The Life and Loves of Gringo Greene (37 page)

   ‘So what’s her name?’

   ‘Maria.’

   ‘Where did you meet her?’

   ‘In the pub, where else?’

   ‘Where are you taking her?’

   ‘Nowhere special, just a quick pub meal.’

   ‘You’re not bringing her back here afterwards?’

   ‘No! Certainly not.’

   She seemed happy enough with that.

   ‘I’ll bring in a steak for your dinner.’

   ‘Don’t bother, I’ll pick something up.’

   ‘It’s no trouble,’ he said, stealing a look at her face. He would buy her a steak anyway; he could always lob it in the freezer if she didn’t eat it.

   ‘So how long have you been seeing this Maria person?’

   ‘A few weeks. You seem awfully interested in my private life, if I might say.’

   ‘Not really,’ she said, pursing her lips, ‘just making polite conversation.’

   Gringo refilled her empty glass and she immediately took a big slug.

   ‘Are you going to tell me about what went down in New York?’

   ‘No, I’m not!’

   ‘So it’s all right for you to ask me about my private life, but I can’t do the same.’

   ‘It’s not like that, Gringo.’

   ‘It seems that way to me.’

   The bottle was almost empty and Gringo knew that he hadn’t drunk a full glass, and perhaps it was the alcohol that was loosening her tongue because she suddenly started talking about America in general, and New York in particular, and most especially about Harry Wildenstein, and she told him everything about the man, as if the sun rose daily from between his buttocks, and mighty smitten she still sounded too, two black eyes and a cut forehead or not, and once she’d started talking, it all came tumbling out.

   ‘He’s a very complicated character.’

   ‘Aren’t we all?’

   ‘He gets very upset about things when they don’t go his way.’

   ‘And that’s when he hits you?’

   ‘He doesn’t hit me, well leastways not in the way you suggest, a serial woman beater, from the tone of your voice, he’s not like that at all, just the once… or maybe twice, and I probably deserved it.’

   But in the way she added that rider,
maybe twice
he knew it had become an all too regular thing, and he couldn’t imagine any circumstances where she deserved a beating from a living-on-the edge bully.

   ‘He operates in a very stressful world,’ she continued, as if that justified it, bringing the glass back to her lips.

   Don’t we all, thought Gringo, though this time he didn’t say.

   ‘The rewards are huge for success, but if you fail it’s…’ and she drew her finger across her throat and made a long yucking noise.

   ‘He is not alone there, is he?’

   ‘You don’t understand, Gringo. Harry is under hellish pressure, from the firm, his rivals, his friends, but most especially from his family.’

   ‘What kind of
friends
put you under so much pressure?’ 

   ‘It’s the way everyone operates in the Big Apple.’

  
The Big Apple
, Gringo hated the phrase, it didn’t sound right at all, a typical tourist remark, he imagined.

   ‘His family are something else, and there are so many of them.’

   Yeah, thought Gringo, and he could see it all now, the old New York Jewish family looking down their noses at the WASP, the English protestant bitch who’d appeared out of nowhere. He could imagine them sneering:
Surely our Harry isn’t going to marry
that
?
Maybe Gringo saw it wrong, but maybe he didn’t.

   ‘Did you get on with his family?’

   ‘Oh yeah, pretty well really, especially his old dad, Lionel, once I began to understand them better, between you and I, he’s a bit of a randy old sod is Lionel, three mistresses on the go, so they say, he even made a pass at me, and he must be nearly seventy. I get on better with them now I know why they never returned my Christmas cards. I didn’t realise Jewish people didn’t celebrate Christmas and send out cards. Did you know that, Gringo?’

   Ah, how sweet she was, he thought, despite her tough streetwise persona, the girl was surprisingly innocent in so many ways.

   ‘The thing is, Gringo, I still love him, Harry that is, not Lionel, at least I think I do, and when I get home, and if he should ask me to return, I’d go back without a second thought.’

   That he didn’t want to hear. She still loved him, despite the regular smacks in the mouth. She still loved him. What did Gringo have to do to make her see sense? What could anyone do, and what did Harry Wildenstein have to do, to demonstrate that he didn’t love her at all?

   Gringo had tried everything in his armoury, so far without a shred of success. There was only one thing left for him, he had to keep trying, in the hope that one day she might detect the light in the dark.

   ‘Isn’t it more likely he will marry one of his own kind?’

   She was smirking again.

   ‘Likely, yes, but don’t discount the English proddie just yet. I’ve never lost a man I’ve set my mind on, and I don’t intending starting now,’ and in the way she said that, he just knew she had spent a large part of the day conjuring up ideas and methods of how she could get Harry Wildenstein to slip that big rock on her finger.

   Maybe she hadn’t been writing fiction at all, more likely she’d been scribbling Harry boy a passionate love letter, a pleading letter, who knows? Little wonder she’d password protected the stuff. The more Gringo thought about it the less he liked it, and suddenly he was desperate to change the conversation.

   ‘Tell me about Elena.’

   ‘Oh, she’s fantastic, Gringo, you’d love her; you’d make a much better fella for her than Phil ever will. He’s a bit of a drip.’

   ‘Do you want another drink?’

   ‘Love one,’ she said, holding out her empty glass.

   He went to the fridge and opened another bottle and came back and filled her glass, and after that, she talked and talked and talked. He was happy enough to let her ramble across the eastern United States, stopping in strange towns and meeting eccentric people, as he watched every move reflected back to him from within those flashing green eyes. She didn’t mention Harry Wildenstein again and that enabled him to relax a little, something he found increasingly difficult to do.

