Just a dumb fuck

Earthquakes in Ruislip

Nathan and I headed straight back to the auditorium - there didn’t seem much point in straying too far from the main areas in case the Oakdale mob managed to get brave again. I doubted they would after Jayden and Conor had just given them a lesson in manners, but if there are prizes being awarded tonight for stupidity who’s to say Justin and his mates won’t try for a second time?

I was quite impressed by how cool Nathan had been when we had first been surrounded and outnumbered. He’s never struck me as the fighting sort but he didn’t seem in the least bit intimidated by Justin and his gang. Nathan in turn was impressed by Jayden, how he’d calmly suggested that the other side were the ones who ought to be backing down and sending for reinforcements before folding the flea up with a single punch the moment it became clear that he was about to try and hit Jayden. That was good, but not as amazing as Nathan seemed to think.

Jayden is a great boxer; he just gets overshadowed by Jackson. Jayden had the measure of the flea all along, was just waiting for the chance to get his retaliation in first. The flea was stupid enough to oblige. Even my Aunt Norah’s blind dead cat would have seen the flea psyching himself up and getting ready to deliver that ‘surprise’ punch to Jayden.  Once Jayden and Connor arrived, we were pretty safe. They would each have taken on and demolished one of the Oakdale boys in pretty short order as I kept Justin off, then I reckon the others would have seen sense and withdrawn before Jayden and Connor could switch fire on them. My concern was that if Justin or the flea hadn’t started a fight with them, would they have just got Nathan out of there and left me behind? I think that’s partly why Nathan was reluctant to leave when they told him to go.

Back in the auditorium I spotted Noah was still sat at the Officer Cadets’ table. Most of the cadets were either on the dancefloor or had gone off to wander round the exhibition, leaving Noah on his own. He didn’t seem to be bothered by it, he’s always quite happy in his own litle world, but before I could say anything Nathan had already said it: “Let’s go and chat with Noah.” Well, ‘chat’ with Noah is perhaps putting it too strongly, but we can go and say ‘Hello’ and make sure he’s happy.

“Hi, Noah,” said Nathan, dropping down into a chair by his side. “Told you that you’d enjoy it here tonight, didn’t I? We’re just wondering, could you spare ten minutes to take Boots to go and look at your drawings and explain how they’ve been integrated with the paintings?”

Noah beamed. “Of course, Nathan. Come on Boots, I’ll show you.”

Noah led the way through two of the exhibition halls, which were actually quite busy, and stopped at the door way into the third. He nodded towards a point about halfway down the gallery where a number of his pencil sketches were each paired up with a painting. The three of us walked over to them and began to read the labels. The picture of me and Jackson boxing had been paired with a painting called ‘Tybalt and Mercutio’ which showed two guys about our age but centuries older if you get what I mean. They were staring at each other like they were about to start fighting. Actually, they do fight because I vaguely recall they are characters from Shakespeare’s Macbeth or Romeo and Juliet or something like that. One of them ends up attacking the other. As we were reading the labels, which said a lot about the painting but not much about Noah’s drawing, a man came over and started to talk.

“Good evening, gentlemen. So nice to see you young people appreciating fine art. Tell, me what do you think the artist is trying to communicate to us? Why have the curators placed these two pictures together? Do you think perhaps that the message being conveyed is one of permanent conflict? That it does not matter if you are a wealthy Renaissance princeling or a poor, impoverished boy from the backstreet boxing circuit of downtown Pittsburgh, life is short and brutish?”

I was thinking about suggesting that referring to us as ‘you young people’ was just as offensive as if we went round saying “you blind old gits”.  He obviously hasn’t recognised that it is me in the picture despite it being projected across a full wall behind me just an hour ago. Dementia probably. Nathan was trying to suppress a smirk at the thought of Jackson being described as a backstreet Pittsburgh pauper. The man looked at Noah for an answer. I was about to answer for him – Noah isn’t usually comfortable talking with strangers – when Nathan shook his head to warn me off.

