The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene (16 page)

   There was something in his tone she didn’t quite like. He was quite capable of frightening her when he wanted to.

   ‘Gringo,’ she said, pleadingly.

   ‘Git!’ he yelled, pointing to the door that led to the staircase.

   She ran past him and began up the stairs. He stood and headed after her. By the time he reached the bottom stair she had flown to the top of the house. She could hear him coming. He made sure of that, setting each step on the stairs with a loud thump, as she lay on the bed, quivering, waiting.

In the morning they were once again the best of friends as they lay together naked, a smile never far from either of their faces, as they caressed each other’s skin, whispering encouragement, and those soft words that only come in such circumstances.

   The night had been long and torrid, just as he had predicted. During one brief break, and even then he hadn’t fully stopped, the phone had rung. Maria had snatched a glimpse at the clock. 1.28.

   Who could be ringing at such a time?

   Gringo figured it might be New York, it could be important, or maybe it was Brenda, checking up to see if he really was out late.

   He grabbed the phone but didn’t speak.

   ‘Gringo?’ said the soft voice. ‘It’s Mel.’

   ‘I know who it is. What do you want?’

   ‘I just wanted to thank you.’

   ‘Thank me? What for?’

   ‘For bringing Brian and me back together. We haven’t been this close in ages.’

   ‘Where is he now?’

   ‘He’s gone down to the fag machine, run out, no cigarette afterwards, if you get me.’

   Gringo sniggered.

   Whether by accident or design Maria chose that moment to let out a loud sigh.

   ‘Is there someone with you?’

   ‘It’s Saturday, of course there is someone with me.’

   ‘Who?’

   ‘Never you mind.’

   ‘Well have fun, Gringo, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

   ‘That leaves me plenty of scope,’ he said, as he dropped the phone.

   ‘Who was that?’ Maria whispered.

   ‘No one. No one at all.’

‘Why don’t you make me some breakfast,’ said Gringo. ‘I’d like scrambled eggs on toast, and then afterwards, if you’re really good…’

   ‘You are insatiable, Mister Greene.’

   ‘You wouldn’t want it any other way.’

   She smiled contentedly to herself. Maybe he was right. Yelping had worked just fine. Crazy thoughts of a threesome involving Vicky could be put to be bed, for now. Maria stood up and slipped on his black gown and headed downstairs for the kitchen. In the end it had been one of the best days, and nights, of her entire life, and now she was more determined than ever to make their affair a more permanent arrangement.

He dated Maria again the following Wednesday, taking her for a quiet drink in the country at a little pub he knew down by the river. Afterwards, they went back to her place and he amused himself for an hour or so, but he didn’t stay the night, and on the way home he began thinking she was back on the countdown. Ten, nine, eight, and when it reached zero it would be shift-off not lift-off. He couldn’t see it running beyond that. As he left the flat they embraced and kissed in the hallway.

   ‘We are all right, aren’t we, Gringo?’

   ‘Course we are, doll. You get some sleep. I’ll ring you.’

   That seemed to placate her for she kissed him again, more passionately than before, and after that, Gringo left.

The next day was ultra busy and all morning the only occasion he left his desk was to dash to the gents. At lunchtime he sent one of the bright young things for sandwiches and a bottle of orange juice, as he ploughed through the never-ending paperwork. The only thing that broke his concentration was the burbling telephone.

   ‘Dryden Engineering. Management. Gringo Greene speaking.’

   ‘Reach for the sky, man! Reach for the sky!’

   ‘How are you doing, big man?’

   ‘I’m great. And you?’

   ‘Not bad, no problems, that’s the main thing, nothing I can’t handle.’

   ‘I’m the bearer of big news.’

   ‘Oh yeah? Let’s hear it.’

   ‘The tart and I. Can you hear the wedding bells from where you’re sitting?’

   ‘No! Congratulations. Isn’t it all a bit quick?’

   ‘Not quick enough as far as I’m concerned. Two months today, so make a note in your diary. We’re both keen to populate the world with
big
people.’

   Gringo laughed. ‘There’s a fair chance of that.’

   ‘And we’ve pencilled you in as best man, okay?’

   Oh gee, no, Gringo wanted to say. The thought of standing in as best man beside Paul and Kay was horrendous, and then there were the parents. He’d seen Paul’s old folks, just the once, but that had been enough. They were skinny giants too. Gringo would look like the abandoned pigmy amongst the grownups, and yet he found himself saying: ‘Sure Paul, be an honour, you know that.’

   ‘Great, man, I knew you’d oblige, and I want you to promise me one thing.’

   ‘What’s that?’

   ‘Bring that Asian chick with you. She’ll brighten up the table and no mistake. I might even grab a dance and a kiss.’

   ‘You’re marrying Kay, Paul, you shouldn’t be thinking of groping my girlfriend.’

   ‘You have to take your chances when they appear, leastways that’s what you always told me, and now look at us.’

   ‘In what way?’

   ‘Well, I’m getting wed, and you’re still single.’

   I’d rather remain single than marry Kay, Gringo wanted to say, but didn’t, though Paul did have a tiny point. Who would have believed that he would be getting married before Gringo? Not many.

   ‘I knew you’d succumb sooner or later,’ said Gringo weakly.

   ‘The thing is,’ said Paul, ‘I thought we could have a few jars one night and go through the arrangements, just you and me.’

   Firm arrangements had already been made, mused Gringo, it proved they were serious, and in a hurry.

   ‘This isn’t a shotgun job, is it?’

