Malaga, Costa del Sol, Spain.
A
gentle breeze stirred the ashes of a dying Camel in the ashtray, playfully
lifting and depositing them across a well-read copy of the previous weeks Sun
newspaper and into the tepid coffee beside it.
Alex
Longdon stretched muscles stiff from inactivity and looked around him. 3pm, the
quietest time in the tourist bar he now called home. He didn't own the bar, he
didn’t need that stress.
Singer, compare, part time barman, whichever hat they want me to wear, the thought brought a small smile to his
lips, Life is much simpler now.
But
entertaining couldn't be described as his calling in life, it didn't drive him,
It's a breathing space, a little time to
work out the future, if indeed he actually had a future.
Not
so many months before he had been riding the wave of success, on the very
crest.
Some
called him brilliant, others called him lucky, but without exception everyone called him arrogant.
He
could accept that, he had been good at what he did... very good. There had been
no clouds on his horizon, nothing but blue skies until that fateful day in
January. The day that his world crumbled. The day he lost millions of trusting
investor’s dollars.
He
tried to convince himself that everyone understood the risks inherent, he could
repeat the lines in his sleep. ‘Your investment is not guaranteed, you stand
the chance of losing part or all of your hard earned cash’, but this
scenario didn’t apply to him, he was blessed, he had the Midas Touch, and he never failed.
January
25th proved he was not infallible, that was the day it all went wrong, the day
the offshore fund he had channelled so many millions into crashed, crashed
beyond any hope of recovery.
It
also became the day that he realised he was finished as a financial
advisor.
January
25th became his Albatross, it hung around his neck and followed him wherever he
went, his clients disappeared, but not as fast as his
friends, the Authorities where the only people who wanted to know him.
His shame was complete as he received a suspended sentence and a fine that
emptied his many bank accounts.
He
walked from the courts owning little more than the clothes he was wearing.
Alex
rinsed his coffee cup in the sink behind the bar and started to put together
another Cortado. The coffee seemed to match his feelings, bitter and very dark.
Shaking off the black mood that was always lurking ready to engulf him and drag
him to wallow in a mire of self-pity he greeted an elderly couple who came in
every afternoon for coffee and vodka.
He
welcomed a chat, a few minutes of human contact.
“Hi
John, the usual?” he called across the bar receiving a weary nod. The long
suffering husband was a former banker, aware but not judgemental of Alex’s
spectacular fall from grace, the wife, oblivious to everything after her daily
hair of the dog at lunch.
“How’s
that pretty little wife of yours?” questioned Dorothy as she attacked her first
vodka and tonic of the day.
Peninah,
the only ray of sunshine in his life, back in the land of her birth, away from
the disgrace, free of the stigma.
“She’s
flying in from Nairobi next week,” he replied with a smile, “We must go out for
a meal and catch up”.
Aware
of the impending doom, Alex had suggested she go back to Kenya and stay with
her parents until the court case was settled, after much persuasion she
reluctantly agreed and he waved her a tearful farewell from Heathrow Airport.
That
had been six months before. Six months that had seen him fall from the lofty
heights, hit rock bottom, debate whether to hide in a bottle, or during his
darkest moments, take a permanent vacation from life’s problems.
Peninah
had been his reason to continue, his focus, the centre of his universe.
Without
any real plan in his head he had arrived in Spain, the Costa del Crime seemed
to fit his mood. And after applying for a position as entertainment manager in
a bar in Malaga he had found a place where the clientčle were unaware of, or
indifferent to, his recent past. He was fitting in well, after only a few short
months he had become part of the furniture.
The
bar had been much bigger than he had expected, a sprawling complex beneath a
block of holiday apartments. But it was a soulless place, stark blue and white
painted walls, lines of cold fluorescent strip lights marched in rows along the
ceilings. It was featureless and unwelcoming, It
has all the welcoming warmth and ambiance of an abattoir, he thought.
Fortunately there were the terraces, neatly paved outdoor seating areas on
three distinct levels, an oasis of potted palms. These
were his domain, and when darkness fell the soft lighting gave the open air
venue an unexpected charm. There were tables to seat more than six hundred and
he had been shocked to realise that on many occasions the bar achieved standing
room only status!
