Chapter Eleven
RIVER
“Well? What can I get you? A tall drink, a classic, mostly spirits, something exotic?”
“I don’t usually go in for this type of stuff – as you may well remember,” said Lee, eyes blinking left and right, not quite able to match River’s inquiry. “To tell you the truth, I’m uh… I’m what you might call a Cocktail Virgin.”
River couldn’t have been more surprised when one Saturday afternoon, a short and undeniable – yet curiously interesting with it – Plain Jane, lugged a befuddled Lee into the bar. He whistled car salesman-style, as if Lee’s revelation was going to cost him dearly.
“It’s about time we made up for lost time then,” said River, passing him the menu, hoping today wouldn’t be the day Lee cut his teeth on anything Mexican.
Not because he didn’t deserve it, despite his part in smashing up the bar, River knew Lee’s heart had never truly been involved in the massacre. It was a sad thing to see a grown man unable to shake off the school playground ringleader. He could only feel sorry for someone with such a lack of self-esteem. Rather, River didn’t feel ready to witness the unravelling of the alchemy, not quite yet anyway; the bar had only been open a couple of months, and with the envelope still mysteriously missing, he didn’t trust himself to remember Mercedes’ written instructions; despite the fact he had committed them to memory, despite the fact their English translation was simply a re-cap of the words she had spoken to him in Mexico. He could only hope his confidence would somehow be bolstered between now and the revelation of Chosen One Number One.
“Help me out,” said Lee, eyes bulging widely. “I mean, what am I meant to choose? I’ve finally got myself a bird.” He turned nervously to look back at his girlfriend who was engrossed in her own menu. “What’s an acceptable drink for a male? Last thing I want to do is make a complete tit of myself. Oh, and before I forget, I’m err… sorry… for my part in it all… I genuinely had no idea Blake was going to go so off the rails that day… but you ain’t seen me here, right…? George isn’t working tonight, is she? Please tell me no.”
“Apology accepted. But you do realise you can do better than that, surely?”
“Are you trying to run down my woman already?” Lee’s back became ruler straight.
River laughed. “Not your lady, no, course not, she seems pukka… although, I don’t see any wings; best cut the bird reference out. Chicks don’t like that.” His eyes danced with merriment.
“Yeah, cheers for the tip.”
“Lee, mate, what I mean is Blake’s not going to have some neighbourhood watch patrol burst in here any minute. Besides, your life is your own… But tell me, how did you find out about Georgina?”
“Through Blake of course.”
River’s blood ran cold, so cold he had to stop himself from straining tea-coloured liquid into the glass of his current order for fear of drowning the cocktail. He exhaled deeply, eyes closed in a bid to compose himself.
“He definitely knows? And he’s okay with it?”
“I wouldn’t say okay with it… but he doesn’t seem to be as angry about it as he was when you shelled out for this joint. So that’s gotta be a good sign, right? For you, I mean. Hopefully no more re-decorating for a while.” Lee’s voice was tinged with nervousness, tossing River’s emotional state back to him like a hot potato.
“So then what’s it to be?” said River, unsure as to what the hidden meaning behind any of that implied. It was pretty obvious that when Blake did let Lee in on Georgina’s professional news, he’d done so with a loaded sting in the tail of his sentence. As was typical with Lee though, that part had been more than lost in translation. “Actually, don’t bother looking. I’ve just had a brainwave.”
“Great.”
River headed for his Bible, under pleasant sedation at the idea of introducing Lee to his very first cocktail, and concurrently cursing himself for still keeping his treasured book in public view. Yet what else was he supposed to do? He could hardly keep running off to the skittle alley for a furtive glance. Yes, he should have kept the envelope somewhere safer once he’d read those words and sealed it for a second time. But he operated on trust, he had to, especially given the amount Mercedes had instilled in him. If he changed his stance now, the mission would never get started, let alone completed. In any case, her Spanish words would read as complete and utter tosh to anyone who understood them, or bothered to get them translated.
Of course, his first thought was the culprit might be Georgina, but there was no way it could have been her. She thought the world of him… already, a visible fact which slightly freaked him out, for at some point he knew he would have to let her fall. He was far from in love with her. If that kind of magic was going to happen, it would have happened already. So then his next thought had been this was an act of the Rigby-Chandlers. But Lord Pervert was too sloth-like to operate covertly, and as for Her Ladyship, the notion of her putting herself in such a lower class position as to be stood behind a bar was utterly preposterous. And so for the moment he could only draw a blank.
“Don’t go being scared of the cocktail,” he said, throwing his words over his shoulder and back to Lee at the bar, the serving of a brand new customer sweet salvation to the chaos in his mind. “It’s all in the mixology… not only what I’m doing stood here, but what your body is asking to drink. And I think I have just the thing for it today, The Woodstock.”
“Sounds strong.” Lee began to rifle through the pages of the menu.
“Nah, it’s really not. Gin, vodka and rum are the least hangover-inducing of the spirits, but you won’t find it in there, this one’s a little bit special.”
River turned to see Lee’s eyes bulging out of their sockets again, this time with terror. “Ha bleedin’ ha… I think,” he said finally.
“Do you honestly think I’d have a licence if I meddled all three of those together and served it up to you in a glass?” River knew anybody else but Lee could reel off endless cocktail varieties containing that particular combo as their base, but therein lay the beauty of his school buddy’s naivety. “Geez, you really are clueless. But it does have a kick. Perfect tipple to get you acquainted with good taste. Before you know it your pint of cider will be a thing of the past and your girlfriend – what’s her name?”
“Jonie.”
“Jonie will be declaring her undying love and making you an honest man.”
“Chance’ll be a fine thing,” said Lee. “Cupid’s never taken much notice of me before, why should it be any different this time?”
And there it was. That was the moment.
River saw it like he’d never seen anything before. Lee was going to be one of the three, his fate sealed, just like that bloody envelope should be. And when Mercedes’ voice whispered ‘yes’ into River’s ear, a tickle on the breeze quite from nowhere as he cruelly jazzed his friend’s inaugural cocktail up with the Full Monty décor of swizzle sticks, umbrellas and star fruit slices, he was sure of it.
With Lee now back at his table and glued to Jonie’s conversation, and Georgina on a break, he made his way excitedly to the lovebirds, laden with a tray that produced ‘oohs’ and ‘ahs’ from fellow drinkers, whilst its smitten recipient hadn’t the foggiest of how embarrassed he was about to get.
River served Jonie her somewhat solemn in comparison Mai Tai first, then turned to Lee, who still hadn’t noticed he was expected to imbibe a Rio Carnival of a spectacle, slap bang in the centre of the bar’s main window, for the entire High Street to see.
“You really are a toss—”
“Etiquette,” said Jonie, cutting Lee’s undoubted expletive off before it was airborne. “Thank you, these look stunning… mmm…” She took a first sip through her straw and encouraged Lee with her spare hand to do the same through his completely unnecessary four pink stripy straws.
“Get used to the high life,” River couldn’t resist dropping Lee an early hint, “you’re going to love it.”