“No.” That’s about as much of an answer as he’ll get from Noah, and he’s lucky to get that much.

The man was persistent. “Do you think, perhaps, that the painter was striving to express the futility of the action of Romeo’s cousin in trying to make peace between the Montagues and Capulets, whose blood feud is destined to lead to misery throughout the ages, and that is mirrored in the contemporary art showing two boys fighting over a girl today?” See, I knew they were from Shakespeare. He’s wrong about the fight though. Me and Jackson were just training. He rabbited on about emotion and conflict and destiny and stuff like that, then paused to put Noah under his stare once more. Noah just smiled and looked as if he were thinking for a moment.

“No.”

“If the artist who drew this sketch could reach out and speak to me right now,” said the man, “Do you think he’d want me to be impressed by the mere mechanics of his artistry, the subtlety of the shading here, the strong bold strokes of the pencil there, or did he have a deeper message to convey to my soul? In short, what is he truly saying? Why did he draw this picture?”

Noah looked bemused, then answered simply, “Because Nathan likes me to draw the boxers for him.”

Nathan stepped forward quickly, very quickly, held out his hand to shake hands, placed his left hand on the shoulder of the man and began to steer him away.

“Good evening, I’m Nathan Bauer,” he said, “I think you may have seen my mother open the exhibition earlier? I commissioned these drawings for her, perhaps you’d like to meet her? Do come with me, I’m sure she can spare you a moment or two, Mr…?”

The man smiled. “Mr Pilarski, Jed Pilarski. Pleased to meet you. Why, certainly, I’d be delighted. Such an excellent exhibition, though long overdue if you ask me. I think it’s time we began to place more emphasis on the…”

“I’m sure my mother and the Trustees would be very eager to hear your views, Mr Pilarski,” interrupted Nathan. He was looking around. I couldn’t see Mrs Bauer anywhere. Neither could he, but then he suddenly headed off at an angle. He’d spotted Elizabeth chatting with a couple of other people, from one of the schools I guessed from their age.  Nathan homed in on the group like a missile.

“Elizabeth,” he smiled, “Do forgive the intrusion, I’d like to introduce you to Mr Pilarski. He has such thoughtful views on the exhibition, I’m sure mater would love to hear his opinions but unfortunately, I seem to have misplaced her. You’re so much better at tracking her down. Do be a darling and help Mr Pilarski find her.” He turned to face Mr Pilarski and looked very serious again. “Mr Pilarski, it’s been a delight to meet you. My darling sister will be so happy to help you and I know she’ll be thrilled to hear your views about the contextual interplay of the pre-Raphaelite paradigm and modern street culture”

I’m sure Nathan gave Elizabeth a flicker of his cat face as he abandoned Mr Pilarski and swept away. It’s hard to figure out what’s going through the heads of most girls, but even I knew what Elizabeth meant with the look she gave Nathan. 

“Well, that was a close shave,” said Nathan as he got back to me and Noah. “I’m sure he could have bored the pants off us all night given half a chance. Let’s go and grab some food. Noah, how did the field training go this morning? Did you and the guys manage to get the radio working with a spud or did you use the proper telescopic mast and dipole antenna?”

Noah smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Nathan, the radio worked with the spudtenna. Will preferred using his iPad though with the software Boots told him about. And Shane got hit with the spud afterwards when Travis swung it round his head to show us how to lasso a tree.”

I burst out laughing. I could just imagine Travis swinging the spud and antenna wire round his head like a cowboy before throwing it up into a tree. And of course, if anyone was going to get clobbered by it, it would be Shane. It does sound like they had a great time, and I bet they had a ‘combat barbecue’ too. Kyle would have got them some hash browns, sausages, burgers and beans from the kitchens. He always does.

