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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

KENNY - 11. Chapter 11

Friday night at the RSL was usually packed with guys enjoying the end of the work week with other guys. On the other hand, Saturday night was more formal and reserved for wives and partners; it was the time to ‘dress up’.

Gloria and Kenny brought Billy into the main bar room at the RSL about 5.00 pm and quickly found a table that had a good view of the entrance as well as the room. Billy was excited as indigenous people were discouraged from visiting the club. There wasn’t a prescribed rule against blackfellas but just the same indigenous folk were made to feel uncomfortable being in the club.

Of course being only sixteen, Billy was not permitted to be in the club premises, let alone be served alcoholic drinks. When they were seated Gloria outlined the plan again.

‘We’ve got a good view of the entrance and the main bar; I want you (indicating Billy) to simply keep a watch out to see if you recognize the man who assaulted you. Simple?’

‘Yeah, but whats if he doan come; whattaya gonna do?

‘Come up with another plan. But I’m sure he’ll front tonight, so let me worry about that.’

‘Gloria, how’s about I fetch some drinks?’

‘Thanks Kenny; I’ll have a lite beer and Billy will have . . .?’

‘A southern comfort . . . with ice!’

‘Billy (frowning at Billy) will have a soft drink . . . lemonade!’

Kenny went off to the bar leaving Gloria and Billy watching the entrance door.

Geeze, I’ve really put myself out and taking a big risk. After all the trouble I’ve had with the RSL manager just to get an underage Billy admitted to the club was an ordeal in itself.

Kenny came back with the drinks and they settled down to what could become a long night. Six o’clock came and went and still no-one arrived that Billy could positively identify. Gloria was getting more and more anxious. At seven o’clock Gloria excused herself and went to relieve herself, hurrying back so that Kenny could escort Billy to the toilet. She waited alone and gave a casual wave to Robyn Ballard as she found a table nearby.

This looks like a failure; all the men folk would have left for home and only a few couples could be anticipated at this late hour. When Billy comes back I think I’ll call it a night.

In the toilet, Billy playfully tried to peer at Kenny’s penis but Kenny sternly told him to stop. Unfazed, Billy started to direct his penis stream playfully around the urinal wall. When they had finished Billy said to Kenny,

‘Looks like dat man ain’t gonna show, eh? Can’t you slip me a little gin in me lemonade Mr. Ken; I’se gett’n bored and Miss Gloria won’t know. Please Mr. Ken.’

‘No can do, Billy; you’ll get me into trouble. Anyway you’re underage and shouldn’t even be in the club – and put your dick away. Leaving the rest room Kenny followed Billy back to their table, but half way to the table Billy stopped dead. In a few strides Ken caught up and faced Billy, whose color had drained from his face.

‘Whats up mate; you look as white as a sheet; what’s wrong?’

‘Dat’s him!’ was all he said as he hurried back to the table.

‘Miss Gloria (getting angry) Dat’s him. Dere, he’s sitt’n over dere. Look!’

Both Gloria and Kenny (now alarmed) turned around to where Billy was pointing, which was at Robyn Ballard . . . and her husband Karl. Karl Ballard!

‘I’se gonna kill the bastard (Kenny grabbed hold of him) let me go Mr. Kenny let me at ‘im.’

Kenny now held an almost maniacal Billy in restraint.

‘Are you sure Billy; are you absolutely sure!’

‘Yeah, (struggling) yeah ‘cause I’se sure Mr. Kenny; whose gonna forget a bugger whose beat ya half to death. I’se sure and If’n ya asks ‘im to pull ‘is cock out I’ll tell yer what it looks like!’

For what seemed an eternity Kenny (still holding a squirming Billy) and Gloria looked at each other, then without any hesitation Gloria got up and walked over to the Ballard’s table.

‘Hi Robyn: (pause) look Karl, I’m gonna ask you to come down the station with me. Nothing serious but your name has come up in relation to an enquiry we’re conducting and I’d like to get the matter sorted. Sorry, but it won’t take too long.’

‘What’s wrong Gloria, (an alarmed Robyn asked) Why do you want to drag Karl down to the cops shop; whats he done?’

