The Never Boys by Scott Monk Page B

handed him the infringement. Sure enough, it was legit.
    â€˜This better not be another practical joke,’ Dean told Hayden.
    â€˜Do you see me laughing?’
    He shoved the notice into his pocket and marched away in disgust.
    â€˜Where do you think you’re going?’
    â€˜To pay my fine,’ he said sarcastically.
    Bad mistake.
    â€˜Pick that up,’ the cop ordered.
    Hayden was closer. He scooped up the rubbish ball and binned it. ‘There. No harm done. Now do the same to the fine, would you, Tommy?’
    The constable kept his gaze fixed. Drawing himself up to his full height, he walked slowly over to the bin, reached in and lobbed the rubbish back onto the pavement. It bounced near the gutter. ‘I said pick it up.’
    The three of them stared at each other — twostunned; the other with the arrogance of the law. Dean’s defiance was weakening. This was about more than a fine.
    Sensing it too, Hayden spoke up. ‘C’mon, mate. This isn’t funny anymore. We’re late for work.’
    â€˜Pick-it-up.’
    Each word bounced like a sledgehammer.
    Dean hesitated. All he wanted was one line. One biting line about police harassment or a legal threat to scare away the cop. But the only words he found were on the paper bag that he dropped into the bin.
    â€˜See,’ the cop said. ‘The street already looks cleaner.’
    Dean growled.
    â€˜Let’s go,’ Hayden urged, tugging him towards the car. ‘Wallace’ll be screaming for our heads.’
    Dean was glad his friend had hold of him. There was still a prickling part of him keen to fight.
    And the cop was baiting him to do exactly that. ‘You know, Mr Mason, I almost didn’t recognise you. You’ve had a haircut, haven’t you?’
    â€˜I s’pose you’re going to fine me for that as well.’
    â€˜Now, c’mon, don’t be like that. I’m just a little confused. You were a blond last week.’
    He said nothing. Time to go.
    â€˜Oh by the way, Dave ,’ Constable Tom said, grabbing the passenger door before Dean could closeit. ‘I’m thinking of heading up to Brisbane for a short holiday soon. What part did you say you were from?’
    â€˜I didn’t.’
    â€˜So enlighten me.’
    Dean freed the door. ‘Redcliffe,’ he said, slamming it behind him. Hayden started the engine, but Constable Tom still filled the window.
    â€˜That out west somewhere?’
    He cursed and wound it down. ‘No. North. By the coast.’
    â€˜I think I’ve heard of it. They play rugby there, don’t they? What’s the local team called?’
    â€˜I don’t know. I’m not into sport.’
    â€˜I’m not asking if you’re into sport. I’m asking what the local team is. Even people who hate sport know the name of their local team.’
    Dean stewed.
    â€˜See you later, Tommy,’ Hayden said.
    The Falcon pulled out into the main street, leaving the cop behind. But just as he returned to his own car, the Falcon u-turned and sidled up beside him.
    â€˜The Redcliffe Dolphins,’ Dean said. ‘And it’s league, not rugby.’
    Â 
    Low in his seat and shadowing his eyes, he watched in the side mirror the cop car turn in the oppositedirection to the service station that they’d stopped at. The Falcon rocked as the driver’s door shut and Hayden chucked him a Coke and a chocolate Drum-stick. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled.
    Hayden cracked open his drink and bit into his ice cream. A mini-bus pulled up behind them and honked. He relaxed his seat and settled back instead of reaching for his belt.
    â€˜You going to get moving?’
    â€˜You going to start talking?’
    â€˜We’ll be late.’
    â€˜Then we’ll be late.’
    The Falcon left Nuriootpa for the far side of Truro with the windows fully wound down. Parked at a lookout above the Murray Plains, they both