He Loved My suit

It was Friday just after New Year. I arrived in San Francisco late
in the afternoon, it was one of my favourite cities, the Paris of
America. Four dozen steep hills, stair stepped white houses, a hundred
year old cable car, saved by common sense. The Golden Gate Bridge,
modern engineering as art, named after the gold rush of 1848. A city
that took you to its heart, embracing you, insisting you had a time!
I'd driven from LA in a rented Buick, all on plastic, the compact car
they'd prommised had been unavailable, so they upgraded me for free,
because as the lady in the rental office put it,
"You bitched the most. Now you've got the biggest small car we've
got"
I drove the Pacific coast, the strong wind behind me, urging me
onwards, the roads isolated, scrub covered slopes leading to empty
sandy beaches, the waves crashing against the headland. Putting that
big car into the bends, at anything over seventy, the steering
shuddering, most of the time I was happy at fifty-five. I'd grown fond
of the big old easy drive, it drank gas, came fully loaded,
auto, power and with its red velvet button backed upholstery, reminded
me of a western bordello. We'd kept good company, Hank Williams, Dwight
Yoakam, Chuck Berry, Dylan and Elvis; to name a few. I didn't drive, I
jived the several hundred miles.
When I arrived I was stiff in my back and neck, I found a motel. The
twenty-four hour neon sign read, "Phoenix," and below that "Deluxe," it
wasn't.
The only compararison I could make would be Pysco Bates Motel. The
Kidney shaped pool not emptied for winter, the water looked grey and
heavy, I imagined Piranhas lurking near the bottom, just waiting. It
was two storeys high I was on the upper level reached by a stone
staircase to the side of the building. A square room twelve by twelve,
with a seperate bathroom, a long time ago it had been white, with buff
coloured curtains that showed the light, paper-thin walls, too thin to
lean on. The shag hair carpet clung to your feet like Velcro if you
tried to leave the room.
After a shower I tried to pretend that it wasn't
that bad for thirty dollars a night, it was worse. I gathered myself,
put on a dark suit, a black shirt and decided to find a bar. I asked
the old man sitting at the desk, craggy faced, looking like he never
moved, but with a twinkle in his eye, "I know just what you're after,"
pointed me in the right direction.
I got in the Buick and cruised it was still early, a dark starry night.
America, possibilities on every block, but so soon after New Year, not
a chance. I parked the car and walked, the air was cold and damp, five
minutes later I found a barthat would of been hard to miss, or maybe it
found me. Heartbreaks, the tall double glass doors were flanked either
side by huge plaster draped curtains, they were cerise with pink bows.
The front of the building flood lit from above, several different
shades of pink lights that ended in a cascade, a blaze of colour below.
A dazzling contrast to the hard-edged sidewalk.
My spirits lifted I went inside; it was almost empty, there was a
restaurant to the left, the tables laid for dinner. The place looked
good. To the right a long snake curved bar with high wicker wrap around
chairs. Pastel walls, he lights down low, music drifted across the bar,
a womans voice to soft to distinguish, sounding like she was singing
from far away. The whole place sleepwalking, not yet woken up from New
Year, I went to the bar and got a beer.
I didn't notice her until she spoke, sitting beside me, tapping her
glass and giving the barman a little wave. Now, I was looking at her in
the mirror behind the bar and she was looking back at me!
"White wine, over here," she said, then adding,"Chardonnay and you'd
better make that two"
Gestering to the man that had joined her, he was tall in his thirties,
good looking. He leant heavily on the bar and lit a cigarette. She was
twenty-eight or nine, skinny and sexy, they'd both been drinking.
"So hun," he said, "Do you wanna go or what? We had to meet here, I
hate this place! Let's go eat Chinese at Leroy's," then glancing at his
watch, "Its already gone nine."
I noticed it was a Rolex,
"You go if you want I'm staying," she answered, waving at his cigarette
smoke,
"Christ you know how much I despise those things. I'm not leaving and
don't call me Hun.
I don't like it!"
The barman comes over with their drinks and sets them down with the
customary, "you're welcome," and its not over yet, he's hovering over
her, smoking right at her.
"What's that to you, if I call you Hun? You think you're pretty dam
smart, don't you!"
Every so often she's giving me glances in the mirror and their really
going at it, both doing a penance for something. Then she turns to
me,
"This guy, he's driving me nuts, because he's rich, he thinks I'm gonna
sleep with him!"
As she's talking she's twisting her glass, she's got these dark eyes
that sparcle, her hair, darker still, down past her shoulders, falling
foward onto her face.
"I'm not interested in his money, he's nothing to me, he's not my
boyfriend and I don't sleep with him and that's that"
I don't say a word, I carry on drinking my beer, but I know its leading
somewhere, he catches my eye and gives me a smile, he's got these extra
white chiselled teeth. He'd backed off a bit,
"Ok if you don't want to go, then lets have us another drink,"
Calling over the barman, who was standing across from me and at the
same time noticing that my glass was empty.
"Beer," he says, "Is that what you're drinking?"
"Why not," I tell him,"I'll have a Bud and thanks,"
"Are you from England?" he asks and makes the England sound like a far
off universe.
"I've got a cousin in Manchester. Is that where you're from? Are you
travelling in the US? Oh I'm Drew and this is Max," we shake hands, "I
love your suit," with his teeth, "Did you get that in England?"
I'm Robet I tell him and yes of course I'm travelling and I live in
London not Manchester, unfortunately I go back in four days, looking
directly at her.
"Did you hear that Hun, Roberts from London and he's going back in four
days and isn't that a neat suit," slowly running his fingers under one
of my lapels.
She's in the middle of telling me how much she'd like to see London,
he's fidgety and keeps checking his watch, all at once he rushes for
the door, screaming back at her that he's bringing the car round and
their definitely leaving.
Ignoring him, she just sits there, moving slightly to the music. I
wanted to say to her don't go, but I didn't have to, in the next breath
she says to me,
"I don't want to go, I'd much rather stay here with you."
And I had to agree with her, even though he loved my suit and when he
rushes back in, she tells him. No, she's not leaving. Sure, he can go
if thats what he wants. She tells him to go and this time he
does!
Heartbreaks is now waking up, the music louder, the restaurant half
full, smilling waiters, hovering at their stations, attentive,
respetful of their jobs. Twenty and thirty year olds, friends hugging
and kissing for New Year.
City types, shotgun sure in Armani Suits crowding the bar for drinks
and the women, blonde frizzed hair, spooned into bun-hugging dresses.
Its time to party!
Max moves closer to me, I felt like a kid who'd found something he had
to have, she tells me she's half Mexican and I ask if she lives close
by.
"I live across the bridge, at Marin County, I work at the Mall, at
Macys, I sell after eight designer dresses to rich married ladies; the
ones their boyfriends only get to see!
She's stiring her drink with her finger and I've noticed she doesn't
wear a ring, but I have to ask her anyway if she's married. She smiles
at me with her eyes and her lips, holding up her hand for me to
see,
"Not on Fridays"