Green Room II
I woke next morning when a cup of coffee was placed beside the bed. It was Fingers. The covers were off, as well as my boxers, and I was lying face down. For a moment, I entertained the idea of giving Fingers a good look at my patch of blond curlies, but decided to renege.
Brett was still asleep. A cup of coffee was also beside his bed. Fingers asked if I had a good night's sleep, then walked to Brett's bed and sat on the edge, all the while keeping an eye on me. Brett woke immediately Fingers' hand touched his chest. "Morning, Brett. Sleep okay?"
"Pretty much," the god replied with a yawn and stretch. He sat up, but Fingers' hand remained on his mate's chest, then slid down to his stomach. With Brett awake, I pulled the covers back over my naked butt. Fingers' hands continued to play with Brett's pecs and abs, which caused me to wonder `what the hell?' Just how far did he and Brett actually go? It wasn't as if the boss was ugly or whatever...
Brett got out of bed and tried unsuccessfully to hide his morning piss boner, then headed to the bathroom. "I'll bring breakfast over to the yacht a bit later," Fingers said.
I dozed off again only to be woken my Brett who insisted we get moving. "I thought you were gonna work out?" I asked.
"Damn! I wanted to join you!"
The rest of the day was virtually a mirror image of the previous, with Brett failing to inspect the progress of my work. This time I kept my overall on. Sweat poured off of me, and drenched the clothing. My wet boxers clung irritatingly to my skin.
Later, the designer arrived to inspect the boat. He bitched about some fault with the outside fairing. A lot of respraying needed doing. Brett nodded, listened intently and agreed with whatever shit the designer dude said. When they approached my area, the designer offered his hand, but Brett didn't even bother to introduce us. The older guy was pleasant enough, but one of those no-nonsense types. He looked mid thirties, and spent most of the day working alongside Brett. The hull at the blunt end needed attention. From where I worked in the stateroom, I could hear the problem being discussed.
After working like a dog, I finally completed the unit I'd started the previous day. Should I tell Brett? Fuck him. If he were interested he would have inspected it before. The problem was, as much as he annoyed me and got under my skin, I really did want to get along with him. I wanted him to like me. "Hey, Brett. I finished the job. You wanna check to see if it's okay?"
He took fifteen minutes to inspect my work. "Pretty nice job, mate. The inside needs to be finished, though."
"I thought it would be okay."
"It's not. I know it's a bitch to get inside there, but it needs to look as good as the outside."
"Okay, I'll get to it right now."
"Take a break first, you look like you've been sitting under a waterfall."
"Thanks. I will."
One of the Aborigines also took a break outside. His overall top was down, showing his firm pecs and meaty nipples, and an awesome six pack. "You from Wollumbin?" he asked.
"Byron Bay? Yeah."
"It's nice. I got brother there."
"Cool. You been there?"
"Not yet. But when I get money I go help my brother."
"What does he do?"
"He build houses for Bundjalung people. You friend of Boss Brett?"
"You think so?"
He laughed, revealing a string of white pearlies, which contrasted with his black lips. His skin shone like polished ebony. "Okay, maybe friend of him."
"Yeah, I am."
"Good man. Work hard with us."
I understood enough about Aboriginal culture to know that calling Brett `Man' was a sign of respect. "You like Boss Brett?" I asked.
"Yebo! He work like us. Strong like big red `roo."
"You teach Brett your language?"
"Lots of fun," he laughed. "Fun to teach but he learn fast."
I enjoyed our chat, but all too soon it was back to work. Brett disappeared after lunch. Turned out he needed to see some supplier for more materials. It was quite late when he fetched me. Then we beetled home across the farm.
"Those blokes like you a lot," I said after I told him about my chat with the Aborigine.
"Mainly because I speak their lingo."
"He said they had fun while you were trying to learn it."
Brett giggled at the remark, and no doubt the memories. It sounded great to hear him happy. "They swore at me at first. But as I got better, they had to desist."
"No problems with them?"
"Not these guys. There was one I had a fight with. He was stoned, and produced a knife. The guy you spoke to made a grab for him to protect me, and was stabbed in the arm."
"I saw the scar, but didn't think anything of it."
"I fired the dude. It's one thing I don't like about them."
"No value for life. If the guy with the knife had the chance, he would have killed me right there and then, and not given it a second thought. Would have been jailed for a couple of years, then released as though nothing happened."
"They seem cool to me."
"The guys there now work like slaves; we get along like friends."
"They say you work as hard as they do. They call you Boss Brett."
"That because I'm like boss boy of the group."
"He called you a boss man or something like that."