The
whole complex was owned by a most disconcerting Spaniard named Oscar, a pencil
thin man in his early fifties, perfectly groomed and manicured, his expensive
suits fitted like a second skin.
Alex
had always considered himself to be a good judge of character, he had to be to
read his investors. Oscar was urbane and outwardly friendly but Alex sensed
something about him, he had to be hiding something dark and unsavoury behind
the sunglasses that were never removed, even at night. Oscar operated from
behind a thin veil of charm, and Alex guessed that he cared little if the veil
slipped.
Over
the few months he had been on the staff Alex's keen financial mind had a gained
a good idea of the turnover of the bar and he felt sure that the income wasn’t
sufficient to fund the lavish lifestyle that Oscar enjoyed, the expensive
clothes, the cars, the women. One afternoon he had expressed his curiosity to
Luis the general manager.
Upon
his arrival Luis had immediately taken Alex under his wing. Maybe he empathised
with the British outcast, having left Madrid years before with serious
substance abuse problems and a string of petty convictions to his name he had
started his life over. His new life had been good to him, he was clean, he had
responsibility and most importantly he loved what he was doing. It always
amused Alex when Luis complained he was over worked.
“You
don’t do anything,” he would joke, “And you’re not here most of the time.”
Luis
always chuckled. “That my friend is because I’m a good manager. Why the fuck
should I sweat when I have people like you to sweat for me?”
Luis
was a giant amongst Spaniards with the build of a professional boxer, and he
dwarfed his generally diminutive countrymen. Aged around forty five he sported
a goatee beard, a sprinkling of grey hairs the only sign that gave a clue to
his real age, without knowing for sure he could have been placed anywhere close
to thirty. He had a young man’s energy and the carefree attitude of a man
secure with himself and life in general.
“I
give you some advice, free advice my friend.” said Luis with a slight look of
concern, “Don’t touch Oscar’s eggs.”
Alex
always smiled when Luis used this expression, his way of saying don’t ask
questions, let it drop.
“He
has many business.” Alex really didn’t care where Oscar found the funds to fuel
his lavish lifestyle, provided he was paid his salary he could live with his
curiosity.
Dorothy
diverted him from his thoughts,
“Be
a dear and get me another drinkie,” she would keep up her steady intake until
long suffering John could lever her away from the bar with the promise of steak
or shellfish in the restaurant.
From
3pm until 5pm Alex stood in for Paulito the permanent barman, he didn’t mind,
it helped to kill time and it was never very busy, he could either help out
behind the bar or he could sit in his small room and stare at four walls.
Pouring the vodka his mind returned to Peninah, he was counting the days until
her arrival. Except for five short days he had not seen her for half a year, he
missed her smile, he missed her touch.
His
happy thoughts were rudely interrupted by the vision of a weasel in human form.
Salvador, the head chef stood before him pouring out a torrent of abuse in
Spanish. Over the months Alex had developed a mutual relationship with the
chef, mutual dislike bordering on hatred.
Salvador
spoke fluent English but refused on principal, he referred to Alex simply as
Giri, roughly translated as 'bloody foreigner', he disliked all British but his
feelings towards Alex verged on obsessive.
With
a broad smile and shrug of the shoulders Alex replied, “No intiendo.” adding dickhead
to the pigeon Spanish in his mind.
Salvador
ran the busy restaurant and also prepared the inedible plastic meals served by
a well-known charter airline, another of Oscar’s business interests. The
airline catering contract had been running for years, and on many evenings when
Alex was running the gauntlet of Salvador’s wrath to raid the kitchens cold
stores for neatly packaged and largely over sweetened desserts destined for the
next day’s flights he would see rows of airline catering trolleys waiting to be
filled. Every day the same. Empty trolleys in, full trolleys out, delivered
back to the airport to provide refreshments for lobster hued tourists returning
to the cold and grey United Kingdom after their annual two weeks roasting under
the Spanish sun. Ignoring the stream of unintelligible chatter pouring from his
favourite chef he settled back in with John and Dorothy.
A
typical day in his new life.
