Tip Rats

Part 35 - Hotel 2

Back at the hotel, the room had been attended to and both beds were made with a fresh towel folded at the foot. Chris had spirited himself into the shower, his first since they'd left Australia, to pretty himself up for another night of premium priced debauchery. Ned went through the operation routine with the antique television, finding a local news broadcast. He sat on the floor at the end of the bed and watched with little interest as the anchor rolled through some high school football scores. Andy filed through his bag doing calculations regarding his clothes rotation, now having to take into account the fact that he was one pair of undies down after last night's gravy leak.

The news finished up with a piece about an outdoor concert on Santa Monica pier that was starting up for the evening.

'You wanna check that out?' Ned asked pointing to the TV.

Andy looked up from his bag and shrugged his shoulders, 'Yeah, might as well'.

The bathroom door bounced along the tiles as Chris came out looking flushed and smelling like a high school P.E changing room. 'Last chance boys, I'm leaving in a minute', he announced, adjusting his collar.

'No thanks filthbag' said Andy, cutting off the last syllable of Chris's offer.

'You've gone a bit over the top with the deodorant mate'.

'Nah. It's warm outside and it'll wear off a bit by the time I get there' Chris assured Andy as he gave himself a quick pat down.

A loud, two burst toot from a car horn radiated across the room from the car park in front of the hotel. It was a pre-arranged signal for Chris that it was time to leave. He gave his armpits a quick sniff and checked his pockets before strutting out the door.

'See you faggots later' he signed out in a poor American accent, flipping the bird behind his back as he walked out the door.

Ned shuffled over to the window on his knees and peered down into the car park where Gino stood beside the same taxi that had taken them to the airport earlier. From the 76 across the street Dennis came loping over with his hand to his mouth lighting a cigarette, the lank hair that that half-orbited the bald top of his head flapping with each dainty stride. Gino looked like an undertaker, wearing a black suit sans tie and with far too few buttons fastened on his shirt. In the company of Gino and Dennis, Chris looked like an Adonis and surely that was the point.

Ned turned away from the window and looked over at Andy, now reclined on the bed watching the television. 'What d'ya reckon Gino looks like? I reckon he looks like an Andean Vulture'.

. Andy replied without hesitation and without taking his eyes off the screen. 'A cross between an iguana and one of those sick cockatoos with no feathers you see sometimes, the ones they knit jumpers for'.

Ned nodded in agreement, he was right.

*

In the morning Chris was curled up awkwardly on the sofa, still dressed in his finery and covered in a greasy sheen like the couch had regurgitated him up onto the cushions. Ned checked his phone, it was 8.43am. Today was their last day at the Buena Vista.

'Andy...' Ned gave him a friendly nudge. Andy rolled onto his back and squinted as his eyes focused on the figure looming over him. 'I'm going down to the internet joint near that taco place we went to the other night, you wanna meet me down there in a bit?'

Andy frowned, still gathering himself, 'ah... yeah, ok'.

'Can you bring us down a towel? I might go for a swim after'.

'Righto' replied Andy as he inched himself up onto his elbows, he looked over to the snoring mess on the sofa 'I see Dr. Love made it home last night'.

*

Ned planted himself amongst the rows of computers, most of which were attended by musty, unwashed travellers and transients much like himself. He compiled a brief email for his mother summarising his safe and uneventful transit and arrival. Then he checked in on Facebook.

Shane 'Big Man' Roach: colecting scrap metal. will pick up for free

It seemed Shane was still trying to find a way to derive an income without having to work or pay tax. No doubt the back yard would start to resemble a sub-continental slum in the coming weeks. Ned hoped that Big Jake has managed to keep the Pintara keys away from Shane lest it become his scrap metal collection vehicle. It also appeared that Shane had decided to appoint himself a nickname. Ned was certain that nobody called Shane 'Big Man'. 'Fat Fuck', 'Fat Cunt', 'Fuckface', these were all names used in place of Shane Roach, never 'Big Man'. He may well have convinced, begged or paid Nath to refer to him by this ridiculous moniker, but that hardly counts.

Andy strolled in with a towel in each hand as Ned was flicking through some info on Las Vegas.

'You nearly done mate?'

'Yeah' Ned replied, 'Chris stirred yet?'

'He let out a fucking rank fart that I nearly choked on, but that was it'.

'Probably the smartest noise he's made since we've been here. At least we know he's still alive' Ned commented with a light chuckle.

'Hedidn't smell alive' replied Andy as he threw one of the hotel towels at Ned andturned for the