"It's an insult to call a black guy a boy." Then Brett changed the subject. "You've done some good work the last two days. That sanding is a real chore."
"Hahahaha! My arms are falling off!"
Brett parked the Beetle outside the house, then walked inside where a beautiful woman waited. She hugged him, then he introduced her. She was Fingers' girlfriend, and a real stunner. Whoa! She didn't look much older than Brett or me. Later, I discovered that she drove out to the farm about once a week, and that she worked in Perth. "It's quite a trek to get out here every day."
Fingers entered the room to inform us that supper was almost ready, and that Brett and I should join them.
Supper was roast beef with potatoes and veg. Mmmmm! I was starving! Then, fresh fruit and cream for dessert. By the time I shoveled all that inside, I thought I'd explode! The wine was good, too. I guzzled reds and whites along with my beer. Party time!
Dinner conversation was also enjoyable, and reminded me all too often that Fingers' girlfriend was an absolute honey. And it was apparent who wore the pants. They were first to say goodnight. No doubt Fingers was gonna get his end wet. Hahahaha!
I was a mess when Brett and I retired to his suite, drunk stupid and unsteady. Brett was okay despite drinking as much as I did. Once undressed, I collapsed onto the couch. The room spun; round and round and round we go! I placed one foot and one hand on the floor but it didn't help. I staggered to the bathroom to puke.
Brett appeared at the door to ask if I was okay. Yeah, right. I must've looked a pitiful sight with my head in the toilet bowl. And that's the position I maintained after falling asleep. Later, I woke and felt like death--probably looked worse. Brett had left the light on but was fast asleep. Then I noticed his boxers lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. Hello?
In the morning, I felt terrible. My eyes stung, and refused to focus properly. I heard a noise, and assumed that Brett was jacking off. Whatever he was doing, he stopped when he saw me stirring slowly back to life. I did, however, note an obvious bulge in the towel he quickly wrapped around his waist. "G'day," I groaned.
"You look like shit." He disappeared into the bathroom, probably pissed at me for interrupting his morning ritual. When he emerged, he asked if I wanted to swim a few lengths of the pool.
"It'll wake you up. Come on."
I rummaged around in my bag and found a pair of black briefs that promised to reveal my entire family history. Then, with great difficulty, I followed Brett outside. Fingers must have been busy with his girlfriend. He was nowhere in sight.
When I dove into the icy-cold water, the wind was immediately expelled from my lungs--and my briefs vanished. I couldn't see them anywhere, so I dove to the bottom for an urgent search and rescue. Then I swam lazy laps of the huge pool. I felt better, but was also conscious of the beginnings of a headache, which I knew had the potential to be a killer. However, an hour's swim eased the threat.
"I'll get on with the inside of that cabinet today," I said to break the silence as the Beetle trundled over the farm fields.
"Okay. Listen, we're all going to a restaurant tonight, including Candy. Is it okay with you if I leave you on your own tonight? I'll be staying at her place. If it isn't, let me know and I'll make another plan."
"I don't want you to think I'm in the way."
"Hasn't been much of a trip for you, has it."
"It's been okay. I thought you'd stay pissed at me the whole time, but it's getting better."
"It's not that I'm pissed at you, Stuart. Well, I guess I was in a way because of the drugs thing. I got a lot on my plate, Stuart, and I wasn't sure how the hell I would entertain you for a week."
"I needed to get out of Byron, so just being here is important right now. I also need to speak to you before I leave--just you and me."
"Let me know when you're ready."
Work finished a little earlier that day. At home, I pulled on a pair of beige chinos. Brett loaned me a redish colored shirt, which smelled of him. Cool with me. I liked that bloke. I was a god too but he was a little godlier, hahahaha!
Candy arrived, and gushed when she saw me, which made me feel pretty spesh. She owned a Beemer that rocked! I sat in the back while she sat next to Brett and allowed him to drive. I couldn't picture her at Byron with our group. She was such a special lady. Brett was lucky to have her. Or was it the other way around?
Fingers met us at the restaurant, along with two other people I hadn't met, some business folk from Perth. Various women in the restaurant gave me the usual ogle, so my ego was nicely massaged, thank you very much. I felt good; a combination of the hard work, being relaxed and in good company.
I stuck to beer this time, but had too many. Always did. But I behaved--no puking or wobbling. Everyone had a great time; the food was excellent and the conversation stimulating. It was obvious that Brett and Candy were very much in love.
When it came time to leave, Brett offered to drop me at the house on his way to Candy's but Fingers insisted on driving me. He was headed straight home anyway. Brett mouthed something about keeping an eye on Fingers, but I winked and told him I'd be fine.