Without You I Have Nothing Ch. 01

"An overcoat in this weather?" Bob was incredulous.

"I nearly laughed, he was so comical with those big ears sticking out from his head but when I asked him if it was an insurance claim, the malicious look on his face took all the laughter out of me."

Peter continued, "His exact words were, `No, not insurance and the boys who did this have no further use for insurance either. I hope their life assurance policies are paid up.' His vicious laugh was positively malevolent. He tossed a wad of notes onto the bonnet and when I said it was impossible, he merely tossed a second equally large wad of notes to join the first and snarled 'Not enough eh?' His last words as his bullyboys in their car drove him off, were 'Four o'clock sharp.' There was over sixteen thousand dollars on the bonnet and he treated it like Monopoly Money."

"Who was he?" Ted had joined the conversation.

"No idea," Peter explained, "but there was a gun strapped to the steering column and the man who came to pick up the car was so blonde and beautiful that I could only think of him as 'Pretty Boy'."

Behind the poker face he had assumed, Peter knew that this customer was trouble with a capital 'T'. He had spent far too many childhood years under the influence of such characters not to recognize this creature for what he was.

"That's business you don't want." was Ted's dry comment. "Sounds like Dingo Ryan and his son."

Peter wondered what Ted knew as a worried look fleetingly crossed his face.

"Well, at least my clients are respectable and do the right thing," continued Ted with a laugh before changing the topic. His eyes glittered through his steel-framed spectacles and his boyish face was smiling as he forgot Peter's story and flicked at his immaculate suit where ash had dropped from his pipe. Smiling he continued.

"You know, the only trouble is you, Peter. You're my greatest problem. You send me work covered in grime. Can't you afford pens now, or don't you care about me, trying to decipher that scribble of yours between daubs of grease and blobs of paint? The account you sent me this week was covered in red paint. Were you trying to show me what color would look good for Sunday?"

"Don't you two do anything but complain?" Peter was annoyed but had slowly maneuvered around them to stand where he could watch that young woman without being obvious. "I'm the only honest worker here. Without me both of you would starve."

That started the next argument but Peter's mind was across the room. He knew the girls with Jennifer were secretaries at Bob's company, but Jennifer stood apart. He could easily believe she was a lawyer.

There was something intangibly different about her. Perhaps her laughter was not so shrill or her gaiety so forced. Maybe it was the arrogant way that she held her head or the way she leant forward to sip her drink. Her clothing was certainly different. She was not out to impress or draw men's eyes. Her skirt was not short nor was her neckline so daring that everything was there to ogle.

No wonder Bob thought her frigid. She was different and no matter what was making her stand apart, Peter knew he had to meet her.

He noted that no males approached the three women to ask for a dance and he wondered why. Perhaps it was Jennifer's bearing and the fact she was looking uncomfortable in such surroundings.

"Hey. Have you gone to sleep? Ted asked you a question." Bob recalled him into the conversation.

"I'm sorry, Ted. What was it you were saying?" Peter had not been listening. His mind was across the room.

"What time are we collecting you and the car on Sunday? Practice starts at eight o'clock and Bob will need every minute possible with the car before the first race." Ted's patient tones were warm. He knew what had drawn Peter's attention. He almost took a fatherly interest in Peter although their ages were so close.

Bob turned to look at the girls.

"Look, you'll get nothing for your efforts from her." He was doing his best to warn Peter but Peter wouldn't listen.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, pull yourself together." Ted tried to help. "If only you could see the look on your face, Peter." He tapped his pipe into the ashtray and Peter knew it would be his last one for the night. "Bob and I are off to the trots. What about grabbing a quick bite of Chinese and coming with us? I was given three red hot tips that are certainties."

Peter knew Ted was interested in gambling and had money to spare. Bob always went with him but Peter doubted if either made a fortune. He didn't gamble himself -- all his gambling had been with people's lives in the first sixteen years of his life and he had not been successful then. He did not intend to gamble any further, and until tonight, he had always managed to find an excuse not to join them.

"I don't think we'll get any sense out of him until he meets that girl." Bob chimed in. "Come on you two, grab your glasses and we'll join them." His broad shoulders edged their way through the throng.

"At least they're from my company so we won't seem too rude. Besides, you both look too respectable this evening for them to recognize the ruffians I know. Ted, straighten your tie, try to control yourself and don't bore us with figures." Leering in the direction of the girls, he licked his lips in anticipation. "The figures we have in mind tonight are not found in your ledgers."

Had they heard his words or seen his expression, the girls would have fled, shrieking.

"Still, all may not be lost. I'd rather have their company than you two hoboes." Turning to Peter he ordered, "Get that lecherous look out of your eyes and no bad language, either of you.

"The blonde's Karen. I've heard she's a good sport so she's mine. I don't intend to be cold in bed tonight. Peter wants Jennifer... although heaven only knows why. Therefore, you, Ted, will escort Ruth.

"Don't say I didn't warn you, Peter. Bet you a dinner and show you don't get far with that little icicle."

Peter towered over Bob as the answer rumbled out.

"Done!"

"Double the bet!" Ted couldn't resist the wager.