‘I’d rather not go into that here, Robyn, we just . . .’

‘Hey (Billy shouted so that all could hear) arsehole, I recognize you’se. I remember sucking yer cock and then you’se king hit me. If’n ya all wants proof, his cocks bin ring barked, with a large mouth piece an about ten inches of real hard meat. Cunt! If’n the cop’s doan get you, us blackfellas will! C’mon . . . (ummp)’

Billy’s diatribe was stopped by Kenny smothering his mouth.

‘Karl! (Robyn demanded angrily) What’s he talking about? Was he performing oral sex on you? Please tell me what’s going on!’

‘Robbie, (pleading) I don’t know anything about this revolting accusation. I mean these black coons disgust me. You know that; this is just wrong and I’m gonna demand an apology from the police for humiliating me – you betcha.’

‘Karl, (Gloria being reasonable)I understand your anger, but if you’ll just come with me peaceably, we can straighten out the matter. But you do understand I’m only doing my job.’

At the same time, Kenny was fighting a losing battle trying to restrain Billy, who eventually broke free and headed for Karl shouting,

‘You mongrel; (shouting and livid with anger) you’se called me a black coon. Well we’se good enough to suck all you white fella’s cocks for a mere twenty dollars; now I’ll make sure wes’ll up the ante to forty dollars and that’ll include all the goody good brothers at the school.’

At that he launched himself at Karl who took several steps backward and crouched to defend himself. Karl was saved by Kenny making a flying tackle on Billy that hurled him, to the ground. By this time a large crowd had gathered to witness the fracas. In the center Robyn Ballard sat with a shocked look on her face; Karl went white with either fear or anger; Gloria was hovering near Karl and Kenny had Billy pinned against the floor. Into this mess, the RSL manager arrived and promptly ordered all the combatants outside; outside of the club.

Gloria picked up Karl’s glass and put it in an evidence bag that she always carried with her.

‘Karl, come with me so we can get the whole matter settled soonest. Robyn, if you want you can follow in your car; but you’ll have to wait at the station whilst we interview Karl. At this, Robyn started crying and Karl was doing his best to console her.

Poor Robyn, she doesn’t know the shit Karl’s in. I must make a special effort to comfort her when we’re through with Karl. She’s a lovely girl and doesn’t deserve this.

Kenny, frog-marched Billy out to his car and took him to the police station to formally identify Karl as his assailant. Billy had to be restrained from assaulting the man; but his language was very colorful.

♂♂

Gloria had alerted Tom Fitzpatrick and it was in Cree’s office that they interviewed Karl Ballard. Karl’s beer glass was sent straight away to forensics to obtain any DNA. Prior to the interview, Karl had been asked to provide a sample for DNA purposes but not surprisingly, he refused.

Once the preliminaries were over Fitzpatrick asked,

‘You have been identified by Mr. Billy Yorta as the man who assaulted him. What have you to say to that?’

‘That’s bullshit- total bullshit! He’s lying. I mean, how can you take the word of an abbo against a white man . . . Huh? Christ almighty. Everyone knows me. Ask anyone around town, they’ll tell you I’m a straight bloke who loves his family; I’m a member of Rotary and support the local footy club. It doesn’t make sense.’

‘Well, (from Fitzpatrick) we also have DNA derived from a urine and sputum sample that was taken off the boy’s body by forensics. We have the glass you were using at the club and are now processing the DNA from that. If your sample agrees with the specimen taken off the boy we’ll have conclusive evidence. Do you understand?

‘Yes. (begrudgingly)

‘And you still maintain your innocence?’

‘Yes. (Uncomfortable)

‘Do you want legal representation?’

‘No, (slowly) I’ve got nothing to hide!’

‘Ok, then; Karl Ballard I’m arresting you for the attack on Billy Yorta which resulted in grievous bodily harm. You’ll be placed in a cell overnight for arraignment before a magistrate on the morrow. Gloria, you can take him away.’

Once the formalities were concluded and Karl was placed in an overnight cell, Kenny took an agitated Billy back to Kenny’s home for the night. Gloria tried to pacify Robyn who was in a state of shock.

