An English Boy in New York (14 page)

‘Er, tea?' Gex said. Keith was stifling laughter.

‘Don't lie to me, Gex,' I said, standing up and pointing a finger. ‘You know full well there are no tea-making facilities in this room.'

‘Honestly, Ben,' he said. ‘It's tea.'

‘Then why is it so yellow?' I demanded.

‘It's Canadian,' Keith said. ‘Canadian tea.'

Unscrewing the cap, I took a careful whiff which confirmed my suspicions.

‘Firstly, Gex,' I said, furious. ‘You are a liar and a thief. Secondly, you are disgusting, and thirdly, you need to drink more water, you are clearly dehydrated.'

‘Lighten up,' Gex said. ‘It's just a few bottles.'

‘Look, homeboy,' Keith said, trying to placate me. ‘Stealing a couple of miniatures is nothing. Did I tell you about the time me and the boys held up a Savings and Loan?'

I decided to go down to the lobby at that point to cool off. I needed to skype Ms Gunter and didn't want to do it with them in the room.

I saw Dad, sitting alone at the bar. He had a drink in front of him and was looking at his phone forlornly. I walked over.

‘Hi, Dad,' I said cautiously. ‘Where's Mum?'

‘Times Square,' he said evenly.

‘Diablo?'

‘Diablo.'

‘Are you two  …  OK?' I asked.

‘We're fine, Ben,' Dad said. ‘Just fine.'

But he didn't look fine. What if something happens between Mum and Diablo? Magic can be very romantic. He might pull flowers from his sleeve. She might pull a glass of champagne from behind his ear. Anything might happen.

Poor old Dad.

I felt a bit sick as I walked down the street to the internet café. Though whether this was from the thought of Mum and Diablo together in a false-bottomed wardrobe, or the fourth hot dog I had at the Mets game, I don't know.

Speaking of hot dogs, I had a bit of trouble doing my buttons up today. I'm certainly getting more USA around the waist. I'm puzzled by this. I've only been here a few days. I've only had four Philly cheesesteaks, maybe five. Four plates of waffles. How can I be putting on weight so quickly?

It must be all the vegetables. They're so bloating.

I drank a Diet Coke while I skyped Ms Gunter. Neither of us had much to report and the call was over pretty quickly. Once I'd hung up I skyped Marcus, hoping to catch him before his bedtime. He answered.

‘Hi, Ben,' he said. ‘Did you get the cap?'

‘Before I answer that, Marcus,' I said. ‘Has she been seeing Sean?'

‘Yes,' he said immediately. My heart skipped a beat.

‘When?'

‘Did you get me the cap, or not?'

‘Yes, yes, I got the cap,' I said impatiently. ‘When did Megan see Sean, Marcus?'

‘Last night. He came around while I was having my dinner and him and Megan went off together.'

‘They might have gone to the hospital together?' I asked hopefully.

‘Hospital?'

‘To see your gran?' I said.

‘Is Gran in hospital?' he asked, bottom lip wobbling. ‘What's wrong with her?'

Uh-oh.

‘Um. Just a routine  …  thing,' I said hurriedly. ‘I'm sure she's fine.'

‘Mum's coming,' Marcus said. ‘Gotta go.'

‘OK. Thanks. Oh, and, Marcus, keep a lid on things, will you?'

‘I will,' he said.

As he switched off the monitor I wondered if his eyes looked a little moist. I hope I haven't worried him about his gran.

12.31am

It's late but I can't sleep. I'm worried about Gex. I've come back on my own from the Big Night Out. Keith went off to pick up his car from a car park nearby. He came back and collected us just after 8pm in a maroon-coloured Cadillac so big and shiny it resembled a float in a small town parade. He parked so badly that not only did it take up the No Stopping bay opposite the hotel but one of its tail fins blocked half of the next lane as well. He picked up quite a few friendly honks and beeps during the time it took us to come downstairs.

‘Could you walk any slower?' he asked as we got in.

