Andre’s tongue flicked out, licking his lips. “I can see why. You are a lovely thing…”
Liz, behind the bar, giggled.
“Anyway,” said Andre, still shamelessly staring, “you can all go. I’ll close up.”
Nat and Liz looked at each other.
“Why?” asked Nat. “You told me to make up that twenty minutes and there’s still customers.” She gestured towards the few remaining tables. Simon nervously shifted from foot to foot, pretending to study the bottles lining the shelves behind the bar.
“That was before Roberto called, my dear,” said Andre, clapping his hands together and squeezing them. “He’s forgiven me, the beautiful, beautiful man!”
Nat didn’t know what Andre had done to spark an argument with his partner, nor did she want to know. “Are you sure? What about the customers?”
“I’ll deal with them,” he replied. “Now shoo! All of you!” He waved his hands impatiently again and passed Liz to get behind the bar. He crouched in front of the wine racks and slid the bottles out one at a time, reading the labels. Liz looked over at Nat, shrugged her shoulders and walked into the kitchen.
“I guess I can go then,” said Nat. “Let me get my coat.”
“Should I just wait here?” asked Simon.
“Yeah.” She leaned into him, bringing her mouth close to his ear. “That is, if you’re not afraid of being left alone with your new admirer.”
“I’m sure I can manage,” he said, a small, cheeky smile blossoming on his face.
4.
“Happy anniversary,” said Simon, taking her hand as they walked down the street. “Thought we could go to The Fourth Dimension for a change of scene as it’s a special night. It serves great cocktails and it’s only a few streets away.”
“The Fourth Dimension?” said Nat. “Sounds groovy!”
“I haven’t taken you before?” asked Simon. “Come on, you’ll love it.”
They turned another corner and nearly walked into a man standing on the pavement. Simon tugged on her hand, pulling Nat away from him and guiding her towards the road.
The man, scruffy with heavy stubble and staring eyes, watched them walk past. He scratched the front of his jumper. It had multicoloured vertical stripes and seemed too cheerful and creepy on such a scary looking man. He began to whistle a merry tune.
“Come on,” Simon whispered, pulling Nat along. She allowed herself to be led across the road, away from the strange whistler.
They quickened their pace to the end of the short street and just before they turned, Nat glimpsed back.
The man remained standing in the same spot, watching them.
Simon nodded politely to the mountain behind the bar as they entered. The man, with skin the colour of hot chocolate, gave a small wave back, the golden bands around his wrist jangling together.
“You know him?” asked Nat.
“Just in passing,” said Simon, directing her to a booth near the windows. “It’s better to be on the good side of Bubba Hempshead when drinking in his bar. Once, a fella had too many and began shouting his mouth off. Bubba warned him but the guy carried on. He started throwing glasses.”
They sat down in a booth of dark wood with red curtains separating them from their neighbours.
“What happened?”
Simon glanced over to where Bubba stood and lowered his voice.
“We thought Bubba would have ripped his head off if he hadn’t been pulled back. You gotta treat this place with respect. It’s his baby.”
“Shit,” hissed Nat. “And there was me planning to dance on the tables in these heels. Oh well…”
Simon swatted her playfully on the arm. “What’re you having?”
“You’ve been here before,” she said. “You choose, but make it exciting.”
“I’ll see what old Bubba can rustle up,” he said, sliding across the aged fabric of the seats that matched the red curtains. Nat watched him approach the bar. The wide hulk of Bubba Hempshead stared at him through dangling dreadlocks.
“Rather you than me,” she said under her breath, “but at least he has taste in hairstyles.” Twirling a dreadlock of her own, she looked around the small bar. It wasn’t quite what she expected. The decoration was haphazard, with posters advertising local bands, old movies and many different brands of beer and spirits. These posters had been piled on top of each other and looked three or four layers thick in some places. Ancient sofas dominated the centre of the room with small tables at each end containing short candles. The bar was chaotic, crammed to bursting with various bottles on numerous shelves. Comparing it to the sterile order and neatness of the bar in Ginelli’s, Nat loved its quirkiness. The only disappointment was the lack of a surfer type guy sitting in the corner strumming an acoustic, or a beatnik with a beret and goatee, armed with a poetry book and bongos. Still, it felt nice and cosy.