* * *

Mrs Bauer hadn’t intended to stay late at the gallery and so by nine o’clock we were climbing into the limousine to head back to Nathan’s house, where we arrived just before ten as the roads were relatively quiet and the driver put his foot down where he could. We chatted as we were driven home, and Nathan and Elizabeth were still being nice to each other. Mrs Bauer was of the opinion that the evening had gone well – all the right people had attended and quite a few pledges of support had been made to the Trustees to help finance another major exhibition they were in the early stages of planning. Apparently, it can easily take five years to arrange an exhibition, especially if you have to negotiate with other galleries all around the world to loan paintings from them, then raise money for insurance and transport costs. I asked what would happen to Noah’s drawings after the exhibition finished.

“That very much depends upon Noah, Craig,” said Mrs Bauer. “He’s loaned them to us for the duration of the exhibition, after which they will go back to him. Of course, it’s quite likely that someone may make an offer to buy some of them, in which case the gallery will take a commission and Noah will be paid the remainder. Or instead of selling, he may choose to donate them to the permanent collection. I rather hope he does. Whatever he decides, I’m sure they will be very popular. Nathan did very well to spot their potential.”

Well, they are definitely popular with me. I wanted the one of me boxing to give as a present to my dad the moment I saw it, but when I got round to asking Noah if I could have it a few days afterwards he said, no, he’d already given it someone else. Maybe I can ask him for it again when he gets it back. Maybe I should even buy it! That would be good. I’d be an art collector!

“Angela, how much might one of Noah’s drawings sell for?” I asked. I still have about a hundred and seventy dollars that I won’t get a chance to use.

“Oh, that’s not easy to say, Craig. Noah’s an unknown artist and so it very much depends upon who is looking to buy them, and how keen they are to own a particular drawing. However, with Noah’s talent, it’s likely that many buyers may be considering the investment value of an early work, so he’ll likely be able to command over a thousand dollars each for the smaller sketches, perhaps into a five-figure sum if he sells them as a complete collection.”

A thousand dollars! For just one picture? Bloody hell, that’s way out of my league. I mean, I know they are good, and it would be nice for Noah to get paid for them, but they don’t take him long to do. He’s got a book full of them. I definitely can’t afford a thousand dollars. I wasn’t even thinking of a hundred dollars. I was thinking maybe ten dollars each for a few of them. I think he might even have just given me my picture if I had asked in time.

“I’ve offered to be Noah’s agent,” said Nathan, “We’re just waiting to hear back from his father’s lawyer and accountant regarding the contract I proposed. I’m sure they’ll accept it, it’s considerably more generous than standard and Noah’s family have already recognised that. It’s now just down to finding out how bloodthirsty their accountant is.”

“Well, he has to act in Noah’s best interest, brother,” said Elizabeth.

“I already have,” said Nathan, “Noah’s getting a very good deal at the expense of squeezing my commission. I stand by my friends.”

* * *

Once we were in the house Mrs Bauer thanked me once again for escorting her to the gallery, then said she was going to go and have a long bath and an early night in bed. Elizabeth disappeared off to her room, which I assume is in the other wing to where me and Nathan are. Nathan led the way to the kitchen where we found that Milly had left us a plate of sandwiches and small fruit pies for supper.

“What do you fancy doing now, Boots?” asked Nathan between bites of an apple and blueberry pie, “It’s still early for bed and we don’t have to be up early tomorrow anyway as it’s Sunday. Film? Gaming? Swimming? Better still, how about we go and spend some time in the jacuzzi?”

I had a mouthful of sandwich and so couldn’t say anything right away, but was thinking about watching a film. Nathan has a huge OLED screen in his room and what looks to be some audio-visual kit that Will would cream himself over. I’ve never seen a seven speaker cinema surround sound system powered by an amplifier with valves before, but Nathan has one. It looks kind of steam punk with big copper cooling fins on a mahogany base. I guess if Nathan can play the cello or whatever it is, his ears can appreciate top notch sound.  

“Right, jacuzzi it is, Boots. Bring the pies,” said Nat before I could reply. I managed not to say, “Yes, Sergeant” as I grabbed the plate of pies and scrambled after him.