‘Blame Gex,' I said. ‘He wouldn't come out of the bathroom.'

‘I got IVF,' he mumbled.

‘IBS,' I sighed. The seat I was on was so deep my feet didn't touch the floor.

We pulled out into the cheery traffic, turned right and the float rumbled up the street.

‘Tell Ben what you were telling me yesterday,' Gex said to Keith. ‘About how you watched that guy get whacked off.'

‘He didn't get whacked off,' Keith replied quickly. ‘He got whacked.'

Gex was silent for a moment. ‘What's the difference?' he asked.

‘Let's change the subject,' I said. ‘I'm uncomfortable with either definition.'

‘OK,' Keith said. ‘You're gonna love this place we're going, Ben.'

‘It's not further than 110
^th
Street, is it? I'm not crossing 110
^th
Street.'

‘No, not that far,' Keith said. I sat forward a bit. I could hardly hear him all the way up the front of the float. The radio was playing Motown and I have to admit I was feeling pretty excited about the evening.

‘So, here's my theory about why girls like British guys,' Keith said as we drove.

‘Go on,' I said.

‘It's like in movies,' he said. ‘The British actor is always the bad guy. Like Alan Rickman, or Anthony Hopkins, or Hugh Jackman.'

‘Hugh Jackman is from Australia.'

‘Like there's a difference.' Keith said impatiently. ‘Anyway, so all these British guys in movies, playing bad guys?'

‘Yeah?' I said.

‘Girls
like
a bad guy.'

I waited for more. ‘Is that it?'

‘Yep.'

‘That's your theory?'

‘Yeah, what do you think?'

‘It's brief, which is good. But I don't think it holds water,' I said. ‘For a start, not all British actors play bad guys. What about McNulty in
The Wire
?'

‘He's not British!'

‘Yes he is. So is the guy who plays Stringer Bell.'

‘You are so full of crap.'

‘There are loads of British actors playing Americans. What about Hugh Laurie in
House
?'

‘He's American!'

‘He most certainly is not.'

‘Listen to his voice, man.'

‘He's putting on an American accent!' I cried.

‘Anyway, Greg House isn't such a good guy,' Gex said.

‘He's sort of good and bad,' Keith agreed.

‘Half British, half American,' Gex said. ‘Half good, half evil.'

‘The other way around, I think,' Keith said after a brief consideration.

‘Anyway,' I said. ‘There are loads of American bad guys.'

‘Like who?'

‘Ted Bundy?' suggested Gex.

‘No, in films,' I said.

‘Hannibal Lecter?'

‘Welsh. Anyway, the point is, I don't agree with the theory that girls always like bad boys.'

‘Course they do,' Keith said. ‘They like guys who are tough and strong and who can protect them.'

‘This is why I need a gun,' Gex said.

‘You don't need a gun,' I said.

‘OK, let's have a little bet tonight,' Keith said, changing lanes without indicating. ‘Ben, you be all nice and lah-di-dah with the ladies. Take 'em for a waltz and a two-step and a three-step. Dance the Pride of Erin if there's room. Gex here, on the other hand, will treat them like dirt. Ignore them, yawn in their faces. That sort of thing. We'll see who has the most success.'

‘Oh man,' Gex said. ‘This is going to be great.'

‘Neither of us is going to have any success,' I pointed out. ‘We're just a couple of losers from Hampton. Gex is wearing a gold tracksuit. I am wearing my father's chinos.'

‘Yeah,' Keith said. ‘But you got those British accents going on.'

* * *

We left the huge car in an alley around the corner and made our way to the club. There was a man outside in a filthy string vest. He stared at us blearily as we walked past, into the doorway and down the tatty staircase. The club didn't actually look too bad once we were down there. It was dark, very dark, with coloured floor lights and pretty good music.

‘The thing about this club,' Keith yelled as we stood at the bar, waiting for service, ‘is it attracts a certain type of lady.'

‘What type?' I asked.

‘Well, let's just say that the typical customer here is what you might call  …  vintage?'

