Sunny Boys: A Tale of Two Aussie Heroes

By Robert Whyte

A pair of blonde headed twins is attacked by a band of drug dealers. They travel the world to find the man who wants them dead. But the man is always one step ahead of them. . Even the help of a detective who travels with them cant free them from the constant threat.

A story about young men and their approach to life, sex and bodies. Not a book for refined ladies to read, it speaks in the language of young men, crude, rude and probably lude. And full of action as only young men imagine it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Jul 18, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483658759

Robert Whyte

Robert Whyte is an honorary researcher in arachnology at the Queensland Museum, having developed an interest in spiders with the encouragement of arachnologist Robert Raven. He has participated in five Bush Blitz biodiscovery expeditions in remote parts of Western Australia, the Northern Territory and Queensland. He is an accomplished editor, author and journalist, with skills in photography and publication design.

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Copyright © 2013 by Robert Whyte.

ISBN:                Softcover                        978-1-4836-5874-2

                          Ebook                             978-1-4836-5875-9

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 06/19/2013

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-455-039

www.Xlibris.com.au

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Contents

1.   Dave

2.   Dennis

3.   Flashback

4.   Flash Forward

5.   Book Two

6.   London

7.   Barcelona

8.   Book Three

9.   A New Life

Dave

As I sat there in the sun, soaking up the ultra-violet rays and the cancer forming thingos, I found myself wondering how I got into this mess. It was a beaut day and shouldn’t have been spoilt by anything like death or murder or any of them things. I mean, a bloke should be able to enjoy his life, what da ya say. He shouldn’t have to be pestered by police and death threats and all that stuff.

I was by the waterfall, my favourite spot. It’s only a few minutes from my back yard and nobody else seems to know it’s there so I go there a lot. There’s not much water falling at the moment since we are apparently in drought in this wonderful Oz but I can see meself reflected there in the small, still pond. Bloody handsome if I do say so meself. Blonde hair falling sexy over a neat face. Well at least it was neat until that bastard got hold of it and smashed it against the rocks. Took nearly a year to clear up. But me naked chest is good for a squizz if ya happen to be a sheila. I mean, them pecs are for real and them shoulders most blokes would die for… so they say at the gym when I drop in now and again.

I don’t swim in the nuddy any more, not since that old sheila caught me and stood there with me pants in her hand, grinning something ugly at me. So what do I do, I just stand up and walk up to her as though nothing’s wrong and snatch them out of her hand and walk off, wiggling my bare bum at her as I disappear in the bushes. She says nothing and I know she watches me walk off. I just hafta hope the old fella wasn’t too shriveled up from the cold water. I mean, I’d like to think I gave her something to remember. A bloke has his standards.

My cabin, my Log Cabin, I call it, was left there by some dam construction workers a long while ago. And I don’t mean some damned construction workers. See. I got an education and I know the difference, you scarzy lot. And I remember I used to get punished for using that word. Damn or Blast, it was all the same, into the sin bin under the stairs for an hour. Anyway my cabin’s got a front door and a window and room for a bed and a bench that I use as a kitchen. Even a table and some chairs. I put a hole in the wall to run a pipe through so I got a sink and a drain and even a drain plug for the sink. Wadaya think of that? Running water I got, even though I have to carry it from where it’s running down the waterfall and keep it in a big drum I found at the side of the road.

Power, you say? Yeah, I got power. I tapped it off a big wire that runs past my place down towards the pump house at the bottom of the gully. A bloke I used ta know showed me how to hook onto a line at the pole and run it down to my cabin. He showed me where to find the wire in a rubbish dump. Seems ta work real beaut. And of course I save the council some dough when I wash in the pond so I don’t have ta heat up a lot of water. Still, I only wash at night now, since that old duck seen me and me donger. A man’s got a bit of pride, a bit of what do they call it, modesty. Even decency. Yeah, that’s a good word. I’m a decent bloke really, underneath. And I’m not referring to what’s hangin underneath me belly, ya bloody nong.

So on with the problem I started talking about. Ya see, I was there when it happened wasn’t I. I mean, I was there in a room somewhere, I dunno where, when I heard that shot next door and I ran through the door and there she was, splattered all over the wall and there was this character disappearing through another door. So I goes after him don’t I. Quick actor I am. None of this standing around in shock. I’m all action.

