by Sally Bryan
“It does sound wonderful.” I glanced again at Gabe who was pretending to find interest in a brochure about some local wax museum and when I looked back, the Irishman’s eyes snapped back from my breasts to my face.
“Well, I can show you this great place, Le Wine Bar on Rue des Bahutiers, and we’ll see the river on the way and discuss where we’re both heading next, as well as other things.” All in all, it wasn’t a bad attempt at seduction, except for one thing.
Which now rushed forwards, startling his rival and wagging an anxious finger. “Ah, you know, sorry there, but she’s my girlfriend … just letting you know that,” he trailed off and scratched his head.
“What?” The man looked from him to me and back again with an expression of something between puzzlement and anger. “You should have just said. What you been doing sat there like a pudding all this time while some guy’s hitting on your bird?” He shrugged and stood, making a point of the three or so inches in height he had on Gabe and although his back was now to me, I was able to make out the contemptuous grunt. Gabe looked down and stepped away as the Irishman turned back to me. “If you fancy that drink with an actual man, I’ll be around.”
The words punched through my head as he strutted to the door before turning back for one last remark directed at my man, “you look like you’d probably enjoy being cucked,” followed by a mocking snigger and then he was gone, leaving Gabe forlorn and head hanging in the small space between the beds.
One of the sleepers snorted then Gabe stamped over to me, thrashing his arms about. “Why didn’t you bloody tell him you had a boyfriend?”
My mouth plunged open. “I thought he was just being friendly, how was I to know where he’d always intended on leading it?” I shoved him on the shoulder, “and all along you did nothing. All you needed to do was ask ‘are you hungry, Frey?’ or chuck me the suntan lotion and he’d have been clued in.”
He twisted away and rubbed the back of his neck, plonking himself down on his mattress. “You’re right, I’m fucking socially inept.”
I didn’t disagree though neither did I say he was looking just a little bit emasculated too, a man needed his pride and besides, it was over and done with so I returned to the task of making the bed.
Afterwards, we headed down to the communal area to see what the hostel offered. The facilities were numerous, including a large dining area with flat screen TVs, sofas, books and magazines, an internet cafe, washing and drying machines and a kitchen for those who’d brought their own food.
“We’ll have to find a supermarket and buy something to eat.” I cautiously peeked into the kitchen and grimaced, not enjoying the prospect of having to use it. I was used to my own student kitchen, of course, and having to share it with five others, Gabe included, and it had been the source of a hundred arguments about hygiene. It was occasionally possible, after telling people for the tenth time to properly clean their plates and utensils, to find something adequate to eat from but that was only because they’d become so worn down by my nagging. Here, however, the punters were only breezing through and what did they care about scouring the plates of all remains? Do a half-arsed job, stick it back on the pile and disappear, next city, next country. And even now, two long-haired men in their early twenties, shirts unbuttoned, chest hair protruding from within, were bounding out holding plates, sucking up spaghetti as they came.
“Doctor?” Gabe waved a hand in front of my face.
I was half tempted to call Dad and ask for money, something I’d not once done since leaving home, living frugally as I did off my student loan. There’d be hotels in Bordeaux and they’d be clean and I’d have privacy and wouldn’t have to deal with unkempt strangers, from God only knew where, sharing bedrooms and kitchens, oh, and the bathroom, which I hadn’t yet had the privilege of witnessing. But calling Dad went against my ethics, tempting as it was, and that I still needed to eat on a budget didn’t make the thing any easier. “I’m gonna really struggle on this trip.”
“What?”
I breathed and shook off my negativity. “When’s your friend arriving?”
A horn blared and we both turned toward the large window that overlooked the road because a small, green, battered, rusty hatchback was pulling into the loading bay.
And a man exited.
* * *
“Gay Boy!” He bounded in our direction, smile stretched to its painful limit as I took an instinctive step back.
“Dan, you crazy bastard,” Gabe strode to meet him halfway, “what’s with the hair?”
The newcomer’s eyes roamed over me then settled back on Gabe as they both opened out their arms and embraced. Now, Dan was holding my gaze over Gabe’s shoulder and gave a little wink as everyone else in the room turned to watch the commotion. They stepped back and my eyebrows quirked as they commenced some strange handshaking, rhyming routine that even included a chest bump halfway through.
“Ok, this is interesting,” I mumbled under my breath.
Gabe punched him on the arm then turned to me. “Frey, I want you to meet the best friend I ever had, Dan.” As though the introduction was necessary.
He took two large steps in my direction, face reddened from the exertion of the last minute and a half. “I knew it, I know his type. Always the redheads.”
I made up the remaining distance between us and held out my hand. “Well, I hope there’ve not been too many other redheads.”
His hand was sticky and he squinted, like he was replaying my response over in his head and taking his time to decipher it. “Yee’re Scooooteeesh?”
“I found her in the Highlands, running wild with the wolves.” Gabe put in, helpfully.
Dan raised an eyebrow. “You mean, it’s possible to domesticate a Scot?”
“Just so long as you catch them early.”
“Otherwise, admit defeat and cut them loose.”
“That’s about right.”