The jacuzzi is right next to the swimming pool, and has views down the slope towards the river through some big full height windows. I put the plate of pies down on a small teak and brass table near some steamer loungers by the jacuzzi. I’ve never been in a jacuzzi before. It was like a big square bath set into the ground but it wasn’t bubbling. That’s the point of jacuzzis, isn’t it? They have water jets and bubble away like mad. Nathan opened a cupboard nearby and pressed a few switches. The water in the jacuzzi began to boil and froth as some pumps began to operate with a slow but powerful buzz. Nathan closed the cupboard on the wall and walked over to a raised granite plinth between the jacuzzi and the pool, opened a nearly invisible door and revealed a subtly lit drinks cabinet. He took out two glasses and a bottle of whisky.

“Drink, Boots?”

I didn’t have a choice. Nathan poured a small measure of whisky into a crystal tumbler and handed it to me before pouring a second for himself. He turned to face me and raised his glass.

“Cheers, Boots. Thanks for coming tonight, it means a lot to me. I’d have been bored stiff without you. Elizabeth would have made my night hell.”

I raised my glass and clinked it against Nat’s.

“That’s okay, Nat, I’ve enjoyed it.”

Well, I’ve sort of enjoyed it. But maybe Elizabeth was right. I’m out of my depth here. The dinner at the country club. Driving a car like Lemon Steroids. Swimming in a big private pool. Dressing up in a dinner suit to go to a big posh exhibition. I’d never do that back home. And Nathan. He’s only just a year older than me but he just takes it in his stride. He’s busy making legal contracts and planning to do big art deals. Talking to accountants. Yeah, accountants. I just open my wallet and count out seventeen ten-dollar bills and a handful of change. That’s what I am worth right now. Nathan probably has trust funds and stuff like that.

“You okay, Boots?” asked Nat. “You look a little lost.”

“Yes, I’m okay Nat. I was just thinking.”

“Yes, I could smell the rubber bands burning, Boots, hear the cogs turning.” He’s laughing.

I laughed too.

Bloody hell, he looks good. So smart and sophisticated in his dinner jacket. Tuxedo. What is it about gingers? Black jacket, white silk shirt, green bow tie, pale skin, red hair. He looks fucking awesome. Why do I seem to always like the wrong ones? Mackenzie. Shane. Nathan. Jackson too. Yes, add Jackson to the list. At least Jackson is gay. Or part gay. Bisexual maybe. He was quick to pounce on Elizabeth tonight. Well, to be fair, he jumped right into her trap. She snared him. Used me to lure him onto the dance floor. He couldn’t wait to elbow me out of the way and grab her. That’s another bloody thing. Why does everybody seem to just use me and then chuck me away?

“Boots?”

I raised my glass and took another sip. This whisky is good. Smooth and smoky. I can just see the label. “Isle of Jura, 1965”. My dad has a bottle of it in his cupboard, bought for him when he was awarded his MC for rescuing somebody from a minefield in Iraq. He saves it for best. He once let me have a tiny sip. Nathan, well, the Bauers, have a bottle for everyday use by the pool, think nothing of serving it up A bottle of whisky that is worth more than me.

“Sorry Nat.”

“You’re weird at times, Boots. Like you are on a different planet. Most of the time you look strong and confident, but sometimes you look like you are lost in a different world. Maybe that’s why you and Noah get on well.”

“Piss off, Nat.”

Nat smiled, put his glass down on the granite counter top, pulled off his bow tie.

“Come on, Boots, let’s get in the jacuzzi.”

Nathan wasted no time in stripping off and jumping, naked, into the jacuzzi. I took a little extra time because I always like to fold my clothes up neatly rather than just dropping them on a lounger like Nathan did. Anyway, the dinner jacket and shirt I’m wearing are Nathan’s, not mine, so of course I was going to fold them extra carefully. The jacuzzi has moulded in seats all round the edge, so I climbed in and sat facing Nathan. It’s quite relaxing, all the bubbles frothing up and the powerful water jets kind of massaging you. Nathan had moved our drinks over from the counter and placed them on a little ledge that ran around the edge of the jacuzzi so we were still able to get at them.