   It was almost midnight by the time they loaded the dishwasher and tidied up, and shortly after that, just as before, they went to their own beds, and as before in the wee small hours she came to his room, naked, to find him awake, naked too, as she sought out that muscular arm. She giggled nervously and pecked him on the cheek, a tiny reward for being a great listener, and friend, bidding him a goodnight, and soon after that, they both fell asleep.

He woke at seven twenty. There was no sign of her and he wondered how she managed to wake and leave without him noticing a thing. He rose and prepared for work, peeking into her bedroom where he found her sleeping off a hangover. She still managed to look serene; he remembered thinking that, as he drove to work in silence.

   Not much happened in the offices of Dryden Engineering that day, and before he knew it he was home again, sirloin steak in hand. Glen was in the kitchen preparing a sophisticated looking chicken salad.

   ‘I bought you a steak.’

   ‘You didn’t have to do that; I told you, I didn’t want steak.’

   He shrugged and tossed it in the freezer and pinched some of her fresh looking dinner.

   ‘Gringo, don’t touch!’

   There were new and opened CD cases scattered about the place, and music was playing in the background.

   ‘You’ve been out?’

   ‘You noticed.’

   ‘Thought you said you were skint?’

   ‘I am, but there’s life in good old Mastercard and the guy in the music shop was really helpful.’

   I’ll bet he was, Gringo thought, but didn’t say. He glanced at the discs. Billie Holliday; never heard of the bloke. Leonard Cohen, Van Morrison, who were these weird characters she had invested her last few quid in?

   ‘I have to say, Gringo, your record collection sucks.’

   ‘There’s nothing wrong with Abba, Pet Shop Boys and Queen.’

   Glen laughed derisorily.

   ‘Get real, Mister Greene,’ and then she said ‘I couldn’t help thinking someone would recognise me when I was out. I couldn’t get home quick enough. For one moment I thought I’d bumped into one of Trisha’s ex-boyfriends.’

   ‘Trisha?’

   ‘One of the sisters.’

   ‘Oh yeah, but you didn’t?’

   ‘Nope, but it gave me a hell of a fright.’

   ‘Maybe you shouldn’t go out again.’

   ‘I can’t stay in all day; it’s too much like being in prison.’

   ‘Whatever you think. I’ll have to get changed.’

   ‘It’s your house.’

When he came back half an hour later he was wearing a light grey suit, sky blue shirt, gold cufflinks proudly on display, and a swanky red tie. He’d taken even greater care with his appearance than usual, but was it really all for Maria?

   ‘How do I look?’ he said, admiring himself in the long hall mirror.

   She came through to see what all the fuss was about.

   ‘You look okay, bit too much of the bank manager image going on for my taste, but you’ll do. Why don’t you ever wear casual clothes?’

   Her words hurt him, but it was too late to change now.

   ‘Maria likes me to make an effort.’

   ‘I’ll bet she does,’ smirked Glen, coming closer as if inspecting him, brushing a single fleck of dandruff from his shoulder like a mother sending a schoolboy on his way to school. ‘You’ll do, I suppose. What time will you be back?’

   It was Gringo’s turn to smirk.

   ‘Wee small hours, with any luck.’

   ‘Just don’t bring her back here.’

   ‘There’s no chance of that.’

   ‘I’ll be asleep so please don’t wake me.’

   ‘I won’t, now wish me luck, I’ll have to go,’ and in the next minute he was out of the house and driving away, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

Telford Buildings was exactly as before, rumbling trains undermining the foundations at every opportunity. Earlier, he had been in two minds as to whether to ring and cancel, but he’d already cancelled on both Saturday and Sunday nights and, fact was, he’d been without the company of a woman, no that wasn’t quite correct, without sex, for much longer than he liked, and when he saw her stepping out through the door, he knew he’d made the right decision.

   The black leather mini skirt and high heels did it. What was it with this girl? Was she belatedly making a real effort? Had she finally realised what he liked, how to dress to excite a man?

   Whatever the thinking behind it, he approved, and she could see that he liked it too by the crazed look on his face, and feel that he liked it when he took her in his arms and kissed her with real intent. 

   He promptly changed his mind about taking her to the Black Horse and they paid a return visit to the expensive Jackdaw Hotel, and she seemed to appreciate that.

   In the car afterwards he grabbed her again, kissing her as if his life depended on it, sliding his hand along her thigh.

   ‘Gringo! What is it?’

   ‘Nothing, you look great, did I ever tell you that? I want you babe. I want you.’

   I want you babe.

  
It didn’t sound quite right to her, it wasn’t the normal kind of thing he said, and it didn’t sound right to him either, but she was willing to let it pass because she was in the right frame of mind too.

   ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘let’s get you home.’

   ‘All right, Gringo, if you must, you win,’ she whispered, with a smirk and an excited giggle.

   It took a few minutes for her to realise that he was heading toward her place and not his.

   ‘No!’ she said, ‘I want to go to yours.’

   ‘No! Yours is closer, yours is better.’

   ‘No Gringo! I haven’t made the bed; I haven’t tidied up or anything. I’d be too embarrassed.’

   ‘I don’t care.’

   ‘Gringo, we are
not
going back to mine. Now take me to your place or you can forget it!’

   ‘We can’t go back to mine!’

   ‘Why not?’

   He grimaced and pulled a face as he stumbled for something to say.

   ‘Why not, Gringo?’ she asked again, glaring at him this time.

   ‘Because I have a friend staying.’

   ‘What friend? Who?’

   ‘Just a friend, she’s not important.’