MADAM DAZE.....(part 1).

'You won't find your true vocation until you are 30.  Be wary of a tall dark lady and a slim blonde man'.

Not the words of a song but the prophesies of a Hungarian gypsy friend of my mothers who read me palm in 1981, shortly after my return from Adelaide.

I didn't realize then but the tall, dark lady would be Louise and the slim blonde man was Matty.  I was about to reach the peak of my dubious career and in my hedonistic world it seemed nothing could go wrong.  It would be another 18 months before her prophesies started coming true.

Betty and I, and the other boys spent our first afternoon at the new Brett's in total shock.  We had lost half our staff and our new premises were a hovel compared to the luxurious parlour we had just moved from.  Thankfully it was a Friday and by 5pm the phones were, as usual, ringing hot. Clients totally unaware of the dramatic change to the business were still calling and the boys were kept busy with out calls.  We had a couple of walk in clients that night.  Regulars who were all shocked at the change in the premises but loyal enough to chat with me and discuss what changes we could make to make the place more inviting.

Saturday morning and Betty and I were on the phone to Louise.  We told Louise that we needed to spend at least $300 from the previous nights takings to renovate and redecorate the house to meet our clients standards.  Louise was happy to let us do whatever was needed.

We painted the rooms, bought new curtains, got builders in to replace the louvre doors (!) in the bathroom and toilet and turned the back room into the boys sitting room.  This was originally a cheap brick and tin extension to the tiny terrace house.  Dark, dingy and unbearably hot or cold (depending upon the season).  We installed a fan above the rooms entry door and hung a clear plastic shower curtain across the door - so we could see if clients were coming to use the bathroom and hide the drugs!!

It took a month before we were finally back to 'business as usual'.  New boys replaced the old, we got a whole new demographic of clients from the nearby suburbs, and by cleverly keeping out call prices to our old regular suburbs the same price we doubled our profits.

Louise was thrilled and so were we.  Betty and I ran the business like a well oiled machine.  The clients were happy and the boys were even happier.  No restrictions on drug taking, no sudden check-ups from Graham and money, money, money coming out of our ears.

I was in my element.  Suddenly every working boy in Sydney wanted to be part of the new Brett's Boys.  I was interviewing at least twice a day.  Most of the boys were just coming around to get off with me, but a few were genuine and became part of our new, happy family.

Amazingly some of these new boys included old friends from Adelaide and one, much to both our surprise had been a good friend of mine from my days at Rushcutter's Bay when I was in a relationship with Bill.  

Glenn (Glenda) had been one of the few of Bill's friends who I had genuinely liked, mainly due to his unpretentiousness and easy going manner.  It was Glenda who would introduce me to his dealer, Stephen, a hulking cockney guy who initially started bringing us grass to buy on a daily basis.

After a few weeks he realized that he could work with me and started off by offering me 'sticks' of grass at $15, which I would sell to the boys for $20.  We were all smoking so much that it didn't take long before I was buying them for $10, selling them for $20 and Stephen would throw in 5 extra sticks for me.

I was making a fortune.  There was no pressure to buy.  But as we all  spent most of our time sitting in the 'back room' getting stoned it was an easy and safe alternative.  I would always fill up the bowl at least 3 times a day and when it was empty the other boys would all take turns to buy a stick and we would all share it.  

Betty sold for me on her shifts and we let Colin do whatever he wanted during his shifts.  He was so lazy that he didn't even try and get in on the deal.  As with Betty I would have happily offered him $5 for every stick he sold but he wasn't interested.  So the boys either found another alternative on those nights, or one of them would ring and Matty would drive over with a supply.

One of the new boys decided to get in on the act.  I wasn't happy and told him that he could sell any time on Colin's shifts or outside of work, but definitely not on mine or Betty's shifts.

Of course he didn't take heed and it didn't take long for Betty and I to realise that he was quietly selling behind our backs.  I spoke with him and again stated the terms I was happy with.  He agreed, but within a few weeks was again trying to undercut me (with inferior grass) and doing it during mine or Betty's shifts.

Silly boy.  I knew that he was working for another parlour on his days off and the owner was a down and out drug addicted thief.  He was using his boys to pan out clients homes and would then do break and enters, stealing whatever valuables the client had, often getting the boys to drug the clients, before returning in the middle of the night to rob them.  Months later this owner would be found dead in his own parlour from a heroin overdose.  The gossip was that it had been done by two of his own workers who had then stolen all his money, taken his house keys and stripped his house bare!

Cleverly he used the boys to stash the stolen goods at their houses for a week or two before selling them to second hand shops.  The particular boy had bragged about this and told us that his apartment was full of stolen white goods which would be sold on later and he would get 50% of the money.

I could have resorted to violent tactics or simply sacked the boy if I had wanted, but I had a better plan.  Along with Betty, I simply rang the daily newspaper's classifieds section and put an add with the boys address stating that on the coming Saturday starting at 7am there would be a 'moving house' white-goods sale.  This was the 80's.  The world was still naive and we didn't need any more proof than a telephone number to place the add.  We deliberately gave Brett's Boys phone number to the sales lady.

The following Saturday the boy was on the doorstep by 9am. He had already had over 20 people turn up for the 'white-goods' sale! Totally shocked, but also totally in admiration at our clever tactics.  He had rang the newspaper and found out the contact number given and put two and two together.  Suffice to say he never sold drugs again at Brett's.  He still remained a good friend and worker until the day I left.

I could have left this story out, but I need to point out the reality of what was actually happening and how I was conducting my 'dealing' business to make sense of what was to come later.

Fame, fortune and a dramatic fall were on their way.....