Grease Monkey Jive Read Online Free PDF

tenuous attachment, linked by the reality of relationship and grudging acceptance, but separated by dislike and the rough justice of their history together.
    But the drinking and driving, that was something Dan could never forgive. How could he? He saw the effect it had on cars. He could imagine the effect it had on the people in them without too much difficulty. Besides, that’s what killed her, so it was sheer, bloody-minded, unfathomable lunacy that Jimmy could still do it.
    He was royally pissed off at both Jimmy and Kevin, at Marie’s Mini, at McMurty who made it hard to do someone a decent turn, and at himself. He should’ve stopped Jimmy getting into that car; he certainly should never have let Kev ride shotgun.
    He looked at Jeff, sprawled on the floor next to the compressor, his tongue hanging out, his eyes watchful. “What’re you lookin’ at?” He rubbed sweaty palms down the front of his overalls. “You were absolutely no help at all. Thanks a lot.”
    Ignoring the aggression in Dan’s tone, Jeff wacked his tail on the cement floor once, twice, and gave a little whine of acknowledgement, but he didn’t otherwise stir himself. He knew when to lie low around the Maddox men.
    “Useless,” said Dan and turned back to the Mini. It would give him something to hit that wouldn’t hit back.
    Hours later, showered, changed, and with wet hair and fingers still pink from the pumice stone, Dan was holding up the bar of their usual night spot, Son of a Beach Bar, with Mitch and Fluke. Jimmy had made it home without incident and he’d all but finished work on Marie’s Mini, but the foul mood his father and uncle had left him in hadn’t lifted. He was drinking hard and if Vanessa, Veronica, whatever her name was, showed up, he had every intention of taking her home again, boyfriend or no boyfriend. And if she didn’t, well she was easily replaceable.
    Thinking about that option, he scanned the room. It was still early, so the dive was only half full and the music was actually danceable, not that he was thinking of dancing. He didn’t dance, never did, but the chicks did, always. They did it to show themselves off, they did it to be seen and bought for the night, that’s what it was all about. The rules were dead clear and slanted in Dan’s favour. He wasn’t entirely sure why that was, but he’d never had any trouble picking up women – just like Jimmy – and tonight he was beyond questioning the fundamentals of that natural order.
    When Mitch said, “Belinda’s here,” and groaned like he’d been thumped in the solar plexus, Dan turned back from the flirty blonde who was shaking her tits at him. “Where?”
    Mitch inclined his head and Dan could see Belinda watching them. “You should talk to her, mate.”
    “And say what?” said Mitch.
    “’Hi, how are you’ would be a start,” said Fluke.
    “I don’t think that’s going to cut it.”
    “How about, ‘I’m sorry’ then?”
    “But I’m not sorry, so that’d be a big fat lie.”
    “Stew then,” said Fluke at his philosophical best.
    “Fluke’s right, mate. Go talk to her,” said Dan. He gave Belinda a wave and got one in return.
    “She’s got some new bullet-head boyfriend,” Mitch sulked. “And I saw that,” he snapped.
    “It was a wave, mate. Just ‘cause you won’t talk to her doesn’t mean I have to ignore her.”
    “Yeah, it does.” Mitch had the grace to laugh. “Might try that blonde, the one shaking her stuff at you, do you mind?”
    “Be my guest.”
    Dan and Fluke watched Mitch dance his way across to the blonde who lit up with a big smile when he approached.
    “That’s him sorted,” Fluke sighed.
    “Let’s get you sorted,” said Dan. “The ponytail near the jukebox?”
    “Nah.”
    “How about the yellow miniskirt?”
    “Can almost see what she had for lunch, bit too, you know, for me.”
    “Ok, the white dress,” Dan angled his glass towards a girl on the edge of the dance floor. “She’s all