˜Not a great deal, William, to tell you the truth. In fact I’ve been rooting around with that old block of flats I own over at Randwick.’
    â€˜The Waldorf Astoria,’ chuckled Billy.
    â€˜You got it, mate.