"There's no way mate!" I said, draining the last of my beer.
"Nup, fair dinkum." Brock said with far too much confidence.
Growing up, Brock had always been a bit of a loud mouth, making claims he couldn't back up but that you also couldn't question.
It was usually about a girl, and it was usually only after that girl had moved away from our small town.
In short, he was full of it, but he was my best mate and a good bloke in every other way.
We fresh out of school and on a little holiday in the Big Smoke. We'd saved up enough money to get a dodgy hotel room above a pub, and we'd started every night of the trip with a couple of beers and a chat to the bartender, Chrissie.
Chrissie had takeb a shine to us "country lads" and it wasn't unusual for us to get a secret round for free if her boss wasn't watching.
The bullshit spewing forth from Brock's lips that evening was that he had fingered Chrissie in the toilets on her break.
"Hayden, my friend, my mate, my brother from another mother, I would not lie to you." Brock always called me these things when he was spinning a yarn, and I was having none of it.
I drained my already empty schooner glass a second time, waiting for the king of bullshit to remember it was his round. Brock was suddenly oblivious.
"Prove it. Prove it and I'll get the next round." I said.
"I shouldn't need to prove it. You're my best mate, you should just trust me. And it's your shout anyway."
"Get fucked, it's absolutely your shout and if you prove it I'll not only get the beers, I'll lick your ballsack." I said, my own bravado starting to grow.
Brock looked at me for a moment with a twisted smirk, then waved Chrissie over.