‘Robyn, can I drive you home; you must be exhausted and probably shocked by the turn of events? I guess you’re anxious to get home to little Peter?’

'

'Thanks (in a daze) Gloria; I can’t get my mind around all this. I know Karl; a wife gets to know what her man is or isn’t capable off. And this just isn’t Karl; he may be big but I’ve never seen him use violence . . . (choke) and to suggest he was . . . (choking) with that boy is just . . . (her voice tailed off)’

‘I hope you’re right, but right now the evidence is not going Karl’s way. But when the DNA results come back the matter will be settled for once and for all. Just in case, you should look to getting legal representation; if you don’t have anyone, I can give you the name of a decent bloke who is very good . . . and not extortionate.’

‘Thanks, Gloria, I know you’re only doing your job and appreciate the help. Oh God, what am I gonna tell little Peetie? He adores his father.’

‘First things first; let’s get you home. I’ll have one of the boys drop your car back tomorrow.’

On the morrow, Karl was brought before a magistrate and was charged with inflicting Grievous Bodily Harm on Billy. He pleaded not guilty. Bail was set, and his case was fixed for two weeks hence.

♂♂

When the day came for Jeff to be discharged from hospital, he was wheeled from his room to where Kenny was waiting at the hospital entrance. Beforehand, Jeff had told Cynthia not to attend as he was going to go home with Kenny; hopefully forever. There seemed little point in arguing, because both Jeff and Cindy knew the marriage was over.

The drive home to Kenny’s house was surreal; as if a long journey was coming to an end. Neither spoke; Jeff had his hand on Kenny’s thigh and every so often when Kenny looked at Jeff he was favored with his beautiful half-smile.

‘Jeff, (softly) how do you feel?’

‘I (hesitantly) . . . I’m not sure; it’s like all my fantasies are about to come true. I never dreamed that one day I would be going home with you as your lover; I am your lover . . . aren’t I Kenny?’

‘Jesus Jeff, don’t be so insecure! ‘Yes, yes and yes. This was always meant to happen Jeff; I really believe that. All those years ago; all those years ago when we became friends, defying hostility and threats, we were on a course that finds us here together, today. Is it fate? I don’t know; I don’t believe that there’s a guiding force that controls our destinies but, as my grandmother used to say, right will always triumph over wrong. But, enough of that, all I know is two things; one, I love you very much; and two, I’m hard as hell.’

So they arrived at Kenny’s home and . . .

There was no need for preliminaries as both men were consumed by a burning need. Kenny took Jeff’s head in his hands and kissed him . . . a long kiss filled with passion. Slowly he undressed Jeff and let his eyes run over his beautiful body. Jeff’s skin was pale but his torso was molded like a Greek hero. Slowly Kenny ran his hands over Jeff’s chest, fondling his hard nipples before reaching down to undo his belt; within moments Jeff stood before him completely naked . . . and;

He was hard, painfully hard and as Kenny’s lips found his penis, Jeff uttered a guttural sigh. For some moments Kenny continued to excite Jeff until he begged Kenny to stop.

Jeff had always fanaticized about seeing Kenny naked but when Kenny undressed and stood before him, he gasped at his beautiful physique. The years of arduous training had honed Kenny’s body to sculpture like perfection. Shaking with desire, he began to service Kenny’s hard and very wet erection.

As he was getting dangerously close, Kenny guided Jeff to his bed and then lay on top of him. Nature took command and soon they were grinding their loins against each other whilst kissing deeply. It was a situation where each man gave up his body to the pleasure of the other. Soon their grinding became frantic as they soared to an unstoppable climax. When they both came, it was with cries of desperate pleasure and relief; their juices combined as they each shuddered with the slow ebbing of their orgasms.

It was all over too soon.

In his fantasizing, Jeff had longed to feel Kenny deep inside him and the speed of their orgasms left him a little unfulfilled.

‘Ken, that was great but I’ve always dreamed of you being deep inside me; will you do that for me . . . please?’

‘Yes, but not until we’ve made a formal commitment to each other. To me penetration has to mean something than just pure lust; call me old-fashioned but that’s the way I am.’

