Mele Kalikimaka Mr Walker by Robert G. Barrett Page B

either.’ Andrea Hayden, alias Andriana Hazlewood, notorious brothel keeper and madam to the stars, laughed out loud again.
    Andrea called the maid back and got the coffee organised, then she and Les started rabbiting on like a couple of old mates who hadn’t seen each other for ages. Which was pretty much what they were. Les had met Andrea at a party in Sydney not long after her divorce and taken her out for a while. She was on the rebound and still a bit gun-shy, but Les found her to be a very funny woman who had never lost her personality, despite what she’d gone through. Always cracking corny jokes or trying to do equally corny impersonations. They got into each other’s pants one night after about a gallon of daiquiris back at Norton’s place. But Andrea stilldidn’t want to get involved for a while and both agreed it was more drunken, wretched lust than anything else — even if a jolly good time was had by all concerned and Andrea went off like a Belfast car bomb. Les still took her out now and again because he enjoyed her company and being older than him and better educated Les learnt a few things along the line as well. Half knowing her dopey ex husband Wayne, Les never mentioned anything much about her to anyone and they remained good friends till she sort of vanished off the scene and the last he heard from her was when she dropped him a postcard from Hawaii. It was her ex husband’s name coming up down the beach that made him think of her and just a coincidence that Mick had a small file on her. The Tripeman thing came about when Les used to ring her up at the bank and ask for ‘Fenwick’ after a bank clerk he’d seen in some old movie on TV. And when Andrea found out Les was a bouncer and didn’t manage a smallgoods factory like he said, she reckoned he was full of tripe and nicknamed him the Tripeman. It was a silly thing between them they used to joke about.
    The coffee arrived on a silver tray that sparkled like an ice cave, along with some tiny chocolate wafer truffle things that melted in your mouth. Les waffled on about how he still worked for Price, how Warren had tipped him into the free trip to Hawaii, how he knew Mick Reinhardt and this was his second trip to America. Although he was doing most of the talking, Les soon got the impression Andrea was a bit like Mick — rapt in seeing a friend from Australia and also dying to get something off her chest. Les poured himself anothercup of delicious Kohna coffee and decided it might be time to lob the ball over into Andrea’s court.
    â€˜So that’s about my story, Andrea, old sausage. Here I am, and there you are.’
    â€˜Yes. Here we both are. And it’s so good to see you, Les.’
    Les nodded. ‘Yep. I feel pretty much the same.’ Les took a long, slow sip of coffee and looked at Andrea over the top of the cup. ‘So what’s your story, Andriana Hazlewood? It’s not a bad moniker you thought up either.’
    â€˜My story?’ purred Andrea innocently.
    â€˜Yeah.’ Les looked around him. ‘Last time I saw you, you were working in a bank driving an old Toyota with a stuffed gearbox. Now this. You don’t buy houses like these selling hot-dogs outside the SCG. What’s your story, Fenwick?’
    Andrea sipped her coffee delicately, staring right back at Norton. ‘And just what do you think my story is, Les?’
    â€˜You’re runnin’ some sort of knockin’ shop.’
    Andrea blinked, recoiling slightly with shock. ‘How dare you. I’ll have you know I’m a Sexual Liaison Provider.’
    â€˜That’s what I said,’ nodded Les. ‘You’re a bloody old madam running a doss house.’
    Andrea tossed back her head then reached over and slapped Norton on the knee. ‘Exactly, Les,’ she chortled. ‘And making a fucking motza.’
    Les cast his eyes around the opulent furnishings. ‘I