   Paul guffawed. ‘Course not! You know me. Always use a rubber. Extra large to match the height.’

   That wasn’t what Gringo had heard, though he didn’t say.
A rubber.
What an awful expression, and not one that he would ever use.

   ‘I can do tonight,’ suggested Gringo.

   ‘Sorry, no can do, spoken for tonight. In rehearsal.’

   Gringo didn’t want to know any more about that.

   Paul said: ‘I can do tomorrow.’

   ‘I can’t. I’m going to that car launch.’

   ‘Oh yeah. I heard all about that. They were talking about it in the showroom today.’

   ‘We’ll have to fix up something next week.’

   There was a tap on Gringo’s door and when he looked up Rebecca, the young wench from the accounts department, came in. She was missing her pink cord jeans and in their place she’d slipped on a short black skirt. She smiled down at him and sat on the end of his desk, and crossed her legs.

   ‘I’m going to have to go,’ said Gringo.

   ‘Okay,’ said Paul. ‘Speak to you next week. And you’ll tell the Asian chick all the news, yeah?’

   ‘Sure,’ said Gringo, ‘I’ll tell the Asian chick all the news.’

   Gringo set the phone down and sat back in his chair and looked up at the kid.

   ‘What can I do for you Miss…. er… Miss…’

   ‘Walker,’ she said grinning, ‘Rebecca Walker.’

   ‘Yeah, I knew it was Rebecca, I just couldn’t remember your surname. Where are the pink jeans today?’

   ‘Ah Gringo, you noticed. They’re in the wash if you must know. Do you like the skirt?’ And she glanced down at her tanned knees and legs.

   Gringo followed suit. He couldn’t help himself, and then he said: ‘Yes, well… fine.’

   She handed him a small envelope. It was only two inches square and made of fine blue paper, like an old fashioned pay packet, but smaller and smoother and more delicate. On one side his name had been written in full in longhand in real ink. Gringo immediately knew where it had originated, though he had no idea of the content, as he took it from her.

   ‘What are these piddling little blue envelopes anyway?’

   He reached up and tapped her on the nose with it.

   ‘They are private and confidential, and you are never to open one, and never to ask again. Understand?’

   She rippled her eyebrows and grinned.

   ‘Top secret, eh? I love secrets, me.’

   ‘Where did you get it?’

   ‘Julian asked me to give it to you.’

   ‘It’s Mister Smeaton, to you.’

   ‘Oh Julian doesn’t mind me calling him by his Christian name. He lets me sit on his knee and everything.’

   I’ll bet he does, thought Gringo, and for a moment he wondered if Rebecca was just a little innocent, but when he looked back at her face, he knew she wasn’t innocent at all.

   It figured it came from Julian because he usually opened the post. It must have come in from Head Office late, but he shouldn’t have given it to the girl. By rights junior staff were not supposed to know of the existence of management secret blue envelopes, never mind handling them, for they always contained confidential instructions, and some of them could be extremely delicate, such as last year when two members of staff were designated for termination through the blueys, and another two not-so-elderly gents for early retirement.

   ‘When are you going to take me out, Gringo,’ she said, shuffling her backside on the desk.

   ‘I’m not.’

   ‘Oh come on, GG. It must be my turn. You’ve taken everyone else out, Melanie, Glen and that one from last year, what was her name?’

   ‘Do you mean Chrissie?’

   ‘Yeah, that’s the one, Christine.’

   ‘I took Christine out to comfort her after her father died suddenly.’

   ‘Comfort her, yes, I’ll bet you’re very good at comforting, Gringo.’

   ‘Don’t be sarcastic.’

   ‘I’m not, Gringo, honestly. Go on, when is it my turn?’

   ‘We’re not taking turns here. This isn’t some game of musical chairs. I’m not taking you out and that’s final. You are not on some kind of rota, and anyway, you’re far too young.’

   ‘Too young for what, Mister Greene?’

   He glanced back at her face. As expected that wicked glint was back in her bright blue eyes.

   ‘Get away with you, behave yourself, and while you’re at it, take these invoices back to Melanie.’

   ‘Spoilsport!’ she said, jumping down from the desk in an exaggerated fashion, and grabbing the papers from his hand.

   Through the glass partition he watched her practising her model-type walk through the office. She could easily have gone to the far side of the desks and handed the papers to Melanie, but she did not.  She paused in front of the bank of desks and leant right over and plopped the papers before Mel. Gringo saw Melanie glancing up. Mel saw Gringo gawping through wide eyes, and guessed precisely the view he was enjoying.

   ‘Thanks Becky, now bugger off,’ said Mel.

   ‘Street hussy,’ whispered Gringo to himself, trying hard to think of work matters. He reached down and picked up the management communication, pondering on its contents. He grabbed the silver letter opener, the present his mother had bought him last Christmas, and slid it into the top corner.

   Inside was a single sheet of tissue type paper. At the top were two words,
Dryden Engineering
, nothing else, no telephone number, no address. The brief letter had been typed on an old fashioned IBM golfball machine. In that way no record would remain in any computer that could be stumbled on by unauthorised eyes, or hacked into by nosy geeks searching for company secrets, even potential blackmail material. It was an old fashioned system, but one that worked well.

Strictly Confidential

This matter is not to be discussed with anyone

To: Mister Kevin Greene.

Your presence is required at a meeting in the boardroom at head office next Tuesday at 11.30am. Come by train. Buy a first class ticket on expenses. 

Don’t be late.