‘Ok, ok . . . I guess I can wait. I’ve waited over twenty years so I can wait a little longer; right now, I’m gonna enjoy this wonderful feeling of freedom and contentment.’

They fell asleep and, on waking, all of Kenny’s noble sentiments were swept aside. In an explosion of love and lust, Kenny penetrated deep inside Jeff and thus both their carnal needs were satisfied.

Eventually, they sat in the kitchen to talk. Kenny prided himself on making coffee and soon a glorious aroma filled the kitchen. Jeff looked around at what he hoped would be his future home, but it was the rear view of Kenny that had him mesmerized. When Kenny placed two steaming cups of his favorite blend, Jeff commented,

‘Christ (earnestly) I feel good. I suppose I shouldn’t criticize Cindy for doing what she did. She deserves to feel the same fulfillment that I’m feeling right now.’

‘Not my business, but perhaps you should start divorce proceedings as soon as possible; (Jeff nodded to agree) but we have another problem to consider; what to do about Billy . . . Any thoughts?’

‘Best be truthful Ken. He’ll just have to deal with it; sure at first he’ll be a bit emotional, but in time he’ll move on. Where is he now?’

‘Back with his family; I told him I was going to pick you up from the hospital and that we’ll be in touch tomorrow. I’m a little concerned because he’s been prone to become quite emotional in the past. We’ll have to do it softly.’

‘I like softly.’

♂♂

Gloria and Tom Fitzpatrick were having coffee and analyzing the case as it stands. Gloria asked,

‘When the DNA results come back do you think Ballard will stick to his innocent plea?’

‘Depends (taking a sip of coffee), depends on whether he’s got a good legal mouthpiece. In some cases, even when the evidence is against a perp, they maintain their innocence, hoping to get a sympathetic jury. All it really does is create more problems by extending the torment; the downside is that, if the perp is eventually found guilty, the judge hands down a much harder sentence.’

‘Yeah, (Gloria thoughtfully stirred her coffee) I’m really concerned about his family, his wife and son Peter. Robyn will have to be the sole provider now; it won’t be easy to raise a son in this town where everyone knows yer business. That’s the trouble with small country towns; you don’t have much privacy.’

‘Hey Gloria, don’t take it on personally. Ballard made his choice when he criminally assaulted the abbo kid, don’t get too involved. If you’re gonna become a detective you’ll see a lot of tragedy, but you can’t take it personal.’

‘Yeah, I guess I am; but here’s the thing, Ballard will probably get three to five years (Fitzpatrick nodded) in a low security farm but the family has to live with the fall out every day; they become the real victims don’t they?’

‘Yep, you’re right; you’re a really decent person Gloria, I just hope you don’t let the fallout destroy you personally. (Sigh) I can’t help thinking that if Cree was still here, he’d probably just issue a warning to Ballard and not charge . . .’

There was a loud knock on the door and a forensic technician came rushing in.

‘Hey (breathless) you’re not gonna believe this – the DNA results are finished and they are positive to the sample . . .’

‘(Interrupting) Well, (turning to Gloria) that’s it then; that means he can’t deny he assaulted the abbo kid. We’ve got DNA proof as well as being physically identified . . .’

‘No, No! You don’t understand. Yes, the DNA is a match for the abbo boy but . . . it’s also the same DNA that we extracted from the murdered brother err . . . Brother Simon.’

There was a numbing silence. Fitzpatrick and Gloria looked at each other in disbelief. Eventually,

‘Are you sure?’ (From both Fitzpatrick and Gloria).

‘(Indignantly) Of course I’m sure! And before you ask . . . yes I’ve double checked; the two DNA samples are the same. No question of it!’

Then Fitzpatrick asked,

‘How (slowly) did this come about? What made you go looking at the murder DNA when you were only working on the assault specimen?’

‘Well, (carefully) when you get to work with many DNA samples you get a sense of those which are similar and those which are unique. The two DNA samples were in the latter category so it was easy to remember the likenesses. At first, I thought I was mistaken but after doing comparisons, I knew my hunches were right; they are the same, and I‘ve had another scientist agree with me. It’s been corroborated, for sure.’