***
With
his real work still some hours away he decided to take a stroll along the
seafront. Alex loved early evening by the sea, the feel of the fresh breeze
soothing away the heat radiating up from paving roasted through the long day.
The tall palms that lined the wide promenade swaying and sighing softly. The
gentle waves kissing the white sand of largely deserted beaches, and the
tourists who daily claimed their small patch of the playa huddled together like
sardines in a can, back in their hotel rooms bathing in after sun and preparing
for another night of cheap beer and sangria. Here he felt at peace and the
problems in his world melted away for a few minutes, but with peace came
loneliness, except for the deep dark of night this was the time he missed
Peninah the most. During the day he could keep himself occupied with the
general daily routine of life, but now he missed her with a passion. Reaching
into his pocket he found a few Euro coins and headed to the closest payphone,
he wouldn’t have long but at least he would hear her voice.
***
At least tonight will be easy, he sighed as he returned from the stage, his introduction over. Once a
week a troupe of Brazilian dancers entertained the crowds with complex routines
and incredible displays of how black women’s buttocks seemed to almost have
minds of their own, shaking and gyrating in time with the beat of Caribe music mixes
with incredible accuracy. His job was simply to introduce them, and then sit
back and enjoy the show.
Luis
joined him holding two glasses, it was always the same routine, they would
watch the show, they would drink too many Jack Daniels, Luis would ask, “Can
Peninah shake her ass like?” that and Alex would remember private moments when
it was confirmed without doubt that she could.
The
main attraction appeared, three buxom members of the troupe wearing Rio
Carnival style costumes comprising of golden peacock fan tails, glitter, and
very little else, it verged on peep show status and was always the highlight of
the night provoking cheers and ribald comments from the now well-oiled patrons.
The
girls from Rio always guaranteed a good night.
“Que pasa amigo?” said Luis, leaning forward to make himself
heard over the pulsating samba beat, “You look like you not feel so good.”
“I’m
fine, just missing my wife, it’s been a long time.” Alex replied
.
“No hay problema, you see Rita on stage now, the chica in the
middle, I get you a date tonight,” said Luis with a knowing look and a wink
before bursting into laughter. They had been down that path many times before
and Luis always found the idea of fidelity rather amusing, he knew the answer
before Alex opened his mouth.
“Capullo.” replied Alex with a grin, it was a word he had learned
early on, literally translated as a flower bud, in the
local vernacular it implied dick head!
“OK
man, tonight we go to the club, I cheer you up,” this would mean party time
until dawn. Luis was treated like royalty in the resort and a night out meant
the best of everything and VIP treatment in the most exclusive clubs, Alex
pictured his liver groaning at the thought but maybe it was what he needed.
The
show was over, guests trickled out heading for bed, or for the party animals,
pastures new.
“Wait
for me to count the takings and we leave Paulito to lock up.” said Luis as he
headed toward his office with the cash trays.
Paulito
was busy clearing the bar as the last stragglers were politely encouraged to go
home.
“Did
you see Salvador leave yet?” questioned Paul in a broad Manchester accent,
affectionately known as Paulito due to his diminutive build. “I’m raiding the
cold store if he has, I need a sugar boost.” he added with a conspiratorial
wink. Paul had been with the bar since the beginning of the season and had
introduced Alex to the sugary delights of the cold store.
***
Alex
woke with a blinding headache, and with a groan started to remember snatches of
the night before, the Jack Daniels had flowed like water. He vaguely recalled
Luis dumping him in a taxi at the break of dawn, but everything else was a
blur. Dragging himself from the bed he struggled to swallow a couple of
aspirin. 11am, he expected it to be much later and with nothing better to do
until afternoon he crawled back between the sheets and hoped the pills would
kick in quickly. It felt as though he had only closed his eyes for a second
before his phone returned him to semi-consciousness.
“Hey
man, how is your head?” Luis sounded far too cheerful for someone who had drunk
more than him and had far less sleep. “I need a favour, Paulito has gone AWOL, can you watch the bar for me for a few hours?”
