‘Just don’t serve any booze. Responsible service rules and all that. I need three jugs of water to the long table under the jacaranda, and there’s a never-ending stream of kids wanting packets of chips.’
‘Wombat, I—’
Shoot. His brother had scarpered.
‘A schooner of Toohey’s New and a glass of the house white, mate,’ said a voice he hadn’t heard in years.
He looked up from the mess of spilled ice and battered EFTPOS machines cluttering the counter, and there stood a grizzle-faced giant with a face the texture of beef jerky and a chest that could have rivalled the kegs in the inner bar for circumference.
‘Hogey,’ he said, delighted.
‘Come ’ere, ya mug,’ said his old friend. Before he knew what was what, a bear hug was crushing his ribs.
‘Good to see you,’ he said.
Hogey snorted. ‘Yeah, heard you were back. Bit miffed you haven’t turned up at the garage to pay your respects.’
‘Me too, mate. I’m sorry, I’ve barely had time to—’
‘Scratch yer arse. Yeah, whatever. Met your new friend earlier,’ the old bloke finished with a wink.
‘What new friend is that?’
‘The looker. Legs eleven and eyes that could drown a bloke.’
He had to be talking about Kirsty. ‘She still here?’
‘Dunno, mate. I moved on to greener pasture.’ Hogey’s eyes had moved beyond him to a plump woman with purple-grey hair and a roguish amount of red lipstick plastered to her face. ‘Speaking of … might have to catch up another time, mate. I’m gonna need that house white for Shirl, pronto.’
‘You got yourself a girl, Hogey?’
The mechanic gave him a wink. ‘Son, you know where to find me for that chat. I’ve got business to attend to. Get cracking on those drinks, will ya?’
‘No can do, mate. Wombat’s in charge of the selling. My job is to stand here and look good until he gets back.’
Joey braced the table in front of him to prevent all the bottles tipping over as a herd of kids roared past, yellingall over Red Rover, and grinned. God, he actuallyhadmissed this. He tried to remember what his last night out had been like. He’d probably been squeezed like a sardine into a glass-and-chrome event space in North Sydney after a brutal week chasing a profit on the derivatives market, while obnoxious smart-arses brayed about the commission they’d just bagged.
‘Heard your last girlfriend dumped you. Some skinny chick from Sydney.’
He braced himself for the rest of it.Heard you effed up your job, mate. Heard you’ve done your dough.
But—thankfully—it didn’t come.
‘What was her name? Kimmy?’
‘Kim. And that’s old news now, mate,’ he said. Not that he was bitter. Not that he was clenching his teeth at the sound of her name.
‘Don’t you worry about her,’ said Hogey. ‘We’ll get you sorted now you’re back home where you belong.’
‘No, really, Hogey. I don’t need sorting.’
‘This town looks after its heroes, mate. You’ve had a rough trot.’
‘No, seriously, Hoge—’
‘Here’s a twenty. Tell your brother my order when he fronts up and put the change in the Rural Fire Service tin. I’ll be over there.’
He was talking to thin air. Hogey had barrelled over to his ladylove and was talking to her but pointing in Joey’s direction, and now the woman was clasping her hands to her heaving floral bosom and wiping a tear from her eye.