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

the same Laurel Lee who had stayed at Norton’s house. Although it had only been about eighteen months ago, Hank had changed noticeably, and it wasn’t just the wispy moustache he’d now grown. In Australia Hank had been heavier, his face fuller. Now he was lean, his face gaunt and grainy and his thinning hair was now on the verge of evaporating completely. For the middle of summer Hank had no colour about him at all and for a thirty-year-old he looked closer to sixty. Norton had been on a plane about twenty-four hours, he’d had bugger all sleep and needed a shave, yet standing next to Hank he could have passed for his son.
    But it was Hank’s eyes. They were literally spinning around in his head. They’d catch Norton’s for a brief moment then dart from side to side, but were always looking down at the ground. Les couldn’t help but be reminded of a caged rat. Christ! he thought. I think I’ve got a live one here. He looks fucked. And I think it’s all in the head too.
    â€˜My car’s out here.’ Hank gave a curt nod of his head and started walking through the other people. He didn’t offer to help Les with his bags.
    â€˜Yeah, righto,’ answered Les, and tailed him out through the automatic door.
    It wasn’t all that cool inside the terminal, but outside was like a sauna; there was not a breath of wind and the heat literally hung on you like a blanket. Shit, thought Les, it must be thirty bloody degrees and ninety per cent humidity. Hank’s car was a black Dodge utility, or pickup as they’re called in America. It looked to be in reasonable condition, a bit of chrome round the wheels and twin copper exhausts at the back. Les threw his bags in the back.
    â€˜Shit, it’s hot,’ he said.
    â€˜You think this is hot,’ Hank half sneered ‘this is nothing.’
    â€˜Oh?’
    Norton walked round the front and went to get in the driver’s side, forgetting that Americans drove on the opposite of the road and their steering wheels were on the opposite side also. It was a harmless mistake and Les gave a bit of a self-conscious smile. Hank looked at him as if he was some kind of moron. Les walked around, got in the passenger side and looked for his seat-belt.
    â€˜Where’s the seat-belt?’ he asked, noticing Hank wasn’t wearing one either.
    â€˜They don’t work. I don’t use them anyway.’
    â€˜Oh.’ They started to drive off and Les wound the window down to let a bit of breeze in.
    â€˜Leave the window up,’ said Hank. ‘I’m gonna put the air-conditioner on.’
    If there was one thing Norton wasn’t rapt in it was air- conditioners. They were a good idea alright, but they were generally noisy and there was nothing like them for giving you colds. ‘Yeah, alright,’ he replied reluctantly and wound the window back up.
    The air-conditioner rattled into life and at the same time Hank lit the first of a string of non-stop cigarettes. However, this time it was different. Les was in Hank’s car and Hank’s company. And this time, if Les didn’t like it, he was the one who could piss off. Which was fair enough. Nonetheless Norton wound the window down about a third. If Laurel Lee didn’t like it Les was going to tell him to go fuck his boot anyway. So far Hank hadn’t asked Norton how the trip was, how he felt, was he looking forward to his holiday in the States? Kiss my arse — nothing. Norton was going to say something, but he was trying to concentrate on his surroundings. Not that there was much he could make out in the darkness. He just seemed to be speeding along the wrong side of the road along some super freeway built up over water. That was all Norton could make out: some enormous inky bay, reflecting a full moon and some stars. Finally Hank decided to open his mouth.
    â€˜How’s Warren?’ he asked.
    â€˜Good,’ replied Les.
    The