Simon ordered the drinks. An older woman sitting at the bar leaned over and started chatting.
Please, thought Nat. Put it away, honey.
The woman wore a skirt that ended just above her knees. Even from the back booths Nat saw a network of veins and wrinkles on her exposed legs, like dark blue worms living under her skin. Her tiny top, probably worn to show off her ample bosom, revealed how they sagged, resting above her stomach. The woman’s hair, messy and turning white, hung down to her shoulders, looking like a weave of straw and cotton wool. Even through the scents of the bar, Nat was sure she smelled the woman’s sharp perfume from the other side of the room.
Bubba turned, clutching two dainty glasses in each coconut-sized fist. He delicately placed them on the worn bar before Simon, who removed a note from his jeans’ pocket and paid. The woman patted him on the forearm and said something as he picked up the drinks. Simon laughed politely and said something back before returning to the table.
“Looks like you have another admirer,” said Nat, faking jealousy. “How long has this been going on?”
Simon looked over at the old woman before sitting down to face Nat.
“That’s Agnes,” he said. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen her before. She’s always hanging around this part of the city and, well, everyone knows her. Like Bubba…and me! We’re all legends in these parts.”
Nat wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure. I just don’t like the way you look at her.”
“What? Like this?” asked Simon, rolling his eyes and opening his mouth in a horrified, silent scream.
“Yeah,” said Nat. “She gets all the attention…”
They both lasted a few seconds before bursting into laughter. Simon reached over and took her hand.
“You’re so cruel sometimes.”
“Says you, pulling the face,” said Nat, still laughing.
Bubba glanced over and, shaking his head, returned to his duties about the bar. Agnes looked around and, finding the barman with her glazed eyes, tried to start a conversation.
“So what are these then?” Nat asked, nodding to the drinks. She didn’t like the disapproving looks from Bubba and wanted to keep her head attached, so directed the conversation away from the ol’ whore at the bar.
Simon’s eyes lowered to the glasses.
“This one,” he said, pointing to a frothy blue concoction, “is a Tranquility. Made from curaçao, vodka and other stuff that I couldn’t read the labels of. It’s strong, but meant to chill you out and calm you down. I got it for you.”
“I wonder why?” said Nat with a smile. “And what have you got?”
“A Rainbow Ride,” he said.
Nat studied the glass containing a black liquid. It looked like flat cola.
“Doesn’t look very rainbow-esque to me,” she said, picking up her Tranquility.
“Yeah,” agreed Simon, turning the glass on the table and examining its other dark sides. “I did wonder when he put it on the bar.”
“Maybe it’s supposed to be ironic,” said Nat, taking a drink from her glass. It tasted fruity with a very slight tang o
f alcohol. She licked her lips.
“Good?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I can get you something else if you like.”
She squeezed his hand.
“I said it was good! Jeez, maybe you should have had the chill out drink.” She smiled.
Simon’s face flushed red and he stared into the black depths of his glass.
A warm feeling spread through Nat’s chest, and she tilted her head to watch him longer. It was moments like this, when he still tried so hard after all this time together, that made her feel for him. Other guys were only interested with what lay in her pants, and once that little mystery was over, you couldn’t see them for dust. Simon was different. It had been months since that first time, and he was still here, still trying so damn hard to impress her and make her feel comfortable. Enjoying the way his fringe hung down to hide his blazing face, Nat felt her heart race.
Whoa, she thought. This Tranquillity doesn’t waste any time!
Hell, it’s our anniversary. I’m allowed to go all mushy.
