Jerry blinked as he came out of the cinema complex. He put on his shades against the slab of bright sun angling low from a bank of full-bellied clouds, flicked the cuff of his doe skin jacket and glanced at his Taiwan Cartier. "Now, what?" he said.
"Sorry?" A young woman standing beside him at the crossing turned, looked at him and smiled.
"Just thinking aloud," Jerry said. "Deciding whether to have late lunch and happy hour, or happy hour and early dinner."
"Decisions, decisions," she smiled again and they crossed together as the green man flashed.
"You decide," Jerry said. "And come with me."
"Love to," she said. "But I’m meeting someone," and waved to a guy standing on the corner.
The guy waved back.
"Maybe next time," Jerry said.
"Maybe," she said. "Never know your luck in the big city."
Jerry watched the guy open his arms, her huggling into them.
The guy kissed her.
She looked at Jerry over the guy’s shoulder and winked.
Jerry winked back.
The guy kissed her again and the crowd flowed around them as he did.
"Excuse me." Jerry felt something bump against his leg and turned to a woman pushing a stroller.
A red faced child bawled and kicked its legs. "Excuse me," the woman said again.
Jerry stood aside, let her pass and when next he looked the crowd had swallowed the couple.
The sky grew darker. Jerry chose a street at random and strolled along its outlets and conveniences until a gust of wind blew a spatter of rain across his cheek and he found the pub.
Patsy Clyne twanged from a juke in the corner as Jerry pulled open the swing doors. He sniffed the gloom; and the gloom reeked of White Ox and Neatsfoot oil.
"It’s the happy hour, fuchristsake," a big guy behind the bar pleaded the leathers lounging around the bar. " Do try."
Oh fuck, it’s a gay bar, Jerry realised and turned to leave.
Catching sight of Jerry, the big guy sashayed towards him. "And you can get that look off your faces, " he called back to the leathers. "Sullen is trez ootray this season. Open face, wide eyes and a happy smile for the tourists is in."
Jerry smiled.
" And what would make your day?" the big guy said.
"A Harvey Wallbanger?"
"One Harvey Wallbanger coming up." He turned to the leathers. "For the man with the smile."
Jerry watched as he reached to the gantry for the Galliano. "Oh, excuse me," he said.
The big guy turned.
"Could you make that a Coopers and a Scotch in a shot glass instead?" The Harveys, like afternoon movies, were becoming a habit.
"Are you sure?" the big guy said.
"Yes." An early night tonight. Vindaloo and a Video. Bright eyed and bushy tailed for tomorrow’s pitch to Filmcorp.
"It’d be no trouble really, the Harveywallbanger. I’ve got everything to hand."
"No, the Coopers," Jerry said. "I’ve got a beer thirst."
"And whisky in a shot glass."
"For the inner thirst," Jerry said.
He sat and smoked; watched the bar fill and was quite happy.
Some guys came in. Dark suits, bald heads gleaming, they slammed down their briefcases, screamed of the fucking day they’d had and called for daiquiris.
Jerry watched them banter with the leathers and the big guy behind the bar. A lot of the guys he had noticed were going for the bald look. He ran his fingers through his mullet, checked himself out in the bar mirror and tried to imagine himself bald.
Boys in Boots burst on to a small stage behind the bar. Dressed in Stetsons, flannel shirts, cut off jeans and Bludstones, there was a cheer from the bald guys as they scooted their opening number.
Jerry winked to himself. "Well if not full bald," he said to the mirror. "A buzz cut like Clint’s in Heartbreak Ridge."
"I’m sorry?" A kid standing beside him shook rain from his jacket. The jacket, Jerry noticed, was the same faded red as Jimmy Dean’s in Rebel Without a Cause.
"I’m Gemini, " Jerry said. And I was just discussing with myself whether to have our hair cut.
The kid smiled his rebel smile, the one with the slightly upturned lip. "Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt." He flicked some drops from his shoulder. "It’s raining out," he said.
"You’re not interrupting." Jerry waved his arm to a stool. "Join us. What’ll you have?"
"A Harvey Wallbanger?"
"An excellent choice," Jerry said and ordered two.
The kid talked easy, Jerry liked listening. Listening, he was reminded of himself all those, not too many years ago. He watched the kid’s face as he talked. The eyes, wide, open to opportunity. The chin thrusting forward. Like the prow of a ship newly launched on the sea of life. The generous mouth, lip licking tongue and watched those eyes light up, the chin thrust even further, that mouth fall open when he just let slip an anecdote of when he was a player in New York.