"Come on... they won't eat you." Bob tossed the words over his shoulder as he continued on his way.

Reluctantly Peter followed, hoping his friends wouldn't embarrass him. Somehow, he knew this meeting would be crucial.

Across the room, Jennifer was still furious. Men call me the Ice Maiden, and worse. It makes me almost afraid to have a date again. Just because men take a girl out to a show or dinner, they think they have to be paid. Why should I hop into bed with a complete stranger? Jennifer ended her thoughts. Often they don't even offer a bed. Instead, it is the discomfort of a car -- clumsy and physical -- sheer brute force and selfish lust.

She was angry but, at the same time, she was lonely. Coming out with Karen and Ruth was an experiment to make friends in a new city. She knew that she had to meet new people and that it was only by mixing she had any chance of meeting someone charming.

Jennifer wanted a man to love and in return to be loved and treasured. That was the difference. It most certainly didn't mean scuffles or wrestling and evading the demands to pay for a night out with her body. 'If men think I am reserved, they are right, no matter the names they provide as an alternative.'

"Do you mind if we join you?" Bob leant over Karen, placing his hand on her shoulder in a gesture of ownership. "I'd rather have your pretty company than have to listen to these ruffians' complaints about their hard week."

Peter knew he was lucky Bob had made that first approach, as he was aware his own words wouldn't have flowed with such practiced ease. Instead, he would have stuttered and stammered like a mindless oaf. Overridden by his childhood trauma his psychology degrees would not have helped him cope socially.

Unnoticed by Jennifer, Bob and his two mates had arrived at their table and now Peter had caught the full animosity of her thoughts. Looking up defiantly she found herself staring into two piercing blue eyes -- the same blue eyes that had been studying her from across the room. The owner was hovering over her chair and someone was speaking.

Obviously, he believed she was glaring at him. His handsome, rugged face flushed and he began to apologize for intruding on her night.

'That's polite,' was Jennifer's reaction. 'That's different. How can I explain I wasn't annoyed with him?' She rose to reassure him, but it looked as if she was about to leave.

Startled, Peter begged her to remain.

"I'm sorry if we broke up your happy group."

Jennifer was the only one who seemed displeased at their interruption.

"Tell us if we're intruding and we'll leave."

"You just said you're in no hurry, Jennifer." chimed in Karen. "You agreed."

Turning to Bob, she leant against him, to touch him in a flagrant gesture of welcome. "We're all free tonight and thought we might go to the pictures." She put her head on Bob's shoulder and her long red fingernails looked like talons as they curved around to stop his departure. "Where are your manners, Bob? Introduce your two friends to Jennifer."

"I'm sorry, Jennifer. This big, uncouth bear is the wild Irishman Peter O'Brien."

He threw his head back and chuckled at Peter's mortification.

Peter's blush of embarrassment only brought more hilarity from everyone except Jennifer who, expressionless, stared through Peter.

"Don't let him lead you into any dark corners or hold those dainty hands of yours." Bob's face emphasized the lechery in his voice and Peter could gladly have throttled him.

Jennifer realized she now knew who had studied her from across the room. Those eyes belonged to Peter.

Bob's poor attempt at humor did not impress her and Karen, seeing that look cross Bob's face was definitely sharpening her claws. Ignoring the reactions, blithely Bob continued, "The other criminal is Ted."

Jennifer studied the men.

Ted, a gangling, bespectacled young man with lewd eyes and a high-pitched laugh and wearing an immaculate, expensive suit ogled Ruth as he pulled his chair closer to her side and raised her hand to his lips.

"What would you like to drink, fair one?"

Ruth giggled as she gave her order with pretended modesty. She was no fool but she played along.

Bob was tall, dark and handsome and he knew it. Completely aware of his attractiveness, he flaunted it. Even his voice was seductive and his movements were studied carelessness, but his eyes betrayed him. They were cold and calculating despite the laughter on his face and the hand he'd placed on Karen's shoulder was blatantly laying claim to her.

Jennifer knew him from the office and repulsed his advances several times. His cultured attractiveness and studied behavior with women did not appeal in any way.

"What'll you have to drink, Jennifer," he asked, "the same as the others?"

"No, I'll have just a tomato juice please."

"You want tomato juice?" Bob's voice dripped derision. "That's all?"

"With lemon." was Jennifer's sweet reply as she thought she would fix him.

"Don't take any notice," was Peter's comment. "He's only trying to be funny.

"How do you like Sydney? I suppose you're lonely now. Bob told me you've only just arrived from Melbourne." He faltered and stopped, disconcerted as he realized that he'd inadvertently disclosed that she had been the topic of conversation at the bar.

Actually, Jennifer guessed that he had inquired about her and felt pleased. Giving him her full attention, she felt wary about what he had discovered. She had already noticed that Peter had a friendly face -- pleasant looking -- not overly handsome but certainly not ugly. Although his dark brown hair was rather short, a lock fell partly over his forehead and, as he brushed it back with his hand, he presented a curious self-defensive, boyish attitude. His eyes were two powder blue, sparkling gems that flickered and changed. They were very alert, almost too bright and observant.

