forcing them to spasm and curl. I suddenly understood why small dogs shake and wee when confronted with more ferocious beasts.
The rest of the staff raced from the bar, some with drinks in hand, to see what the commotion was. Trip hauled me to my feet by the scruff of my neck and I hoped my wig wouldn’t fall off or the can slide down my leg and roll across the floor. So much for being invisible. I kept my head down, hidden by the brim of my cap, and prayed my fabulous eyebrows weren’t showing through.
‘How many fucking times do I have to tell you thieving little cunts to keep your filthy hands off the fucking deliveries!’ Trip ranted, practically foaming at the mouth.
‘What were you doing in there? Aye?’
‘I—I …’
Yasmin stood with her lips pursed and arms folded, no suspicious white stains on her uniform nor a hair out of place.
You’d never have guessed she’d just been rogered in the dunny. ‘Yes, Kerry. Please explain.’
‘I was, I wanted to, to mop the—’I didn’t have to bung on the stammer.
Just then Bad Boy came in from the back and stopped when he saw everyone gathered around. His eyes were blood-shot and he looked tragically stoned. Trip turned to him.
‘And you! Where the fuck have you been? I just caught the new dishie in the cool room. Didn’t you tell her?’
‘It’s not my fault, man,’ Bad Boy whined. ‘I showed her the rules.’
Trip marched over to the laminated sheet, tore it off the wall and shoved it in my face. ‘Well, what were you really doing in there?’ He slapped me around the head with it a couple of times and the rough edge scratched my lip.
Now I was getting angry. I felt like launching myself at him, biting his arm and not letting go. Everyone was watching. Dillon smirked. Gordon actually laughed out loud.
Patsy looked horrified, puffed up his already inflated torso and came to my rescue. He snatched the plastic coated rules from Trip, went to put his arm around me, noticed the stench and just patted my shoulder instead.
‘Isn’t it obvious? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.’
‘What? You’re the fucking poofta, mate.’
Patsy gave Trip a stern look and said, sotto voce, ‘Kerry can’t read.’
It was brilliant. I couldn’t work out if he just wanted to get me out of trouble, or if he really believed it.
‘Is that true, Kerry?’ Yasmin asked in her best ‘special school’ teacher’s voice.
I nodded, hung my head and wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve.
Trip turned to Bad Boy. ‘You know about this?’
Bad Boy bounced up and down, shaking his head. ‘No, man. She never said nuthin’ to me.’
Trip’s anger spiralled around him, nowhere to go, and the others stayed silent lest he direct it at them. With visible effort he clamped down the rage, breathed hard out of his nostrils and said, ‘Well, fuck it. Yasmin, give her fifty bucks and send her home.’
I decided to push it. ‘But I—’
Trip held up his palm and looked away. ‘Yeah yeah, it’s a fucking tragedy you’re illiterate and all that but it’s really not gonna work out. Okay? Try Sizzler or something.’ From him that was probably an apology.
I trundled out to the bins and when I’d made sure no one had followed me, waved at the window where Alex was conducting surveillance, gave him the finger with both hands and performed a twisting, prancing, piggy little dance of joy.
I drove home on a total high, fanging for a drink and a cigarette. There were no ciggies but I slammed down a well-earned glass of cask then poured another. A good result in undercover gave you the same kind of high as a great strip show. The buzz beat any drug, and I knew ’cause I’d tried them.
My phone was ringing but I ignored it. Probably Alex.
I’d talk to him eventually, but first I had to get out of the wig and the rest of the crap and wash off every last disgusting trace of Kezza. I’d just stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and was combing
The rest of the staff raced from the bar, some with drinks in hand, to see what the commotion was. Trip hauled me to my feet by the scruff of my neck and I hoped my wig wouldn’t fall off or the can slide down my leg and roll across the floor. So much for being invisible. I kept my head down, hidden by the brim of my cap, and prayed my fabulous eyebrows weren’t showing through.
‘How many fucking times do I have to tell you thieving little cunts to keep your filthy hands off the fucking deliveries!’ Trip ranted, practically foaming at the mouth.
‘What were you doing in there? Aye?’
‘I—I …’
Yasmin stood with her lips pursed and arms folded, no suspicious white stains on her uniform nor a hair out of place.
You’d never have guessed she’d just been rogered in the dunny. ‘Yes, Kerry. Please explain.’
‘I was, I wanted to, to mop the—’I didn’t have to bung on the stammer.
Just then Bad Boy came in from the back and stopped when he saw everyone gathered around. His eyes were blood-shot and he looked tragically stoned. Trip turned to him.
‘And you! Where the fuck have you been? I just caught the new dishie in the cool room. Didn’t you tell her?’
‘It’s not my fault, man,’ Bad Boy whined. ‘I showed her the rules.’
Trip marched over to the laminated sheet, tore it off the wall and shoved it in my face. ‘Well, what were you really doing in there?’ He slapped me around the head with it a couple of times and the rough edge scratched my lip.
Now I was getting angry. I felt like launching myself at him, biting his arm and not letting go. Everyone was watching. Dillon smirked. Gordon actually laughed out loud.
Patsy looked horrified, puffed up his already inflated torso and came to my rescue. He snatched the plastic coated rules from Trip, went to put his arm around me, noticed the stench and just patted my shoulder instead.
‘Isn’t it obvious? You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.’
‘What? You’re the fucking poofta, mate.’
Patsy gave Trip a stern look and said, sotto voce, ‘Kerry can’t read.’
It was brilliant. I couldn’t work out if he just wanted to get me out of trouble, or if he really believed it.
‘Is that true, Kerry?’ Yasmin asked in her best ‘special school’ teacher’s voice.
I nodded, hung my head and wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve.
Trip turned to Bad Boy. ‘You know about this?’
Bad Boy bounced up and down, shaking his head. ‘No, man. She never said nuthin’ to me.’
Trip’s anger spiralled around him, nowhere to go, and the others stayed silent lest he direct it at them. With visible effort he clamped down the rage, breathed hard out of his nostrils and said, ‘Well, fuck it. Yasmin, give her fifty bucks and send her home.’
I decided to push it. ‘But I—’
Trip held up his palm and looked away. ‘Yeah yeah, it’s a fucking tragedy you’re illiterate and all that but it’s really not gonna work out. Okay? Try Sizzler or something.’ From him that was probably an apology.
I trundled out to the bins and when I’d made sure no one had followed me, waved at the window where Alex was conducting surveillance, gave him the finger with both hands and performed a twisting, prancing, piggy little dance of joy.
I drove home on a total high, fanging for a drink and a cigarette. There were no ciggies but I slammed down a well-earned glass of cask then poured another. A good result in undercover gave you the same kind of high as a great strip show. The buzz beat any drug, and I knew ’cause I’d tried them.
My phone was ringing but I ignored it. Probably Alex.
I’d talk to him eventually, but first I had to get out of the wig and the rest of the crap and wash off every last disgusting trace of Kezza. I’d just stepped out of the shower, wrapped myself in a towel and was combing
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