And what was I doing there in the first place I hear you ask. Well that’s the problem, ya see. I don’t know why I was there. This geeza doped me and I woke in this room and heard the gun shot and stood up and ran for the door. Just like that. Reflexes like a champion. But I was too late, wasn’t I. He was gone out the yard and left a back gate swinging and I ran didn’t I but I was still groggy and I bashed into the gate post and collapsed on the path. And that’s where the cops found me and they don’t believe my story at all.

It all started with that drink didn’t it. That’s where it began. I was thirsty and tired and I needed that drink and this bloke was there in the pub and says he has a job for me and I says OK mate and he takes me to another pub and tells me the story.

Ya see I’m a fixit. I’m known around this town. I fix things. People, fences, cars. You name it, I’ll fix it. Even if it aint broke I can fix it. People I enjoy fixing. I’m real good at that. One look and they pay up or agree to pay up or just leave town. It’s these shoulders ya see. And the face, this face what used ta be beautiful according to the sheilas but it’s a bit bashed up, I tell ya. Now people want to turn away when they see it. And when I threaten some poor bugger he sort of takes notice, know what I mean? And I have ta say, one of my eyes is real fierce, it sort of vibrates when I stare at someone, makes em feel as if something rotten is about to happen. One of my old school mates said it sort of hypnotizes people, you know, like one of them bloody snakes that waves in front of you. People stare at it, watch it moving while the other one is dead still, and the next thing they’re gone, hooked, putty in me fuckin hand.

So this geeza tells me about this bloke who needs fixing, real urgent and he says he’ll pay me a few hundred if I get it done. Not dead, ya understand, I don’t do dead, just scare him out of town. And this bloke takes me to another beaut bar in town and I’m getting the feeling he’s got something else in mind and the next thing I’m on the floor in this strange house and I hear the shot.

Did he spot my drink, put something in it? And why? I mean, I’m the detective here. I’m the operative, a bit of a James Bond, I reckon. So why would he want to engage me, give me the name of my subject, I got it here somewhere in my pocket, hang on, yeah, here it is… gawd it’s a bit fancy… Hunters Hill for gawd sake, anyway why would he tell me all about it then drug me with some bloody foul stuff that knocks me right out?

And anyway who was it got shot? For gawd sake, I mean. What am I doing here? I been sitting in the sun daydreaming haven’t I. I mean, nothing wrong with daydreaming is there? Sitting in the sun letting it damage me skin, as they say, feeling it sink into me chest and make up for that day or so in the jail.

So the cops let me go for the moment, said they’d come and get me, said with a kind of look as if I’m stupid or something and they know all about me. So I suppose they know where I live don’t they.

I get up and walk in to my hut. It’s a hut really, in the true sense of the word. Got one door, a window, tank water, (If ya count the drum as a tank), a dunny out the back,(a hole in the ground that I fill in and move on every now and then… ya hafta be good at squatting. But then I got these fantastic thighs that would support a bloody elephant, I tell ya.)

And this hut’s totally hidden, I mean totally, even the police don’t know where I live, well, wait a minute, maybe they do, I think, but for some reason they let me go with a strange look as if they’re bloody sorry for me and I just walk out of the cop shop and back home here and sit in the sun and talk to me fuckin self.

I mean. What’s a man to do? Dave Reardon, you’re in trouble, I tell ya.

So what I have ta do is reason it out, use me grey matter. I mean, that shouldn’t be too hard.

But it is. Me grey matter aint too cooperative these days. It sort of floats around in this big skull and doesn’t know which way to go. Talk about a big one. They say size doesn’t matter… but it does. I mean, I know me donga’s a big one but that’s normal for a bloke of my size. But my head is so big I can’t find a hat to fit it. I mean, shit, what’s a fella to do. I gotta sort this thing out. Maybe they’re right. Maybe this big head, handsome as it is, is full of air, like a big fucking balloon with nothing inside it but air… hot air probably.

Let’s see. I’ll do what Den always says and make notes. That’s what I’ll do. Grab a pencil and paper and write things down. He says that’ll help me organize me head. So here goes.

Number One… .

So what is number one? Who the fuck knows? Where was I anyway? I think I’ll just go out there in the sun and stretch out again. A man thinks better on his back. But I’ll wear some shorts in case that old sheila comes a perving… a man’s got his standards.

Dennis

Dennis stands in front of the mirror. He brushes his blonde hair across his head, admiring the way it glistens in the overhead light. Not bad, he thinks, still blonde despite the years of debauchery. He examines his face for signs of ageing but has to agree that at twenty eight he’s pretty good, no wrinkles, no bags. The eyes though. Bloodshot and tired. Too much life going by.