“It must have been a good morning for the fieldcraft, Boots,” said Nathan. “From what Noah said, it sounds like they had a good time with the radios, and your spudtenna worked.”

“Yes,” I laughed, ”At least, it did until Travis started using it to try and round up Shane like a steer.”

“Maybe with Will still plugged into the other end on his iPad and trying to make contact with the International Space Station,” added Nathan.

I could just imagine that. And there would have been a campfire and sausages to follow. The other dorms are probably still on basics, like learning to pack their kit and doing lectures on shape, shine, shadow and stuff. They might not actually get out into the field for another week or two, by which time the weather will have changed.

“I got a message from Kyle earlier too,” said Nathan. “Because we are away, and Noah was on the gallery trip, he found an excuse to go into town this afternoon to meet with Lee and obviously he couldn’t leave Will, Shane and Travis unsupervised so, unfortunately, they had to go with him. I think Kyle had an ulterior motive though, it seems  Shane got a call from that girl he met, inviting him to her house, presumably so her parents could check him out.  I guess Travis and Will had to make do with a trip to the cinema or bowling alley. No doubt they’re all just arrived back at college now and are about to put the thumbscrews on Shane.”

I took a sip of my whisky and smiled. It’s good if Shane had had a call from Amelia and got to meet her again, even if it was just to be introduced to her parents. They’ll definitely like Shane, everyone does. Her dad seemed to like him when we first met her at their shop, so I guess now he’s had to pass inspection by Amelia’s mom too. And big brothers maybe, if she has any. They’ll be the worst.

“Boots, you can tell me it’s none of my business if you like, and to be honest, it isn’t,” said Nathan, “But are you okay about Shane? I kind of got the feeling that you might have liked him a bit more than just as a friend. Not that there’s any problem with that, just…”

I wasn’t sure what to say. It isn’t any of his business, but why should I deny it? I’ve got to start facing up to it. People are going to ask me questions. But before I could get my head straight, either tell him that no, it wasn’t his business, or maybe, say that, yes, I do like Shane, a voice interrupted us.

“Well, if it isn’t my darling brother and his puppy having a bath together. How cute. Drinking papa’s best whisky too. I’m sure that’s gone horribly wrong for you before hasn’t it, Nathan?”

Well, no prizes for guessing who’s just materialised out of nowhere: Elizabeth. I never heard her coming in. Nathan didn’t either, or he wouldn’t have said what he just said. They probably have a servant to go round oiling the door hinges every day so they don’t squeak. She’s dressed in one of those really fluffy white dressing gowns like they had at the country club, and carrying a glass of wine. Or champagne. It’s probably champagne, that’s what rich people drink.

Elizabeth paused by the side of the jacuzzi and placed her glass on the edge.

“Room in there for another one, brother dear? I was looking forward to a nice relaxing soak before bed but forget you like to bring your conquests here to soften them up.”

What the fuck is she on about? I looked across at Nathan but he’s just taking it in his stride, not looking the least bit bothered by her turning up, or what she’s just said.

“I’m afraid to be the bearer of bad news, Boots, but you’re nothing special,” said Elizabeth as she walked around to the steps on the side of the jacuzzi between me and Nathan. “You’re not the first Nathan’s brought here. Admittedly it was a girl that he was caught with the last time, and that ended up with him being packed off to Allegheny College to try and knock some discipline into him. My baby brother’s never been too fussy about where he plants his dick. I guess it was only a matter of time before he tried a boy.”

I can hear the words. I can see Elizabeth stalking round to the steps. I just can’t make sense of any of it. It’s not the whisky, I’ve hardly had any. It’s my brain. It’s totally frazzled. First Nathan dropping hints that he thinks I’m gay, which he’s right about to be fair, but I have to get my head round that too still, then Elizabeth flies in here like a wicked witch on her broomstick and starts hinting Nat’s after my arse! He’s the straightest guy I know. I wish he wasn’t, but he is.