“Don’t mind me,” I said, still standing there but finding it all very cute. I could take a joke at my expense, no probs.
The lady from the front desk approached us but directed her question at Dan. “Excuse me, is that your vehicle outside, parked in the loading bay?”
I swivelled to look out the window. If it could even be called a vehicle then technically it wasn’t in the loading bay but more one-third loading bay, one-third disabled spot, one-third pavement.
“Huh?” Dan looked from the window and back to her, scratching his head. “No, that’s not mine.”
She placed her hands on hips and if she was about to challenge him, she evidently decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and returned to her post.
Gabe bit his lip, “but that is your car, ain’t it?”
“Nope, that’s my hunk of junk. Can you believe it actually got us here? I bought it for less than four hundred Danish Krone, which is Denmark,” he said this last bit to me, “and you can actually see the road moving through the passenger side footwell.”
Gabe blinked, “I’m sorry, you said us?”
Dan didn’t hear and continued, “and you think I’m paying city centre parking charges? No chance. And I ain’t parking that tin can three miles out and walking either. Now there’s a nice little life hack … buy a shed on wheels and they don’t bother ticketing you. The car’s just not worth the price of the bureaucracy, you see.” He patted Gabe on the shoulder, “bureaucracy … now, doesn’t that sound French to you?”
Gabe smirked at me. “If only we’d thought of that, right Doc?”
“It’s very clever, I must admit.” And I was sure he’d still look clever after it got towed, if at all he cared, which I doubted. Meanwhile, I was still watching the vehicle because…
“So how long have you been here?” Dan asked me, stealing my attention.
My eyes twitched up to his head, distracted because he had one of those man buns, tightly tied upon his crown, a style I’d already seen a few times amongst Frenchmen. “We arrived in France only yesterday.”
> “No, I meant, how long have you been in Bordeaux?” He clarified with a good-natured smile. He was an attractive man, or rather, would have been if it weren’t for the hair and the major stubble growth, like he was caught between deciding whether to grow a beard or not. I loved stubble on a guy and even a nice beard but his between look made me wonder if he was just unkempt, life on the road perhaps. He was a touch taller than Gabe, which made him more or less average height but far slimmer and his cargo shorts hung off his legs like a scarecrow’s rags. Malnutrition from travelling or simply a case of bad style? Either way, Gabe didn’t seem too concerned over his friend’s almost emaciated appearance.
I squinted, “how long have we been in Bordeaux?” I thought that would have been obvious from the conversations he’d had with Gabe and was about to give a more satisfactory answer when I was distracted by movement in my periphery.
Dan cast a sideward glance at Gabe, as though silently enquiring upon my intelligence and spoke slower. “Um, yes, when did you arrive here?”
“Um,” I was staring at the vehicle now, “is there someone in your car?”
“Yeah,” he shrugged, “so they won’t tow it.”
Ah, clever boy, so he had thought of that.
“Really?” Gabe interjected, “who?” One of his travelling ‘characters’ no doubt.
“It’s a woman,” I confirmed and winked cheekily at Dan, “definitely a woman, you Casanova.” If I narrowed my eyes, I could just make out the girl’s long blonde hair and even a few coloured braids weaved in. She occupied the passenger seat and was thus closest to us, staring blankly forward.
“A woman?” Gabe asked, excited. “Not that I’m surprised, judging by your Instagram.”
Dan made a clicking sound with his mouth. “Aye, well, we met in Copenhagen and she followed me all the way here,” he moved closer to Gabe so he could whisper the next bit into his ear, “and I’ve not had chance to seal the deal yet,” I still heard, “and she’s kind of blowing on the wind, a bit ditzy but a good laugh and company for those long drives,” he leaned into Gabe again and I got the impression he didn’t care whether I heard or not, “or, I expect, she will be.”
I cringed inwardly. Yeah, I most definitely bagged the better of the two here and hoped Gabe never spoke in such a way about me when I wasn’t around.
I nudged Dan on the arm. “Aren’t you going to bring her in? I mean, you are staying here, aren’t you?” More importantly, with the arrival of Gabe’s friend, and making a judgement after having met him, a female companion for the night might probably be an alleviating thing.
He leaned back and shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea, she…”
I flapped a hand, “oh, don’t be silly, I’ll help her with your bags, you two can catch up.” I was already on my way and wasn’t stopping, even as he made a halfhearted protest. But really, leaving a young woman in the car just to avoid getting a ticket? What a jerk.
I exited the hostel and the vehicle was only a few steps away. My eyes briefly surveyed the mangled bumper and half missing number plate before shifting upwards to fix on her. Oh, hello, a photogenic one, if a little miserable, was all I had time to think as we made eye contact but her gaze didn’t follow me around as I approached her at the opened window.
I stooped to look in, briefly clocking tanned legs as I propped my forearm on the doorframe. “Hi there, I’m Dan’s friend and I just thought I’d help you with the…”
Her head turned swiftly, red, flared and screaming, “fuck off!”
I leapt backwards, almost falling over a man walking his dog and scurried back further as I openly gaped at the bitch who was now winding up the window. I turned back to the hostel, aghast, from where Gabe and Dan were both looking out through the communal room window, Gabe fidgeting with a sleeve as Dan was using his hands to silently wave no - A bit late.