‘In a fashion sense?'

‘No, more in an age sense.'

I looked around. Keith was right. The girls I could see weren't girls. They were women. Most of them looked like they might be in their thirties, or forties. I saw a small group looking at us. One of them said something and they all laughed.

‘That's why it's so dark in here,' I said.

‘Three beers,' Keith said to the young barman. ‘And three whiskey chasers.'

‘No whiskey for me,' I said. ‘And do you have any non-alcoholic lager?'

‘No,' the barman said.

‘Ooh, what about a highball. Can you make a highball?'

‘No,' the barman repeated. He plonked three bottles of beer and three shot glasses on the counter. Keith slapped a note down on the table and drank his whiskey.

‘I'm never going to get my highball,' I said, sniffing the whiskey dubiously.

‘This is the sort of bar,' Keith said, ‘where ladies come who are looking for a summer–spring romance. Or maybe even autumn–spring.'

‘That one over there is well past autumn,' Gex said, looking at a blonde slumped at the bar. ‘Her hair has a bit of snow in it.'

‘Why have you brought us here?' I said as Keith led us over to a booth at the back of the club.

‘Two reasons,' he said. ‘One, because of the sort of place this is, they don't check IDs too closely. Not guys' IDs anyhow, you feel?'

‘And the other reason?' I asked.

‘I think I've already explained,' he said, indicating the autumnal ladies at the next table.

‘We're here to pick up older women?' I asked, horrified.

‘Oh man,' Gex said, barely able to hide his glee. He drank his whiskey too quickly, did an enormous hiccup and knocked his beer off the table.

We'd been there around fifteen minutes when three women from the group who'd been laughing at us earlier came over to chat. Gex ignored them; he'd found a toothpick from somewhere and was turning it over and over using just his lips and teeth.

So it was down to Keith and I to chat up Cherry, Monique and Yasmin. I decided if we were going to play this game I was going to do it properly. Especially as this was a game I really didn't want to win. If I acted in a completely non-threatening manner then no woman could possibly want to get off with me. Not that they would anyway. But at least this time I'd have an excuse as to why I hadn't got off with anyone.

‘Do you like knitting?' I asked Monique, who reminded me a bit of Mrs Frensham. I can't really imagine Mrs Frensham in a place like this, I have to say. She hates young men. She's not that keen on old men either to judge by the things she says about the octogenarian who lives next door.

Monique gave me a look.

‘Knitting? How old do you think I am?' she asked.

‘You don't have to be old to knit,' I said. ‘I'm a keen knitter, myself.'

‘I don't knit,' she said.

‘Oh, shame.'

‘I do a little crochet sometimes,' she admitted.

‘Ah, now I've just begun to get into crochet,' I said. ‘I'm not sure it's for me though.'

I didn't get to hear Monique's response though, as Cherry broke in.

‘You're British!' she said. ‘I love the British accent.'

‘That's so cool because I love the American accent!' I replied enthusiastically.

I caught Gex's eye, I think he might have been wishing he was in my shoes, playing the cheeky English lad card. It already seemed to be the more successful approach. Obviously I didn't want anything to happen! Especially not with Monique, but you know how it is. No one wants to strike out completely. In any case, I don't think I could ever play the bad boy. I like a chat too much. And I get churned up inside if I think I've been rude to someone.

Keith bought me a litre glass of ginger beer as it was clear I wasn't going to drink the actual beer he'd bought me. I gulped it down gratefully. It was surprisingly thoughtful of him but after a while all the liquid sent me to the little boys' room. Gex had to make a trip as well, due to his IBS which didn't make the experience any more pleasant, I can tell you for nothing. Thankfully there was a man in the loo handing out towels and he had a large selection of aftershave bottles which he sprayed frantically in the direction of Gex's cubicle.

As I washed my hands, the towel man spoke.

‘You having a good night, my friend?'

‘You know what?' I said, taking a towel. ‘I am. I didn't think I would, but I like it here.'

