you would be interested in a dizzy young thing like me, what with you being the big boss and all.’
‘Your trouble is; you don’t understand how beautiful you really are… and how clever.’
No one had ever referred to Melanie as clever before, and certainly not to her face, and though she suspected he wasn’t being serious, she loved it.
‘Are you trying to get into my knickers, Gringo? Clever? Me? You’re having a laugh.’
‘You are cleverer than you think. You don’t give yourself enough credit.’
Before she could answer, the record came to a swirling end and the brighter lights came on. The bar shutters were down, the barmaids had all gone home, barmaids downstairs, barmen upstairs. On the dance floor only three couples remained, and it wouldn’t be long before the cleaners appeared.
‘Come on,’ he said, ‘time to go.’
He followed her up the stairs and watched her make for the cloakroom to collect her bag and scruffy Mac. Gringo went to the men’s room and when he came out she was there waiting. She’d fixed her lipstick and slipped on her coat. They shared a fleeting smile and headed for the door.
The same three guys were back on parade, the opposite of meeting and greeting. The younger one was yawning. Couldn’t stand the pace, thought Gringo. Richie saw them coming and held the door open.
‘Thank you for your custom, Mister Greene; hope to see you again soon.’
‘Thanks Rich, excellent as always.’
‘Nighty-night, boys,’ said Mel, flightily, stepping out into the night.
‘Goodnight, Melanie,’ said Richie, as he closed the doors behind them.
They heard the bolts going on, they must have been the last ones out, unless they were having an all night lock-in, which was not unheard of at the Henderson Country Club, when the card tables would be set out, and the big money high rollers from dubious backgrounds would begin playing poker.
In the past Gringo had let himself be lured down that track just the once, with the inevitable result. He’d had his pants removed, not literally, but not far off. He’d never stray that way again, and anyway, what would your average red-blooded male prefer? To stay behind and play cards? Or take your chances with the beautiful girl? No contest. Never was, never will be.
They stood at the top of the six stone steps for a moment and breathed in the cool night air. There was a moon, a whopping yellow presence glittering down on all those lucky enough to notice.
‘Look at the moon,’ she said.
Gringo would normally notice the moon about once in ten years. Maybe that night was the night. He offered her his arm and she linked him closely, as they danced down the stairs together and headed across the car park toward the car.
Seven
He pulled the car key from his pocket and pointed and fired. The doors unlocked with an audible click, emphasised on the still night air. Lights went on, inside and out. She hopped round to the passenger side and jumped in. For a moment they sat quietly together. She’d turned in toward him, sitting with her knees together, pointing at the gear stick.
‘Enjoy yourself?’ he said, gently.
Mel nodded.
‘Really?’
‘One of the best nights ever.’
It couldn’t get much better than that. Gringo smiled.
‘Come here.’
They leant closer and kissed, the only contact between them, lips. And again. She tasted of mint, as if she had been chewing gum, or had freshened up her mouth in the cloakroom. It was pleasant, but she didn’t need the flavour of mint to taste wonderful. He’d pulled her closer, deep into his arms, and she let him reel her in. She didn’t think she could stop herself, and anyway, she didn’t want to stop.
Learning to Kill: Stories