The guy stared at Brant as if he was something he’d found on his shoe and asked:
‘And you are who, exactly?’
Brant was delighted with him, answered:
‘Trouble.’
He began to extract the piles of money and put a small calculator beside them. Then in a monotonous drone he began to count. Brant waited till the guy was halfway then touched his arm, asked:
‘Get you something?’
The guy was spluttering with rage, said:
‘You made me lose my place, I’ll have to start over.’
Roberts said nothing. The guy began again, this time, trying to keep an eye on Brant. Finally it was over and he handed a chit for Roberts to sign. When this was done, Brant asked:
‘You want to go get a beer or something?’
The guy looked like he wanted to scream but in a patient voice he said:
‘I don’t think so.’
Brant turned to go, said:
‘Fine, but I thought if you’d a few drinks you wouldn’t take it so hard.’
‘What are you talking about?’
Brant indicated a pile of money that was still on the table, said:
‘You missed that lot or does it matter?’
It mattered.
I was for the first and probably last time in my life propositioned by a man.
‘Come and have a drink,’ he said.
‘Where do you suggest?’ I asked.
‘There’s a YMCA round the corner, and afterwards we could go to my place.’
I began walking away fast. He ran after me.
‘What’s the matter?’ he said. ‘Aren’t you interested in queerness?’
11
Angie was in the other room planning her great caper and Ray Cross was watching the Australian prison drama, Oz. He really enjoyed the brutality of the series.