And De Fun Don't Done Read Online Free Page A

happier knowing he’d arrive on time and hopefully so would his luggage and Hank’d be there to meet him. After Los Angeles, Atlanta was easy; not unlike getting off the train at Bondi Junction and going up the escalator, only everybody climbed aboard a shuttle as well that took them to the other side of the terminal. It was when Norton got off the shuttle that he saw his first full-on black soul brothers and sisters.
    There were about ten of them, men and women in their twenties and thirties; four had just arrived on some other flight. And these cats weren’t just black. They was blaaaaacckk. Their hair was either braided, shaved, beaded or clipped and shaped like a lot of little black hedges. Even though it was night time they all sported mirror sunglasses to go with the gold plating, one lot wore baggy pants, shirts, hats and dresses of orange, red, yellow, amber and colours that bright you couldn’t miss them if you had cataracts on your eyes an inch thick. The others had on black cotton tracksuits and caps with big white Xs on them. Might be a brand of beer mused Norton. White X. As he walked past, it was all weird handshakes and boogie jive.
    â€˜Yo! Mah man. What’s happening?’
    â€˜Hey, brother. What it look like?’
    â€˜Yo. What’s happening, blood?’
    â€˜Shit man. Gimme five.’
    â€˜There it is, mah man. Lookin’ good.’
    â€˜Yo!’
    â€˜Hey!’
    â€˜Outasight.’
    â€˜What’s happenin’ brother?’
    â€˜Yo!’
    Get down, thought Norton, as he continued to stroll past. And don’t bother getting back up again, you bunch of wallies.
    Somehow Les managed to find his connecting Delta flight to Tampa; a much smaller and narrower plane. Les was squeezed in between a woman of about fifty and a girl on the aisle of about fourteen, wearing a Camp Hoocha- kookaboochee or something T-shirt. They took off and all Norton got this time was orange juice, which was all he wanted. The two either side of him picked up on Norton’s accent and a bit of polite conversation followed. The woman lived in Tampa but had been working at Atlanta, managing some office; now she was going home for a week. The girl came from Tennessee; she was going to meet her grandmother then she was off to summer camp somewhere in South Florida. Les told them he worked for the Australian Space Industry and was being transferred to Cape Canaveral for a year.
    â€˜Oh, you’re a rocket scientist?’ drawled the woman.
    â€˜That’s me,’ replied Norton sincerely. ‘Les Von Brawn.’
    â€˜Wow!’ said the girl.
    Before Les had a chance to tell too many more lies they landed in Tampa, the last part of his trip; and right on time. He filed off the plane into another shuttle to finish up standing next to another baggage claim, watching the empty conveyor belt go round and hoping to Christ his one lousy piece of luggage had come through. Knowing my luck, thought Les pessimistically, it’s probably gone off to somewhere like Hog Slop, South Dakota, or something. Norton nearly fainted when his bag was one of the first ones off. Well, I’ll be stuffed, he smiled to himself. Somebody up there does like me. And when did I ever doubt it? Now let’s just hope fuckin’ Hank’s here, he thought, as he picked up his bag. Les started peering around the baggage claim area and at the people around him when who should come walking towards him wearing dirty jeans, just as dirty white sneakers and a tatty blue floral shirt but Hank, a twisted kind of smile on his face.
    â€˜G’day, Hank,’ grinned Les, dropping his overnight bag and offering his hand. ‘How are you goin’, mate?’
    â€˜Hey, Les. How are you doin’ there?’ answered Hank.
    â€˜Pretty good. Jesus, I’m glad you got here.’
    â€˜No real problem.’
    They shook hands and Les quickly checked out Hank. It definitely wasn’t