I don’t believe this. She’s taking off her bloody dressing gown. Just dropped it to the floor. She’s freekin’ starkers under it! I looked away quickly as she climbed into the jacuzzi and sat down on the side between me and Nathan, didn’t dare turn my head back until I calculated she would be well hidden by the bubbles. I couldn’t help but see her naked though, the way she just dropped her gown. She’s abso-fucking-lutely awesome. Body like a model: nice pert tits and a triangle of blonde hair between her legs that’s not quite hiding a very nice pussy. Definitely a ‘designer vagina’ and not something that looks like a badly packed kebab.

“Well, brother?” asked Elizabeth, “Are you going to play nicely and share like mother taught you or shall I just take your toy away?”

My lips are moving. My tongue too. I’m not sure what the words are. I haven’t got things lined up yet. But I’m bloody well not standing for this. I’ve got to say something. This is just completely out of order. She’s off her head. Nathan was right when he called her his Evil Sister.

“Bloody toy?”

Elizabeth turned and smiled sweetly. “Oh shush, Boots, you didn’t object too much when the Oakdale girls used you.”

“Ignore her, Boots. She’s just getting back at me for dumping that know-it-all art critic on her at the gallery earlier.”

What’s that snake called in “The Jungle Book”? The snake who hypnotises Mowgli. Kaa. Yes, that’s it, Kaa. They should rename Elizabeth, ‘Kaa’. She kind of hypnotic. I can’t help but look at her, but obviously can’t be seen looking at her. She’s up to her neck in water, but it’s clear water and the bubbles don’t hide everything. It’s sort of fascinating the way her tits seem to be trying to float up to the surface. Archimedes’ Principle at work I guess. Centre of mass and centre of buoyancy being offset and all that sort of thing. That’s what makes ships float if they are properly designed. Weight down low, buoyancy point up high.

“Had a good look, Boots?” Elizabeth is smiling right at me.

“He can hardly avoid it, can he, the way you just stripped off and climbed in between us?” said Nathan, coming to my aid. “Well brought up girls don’t do that sort of thing in England, do they Boots?”

“No need to worry your pretty little head over it, Nathan dear,” said Elizabeth, “Boots is a perfect gentleman, aren’t you Boots? He won’t breathe a word to anyone about what he saw. It seems the Oakdale girls are relying on that, aren’t they, Craig?”

Nathan’s giving me his look again. That one where he’s waiting for me to say something and incriminate myself. Elizabeth should keep her mouth shut. Keep out of this. I’m in enough trouble already without her adding to it.

“You’ll have to forgive my darling baby brother, Boots. I’m sure he means well in his own way but it’s a little hard to take moral lectures from a brat five years younger than me who behaves worse than the boys he pretends to warn me about. Maybe I should try and trade him in. I’m sure you’d make a far better brother, Craig.”

I need Scotty to beam me up.

“Be a darling, Boots, and pass me my glass would you?”

I stretched over but couldn’t quite reach Elizabeth’s glass. Without thinking I started to stand up so I could reach further, in fact to be honest I was glad to have something to do for a moment that didn’t involve looking at Elizabeth or talking to her. Then I realised my mistake. I’d just given her a great view of my arse, and when I turn around she’s going to see my dick. Unless I sink down first and submerge, then turn around and pass her the glass. That’s just going to look plain awkward though.

I reached out for the glass, picked it up, turned around, tried not to look her in the eye as I passed it to her.

“Thank you, Boots.”

Elizabeth hasn’t batted an eyelid. She’s just seen me totally naked and it hasn’t bothered her one little bit. Nathan doesn’t look bothered either. They’re just looking at one another as though it’s totally natural to be naked together and doesn’t even register on their consciousness. Back home this would cause, well, the end of the world probably. Earthquakes in Ruislip at the very least. America is definitely another country.