Come on Den, says a voice from the corridor. We have to get going, lad. We’re due in court in ten minutes…

Bloody boss, Dennis thinks. Always in a hurry. But he washes his hands and gets out of there to stand by his desk, briefcase in hand, making it clear to his boss that he is in fact more prepared than the boss himself, waiting there like a good boy, smile ready, good suit done up for the appearance in London Court of Appeals.

Good, says Stanley Higgins, OBE, QC and fuckin bar, as the Aussies on the team call him. Stan likes to work with Aussies. He likes their energy, their directness, their look at life. A bit difficult at times, too full of clever remarks he has to admit but generally easy to work with.

Great tie there Den. Where’d you get it? Kmart?

Nah, Boss. Bloody Marks and Spencers. Clothiers to the important, as you know.

Come on then, get your finger out. You’re driving, lad. I have to revise this presentation while we go.

Yeah, boss. I got it, says Dennis as they pile down the stairs to the ground floor and out to the little car park and he opens the door for his boss. God he loves this car, slipping the car into drive and putting his foot down, sending the boss hard into the seat back, earning a few scowls on the way as they roar away, and with this powerful Beamer they drive, it’s really a roar.

They arrive at the court in time for the boss to get into the chambers and have a quick rekkie of the facts and then they’re both in the court room and standing for his honor to get his royal self comfortable.

When the big man finally settles his arse and his robes and adjusts his bloody wig to his bloody satisfaction, they sit and the boss whispers to Dennis.

This’ll be you one day Den. Up there, wig and all. Mark my word, you’re destined for big things in this world of Law. Just don’t let it slip through your fingers with too much of the good life… Get my drift?

Er. Yes, Boss, Sir. Oh powerful one…

That’s what I mean, lad. Your big mouth might hold you right back there…

But his honor was talking and the next thing Dennis’s boss was on his feet with an objection and the battle was on, Dennis slipping little notes to his boss as the argument progresses. Later, in the little Café just outside the Court buildings they sat counting their gains.

What did I tell you lad. You’re built for this work. How did you come up with that angle, that point? No, don’t bother to explain, I don’t think I want to know. But wherever you got it, it saved the day and our client is out and free and we got the money. My god lad, you are something special.

Can I have the afternoon off then?

Oh for god sake, lad. This isn’t school. ‘Can I be excused Miss?’ What for this time?

Well I got this thing, you know, dangling down there. And it talks to me and I gotta go and feed it…

"Jesus, Dennis. Grow up. You’re nearly thirty. You’re too old to be, what do you Aussies call it, led by your dick…’

I know boss. But this dame is for real and for bedding and I just gotta obey, you know. I got the Member for Foreign Affairs screaming in my ear. She enjoys it too…

Who?

My foreign affair… this sheila. And she wants me back…

"Jesus…’

Trouble with you Boss, you pray too much. The big boss up there must be sick of you by now…

Oh just go and get on with it. But make sure you’re back in the office by seven thirty A fuckin M. We got a new case and I want you to read it through.

Dennis stood, leaned over and gave his boss a kiss on the head.

The boss shoved him away but looked up with a big grin. Get away you bloody Aussie sex fiend. And by the way, do use a condom. I don’t want you spreading a disease around the office…

But boss, we don’t fraternize around the office staff, remember? As if I would…

The next morning Dennis was at his desk at six thirty. The boss came up to him from behind and slapped him on the back.

So is it still working or is it lying in a state of exhaustion? No, don’t answer that, we got work to do. Here, have a squizz at this, he slapped a file on Dennis’s desk. Do your speed reading thing lad. I want it analyzed in five. And that’s minutes, not hours. And the boss was off to his little glass office that sat at the end of the large room.

Dennis did do his speed reading thing and had it finished in three. But he sat there for a minute and a half, his eyes focused on the page but his mind on last night.

God she was good. She was like a man, hungry and everlasting. Fair wore him out. But what a delicious way to ware out.

He was still sitting there when the boss came to him.

Forget the file lad. You got a call from Australia. You got a brother in trouble. You can ring from my office, it’s the only bit of bloody privacy in the whole bloody building. Hope it’s not too bad news. And the boss was off, leaning over one of the staff as Dennis rushed to the little room and dialed the number.

"Dave, Dave, is that