“I’m glad we managed to get out after all,” said Simon, staring thoughtfully into the contents of his glass. “I was worried when you said you had to work. But anyway, it’s been one year. One whole year…”
“No fooling you and your calendar,” said Nat and sipped her drink. “What’s brought this on? You’ve never seemed the type for speeches.”
His grip on her hand tightened, and he began to stroke her skin with his thumb.
“I’ve just had a lot on my mind of late. The right person can…change a guy, is all. The other day I was remembering all the crazy shit I used to get up to, I mean, some of the stuff…” He shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe it. With you, it all feels so long ago. None of it matters anymore.”
“Are you trying to tell me you’re a psycho?”
Simon blinked in surprise. “Yes. Will you still have me?”
Nat leaned across the table. “Of course,” she said and kissed him on the lips. “But as your psycho manager, I have to insist that you take a Nat twice a day to manage your mood swings.”
Simon kissed her back. “Done.”
The door opened, allowing a chilly gust of night air to breeze past them. Nat shivered.
A tall man in a long leather jacket stepped inside and peered around the small bar. Nat guessed he was probably around the same age as her, but his stark white hair leant him an older appearance. He smiled, and a second chill chased up Nat’s spine. Three other guys entered behind him, laughing and poking each other. The man with the white hair glanced over, and the smile slid from his face. He frowned.
“Simon?” he said and walked towards their table. “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”
Nat looked back to her boyfriend, who sat bolt upright in his seat. His eyes locked onto the stranger. His hand tightened around hers.
The man arrived at their table. His friends immediately migrated to the bar. Bubba observed them with cold malice.
“Well?” said the stranger. “Aren’t you at least going to say hello?”
“Erm…” said Simon, his bottom lip trembling slightly. “Hi, Johan. Been a while, I suppose.”
“Too long.” His grey gaze drifted across the table.
Nat looked down.
Their uninvited guest grinned.
“And who’s this gorgeous thing? No wonder we don’t see you around. I’m Johan.” He extended a hand, and Nat briefly shook it. “I bet this guy has never mentioned me, right?”
“Right,” said Nat.
Johan held her hand a little long for her liking, and she eased it from his grip. Simon fidgeted in his seat.
“You okay, pal?” asked Johan, grabbing him lightly on the shoulder and giving him a friendly shake. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”
“I’m fine, really…” Simon started, looking at Nat.
Johan lowered his hand and stepped back. He glanced at each of them and pointed to the drinks on the table.
“I get it. Some friend I am barging in on such a romantic evening.” He stared at both of them expectantly. Nat gave a polite smile while Simon reached down and gulped from his Rainbow Ride. “Okay, I get the hint. I’ll be staying for a few with the boys over by the bar. If you want to come and catch up, feel free.” His gaze lingered on Simon for a second before he turned to Nat. “Have a pleasant evening.”
“I’m sure we will,” she replied.
Johan turned away and walked past the leather sofas to join his friends at the bar. Bubba had poured their drinks and watched them closely.
Nat kicked Simon under the table.
“Ow!” he hissed. “What was that for?”
“That was rude,” said Nat, keeping her voice down. “You hardly said a word.”
“I have my reasons,” he replied, turning to watch them. “Never thought they’d come in here…”
“What?”
“Nothing.” He sighed and turned back to Nat, taking a second and larger swig from his drink.
“Well, who is he?” Nat pressed. “He’s obviously done something to upset you. You’ve gone all weird.”
“It’s nothing!” he snapped.
“Obviously, it is.” She took hold of both glasses on the table and swapped them around.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You sound like you need some Tranquillity.”
“I do. Thanks.” He sipped. “Sorry.”
“Forget it. It should be me that’s sorry. If you don’t want to talk about it, I shouldn’t have pestered you.” She laid her hand on the table again, and Simon quickly grasped it. He gazed back across the bar.
“They’re just a group I knew years back,” he said. “We had a falling-out.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t worry.”
