Last Ten Dollars   Carol Trendall Normal Carol Trendall 2 146
2000-10-02T22:56:00Z 2000-10-08T11:09:00Z 2000-10-08T11:09:00Z 4 1187 6768
56 13 8311 9.2720		     Part Three of the Aaron Copland
Tetralogy.   Two Nice Girls is a lesbian duo from Sydney. This is a very
obscure underground piece of music that I will be surprised if anyone on
this list has heard. An amusing ditty, to say the least.   Last Ten
Dollars   by Carol Trendall   I spent my last ten dollars on birth control
and beer Life was so much simpler when I was sober and queer But the love
of a strong hairy man has turned my head around Two Nice Girls   The biker
bar was seedier than Ray Kowalski had imagined it possibly could be. Even
as fully armed as he was he didn't relish the idea of going inside. But he
always was a sucker for a damsel in distress.    Even if the damsel was
Inspector Margaret Thatcher, RCMP and even if she was more drunk than in
distress.   Inside the bar the stench of unwashed bodies and stale beer
hit Ray like a wall. Resisting the urge to cover his nose with a
handkerchief, he affected his best tough guy stance and swaggered between
tables of heavily tattooed and pierced men and a few women to finally
reach the bar. The paunchy barkeeper met his eye and shuffled to meet him.
  "What'll it be?" he huffed out, stale breath making Ray's nose wrinkle
in distaste.   "I ... ah, I'm looking for a woman."   "Aren't we all?"  
Ray rolled his eyes. "You're a riot. I'm looking for a woman, about this
high ..." he indicated Inspector Thatcher's approximate height, "dark
hair, Canadian ... she called me and said she was here."   The barkeeper's
face twisted in a smug grin, his chubby cheeks pushing up into little red
balls. "Yeah, I know the one ... the Mountie ... " his voice dropped to a
level that reminded Ray of a pimp, "she's been keeping everyone ...
entertained ... "   For reasons he could not explain and didn't want to
examine too closely, a sudden wave of protectiveness came over Ray. With
the speed and dexterity of a gunfighter from an old western he pulled his
badge from his pocket and pushed it into the barkeeper's face.   "Just
tell me where the fuck she is," he growled in a voice that came out far
more menacing than he had intended.   The barkeeper wasn't very fond of
cops, so he shut his mouth and jerked a thumb over his shoulder in the
direction of a row of booths. Without thanking him, Ray moved off in the
direction he indicated.   He found Meg in the end booth nursing a near
empty glass of something amber coloured.   "Detective Kowalski," she
acknowledged fuzzily as he slid onto the seat opposite her.   "You're
drunk," he said, somewhat unnecessarily.   "You're observant, Kowalski, I
guess that's why you're a detective." She tipped back her head and drained
her glass then fixed him with her glazed eyes and drawled in a voice that
was meant to sound sexy, "You going to buy me a drink?"   "You called me
and asked me to drive you home and that's why I'm here. Besides, it looks
like you've had more than your limit tonight anyway."   "Ooh, so uptight
... " Meg taunted as she signaled to the barkeeper for another drink.
"Looks like you've been spending too much time with Fraser."   Ray
cancelled the drink order with a withering glance at the rotund barkeep.
"Look, I drove all this way down here cause you said you needed a ride
home. I thought you might be in trouble. If you're just going to sit here
and get stinking drunk, I got better things to do."   Meg looked at him
through lowered lashes and said nothing.   "And anyways, why did you call
me? Why not Fraser?"   At the mention of her subordinate's name, she
looked abashed. "You know, Kowalski, Fraser and I ... we nearly ... "  
Ray rolled his eyes and looked around the room, avoiding looking at the
drunken woman across from him.	  "No, I didn't know and it's more
information than I wanted about ... about your ... Why didn't you call a
cab?"   "Can't," Meg said, demurely, not looking at Ray.   "Why can't you?