‘But, (a stunned Gloria) why would Karl Ballard want to kill Brother Simon; it doesn’t make sense?’

‘No, (equally baffled Fitzpatrick) I agree; it doesn’t. We’ve always assumed that killing Brother Simon was related to the killing of Ruth Jalla; boy, now it’s getting really bizarre’

‘It’s ridiculous Tom, it’s absolutely ridiculous. Karl has always been hostile to the indigenous people; there has to be another reason.’

‘Well, there’s only one way to find out. I’m sorry Gloria, but you’ll have to bring him in again.’

‘Shit!’

♂♂

When Robyn Ballard opened the door, Gloria was stunned at her appearance. Dark circles around her eyes bespoke of a sleepless night and without makeup her face looked haggard and empty.

Christ, look at the poor woman; and I’m gonna make it worse.

‘Hi Robyn; look is Karl around? We’d like him to come down to the Police station again because something has come up and we need to talk to him.’

Then Karl came to the door and demanded,

‘What the fuck is going on? Can’t you bastards leave me alone? What do you want now? Haven’t you fucked up our lives enough?’

‘Sorry Karl, but we need you to come down the station again; something has come up in relation to the charge and we need clarification. We won’t take long.’

‘No! I’m not saying another word. My lawyer has told me not to say anything more.’

‘Please Karl, don’t make it difficult. You have to come with us. If you don’t come willingly, I’ll have to arrest you again.’

‘Karl! (Robyn sounded distraught) what’s happening. What have you done now? Gloria; why do you want to arrest Karl again? I can’t . . . (breaking down and sobbing hysterically).

Little peter came rushing out and threw his arms around his mother.

‘Mummee, mummee whats wrong? Please don’t cry! Please mummee.’

‘Karl . . .? Gloria encouraged.

‘All right, all right I’ll come. But I’m not gonna say anything without my solicitor being present! Stay here Peter and look after your mother.’

♂♂

Whilst waiting for Ballard’s solicitor to arrive, Fitzpatrick and Gloria discussed how the interview would proceed.

‘Gloria, we’ll play the good cop/bad cop routine; you can be the good cop and I’ll come on strongly. He’s a tough nut and will probably not respond to a brutal approach. We don’t want him to clam up; we want him talking. Once he starts talking leave the rest to me. Ok?’

Once they were settled and the formal identification of participants established, Gloria opened the innings,

‘Karl, the DNA results are in and unfortunately there is a match. Your DNA is the same as the DNA taken off the young boy, Billy Yorta.’

‘Bullshit! You’ve made a mistake.’

‘So you still deny your involvement even though we have a DNA match and a physical identification by the victim. Which is incorrect?’

‘All of it! It’s all bullshit. You’re taking the word of a blackfella over a decent white man. (His solicitor leaned over and whispered to Ballard).

‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to discriminate against blackies but yer just plain wrong, wrong! I never bashed the little fucker up!’

‘Don’t shit (Fitzpatrick harshly) us Ballard; we’ve got you dead to rights; if you persist with this stupid approach you’ll go to trial and when, and I mean when found guilty, the judge will hand down a really savage sentence to you.’

Silence, as Ballard and Fitzpatrick glared at each other. Then Gloria,

‘The Detective Inspector’s right Karl, judges don’t like accused wasting the courts time when so much evidence is against them. There’s no wriggle room here Karl. Think about little Peter and Robyn; wouldn’t it be better to get a lighter sentence so you can be out sooner. (His solicitor again leaned over and whispered in Ballard’s ear.)

Then Barry (the solicitor) asked,

‘So what’s on the table here? Do we, or can we reach a deal?’

‘Ummm . . . (Fitzpatrick musing thoughtfully), there will have to be some time served. I can swing the prosecutor to two years in a prison farm. I’m sure both he and the judge will go along with that.’

‘Then I ask that I be allowed to confer with my client privately to consider your offer.’

Gloria and Fitzpatrick waited outside whilst Barry the solicitor conferred with Ballard. Unfortunately, there was no see through window to view what was transpiring in the other room.