“Give
me half an hour.” Alex replied, I just need a quick shower, maybe it
would help him on his painful journey back to humanity. Showered and shaved but
not feeling much more human he found Luis delegating bar responsibilities. It
was unusual for Paul to miss work, he didn’t drink, he didn’t smoke, he didn’t
chase the many willing girls, and they were sure he didn’t chase the boys
either, the man was a robot, totally professional, totally committed, reliable
as a Swiss watch.
“Did
you call him?” it was a stupid question, but his brain was only functioning at
a level to maintain basic consciousness.
“No,
I never thought of that,” replied Luis sarcastically, “It’s just ringing, no
answer.”
It
was out of character for Paul but probably easily explained, and Alex expected
him to appear with apologies at any moment. Fixing a coffee he decided to skip
his normal Cortado and opt for Solo, Just black with plenty of sugar,
probably best in my condition he thought.
Paul
didn’t appear, not that day or the next, Luis accepted it with a shrug.
“These
things happen, sometimes these guys just go home, but I wish he had called to
let me know.”
Somehow
it didn’t fit in Alex’s mind, Paul was reliable, he
was not the type to just quit without any warning or explanation. But he didn’t
let it occupy his thoughts for too long though, he had more pressing issues,
Peninah was due to arrive the next day and odd staff disappearances were not
top of his list of priorities. He felt like a child waiting impatiently for
Christmas morning, time seemed to stand still, the hours passed so slowly. The previous
time she had been with him was for only five days and he had been new to the
resort, he didn’t know anyone or anything, this time would be different, he
knew the best restaurants and clubs, he had a growing circle of friends, he
made plans for what they would do and where they would go, it helped to pass
the time.
“I
hope you find a new barman soon,” he said to Luis, “Don’t forget Peninah gets
here tomorrow, and I’m certainly not spending my time covering your ass behind
this bar.”
Luis
laughed, “I know which ass you gonna be covering, don’t worry, I will get
someone.”
At
that moment Oscar arrived resplendent in a perfectly fitting Armani suit and
the ever present designer shades, and for the first time Alex saw a man with
problems. His body language appeared different, more tense, he looked worried
and his cool façade had slipped, a fractional slip, but Alex noticed. The
tell-tale twitch of his fingers, the frequent glances behind, he looked hunted,
forever checking his adversary was not just behind him. For a man who usually
exuded an aura of complete confidence and security the change, however small,
was startling.
“Luis,”
he barked, “Venga.” and marched
towards the office, Luis rolled his eyes and grinned before following the
rapidly receding Oscar.
Very curious, thought
Alex, Strange to see Mr Perfect ruffled. During a career that had honed
his client assessment skills he knew deep down that this was a guy with
worries. He could never explain his understanding, it was like his sixth sense
and he always knew when someone had something to hide. In the past it was
usually a hidden pot of cash that had escaped the clutches of the tax man,
sometimes more dubious explanations.
These were the clients he didn’t want or need, he knew that if he had
met Oscar in his former life he would have run screaming, refusing to handle
any investments for him. It was just a gut feeling but he simply didn’t trust
him. With a mental shrug he remembered that he didn’t have to worry about that
any more, past life, get on with the new one and leave all that behind. Twenty
minutes later Luis reappeared, shaking his head and muttering.
“This
man is fucking crazy.”
“Good
meeting?” questioned Alex.
Luis
laughed, “I tell you man, that fucking Oscar is crazy.” he refused to elaborate
on his statement, simply adding “It’s just company shit, nothing to worry
about.” Quickly he changed the subject, “What time she get here tomorrow? Use
my car to get her, crazy to pay for a taxi.”
One problem solved
thought Alex, he had resigned himself to using one of the resorts mega
expensive taxi’s and although he was starting to build some small savings he
was relieved he wouldn’t have to pay one of the local highway robbers, and
Luis’ new BMW was quite an impressive ride.
The
evening was long and uneventful, Luis arrived early evening with a replacement
barman, an ex-employee from previous seasons, and within an hour the status quo
was returned. Alex went through his usual routine on auto pilot, bolstered by a
stiff Jack D he took the stage and belted out a medley of 60’s hits. It was
probably not the best performance he had ever given but his mind was elsewhere,
just get it finished as soon as possible, then home, try to sleep, anticipating
the morning, the drive to the airport and reunion with his true love.