Jennifer wondered if he'd noticed that the girls had ordered more expensive, fancy drinks than the ones they had previously drunk. She sat quietly, adding little to the chatter, unaware that beside her Peter was already breathing in her delicate perfume, basking in the warmth of her presence.

When he had seen her arrive, her long legs, the swing of her hips and her beauty had attracted him, but he had not expected the impact of her closeness. Now her delicate fragrance was urging him to taste. His fingertips tingled as he battled the thought of touching her skin.

"I'm finding the pace entirely different and the distances within the city enormous." Her answer shook him from his thoughts.

Suddenly, Peter was looking deep into two emerald eyes of the deepest hue possible.

"I'll be glad when I take delivery of a new car. That will make travelling easier."

She was certainly no ordinary worker to be able to afford a new car as well as move so far from home, and Peter almost fell into the trap of rudely questioning her history. The steady gaze from those green eyes unsettled him and minutes of deathly silence followed while he desperately thought of ways to continue.

Eventually he broke the silence between them. "There's a lot of Sydney to explore. I've lived here for a few years and still find a new corner every day."

Suddenly an explosion of noise and movement broke over them. There, in a rowdy Sydney bar, a most extraordinary sight was about to present itself.

Shrieking and laughing, two beautiful, slender young women who had obviously recognized Peter were pulling him out of his seat and demanding he dance with them.

Peter groaned aloud trying desperately to deny them but they would have none of his refusals.

He realized his work at the Westmead Children's Hospital just a few brief weeks before last Christmas had caught up with him. It had taken months of constant rehearsals to finalize the Christmas Party and entertain the children and staff at the Hospital. The children had particularly enjoyed his presence as Santa and the presents he supplied.

As Peter tried to resist, one of the young women rushed across the dance floor to the band to organize the music and returned. Both then linked arms with him in the usual ballet fashion. As the first bars of the Dance of the Little Swans silenced the crowd the three of them stood in a line as if statues, waist to waist, with heads held high and eyes fixed on the same ethereal point somewhere out there over the heads of the people in the bar. The two women so delicate and slim almost coming to Peter's shoulders stood with this big, strong, Irish bear of a man.

The whole gathering was fascinated. They simply couldn't believe their eyes.

There was a hush as the three danced, weaving their magic over the Friday evening crowd, moving through their paces, so graceful and so familiar with each other as they stepped and swayed as a single body. Then Jennifer gasped as Peter's arms stole around the waists of the two ballerinas, and he raised them off the floor, all the while their six feet keeping time and their heads moving as one.

The music ended and the applause was deafening. However, it wasn't over yet. One of the ballerinas broke away from the trio to pirouette in isolation then swept back towards Peter who hurled her high into the air, before catching her on one hand above his head as he spun lazily - while the music crashed to a reprise.

Jennifer could hardly believe what she had witnessed in such a place. Never would she have believed that Peter was a ballet dancer.

A gruff voice bellowed out across the dance floor, destroying the magic of the moment.

"Look at that bloody queer! Doesn't know how to use women? Crawl into a hole somewhere you bloody shirt lifter. This place is for men."

Ted's hoarse, quick comment drew Jennifer's attention.

"Oh, shit! Now there's trouble."

Not deigning to reply Peter slowly walked towards the interjector in a slow, soft, toe-heel shuffle as if he were the Principal Dancer from the Australian Ballet. He beckoned, and an ugly brute exploded onto the floor. Fists flying and red of face, the ruffian, shouting profanities, attacked Peter with no warning.

As the crowd retreated from the scene, women's screams and a thundering of footsteps smashed the silence in the bar. Yet over the hubbub and movement, Jennifer was certain she heard Peter's quiet words to the security guards ring across the room.

"He's mine - call an ambulance."

She gasped and watched a brief flurry of arms and legs as Peter hurled the large man into the air and stood back as he crashed to the floor with a sickening thud. The ruffian screamed as one of his legs seemed to break under him.

Two more burly men - obviously his friends - blasted onto the floor and Jennifer was horrified to see knives glinting in the light as they circled Peter. She heard more screams but she couldn't believe her ears when she heard Peter's roar of laughter as he advised them.

"Didn't your mothers tell you? Little boys shouldn't play with knives. You'll hurt yourselves."

He was ready for them.

First, one of them crashed to the floor not to rise again and then the second, until all three lay stretched out senseless. Security removed their bodies and Jennifer was still shaking when she felt the gentlest of hands on her elbow helping her to her feet and a quiet voice speaking to her.

"How about having a dance to calm us?"

Almost in a trance, she found herself in the arms of this strange, powerful man, wafting around the floor to the music as he gently guided her through the throng. Too soon, it was over and she found herself once again back at her table.

"Thank you, Jennifer. I enjoyed that - you're such an accomplished dancer." Peter bent low in a bow as he assisted her back to her seat.

The noise in the bar resumed as though there had been no interruption although Jennifer had thousands of questions to ask Peter. This man who had demolished those thugs was so gentle, so considerate and his voice so soft with her just made her think that this man was so different to any she had ever met. He was dangerous yet so careful with her -- how different -- and yet so considerate.

They sat, and Peter had resumed their conversation when Bob broke into it loudly.