After a short interval, Tom and Gloria rejoined Karl and his solicitor. It was a different Karl Ballard. Gone was the hostility and aggression; he sat slumped forward with his hands on the table. It was a posture of defeat.

‘We have talked the matter over and in view of the evidence I’ve recommended my client accept your offer. Of course (Fitzpatrick made an odd sound as if clearing his throat), we’ll need to have an agreement in writing . . .’

He was interrupted by the door opening and a uniform cop announcing,

‘Detective Inspector, sorry but you’re needed urgently outside!’

‘Can’t it wait; I’m in the middle . . .’

‘Sorry sir, no! You must come now.’

Reluctantly Fitzpatrick got up and went with the cop outside. Gloria who knew what was afoot remained sitting. Around ten minutes passed and then Fitzpatrick re-entered the room. His face registered dismay and anger. Sitting down, he glared at Karl Ballard, letting the silence build up. Then,

‘I have just been told that your DNA, as well as agreeing with the specimen taken from the young aboriginal boy, also matches DNA taken off the murdered priest . . . Brother Simon.’

Fitzpatrick’s carefully orchestrated statement produced the desired impact.

The solicitor looked stunned; his mouth fell open with dismay. Karl Ballard went intensely white; he slumped back in the chair and appeared crushed. He was so much in shock that he became mute. It was his solicitor who recovered first.

‘Are you sure? After all DNA matches can be wrong!’

‘Oh (disdainfully) come on Barry, you know that’s bullshit. Sure, in the early days DNA profiling was sometimes inaccurate, but nowadays it’s basically one hundred percent accurate; you know that.’

‘Well where and how was the sample taken?’

‘We extracted it from the sputum taken off the severed genitals of Brother Simon. We have a good specimen and it’s been separately corroborated.’

(Turning to Karl) 'Karl, what do you have to say to the evidence?’

‘I’m (slowly and unconvincingly) not guilty; not guilty.’

‘Again, I warn you Ballard not to waste our time; we’ve got you dead to rights on the bashing charge and now we have corroborated evidence that you killed Brother Simon. I mean the fact that your DNA is all over the dead man’s severed penis means you were at the scene of the murder.’

“Karl (Gloria interjected) we know you killed Brother Simon but we don’t know why! I mean if you had a valid cause that will alleviate your custodial sentence you have to tell us; Why Karl, Why?’

‘I (shouting) DIDN’T KILL THE FUCKER! LEAVE ME ALONE!

‘BULLSHIT! BALLARD. We can go round and round like this. I’ve got all the time in the world. Just tell us why you killed the priest. If you had a good reason, then that’s something I’m sure the court will take that into account.’

And so the interview progressed with Fitzpatrick pushing Karl (without harassing him). Karl kept up his statement that he didn’t kill Brother Simon, but as he got tired, his entreaties became less forceful. Eventually, after about two hours Karl put his head in his hands and started sobbing. The room was silent except for Karl Ballard, now a broken man, sobbing his heart out.

They waited. Barry urged Karl to not say anything without talking to him first. But,

‘No, No, No! . . . I done it! I killed the bastard. I killed the bastard and shoved his filthy catholic cock down his gob!

Then (softly) Gloria,

Why Karl, why?

‘Cause little Ruthie Jalla is (choke) . . . was me daughter!

♂♂

A profound silence followed Ballard’s shock announcement. Then Gloria recovered her composure,

‘(Softly) you’re daughter . . . Ruth Jalla was you’re daughter! How?’

Karl didn’t reply immediately . . . he sagged back against his chair and his eyes were unfocussed. He seemed to stare at Gloria and Fitzpatrick without seeing anyone. Eventually he emerged from his catatonic state and responded,

‘Ruthie’s mum and I became friends when we were young’uns at school; as we grew up I became attracted, dreadfully attracted to her in the usual way. She was very pretty and . . . well I just couldn’t leave her alone. She felt the same about me . . . she did! We should’ve got married but, well, you know . . . it was socially unacceptable for darkies and whitees to marry. I (sob) . . .’

