sixteen

“You’re what?!” I put down my wine and switch the phone to the other ear.

    On the other end of the line, somewhere in Brazil, I hear Murray cough and repeat himself.

    “I’m making a movie.”

    I rub my eyes. I already know the answer to my next question, but I still find myself compelled to ask it anyway.

    “What kind of movie?”

    “Adult,” comes the slightly meek reply.

    I place my free hand over my face, “I knew it. Please, for the sake of our friendship, tell me you’re gainfully employed somewhere behind the scenes. Lighting, boom operator, towel folder…anything.”

    A degree of pride seeps into Murray’s voice and I swear I can hear him jangling change in his trousers, “I’ve actually got myself a modest – but pivotal – role in the picture.”

    “Modest?” I say, “There’s nothing modest about you.”

    “Modest,” says Murray, ” but pivotal.”

    I sit back on the sofa, “So you’ve become a porn star then?”

    “Why not?” asks Murray.

    “Do you have any previous experience?”

    “Hey! I’ve been around the block, my friend!”

    “Oh, yeh,” I say, “I forgot about your little list. So what’s the story? I’m assuming there is some kind of set up to this.”

    “Yeeesssss,” says Murray tiresomely. “It’s actually a re-imagining of the Rock Hudson/James Dean film Giant. You know the one where James Dean discovers an oil well and Hudson gets pissed off?”

    “I remember.” I sigh, “If this is a ‘re-imagining’, does that mean it’s being directed by Tim Burton?”

    “No,” scoffs Murray, “that’s just stupid. Anyway, in this version, the James Dean character discovers a semen well.”

     “Good grief,” I say. “So what’s the film called?”

     “Rude Oil.”

     “I hope you know I’m sitting here shaking my head in despair.”

     “I think you’re just jealous.”

     “No, I’m not.” (Not even slightly). “So, what does Bootie make of all this?”

     “What does she make of all this?” Murray laughs, “She’s my agent. She got me this gig!”

     “How thoughtful,” I say. “This must be love. So when do you start filming?”

     “Tomorrow morning,” he says, inhaling heavily. I’m sure I can detect a trace of dread there. I hope so.

     “Okay,” I sigh, ” well, I’d better let you go so you can learn your lines.”

     “Hey! Maybe when it’s all finished and released we can have a special premier with all our friends one night!”

     “I’m banking on all our friends being otherwise engaged that night.”

     “What do you mean?”

     “If you invite your friends to watch a film of you fucking for money they will no longer be your friends. They will just be people who point at you in the street and make cruel remarks about you at subsequent dinner parties.”

     “You think so?”

     “I know so.”

     “You wouldn’t happen to be one of those people would you?”

     “No, I don’t go to dinner parties.”

     “Hmmm,” says Murray, “interesting…Anyway, I’m not fucking for money. I’m on a kind of apprenticeship.”

     “Can you still claim Jobseeker’s Allowance?”

     ”Ho Ho Ho…Listen, I have to go. Bootie wants to talk me through a few positions.”

     “Give her my love,” I say cheerily and hang up.

     I sit there for a few moments. I was going to go to bed but now I have this horrible, involuntary image of Murray’s backside writhing awkwardly between a pair of Latino legs.

     The excuses I find to get drunk.

fifteen

“This is the shittest cafe I have ever been in,” says Molly as she places her newspaper under her bottom before sitting down on the wooden bench. “I am not surprised you’ve never brought me here before.”

    I lazily scan the dog-eared menu, “Don’t knock it. The National Trust have got their eyes on this place.”

    “Really,” says Molly, “is that a fact?”

    “Absolutely,” I say. I hand the menu to Molly, “Anyway, what do you feel like?”

    An appalled expression contorts her face as she reads the admittedly limited offerings, “Actually I’d quite like to go and be sick.” She looks across the table towards me, “You didn’t honestly expect that I would eat any of the tat on this did you?”

    “I just thought it would be a nice change for you to lower your standards and come hang out with the hoi polloi.”

     Someone at a table of chubbies in luminous waistcoats drops their guts and it’s received with laughs all round. I have to casually pretend to stifle a yawn so I don’t laugh too. Molly turns to glare at them for a second and when one of them winks she flicks back all flushed and plays with her hair.

     “Just order something quickly,” she says through gritted teeth.

     “Okay,” I say, and catch the eye of the sixty year old owner, Candice. She comes over to our table.

     “Haven’t seen you in here for a while,” says Candice.

      “I know,” I say. “I’ve been scuba diving.”