You got a cell phone."   "No money."   "So what the fuck are you doing
here with no money?" He waved a hand at their squalid surroundings. "What
are you doing here at all?"   "I wanted to ... to ... meet ... a ... men
... I wanted to meet men."   "Christ, Thatcher, if you want to get laid
there's better places than this."   She gave him a look that he couldn't
decipher, but remained silent. After a moment, Ray shook his head and
stood.   "I'll drive you home," he said, reaching out to help her from the
booth.   It wasn't until he helped Meg to her feet that Ray saw the tiny
black dress she wore. Seated and in the dark he had been dimly aware that
she was dressed in something black, but until she stood he didn't realise
how small that something was. He muttered a curse and slipped his leather
jacket around her shoulders, then guided her through the bar to his GTO
outside.   Ray manhandled Meg into his car, trying not to notice when her
dress rode up to reveal the scrap of black lace masquerading as panties.
Leaning over the inebriated Inspector, Ray buckled her seat belt and then
closed the passenger door. Shaking his head, he took a deep breath before
moving to the driver's side, wondering why he let himself get sucked into
this rescue mission.   By the time they arrived at Meg's apartment block,
she was getting a little cantankerous. When the GTO pulled to a halt, she
opened the door and promptly fell onto the sidewalk. Ray muttered a curse
and shot from his seat, rounding the front of the car as Meg staggered to
her feet, wobbling on her stiletto heels.   "I'm OK," she told the
detective as he put out a hand to steady her.   Ray held up his hands in
surrender and let her stagger across the sidewalk on her own. Leaning
against his car, he watched as she propped herself against the front of
the building and began searching for her keys.   Meg rummaged in her small
black purse, frowning. "I know they're in here somewhere."   Pushing off
the GTO, Ray crossed the sidewalk and stood in front of her. In an attempt
to help, he grabbed the purse. "Here, let me."   But Meg wouldn't let go.
She pulled it free from Ray's fingers, the resultant jerk spilling the
contents all over the step.    Ray watched in horror as several condoms
fell to the ground, their bright cellophane wrappers cheerful against the
dirty stone step. Meg giggled.   Dropping to his knees, Ray hastily swept
up the condoms and deposited them into Meg's outstretched purse, noting
that the selection was in all the colours of the rainbow.   "Sheesh,
Thatcher, looks like you meant business tonight."   She giggled again.
"That's where my cab fare went. They had this machine in the bathroom ...
put my last ten dollars in it."   Scowling and embarrassed, Ray grabbed
the keys and rose. "Like I said before, more information than I really
wanted."   He opened the door and let Meg inside. Following her into the
unfamiliar house, he waited until she flicked on a light.   "You going to
be OK? Need anything?"   "I'm fine, Kowalski. Thanks."   "Yeah, well next
time you want to get laid, make sure you got cab fare and don't call me if
you don't." 
 Without waiting for a response, Ray turned to leave, reaching the front
door in three steps   Behind him, Meg scowled and flopped onto the sofa. 
  "Oh god, this was much easier when I dated women and didn't drink."  
Ray stopped, his hand on the doorknob. "What?"   "You heard me."   
Suddenly wondering how drunk Thatcher really was, he turned and faced her.
"You dated women?"   Her only reply was a strange smile.   Tucking his
hands into his pockets, he shuffled his weight from one foot to the other.
"So what was tonight about? What were you doing in that bar trying to pick
up guys? And you said you and Fraser ... what about that?"   Meg smiled
again and kicked off her shoes before answering. "Let's just say that my
experience with Fraser led me to believe there might be more to this
heterosexual ... thing."   "What, one big strong handsome guy and you ...
you ... "   "Let's just say he turned my head around."   Ray had no answer
to that. He stared at the woman on the sofa, realising that she had
dropped into instant sleep as he watched. With a final shake of his head,
he opened the door and stepped out into the late night air, Thatcher's
last words repeating in his head.   Copyright October 2000   Comments
welcome at mullum@tig.com.au