The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene

by David Carter

  She couldn’t have told you why she was so certain he was the one; it came from some deep subliminal message transmitted from cells hidden deep within her body, an area that no one could ever see or access. The fact that he hadn’t hesitated to ring her, only served to reaffirm her judgment.

  He was naked now, this crazy bandit, making his way around to the side of the bed, crawling onto the bed, coming ever closer, edging towards her, his eyes wild and unblinking, coming at her like a gigantic gorilla, a dark man, a hairy guy, and then he said something quite crass, something that on another night might have brought everything to a crushing halt: ‘I’ve always wanted to shaft the taxman.’

  But she was not about to let one silly remark spoil everything, not on this night of nights.

  ‘In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a man.’

  ‘Oh, I’ve noticed that all right, I noticed it the first moment I set eyes on you.’

  He thought she looked like a doll, white, fragile, her perfect skin reminding him of the smooth china cups in her office, as if any pressure might break her, might destroy her. In moments such as these it is weird the crazy thoughts that occasionally enter the mind… she came across as one kind young woman, more than that, she was extremely feminine. That wasn’t quite accurate. She wasn’t extremely feminine at all; she was the ultimate in femininity.

  His big hands surrounded her head, clasping it firmly, holding it steady; holding her. His lips encircled her lips. His body enveloped hers completely. She ran her fingers through his thick hair; then grasped his buttocks. She had waited so patiently and for so long for this precise moment.

  Where have you been, Gringo Greene?

  Thirty-Two

  He was back in his own bed by 3.00am. He didn’t immediately fall asleep. He was still thinking about her. He couldn’t quite believe what had happened. How does a pretty girl like Julie reach thirty years of age and still be a…

  He blew out hard. Why hadn’t she told him? Oddly, he felt no great sense of achievement; just the opposite was nearer the mark. Thinking back on it now, the thing that pleased him most was that as he kissed her goodnight, standing just inside her front door, she readily agreed to meet him again on Thursday. Truth was; Gringo was looking forward to it more than he had to any date in months. He turned over and hugged his shoulders and figured he owed her something, but what, and when, and where? What do you give a woman who’s just given you that?

  In the morning Melanie brought him reams of paperwork at just gone ten.

  ‘You all right?’ he said.

  ‘Great,’ she said, slipping down into the chair.

  ‘Fancy lunch?’

  She bobbed her head and said, ‘Yeah, okay, I’ll meet you outside the wine bar at half twelve.’

  ‘Done,’ he said, ‘See you later.’

  Maybe she didn’t want to be seen leaving the office with him. That was cool; he didn’t have a problem with it.

  As it turned out she was waiting just inside the wine bar door. He took her arm and led her inside. Naomi Skeets and the gang were all on parade, grinning and greeting all comers, ever anxious to relieve them of their hard earned cash. Gringo and Melanie grabbed the same table as before and ordered identical food.

  ‘How is it you always look so knackered on a Monday?’

  ‘Why do you think?’ he answered, fleetingly thinking of the events that went down on the Harcourt Estate.

  ‘You are a terrible man.’

  ‘No, I’m not, just an active one,’ and he smirked at her and she grinned back. Then she said: ‘You know what you were asking me about Richie Henderson.’

  ‘Yeah,’ and suddenly he was back on alert for he didn’t like the turn in the conversation.

  ‘Well, you were right, and I didn’t like lying to you, Gringo. As a matter of fact I don’t like lying to anybody, but I did know Richie before. It was years ago when I was still a kid, eighteen or nineteen, we went out a couple of times, oh nothing much happened, just a kiss and a grope on the way home, you know how it is, he was seeing someone else at the time, but don’t get me wrong, I’d have liked it to have gone much further, I admit that, but he let me down gently afterwards, and we went our separate ways, and the last I heard, he’d married some blonde piece with big tits.’