They all waited for Karl to regain his composure . . . and then,

‘We couldn’t leave each other alone. I used to pick her up secretly and we’d drive somewhere safe where we wouldn’t be seen. I . . . I really loved her; and she (choke) loved me. However, we both realized our affair was doomed; we had to make an awful decision to stop seeing each other. We both cried; it was very painful, extremely painful . . .’

The atmosphere in the room became leaden; three pairs of eyes became riveted on Karl Ballard as he narrated his distressful story. Gloria couldn’t help but feel sympathetic; it was the age-old scenario of two lovers torn apart by social conventions. When love happens . . . usually shit happens!

‘ . . . So we parted; she to marry into her tribe and me to marry into my tribe.’

‘But (from Gloria) your son Peter is older than Ruth, so . . .’

‘(Sigh) that’s right; we just kept seeing each other. Our love was too strong to extinguish. We kept seeing each other and eventually, well . . . along came Ruthie. At times I would take both Ruth and Peter out for a fun day, telling Robyn that I wanted to have good relations with the blackfellas. Robyn never cottoned on! Peter and Ruthie played well with each other and enjoyed the time I spent with them.’

‘But Karl, what about Ruth’s father; did he object or did he know that Ruth was your daughter?’

‘No Gloria, he never suspected. If he had, I would have been in serious shit! No! I’m confident he didn’t know anything.’

‘So (Fitzpatrick) let’s get to when Ruth Jalla was murdered. How did you know it was Brother Simon?’

For several moments Karl just looked at Fitzpatrick and then looked down and seemed to be talking to himself . . .

‘(Softly) . . . all the while I was preoccupied watching that little Peetie did not come under the clutches of those fucking pedophile priests; I was terrified that he would be abused and damaged for the rest of his life. I even warned that footballer bloke not to go near my boy; I owe him an apology. I never ever considered that little Ruthie would be in danger . . . never! So that when I heard she had been raped and murdered . . . I . . . went berserk. I knew it had to be one of the monsters up at the college; I mean we all knew what was going on, but we couldn’t do or say anything, ’cause that bastard Cree was protecting them. Can you believe that? A copper protecting those fiends for whatever reason I don’t know.’

‘So you knew it was a priest, but how did you know it was Brother Simon?’

‘Oh shit Detective, it wasn’t rocket science. I picked that priest because he looked weak, and I thought if I roughed him up enough, he would lead me to the killer. I didn’t know it would turn out to be him. He was so consumed with remorse that he spilled his guts when I confronted him; he knew he was gonna be found out and he wanted to confess. Initially all I wanted was bring him into the cops, but then I thought Cree would find some way to let him off. Then thought of what he did to my (choke) sweet little daughter sent me into an incandescent rage. I went berserk, crazy . . . frenzied. I became a savage . . . an insane savage.’

Ballard stopped and the silent atmosphere in the room became oppressive; almost airless. Gloria found it difficult to breath. Eventually Fitzpatrick broke the crushing silence;

‘Karl Marcus Ballard, I’m arresting you for the murder of. . .’

Billy

‘I hears ya Mr. Ken; I hears ya, but I don’t understand. I doan understand why yer telling me this?’ I reckon its good you and Mr. Jeff are shacking up together; but ain’t got nuth’n to do with me . . . an nuth’n to do with me an you to Mr. Jeff; has it?’

(Sigh) Billy . . . Jeffry and I are in love with each other and we’re going to live as a married couple. It simply means that we’re gonna be true to each other . . . and no one else.’

They were sitting in Kenny’s kitchen; Billy sat at a table opposite Kenny, whilst Jeffry leaned against the kitchen bench top. As the meaning of Kenny’s words sunk in, Billy became distressed. His eyes began to water – tears were not far away; he turned to look at Jeffry.

Mr.(softly). . . Mr. Jeff; is Mr. Ken right. You doan wanna see me no more? Please Mr. Jeff look at me and say it ain’t true.’

‘Billy . . . I . . . I (hoarsely) . . . you’re very, very special to me. Of course I still want t’see you. The moments we shared together are very precious, especially . . .’

‘Billy, we both . . .’

