Chapter 1 - As One Door Closes.

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 clientèle 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.