     Candice nods; I’m not actually sure she knows what scuba diving is.

     “What you having?” she asks.

     ”Tea and breakfast roll, please,” I say.

     Candice nods towards Molly, “And what about your bird?”

     Molly looks like she is trying to make her eyeballs fire lasers at Candice.

     I cough politely, “My girlfriend will have a black coffee.”

     Molly’s lasers swing in my direction. She mouths ‘your girlfriend?’  at me and I give her a wink.

      “That’s it?” asks Candice.

     I lean in towards Candice, “She’s trying to watch her figure. Poor old cow thinks she looks like a sack of coal.”

     Candice aaahs in understanding and turns to face Molly and looks her up and down, “I don’t know what you’re whingeing about, luv. I’d shag you…if I could remember what to do. And if I was a lesbian.”

     She walks off and Molly looks like she’s about to pebble-dash the table.

     “Get me out of here,” mutters Molly through gritted teeth.

     “Relax,” I say. “What are you so uptight about? Have you and Randolph had a row?”

     Molly’s shoulders sag, “No, we haven’t had a row.”

     “So what’s the problem?”

     She shrugs, “I’m just totally disillusioned with my life.”

     “Aren’t we all?” I say. I know I am.

     “I wanted so much more out of my life. I think Randolph is too good for me.”

     “That’s not true at all,” I say, because it isn’t.

     “Well,” says Molly, “whatever.”

     Candice chugs over and slops our drinks and my breakfast roll on the table and leaves, but not before giving Molly the once over again. Molly places her head directly above her cup and peers into the black gloop.

     “Is this leaded or unleaded?” she asks.

     ”You should just cheer up,” I say, stirring my tea. “Anything is possible. Look at Murray.”

     “Is he still dating that porn star?”

     “You bet he is. They’re in Brazil right now. He’s having the time of his life.”

     “Good for him, I suppose,” says Molly.

     I see Roper entering the cafe and catch his eye. He comes over and sits next to me.

     “Hey, Roper,” says Molly sullenly, “still stealing stuff from work?”

     “No, actually,” says Roper, “I’ve discovered a new hobby to distract me.”

     “What hobby is this?” I ask.

     Roper rolls his shirt sleeves up under his sports jacket, “I’ve started smoking weed.”

     He grins at me and Molly.

     “Why?” asks Molly in disgust. “Why start smoking weed? Especially now. You should have sampled it all years ago when you’re supposed to. Not start now at your age. Yoooouuuu….prick.”

      “I’m not that old,” says Roper defensively. “Anyway, I actually find it quite therapeutic, especially when Gussie wants one of her rows. I find I can cope better with one of her nuclear winters if I can’t stop giggling all the way through it.”

     I nod to Molly, “He does have a point. I don’t think I could sit through one of her tirades unless I had a couple of hyperdermic needles hanging out of my arse.”

     “That’s not the point,” says Molly. “Listen, Roper. I went to college with stoners who didn’t just do it at parties; they did it every single day and they became the most boring, arse-testing cretins you could possibly  imagine.”

     Roper gives a thousand yard stare, “I’d love to receive oral sex while stoned. I reckon that would be alright. Not sure I could reciprocate though.”

     Candice comes over, “Tea, Roper?”

     Roper is pulled back into reality, “Er…yes. Thank you, Candice.”

     Candice nods and plods back behind the counter and fetches him a cup of lukewarm radiator fluid.

     Molly takes a sip of her coffee and dribbles it back into the cup. She looks up at the both of us, “You two had better drink your teas fast. I’m beginning to feel things latching themselves onto my skin.”

     “I saw Ruff’s band play on Friday,” says Roper. He turns to me. “He noticed that you failed to show yet again.”

     “I know,” I say, playing with my cup, “I forgot. What are they called now?”

     Roper scratches his forehead and then examines his fingernails, “Er…Colonic Tonic.”

     “Are they ever going to settle on a band name?” asks Molly.

     “I doubt it,” I say. “Actually, I quite like the idea of a band that keeps changing their moniker. It means their fan base have to work that little bit harder to be their fan base.”

     Roper stirs his tea with his thumb, “I would have liked to have been famous.”

     Molly laughs unintentionally but manages to stop herself, “You? What the hell could you be famous for?”

     “Well,” I say, “he does have the worst girlfriend in the world.”

     “Gussie’s not that bad,” pipes Roper.

     “Next to Gussie, syphillis is ‘not that bad’.”

     Roper igores me, “I reckon I could be a famous explorer. Or a horticulturalist.”