  Melanie didn’t appear to notice the irony in that statement, for she was a blonde piece with big tits, leastways she was in Gringo’s eyes, the archetypal blonde with big hooters, but no matter.

  ‘I see,’ said Gringo. ‘Does he know you’re married to Brian?’

  ‘He does now.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I rang him up and told him.’

  ‘You did what!’

  ‘I rang him up and told him.’

  ‘Why, for Chrissakes?’

  ‘Because I told him if he ever mentioned a word about seeing us together, you and me, to another living soul, I would tell the world everything I know about him.’

  ‘And you’re not going to tell me what that is?’

  ‘Nope. Let’s just say it’s got something to do with the figure sixteen.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Melanie pursed her lips and bobbed her head and said ‘Let’s change the subject, eh?’

  ‘Sure, what do you want to talk about?’ said Gringo.

  ‘I’m sorry I had a go at you about Becky the other day, I never really thought you’d be interested in a kid like her.’

  ‘Course not.’

  How could I be, he thought. She’s young and slim and pretty and vivacious and sexy and mischievous, and just happens to have a cracking body, how could any man be interested in a nubile girl like Becky Walker, and more to the point, how could any woman think that any man wouldn’t be?

  ‘I don’t know what you said to her the other day but she was mighty upset afterwards.’

  ‘Good! So she should be.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me what went down between you two?’

  ‘Nope, let’s just say it’s got something to do with the figure zero.’

  ‘Touché, Mister Greene.’

  There was a brief break in the chat so Gringo seized the moment to remind his eyes at how beautiful she was. She soon picked up that particular look in his eye and knew full well what was coming next. He closed on her and attempted a kiss. She turned away.

  ‘No, Gringo, not now, not here.’

  The all-seeing Naomi’s eyes didn’t miss the rebuff. The odd thing was it gave her a thrill to see the guy with the droopy muzzy failing to land a kiss. She figured the blonde was married and Gringo was her boss, and that he thought she’d make a fine little thing on the side, which no doubt she would, but it was good to see the males occasionally spurned in that way. It would make them try all the harder, it might even bring the bloke to his senses.

  If he didn’t marry that cute Asian girl he was knocking about with and make her his own he was missing a trick, big time, so Naomi thought anyhow, for if she herself had been a man, she would have married the kid without a second thought, and the very idea of that, a honeymoon in the Seychelles alone for two whole weeks with that Asian babe, naked and sprawled out on some grass bed somewhere, well it didn’t get much better than that.

  ‘Time’s up,’ said Gringo, glancing at his watch.

  ‘Ta for the lunch, and the chat,’ said Melanie, getting her things together.

  ‘Do it again sometime?’

  ‘Course Gringo, I’ve told you before, my lunchtimes are your times, anytime you want.’

  That perked him up and compensated for the stupid attempted missed kiss, as they walked back to the office, Mel heading for the Ladies first, ensuring they didn’t go in together.

  Ten minutes later back at his desk the phone rang.

  ‘Good afternoon, Kevin, it’s Michael.’

  It took Gringo a moment or two to realise it was Solomon, his boss.

  ‘Just a second,’ Gringo said, and he leant over and closed the door.

  ‘So, Kevin, how did you g
et on?’

  ‘It was a very difficult meeting.’

  ‘We thought it might be.’

  I’ll bet you did, you sneaky bastard, thought Gringo.

  ‘Well it was; high octane.’

  ‘I suppose she was a real ogress.’

  ‘Oh my, she was that. Big and ugly and old and horrible,’ and as he said those words an image of Ms Cairncross lying naked on her bed swept into Gringo’s mind.

  ‘Yes, well, I am sure you managed.’

  ‘I may have managed, but there are bound to be ramifications.’

  ‘Ramifications? In what way?’

  ‘Someone has to be held accountable, they say, they are most insistent on that, someone could face prosecution. Someone could even go to prison.’

  ‘I see.’ There was a short silence and then Soloman began speaking again. ‘The company’s view is that we should try and avoid any tainting of senior management at all costs.’