"You’ve been there?"
"Front line. Office in WTC," Jerry said.
"You were in Twin Towers?"
"Not when it happened."
"Oh," the kid said. His eyes flickered to the small stage where now a buxom Queen was miming to Sutherland’s Lucia di Lamamore. She had a Chesty Bond chin not unlike the Dame’s and a slash of scarlet sequins down the front of her wedding gown.
" I was on the Coast when it happened; LA."
"LA? Doing what?" He had the kid’s attention again.
"Movie business," Jerry said. "In the movie business you travel…and do business."
The kid cupped Jerry’s knee with his hand. "That’s what I want to do, movies." He tapped Jerry’s knee with his finger. "If I told you the amount of movies I’ve seen, you wouldn’t believe," he said.
"What was the first movie you ever saw?"
"You first," the kid said.
"King Kong."
"King Kong?"
"King Kong," Jerry said. "Not the 1991 Dino de Laurentis shit; the 1931 original, with Fay Wray."
"What’s she done?"
"Not much after that, "Jerry said. "Mostly voice-overs. She had the best scream in the business."
The kid’s hand tightened on Jerry’s knee. "Oh shit," he said.
Jerry made to turn to where the kid was looking over his shoulder.
"Don’t turn around," the kid said.
Jerry didn’t turn around.
"If he sees me I’m gone." The kid ducked his head behind Jerry’s.
"Who?" Jerry said.
"Don’t turn around."
Jerry stood up. "I’m not turning around," he said.
"He’ll see me." The kid shielded his face with his hand. " Oh shit."
"Where is he now?" Jerry said.
" Over there. Don’t turn round."
Jerry scooped his change from the counter. "Where now?"
"By the juke box, " the kid said. "He’s got his back to us."
"Walk," Jerry said and shielded the kid till they got to the exit.
"Y’all come back for ‘nother happy hour," the big guy behind the bar yelled.
Jerry winced at the accent and the attention. "Will too," he called back and pushed the kid through the door.
The rain was thundering down. A solid wall of it poured from the pub’s veranda roof to the boiling gutters.
Jerry stood back as the torrent flowed on to the pavement. "Well, " he said. "What was all that about?"
"Probation officer?"
"Been there, done that," Jerry said. "We’re outta here."
"Where to?" The kid looked behind him to where Sutherland’s winding up of her mad scene came through the pub’s still swinging door.
Jerry checked the street. There were no people, no taxis. A swift flowing river separated them from the park opposite. "Come on," Jerry said.
The kid looked around as the pub door opened and a guy came out. "Where to?"
"My place," Jerry said.
"Where’s your place?"
"Coupla blocks," Jerry said.
"Your place, " the kid said.
Jerry took the kid’s arm and jumped from the pavement into the stream.
"We’re gonna die," the kid said.
"We’re not gonna die," Jerry ran with him through thigh deep water to the park and pulled up beneath a tree, where they stood and caught their breath as the rain battered through the leaves.
"I’m bustin’ for a pee," the kid said.
"Pee," Jerry said. "Couldn’t get any wetter."
So they both stood and peed themselves and felt the heat of it gush down their legs. "That’s gross," the kid said.
Jerry sighed in relief. "Same’s you do in a wet suit," he said and farted.
They jogged through the park to the Boulevard, where stalled cars lay slewed and abandoned in mid stream.
"How much further?"
"Down here and round the corner," Jerry said. "And it’s awnings all the way now."
There were people standing by a bus stop under the awnings shaking umbrellas. Thunder rumbled far beyond the hills and they heard someone say the rain seemed to be easing. A bus approached with its wipers on overdrive and the people jumped back as its bow wave cascaded up on to the pavement. The destination window read, OUT OF SERVICE. The bus didn’t stop.
"Gawd, I’m freezing." The kid shivered as Jerry fumbled his card and punched numbers on the security panel.
"Within minutes," Jerry said. "Hot shower and hot toddy."
"What’s toddy?" The kid said.
The lights came on when Jerry opened the door. They squelched down the hall. "Bathroom’s there," Jerry pointed. "I’ll show you how to work it." He opened the door. "Unless you gotta degree in hydraulics."
Their reflections bounced from the mirrored walls. "Wow," the kid said. "Your shower is bigger than my room at the Y."
"That’s a Jacusi."
"Whatever," the kid said.
"This is the shower." Jerry punched a button and a section of the mirrored wall slid open. He punched another. "Overhead shower." And another. "Side jets." He put his hand in. "Temperature should just be right."