But right now I’m feeling like one of them Failed Men, only don’t farking bother ploughing me up. Cause there ain’t gonna be no nailing taking place this afternoon, not with this pace of drinking any roads. — Same again, señorita! I shout at the waitress.
So as I slide back into a mire of despondency, she starts recounting the tale. — I met Costas back on the island where my father, who is chief of police, was able to advise him on how to play this detective.
All I can do is smile through my disappointment and nod like a fucking muppet as the drinks slide down.
After the tale, she gives me one of them looks and says, — You are a good man, Michael, loyal and faithful. What was it your friend said back in Athens? ‘He shines like a diamond fountain.’
— Diamond geezer, I correct her. — That was Billy Guthrie, bless him, I say, and I’m starting to feel the drink, so I clink glasses. — Diamond fountain of love, gel, that’s me.
Reminds me that I must call Bill, see how he is. He wasn’t well for a bit. Packed in the drink, then lost a bollock in a freak paintballing accident. So much for harmless sport. Don’t know what the fuck he was up to, mind you, surely some abuse of the old equipment going on there. That’s what being off the booze does for ya.
Not that we’d know much about that here. Seph’s looking well trolleyed. She can’t decide whether or not she wants a cigarette. She takes one out from her packet, then puts it back in. — You would have been a good man to marry, but in men of your age the seed is likely to be spent, my father says, she kindly informs me. — The gift I must give to him is that of a grandson. My three sisters all have daughters.
— Oi! I protest. — I don’t think I like this spent seed bit.
— Your child is also a girl.
— That don’t mean nothing.
She gives me a knowing look, which, given our history, chuffs me no end. — But it means that you are a man; that is for sure. My father is the same. He once said to me that all the stuff of man-ness has gone into him, there was nothing left over for his offspring. But I know that a grandson would warm his heart and some day I will give him one.
I’m thinking: I’d like to give you one. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s the booze, but a nailing is absolute priority.
— Costas and I will live in England, close to London, she says, finally lighting up a ciggy and sticking the pack and lighter back into her bag. — He will improve his English and find acting work, while I study. Then we will have sons, many Greek sons, she smiles and raises her glass, forcing me to toast.
I’m thinking that we ain’t got much time if she wants a bottling fitted in, but then she explains that she’s waiting on Costas, making me feel a right cunt. I set up more drinks.
Baker ain’t sticking no bun in an oven here.
Costas finally shows up. He’s a skinny bloke with blond hair, looks more like a farking Swede than a Greek, and he’s got a nervous way about him. First impressions ain’t always right but he don’t look the sort of geezer what’s gonna settle down and breed a load of Finsbury Park kebab cutters.
Seph intros us and he looks shiftily at me, then her. Something’s up here.
— Alright, Cost? How goes the movie business?
Seph decides she’s gonna go to the shop to get some stuff. — I will leave you boys for a while to get to know each other, she smiles, happy as a fly in shit.
Sure enough, Costas ain’t slow in opening up to me. — The woman is crazy. She thinks that we’re getting married. Huh! Her father caught me dealing cocaine to tourists on their island. He threatened to have me locked up if I didn’t go along with her crazy scheme. Said he had police contacts all over Greece and would make my life miserable. London would be nice for my career, but…
— A lovely gel, don’t get me wrong, but she’s a few bob short of the big note, if you get my drift.
Costas pulls a grim smile, and throws down the bulk of a rum and Coke. His face is tense and sweaty. He lets the tumbler hit the table in a heavy bang, which attracts the waitress, and he signals another two up. — In Greece we say that some sheep may be missing from the flock.
I nod in total sincerity. Costas ain’t a happy camper. He’s been made a proper Herbert. Herbertitis A, I would say. I’m warming to the geezer, though. — Her father asked me about my family. If I had brothers. For sure, I tell him, six of them, and no sisters. His face expands into the grin of a reptile. Later on he… he shakes his head and shudders in the heat and the waitress brings more drinks.
— Wot?
— He tries to touch me, he spits, outraged. — Like I was a bitch.
— Wot happened?
Old Cost fairly bursts into a rant. — I push him away. He says, ‘That is good. You are a man.’ They are crazy: the whole family. I have to get away from them all. My shooting time here has wrapped up today, but I have not told her that. Tomorrow I will go to London and stay with my uncle. Away from the crazy bitch and her fascist homosexual father. Did you know that he even gave me the ring to give to her? Picked it himself. Diamond and sapphire. For his daughter’s eyes, he said. It is he himself who should be fucking her. When you hear them talk it is like that is what they both want!
I’ve listened more attentively than any man should to a broadside delivered at that velocity. — It don’t look good at all. I drum my fingers on the table. — I’d scarper, mate, and pretty sharpish. What’s it the Yanks say: get the fark outta Dodge!
Cost leans closer to me, reeking of old fags, booze and garlic. — I plan to do this. The only thing that worries me is what she will do! She is crazy, I tell you!
I think about this one. — Leave that to me, mate. It needs an Englishman’s touch; stiff upper lip, keeping calm when all those around you are losing the plot. Think John Mills, Kenneth More and all that mob, I wink, giving it a little chorus of Dam Busters.
So when Seph returns, Costas tells her that he got a call to go back on set. She pouts a little, but he silences her with a kiss. I like it. I see a pro at work. As he goes, he slips me a little note that I’ll give to her later. And hopefully, it won’t be all that I give her. I slide it into my chinos pocket.
I’m pretty farked as Seph and I head for Worthy’s place. She’s been brighter n all, cause the drinks are fairly kicking in. — Actors are so dedicated. It is their craft, she slurs.
— Yeah. It’s a tough job, I tell her, holding the door of the Cumbria open, gentleman-style, to let her in. — They’d be very hard to replace if they ever went on strike. The global economy would be well farked. What would we evah do without the likes of Tom Cruise?
She punches me jokingly on the arm as we step inside the boozer and I immediately clock Pete Worth, looking all buff and tanned, like a big farking blouse. He sees me at the same time and is coming out from behind the bar. — Alroight, sahn! Looking a bit paunchy, he goes, prodding my gut.
— Ain’t got time to be in the gym twenty-four/seven like some. You steroided up or wot? I ask, grabbing his bulging bicep. — The old bollocks must be the size of dried peas by now!
— At least I’ll be able to see em without the use of a mirror, you cahnt, he laughs and before I know what I’m doing, I’m sucking it in a little. It’s all this hanging out with Cynth. The follow-up to passive smoking: passive calorie absorption.
Worthy don’t notice though, as his eyes are elsewhere. — And who is this little beauty? Alright, darlin?