  At all costs. I’ll bet. No, that’s your view, you schmuck.

  ‘That might be possible,’ said Gringo, suddenly enjoying hearing his boss squirm. ‘But if I am to go down for this, I want suitable recompense.’

  ‘That might be possible.’

  ‘I need something more concrete than that.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as 20K.’

  ‘Mmm, well I wouldn’t rule that out altogether.’

  Gringo’s newfound courage had been spurred by information and hints dropped his way by his two financial women. Maria had been enormously helpful providing accurate data on how these things had been resolved in similar cases that Emberdy’s had dealt with, while Julie, don’t mention work under any circumstances, had whispered to him as they embraced in the hall: Don’t worry too much on a personal basis, in the end it’s the firm they will go for.

  ‘I want that in writing on my desk by Wednesday.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

  ‘Thank you, Michael.’

  The phone went dead and Gringo grinned to himself. He formed his right hand; his neatly manicured fingers, into a childish pistol, and fired at the ceiling and blew imaginary smoke rings from the barrel.

  The phone rang again. That was quick. Back already. What did the creep want now?

  ‘Reach for the sky, man, reach for the sky.’

  ‘Hi, Paul, how’s it going?’

  ‘Great. You?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better.’

  In a typically jerky Paul-ish conversation they arranged to meet in Naughton’s bar at half six, both understanding it would be an hour long meet at best.

  Unsurprisingly Paul was late, but stalked into the bar at quarter past. Gringo bought him a pint and they remained standing at the bar.

  ‘I have more news on the wedding front, but before I spill, do you mind if I ask you a personal question?’

  Gringo couldn’t imagine what was coming next, but nodded Paul onward.

  ‘What religion are you, bud?’

  ‘None really, the family was always C of E, but we haven’t been to a proper service, not counting weddings and funerals, for oh, it must be twenty years. Why?’

  Paul ignored his question and said, ‘Well that’s not too far removed from reality. We’re Methodists, you see, always have been, always will be, mother still goes every week, dad and I tag along to the fairs, there’s always something on at the weekend, boot sale, book sale, plant sale, record sale, jumble sale, cake sale, you know how it is.’

  Gringo didn’t know really, and still had no idea where this thread was heading.

  ‘It’s the tart, you see, she’s Press-bee-teerian.’

  That’s how he said it, Press-bee-teerian.

  ‘Is she? So what?’

  ‘Well they’re a weird bunch, aren’t they?’

  ‘Are they?’ Gringo didn’t have a clue.

  ‘But we can’t change any of that, so we have to go with the flow. It’s a Press-bee-teerian wedding for me. Mother doesn’t like it, but there we are. The bride chooses the pitch after all and that’s the end of it. You know the place, don’t you, that red stone monstrosity at the top of the hill.’

  Strangely enough, Gringo did know the place. It was just three blocks along from Rosefield Antiques, you couldn’t really miss it, the red stone conspicuous because it was the only building in the district built of that material.

  ‘The point is, there’s an evening run through, rehearsal if you like, a week on Tuesday, and we’d like it if you could be there, say 7.30.’

  Gringo nodded slowly. ‘Yeah, don’t see why not.’

  ‘Knew you’d understand,’ said Paul, buying another round. ‘But enough about me; how goes things with you?’

  Gringo smirked. ‘I have a new woman.’ For once he was glad to talk to someone about his increasingly complicated private life. He knew that Paul could be relied on not to broadcast his affairs across the county, though there was now the added complication of wondering where Kay fitted into the equation, especially when it came to love gossip.

  ‘No! You haven’t dumped the Asian Chick, have you? Does that mean she won’t be coming to the wedding?’

  ‘No, don’t sweat, Paul; I haven’t dumped the Asian chick.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  It seemed oddly important to Paul that Maria attended his wedding, and then Paul said, ‘So you’re running a second team?’

  Gringo grinned and nodded.