Raucous laughter shattered the previously chilled out atmosphere of the bar. Nat noticed Agnes necking a green drink from a narrow glass. Johan’s three friends whooped and cheered.
“At least Agnes seems to be enjoying their company,” said Nat. She winked. “Not jealous are you?”
“No,” Simon said quietly. “No, I’m not.” Nat noticed he’d begun to chew his bottom lip.
“I can’t believe she drank that!” cried Johan’s fat friend.
“Let’s get her another!” shouted the blond with the long hair. Johan himself leaned against the bar, silently observing.
“They’re gonna have to be careful,” said Nat. “I think Bubba is about to bust a blood vessel.”
Bubba stood at the end of the bar, his eyes locked on the group. His nostrils flared as he exhaled.
Agnes rose from her stool, swayed slightly, and raised her glass. “Barkeep!” she slurred. “G’is me ‘nother! These lovely yun’ men’s buyin’ me.” This made Johan’s group burst into more laughter. “Was you laughin’ at?”
She staggered forwards into Johan’s fat friend. Still laughing, he grabbed her by the waist and held her up. She leaned against him.
“Go on, Kev,” said the one in glasses. “Give her one!”
This sent them all into hysterics again, apart from Johan, who merely smiled.
“Is okay,” said Agnes, pushing herself away. She lurched towards the door. “I bes’ be goin’ anyway.” She paused and took a deep breath, her eyes closing and opening. “I ‘as got fings to do…”
“I can imagine,” said the fatty, making a crude gesture with his right hand.
“That be it,” said Bubba, stepping forwards and casting his shadow on the boys. “Time for you to get to walkin’.”
Nat watched from the booth. Bubba sounded like she’d imagined. He had a booming voice with a Jamaican accent.
“I won’t be standin’ for dat in ’ere.”
Agnes pulled open the door and walked through, banging her hip on the frame. The door slammed shut behind her.
“What’s your problem?” asked the muscular guy with long hair. Although pretty built, Nat didn’t fancy his chances aga
inst the human tank. “We’re only having a laugh!”
“Leave it, Richie,” advised Johan.
Bubba stepped forwards, cracking his knuckles. “I won’t be askin’ you boys again.”
“You should treat your customers a little better,” said Richie, squaring up to the behemoth. “We’ve come in here to pay your goddamn wages.”
“Richie!” Johan snapped. He turned to Bubba. “I apologise for my friend here. He has a problem holding his drink.” He slapped a twenty pound note on the bar.
“But…”
“Don’t you, Richie?” Johan glared at him, cutting off his protests, before turning back to Bubba. “I’m sorry for the trouble.”
“But, Johan,” started his fat friend, gesturing to his full drink still waiting on the bar. “Can’t we just…”
Johan stared at him. “No. We can’t.” He zipped up his leather coat and headed towards the door. “There are other ways we can amuse ourselves.”
Fat boy picked up his drink and tried to neck the contents. A growl from Bubba, and he quickly placed it back down.
Johan reached the door and held it wide. “Gentlemen?”
The remaining three followed in a group.
“Don’t know why we came in here in the first place,” muttered blondy, walking past Bubba.
Johan glanced over to where Nat and Simon were sitting. “See you around. Don’t leave it so long next time, friend.”
Simon’s body stiffened.
“See you,” he replied.
Johan allowed his three comrades to exit the bar. He winked at Nat and stepped out himself. The room returned to quiet, the few drinkers watching the door. With a grin, Bubba shook his head and moved back behind the bar. One by one, the patrons resumed their hushed conversations.
Nat sipped her drink and looked up at Simon.
“Glad that’s over with,” she said with a nervous laugh. “I thought they were going to be ripped limb from limb.”
“Mmm,” said Simon, sounding uninterested.
“You okay? I mean, whatever happened between you and them, they’ve gone, so forget about it. We should go back to before they came in; pretend it never happened.”
Mother's Boys Page 4