‘Please Mr. Ken; please don’t interrupt, (turning towards Jeffry) you knows hows I feel about ya. I love you Mr. Jeff, an don’t tell me I’m too young to be in love. I enjoyed cuddlin’ you. I loved the smell of yer hair and (choke) the feel of dem little black hairs on yer arms. An when we were doing the sex and I’se inside ya, all I wanted to do was give ya pleasure. I weren’t doin’ it for meself, even tho I’se lovin’ the feel of bein’ inside ya; I loved the look on yer face liking the feel. An now yer tellin’ me we can’t do that anymore. I’se (sob) hurtin’ Mr. Jeff.’

And then the tears started. Billy started to sob; soon his shoulders began to heave as he let go all his pent up emotions. Jeff and Kenny were appalled at the depth of Billy’s emotion; they just stood there feeling useless . . . and guilty.

‘Billy, neither Jeff nor I want to hurt you . . .’

‘Well, why (sob) are ya? I’se got nowhares to go Mr. (sob) Ken, you knows that. My people despise what I am. Dey doan like Sister Boys; we’se like to be expelled from the tribe. What then eh Mr. Ken, what then? Do I just go walkabout for the rest of me life or go into grubby men’s toilets and do the sex. I become an old abbo bum sleep’n in the gutter an selling meself for money to buy food. Is this what I’se gonna be Mr. Ken? Is this how Billy’s gonna end up?’

‘No! (Sternly) No you’re not! You forget that you’ve got a great career in footy. I’ve told you that Essendon are interested in getting you as part of their rookie program. You’ve got my word on that. Also, I know of plenty gay indigenous footy players who you could make friends with. And remember Billy; you’re a very attractive person. You’re simply stunning and will have no trouble attracting gay partners. So let’s forget all this self-pity; sure this is a blow to you but it’s not terminal. You’ll recover and get on with your life.’

‘(Sadly) Ok for you to say Mr. Ken; now you’ll have Mr. Jeff wid ya for a long time. I’se got nuth’n, nuth’n. I’se (getting up from the table) gonna leave now!’

And so Billy stood up and went and let himself out. Jeff and Kenny just stood there feeling utterly miserable.

‘Shit!’ said Jeff,

‘Shit!’ said Kenny.

 

Epilogue

Overlooking Waterford was a small hill, and on top of this was a cleared area for picnics, barbeques, and other entertainments.

About mid-day in late summer some people gathered for a social occasion. Soon the assemblage parted and anyone looking upwards would see two young men come together. After some exchange, they clasped hands and, it would seem, spoke to each other.

When they finished the gathering of friends burst into applause, raised very full glasses on high, and acclaimed the two young men . . . and then the party continued.

For Ken and Jeffry a furtive encounter many years ago had set their lives on a path that, after weathering many storms, had brought them safely into each other’s arms.

###

font>Well . . . that's all folks. I hope you enjoyed my pitiful attempt at writing. If someone would like to send me a note telling what you liked and what you didn't like I'd be most appreciative. One thing I would appreciate comments on is the font I used. It's Courier New; should I go back to Arial? Feedback is the stuff of life that makes writers thrive. Write me, please.
Copyright @2014 graham sealby
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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I really enjoyed your story. It informed me on the plight of indigenous people in Australia. I'm glad that Kenny and Jeff got their HEA, but I wonder what is to become of Billy? Does he have a story in the works? The font you used was OK, but I think Arial is a little easier on the eyes, at least my eyes. I look forward to reading you in the future. Keep up the good work!

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Arial is easier to read for me too. the story was good and kept me interested in continuing to read. i still would like to kmow what happened to Billy

 

mogwai

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Please don't leave Billy hanging. I wish you had sent him to live with Jeff and Kenny until he joined a footy team or found love with a footy player.

I actually like Arial font better. The Courier is like reading the printed newspaper. Thank you, Graham for a great yarn.

 

Mike

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My apologies Mike for not responding before this. I actually grew very fond of the Billy character and want to expand his personality. I wanted him to be cheeky and basic with no prejudices. I have in mind to do a whole book with him as a central character. 

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