  ‘Where did you meet her?’

  ‘At the car promotion.’

  ‘Bugger me! People always say those car do’s are great pick up points, but I’ve never found that.’

  Gringo didn’t like to comment.

  ‘So come on, what’s she like?’

  ‘She’s… she’s… very different.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She’s older than me for a start.’

  ‘How old?’

  ‘I am not sure, somewhere between 45 and 50.’

  ‘Come on man! That’s old. You are not seriously thinking of dumping Maria for that.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but I’m going to keep seeing her, she’s fab!’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘She can’t seem to get enough of me.’

  ‘Is that all? Women of that age are always like that. Maybe they think it’s their last hurrah.’

  ‘No, that isn’t all.’

  ‘So what else?’

  ‘Well, when I’m with her, I mean really with her, you know, she seems to totally envelop me.’

  ‘You mean, she’s fat!’

  ‘Not, she isn’t fat, that’s the strange thing.’

  ‘I’m not sure I follow.’

  ‘I’m not sure I do myself.’

  ‘So where do you see this old woman.’

  ‘She isn’t old. Don’t say that. She has this cottage in the country; we’re going down there again this weekend.’

  ‘You want to be careful, if Maria finds out; she’ll give you the bullet.’

  ‘Maybe, but do you want to hear the worst of it?’

  ‘There’s more?’

  Gringo nodded again.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘I’ve got a new woman.’

  ‘You’ve just told me that.’

  ‘No, I mean a new new woman.’

  ‘Another one? A third one?’

  Gringo smirked and bobbed his head and sipped his beer, revelling in his current success with the ladies.

  ‘Christ, man, running a string of reserves is one bad karma, but a third team too, that’s the pits. Where do get the energy, and who is she anyway?’

  ‘You know I told you we had this problem with the tax people.’

  ‘Sure, you said you had a big meet with them.’

  ‘Well, I’m now shafting the taxman.’

  ‘Jeez, I hope you mean, woman.’

  ‘Oh yes, Julie’s a woman all right, and she was a…’

  Gringo checked himself. That was one fine detail that Paul did not need to know a
bout.

  ‘And you’re seeing her again?’

  ‘Too right.’

  ‘I don’t know what to say, Gringo.’

  ‘I don’t have a problem with it, not really.’

  ‘You know what’s going to happen, don’t you? One or other, or all three, are going to find out, and then the shit will really hit the fan.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t want to stop seeing any of them. I like them all. They are all quite different. They all have something to offer, something I want, something I need.’

  ‘Just remember which side of the bread is buttered, mate, Maria is fab, everyone knows that, and you’d be crazy to spoil what you have with her.’

  ‘You might be right.’

  ‘I am right.’

  Paul sipped his drink and thought about his friend’s predicament, something that would never happen to him in a thousand years, and then he said: ‘Don’t you ever get mixed up with which one you are with, say by calling Maria, Julie, or something like that?’

  ‘No, there’s an age old solution to that.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Always call them darling, they love it, and you can’t go wrong.’

  That at least made some sense. Paul would file that titbit of information away for future use, just in case he should by some miracle find himself in a similar situation. He glanced at his watch.

  ‘Do you ever think of one of them when you are screwing another?’

  ‘Nope,’ said Gringo, glancing around the bar to see if there was any new flesh in the place. ‘In my experience that isn’t possible. I am so busy concentrating on what I’m doing; I don’t have time for anything else.’

  ‘Yeah, course,’ agreed Paul, anxious to appear as knowledgeable on the subject as his friend.

  ‘It’s quiet in here tonight.’

  Paul peered about through his heavy glasses. ‘Yeah, sure is,’ and then he said: ‘Oh shit. Sorry, I’ll have to go, Kay’s waiting.’

  Gringo rushed his drink. ‘Me too,’ and they left together, Paul still shaking his head at Gringo’s news, and outside as they parted, Paul yelled across the busy car park: ‘Goodnight darling.’