Thank fuck it was only for one night because the sooner the pair of these gatecrashers were gone, the better.
* * *
“…And how about all the times I stopped Jimmy Smith from beating the crap out of you?”
“It became almost a full-time job after I took his place on the team.” Gabe’s glazed over eyes stared into air.
“He didn’t like your face much either.” Dan laughed and slapped his back, almost spilling all three of our beers over the table. He glanced my way, stealing a quick peek at my cleavage in the flowery summer dress I’d worn and I felt a small prickle. “Losing your place to a four-eyes is the ultimate humiliation, might as well lose it to a girl, but Gay Boy was almost a clear foot shorter than the rest of us, to add insult to that already large injury, and built like an anorexic ballerina. No, no, no, that couldn’t be allowed to fly. But he could run faster than any of us, even if he couldn’t kick a ball straight, or very far, and that surprised a lot of people.”
Gabe absorbed it all, clearly enjoying the banter, compliments and memories, and liking it even more that I was around to hear it. And I must admit, it made for interesting listening, to learn things about my love’s childhood from the eyes of someone who arguably knew him better than I did, certainly, he’d known him long before I ever did and I always enjoyed such stories, even if it meant being left out of the entire conversation which, on this occasion, I didn’t mind.
We’d come to one of the main squares in the centre of the city, where restaurants encircled a huge fountain at the focal point and pigeons caused chaos hopping around our feet in search of scraps. I loved animals but pigeons were so often a nuisance, especially when you were eating. The soft sounds of an acoustic guitarist floated across the square, to be almost completely drowned out by several hundred conversations, which created an all over pleasant hum that enveloped us. There was no comparative place in all of Scotland where so many people could gather outside in the evening to eat and be entertained whilst not feeling cold and after the day I’d had, I wanted nothing more than to sit back and relax, listen to the sounds of the world passing, to eat and drink knowing my momentous responsibilities were postponed, if only for a few months. Despite the temporary interruption, I’d do my best to enjoy it all.
“You remember when I set you up for that goal in the cup semi-final?” Gabe asked his friend.
“Aye, and we’d have won the final if I hadn’t been suspended.”
“For punching an opponent, if I recall.”
Dan flapped a dismissive hand but smirked, all proud. “For pushing you off the ball. The blind ref missed it … didn’t miss me flooring him though, funny that.” Their accents were identical, with every word pronounced and inflected in the same way, which I thought sweet and evidence to their proximity growing up.
I was happy to let them reminisce as I sat back and ordered more beers for the table, pushing aside the empty plates when they arrived. It seemed to me, as they discussed classroom mischief, playground incidents and even more football team near glory that theirs was a relationship dominated by Dan, who was clearly the alpha to Gabe’s beta, except now they’d grown up and gone their separate ways. Gabe was the one who’d grabbed his own life by the balls, so to speak, and taken the route he wanted whilst Dan, from what I could tell, was a bit of a drifter, working as a welder before leaving home with almost no money to his name, to travel the world doing the odd job whenever a couch or floor was available. He told me he could also play the guitar and had survived the first year busking in every far-flung corner of the planet.
“And where’s your guitar now?” I imagined sing-songs around a campfire as Gabe and I drank with strangers from a dozen different countries. It would probably make tolerating him easier.
“G string snapped.” Was all the reply he gave, leaving me wondering why he didn’t just get a new one, enabling him to continue busking and thus earning to fund his travels.
The conversation returned to football and I blanked out, recalling in my own head taking Gabe aside to complain about my earlier treatment. “Did you hear how that bitch spoke to me?” I�
��d asked after stamping back inside the hostel.
“No,” he shrugged, “the glass is pretty thick but I saw you trip over that dog.”
“I did not trip over that bloody dog.” I stamped my foot, hurt it on the tile and cursed my ridiculously thin flip flops, as well as almost the entirety of the trip up to this point. “If you think I’m spending even one night near that … girl, or whatever it is then you’re mistaken. So let’s buy some food, cook it, eat it, maybe see something of this city and go to bed.”
He knew my moods and how to treat me when I was being like this, which was why he’d rubbed my arm and spoke soothingly. “It sounds wonderful, Frey, but you did promise me one night with Dan, one decent meal out somewhere and just look at him,” he nodded toward the huge plate glass window that revealed Dan stooping down, head poking through the car window as he seemed to be placating the bitch squatting inside, “you see?” He rubbed his face, “I’ve never seen him so thin and I’m worried. He’s been travelling so long on too small a budget.” Perhaps he could teach Gabe a thing or two. “The man needs a good meal and I’m paying and I’m gonna make sure he sits there and eats the lot. But please come…” he said hurriedly, “it’d mean the world to me if you could get to know my best mate.”
I’d bit my bottom lip and drawn it out for effect, knowing full well I wasn’t about to wander the streets of Bordeaux all alone, but he didn’t need to know that. “Ok but only on the proviso that you buy him a razor blade and that whoever it is in that vehicle does not come,” I spoke with conviction on that last point and Gabe knew better than to challenge me on it.