He wore a neat waistcoat and a small moustache. I find myself drawn to neat people. ‘You got your eye on a lady?' he said. ‘I got some scent here with musk.'

‘No musk for me, thanks,' I said. ‘I have a girlfriend back in England. I'm just here for a drink and a chat.'

He shrugged. ‘In that case, put this one on.' He held out a tiny bottle from the back of the tray.

‘What's this?'

But we were interrupted by Gex, who came out of his cubicle pulling up his gold trackie bottoms and walking gingerly. The toilet attendant grabbed a bottle and pumped a few sprays into the air.

‘It has a secret ingredient, from the Amazon,' he told me.

‘What's so special about it?'

‘It makes people trust you,' he said, winking. ‘They feel like you're their friend. No sexy stuff.'

‘OK, why not?' I said and squirted a few blasts onto my wrists and neck.

‘Does it, like, make chicks jam their hand down your pants?' Gex asked.

‘No. This is what you're looking for,' the attendant said, picking up a different bottle. ‘It has pheromones from the Costa Rican love toad.'

‘Love toad?' Gex asked, wide-eyed.

‘That's pretty spooky, Gex,' I said. ‘It's as though it was created just for you, eh?'

‘Sick!' Gex said, as usual not getting the irony. ‘How much?'

‘For you, sir, ten dollars a squirt,' said the attendant.

‘Ten dollars?' Gex cried.

‘Take it or leave it,' the man said.

Gex gave it five seconds before prodding me in the arm. ‘Pay the man, Ben.'

‘Seriously?' I gaped at him. But it was too late, the man had squirted some onto Gex's wrist. It didn't smell great to me, but I'm not a female love toad. And to be honest, it was a lot less offensive than the odour coming from the cubicle Gex had just vacated. Gex left in search of lady toads, leaving me to rummage through my pockets for notes. I paid the man, and feeling confident for once, gave him a nice tip.

‘Thank you, sir,' he said, smiling.

I came out and ran straight into into a large lady stood outside the toilets. At least I think she was a lady. She looked a bit like Groo from
Despicable Me
.

She was obviously waiting for me, as she gave me a huge smile and linked her arm through mine.

‘I want to show you something,' she said.

‘Erm  … ' I began nervously. ‘Have we met?'

Where was Gex when I needed him? Where was Keith?

The lady looked behind her to check the coast was clear and ushered me to the end of the corridor, by the cigarette machine. She was a lot bigger than me and wore a suit that was very tight across the bust. I was in trouble.

‘I need you,' she said urgently.

‘Look, I only came along to keep an eye on Gex,' I said. ‘I'm not looking for any kind of seasonal romance.'

‘I'm in such a mess,' she said, shaking her head. ‘I don't know where it all went wrong.'

‘I'm not sure I'm the right person to  … ' I said, backing away and bumping into a pot plant.

‘I think you are,' she said, fixing me with a hungry look. She jammed a hand into a large suede bag and pulled out a tangle of wool and needles.

‘It's supposed to be moss stitch,' she said. ‘But I keep losing track of what I'm doing.'

Oh thank God.

My heart resumed beating and I took the tangle from her.

‘Yes,' I said, peering at it in the dim light. ‘You've missed a few rows.'

‘Should I just start again?' she asked, crestfallen. ‘I spent ages.'

‘I think you might be able to salvage some sections,' I said. ‘Let me have a look at it in the light of the glitter ball.'

She told me her name was Ursula, and I took her back to our table to join the other ladies. Ignoring Gex's glares, I repaired Ursula's sweater as best I could. Then Monique pulled out her crochet from somewhere and began showing me the basics. After a time Gex was dragged onto the dance floor by Yasmin. And Keith danced with Cherry.

As for me, I spent a happy hour or so stitching and bitching with the rest of the ladies. They were all very interested in the KnitFair. I even told them about the challenge of me knitting against the machine and they all thought I should go for it. It's obviously a very go-for-it kind of place, New York.