they had to have an operation - No choice.” His eyes were beginning to glaze over, perhaps in dreams of personally performing the operation, without anaesthetic.
“A little extra money wouldn’t go unappreciated,” I cautiously volunteered. In the background a woman’s sudden laugh momentarily returned our attention to Chris and Dimitri jockeying for pre-eminence in a little group by a gaming table.
“That’s good to hear, Alex, good to hear... I like you Alex. You remind me of a guy I used to know.” I couldn’t make out whether this was a corny wistful reference to himself as a young man or, a guy he used to know - some average guy who he’d met in a bar and had a drink with. Perhaps it had gone further. How was I to know? This was something I didn’t want to develop. Luckily neither did he. “.... You’re on to something, I know that much.... It may be that we can do each other a favour sometime soon.... if you don’t get your paws too dirty, that is... Stay clean, who knows...” He reached his hand into a pocket and passed across an envelope to me. I folded it and put it into my back pocket without looking at it.
“What have I got to do? Write six letters and in three years I get two million threepenny stamps.... Mint condition?”
“Nothing so complicated Alex, Old Boy,” he said in the studied impression of the English Gent that Americans seem to find so amusing.
“What then?”
“There’s a hundred dollar bills in there. Why don’t you guess what I’d like you to do - Hey, that’s it Chris Baby, go to it,” he shouted as Chris momentarily lurched towards us and then receded. I was running through a selection of crisp rent boy put-downs when he added, “.... and I’m not talking about your bum boy games.”
“Course not. A guy like you doesn’t have to pay for it.”
I thought for a while. At a signal from Frank the barman filled up our glasses from the cocktail shaker.
“Just keep an eye on him for me Alex.” He nodded back towards Chris. “... Stay with it. Once in a while let me know any new friends, anything that might interest me, like why he pushed Sandie right in front of Ronnie Forsythe... any little plans he might have for them... Why Ronnie’s gotten so edgy of late.... You know the sort of things.” I was beginning to. Or at least I was beginning to feel that I should know them. Like when the teacher says “Now is there anyone who still doesn’t understand don’t be afraid to put up your hand.” And you never do, because that’ll make you Village Idiot - Official.
“Sure Frank,” I said. “... No sweat.”
This time the wave carrying Chris brought him crashing right into our conversation.
“Frank. Don’t be so bloody boring. Come away from Alex, he’ll only depress you. Come and meet this lovely woman who keeps telling me she’s married.”
“Why Chris, don’t you know she’s only playing hard to get... Just watch the U.S. Navy in action.”
*****
It was more than a week before I heard again from Christopher. When I did it was a phone call to tell me about a party that was coming up the following weekend. I could tell he was excited about it from his manner although he was trying to play it very cool. Ever since I’d first met him he’d never stopped going on about his titled friends and influential connections. As a stud might recount his conquests so Christopher listed his famous cronies. Everyone who met him noticed it and so the impact was largely diminished - “It’s about fifty miles out of town, a friend of mine’s got a country house... Peer of the Realm actually. He said I could bring a few close friends so I thought of you, Alex.”
“Mind if I bring a friend, Chris?”
“You naughty boy, who is he?”
“Not him... her.” A slight silence.
“Is she good looking?”
“Yes.”
“How good looking?”
“A knockout.”
“Bring her then, Alex, bring her.”
I put the phone down and relaxed back into the
“A little extra money wouldn’t go unappreciated,” I cautiously volunteered. In the background a woman’s sudden laugh momentarily returned our attention to Chris and Dimitri jockeying for pre-eminence in a little group by a gaming table.
“That’s good to hear, Alex, good to hear... I like you Alex. You remind me of a guy I used to know.” I couldn’t make out whether this was a corny wistful reference to himself as a young man or, a guy he used to know - some average guy who he’d met in a bar and had a drink with. Perhaps it had gone further. How was I to know? This was something I didn’t want to develop. Luckily neither did he. “.... You’re on to something, I know that much.... It may be that we can do each other a favour sometime soon.... if you don’t get your paws too dirty, that is... Stay clean, who knows...” He reached his hand into a pocket and passed across an envelope to me. I folded it and put it into my back pocket without looking at it.
“What have I got to do? Write six letters and in three years I get two million threepenny stamps.... Mint condition?”
“Nothing so complicated Alex, Old Boy,” he said in the studied impression of the English Gent that Americans seem to find so amusing.
“What then?”
“There’s a hundred dollar bills in there. Why don’t you guess what I’d like you to do - Hey, that’s it Chris Baby, go to it,” he shouted as Chris momentarily lurched towards us and then receded. I was running through a selection of crisp rent boy put-downs when he added, “.... and I’m not talking about your bum boy games.”
“Course not. A guy like you doesn’t have to pay for it.”
I thought for a while. At a signal from Frank the barman filled up our glasses from the cocktail shaker.
“Just keep an eye on him for me Alex.” He nodded back towards Chris. “... Stay with it. Once in a while let me know any new friends, anything that might interest me, like why he pushed Sandie right in front of Ronnie Forsythe... any little plans he might have for them... Why Ronnie’s gotten so edgy of late.... You know the sort of things.” I was beginning to. Or at least I was beginning to feel that I should know them. Like when the teacher says “Now is there anyone who still doesn’t understand don’t be afraid to put up your hand.” And you never do, because that’ll make you Village Idiot - Official.
“Sure Frank,” I said. “... No sweat.”
This time the wave carrying Chris brought him crashing right into our conversation.
“Frank. Don’t be so bloody boring. Come away from Alex, he’ll only depress you. Come and meet this lovely woman who keeps telling me she’s married.”
“Why Chris, don’t you know she’s only playing hard to get... Just watch the U.S. Navy in action.”
*****
It was more than a week before I heard again from Christopher. When I did it was a phone call to tell me about a party that was coming up the following weekend. I could tell he was excited about it from his manner although he was trying to play it very cool. Ever since I’d first met him he’d never stopped going on about his titled friends and influential connections. As a stud might recount his conquests so Christopher listed his famous cronies. Everyone who met him noticed it and so the impact was largely diminished - “It’s about fifty miles out of town, a friend of mine’s got a country house... Peer of the Realm actually. He said I could bring a few close friends so I thought of you, Alex.”
“Mind if I bring a friend, Chris?”
“You naughty boy, who is he?”
“Not him... her.” A slight silence.
“Is she good looking?”
“Yes.”
“How good looking?”
“A knockout.”
“Bring her then, Alex, bring her.”
I put the phone down and relaxed back into the
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