     “Keep on aiming for the skies, Roper, ” says Molly. She looks at her watch, “Come on.”

     “What’s the big rush?” I ask.

     “I’m meeting Meredith.”

     “The hairdresser from Slutzcutz?”

     “The very same. You want to come?”

     I look at my watch, “Okay, I’ll take my breakfast roll with me. You coming Roper?”

     Roper grunts an affirmative and he and I finish our teas. I pay Candice and we exit into the relative fresh air of the high street. After a few minutes Molly taps my arm.

      “Oh, ” she says, “I should warn you. You have some explaining to do when we get to Slutzcutz.”

     I give her a puzzled look; you know, the one where you try to make your eyebrows touch.

     “Why?” I ask.

     ”Meredith passed you in the street the other day and she said hello and you just blanked her and walked right past her.”

     “Ohhhh,” I groan, “I’m always doing that. I just don’t notice anything when I’m walking. That’s why I failed my interview for MI6. I’ll explain it to her.”

     Roper chuckles, “You know, you do always do that! You walked right past me two weeks ago when I was coming out of the Post Office. I called out to you and waved but you just didn’t see me.”

    I place a hand on Roper’s shoulder, “No, I did see you. I was just ignoring you.”

    “Oh.”

    “Sorry.”

    “It’s okay,” says Roper, ” I didn’t have anything to tell you that was worth knowing anyway.”

    I nod at him, “That’s what I thought.”

fourteen

Murray keeps checking his watch and muttering “where is he…where is he…?” to himself.

    We’re at the Crotchwatch Porn Festival and I too am getting a little impatient waiting for Vance to return with news of Bootie Hadley.

    Ruth and Molly approach us through the crowds of voyeurs.

    “Where have you two been?” I ask.

    “They’re showing vintage movies over there in that pagoda,” replies Ruth, “we’ve just been watching an eighties skin-flick.”

    I look past her across the sprawling atrium to a giant orange pagoda. The top of the pagoda has a big slit in it that’s spurting bubbles.

    “Really?” says Murray. “Which one did you see?”

    Molly looks unimpressed, “On Her Majesty’s Secret Cervix.“

    Murray frowns, “Don’t remember that one…”

    “Ohh, you know…!” says Molly, slapping him on the back and giving him a wink, “it’s the one with all the shagging.“

    “You’re not having a great time, are you?” I ask.

    “I can’t believe I let you all talk me into coming to this…” she swings her arm around in disgust, “…cesspit of flesh.”

    “I just wanted to see the expression on your face,” I admit.

    Molly puts her hands on her hips and sucks her cheeks in.

    Murray suddenly grabs my arm, “Here comes Vance!”

    Vance canters towards us and places his hands on our shoulders.

    “Gentlemen,” he says in what I can only assume is his best ringmaster voice, “Ms Hadley seeks an audience.”

    Murray and I silently follow Vance through the sea of breasts, genitalia and memorabilia. I can almost hear Murray’s mind repeating almost there almost there! over and over. We reach a closed off reasonably sized pen that is covered in a purple velvet curtain. Vance sticks his head through and then holds it open.

    “Come in, boys,” says that unmistakable husky tone.

    Murray and I glance at Vance, then at eachother, and then step inside. Vance closes the curtain behind us and then the two of us are alone with the greatest British adult feature star that ever lived. And she is naked.

    “Hello, boys,” she purrs, swishing her long brunette hair from her shoulders, “Vance tells me you’re two of my biggest fans. That’s so sweet.”

    Murray is first off the mark, “I just want to say I think you’re really…hot! And also that…that…”

    He stops mid-sentence and suddenly points directly at her crotch.

    “Is that…?” he peers in closer”…Is your pubic hair shaped like the Vulcan hand signal?”

    Bootie follows his gaze and smiles, “I’m a life-long fan of Star Trek. Now I don’t make films anymore I can do what I like with my bush. Do you like it?”

    “Like it?!” exclaims Murray, “I love it! I love Star Trek!” He turns to me, “Don’t I just love Star Trek?”

    I nod slowly, “Ohhh yes, you just love Star Trek alright.”

    Bootie looks past Murray and towards me, “How about you? Do you love Star Trek too?”

    “Errr…well…The Wrath Of Khan was alright; you know, when that bug goes in the guy’s ear. Actually I’m more of a Star Wars fan really.” I let out an embarrassing chuckle. Then I feel myself going red.

    Bootie holds a jewelled hand up, “I don’t like Star Wars.“

    “You don’t like Star Wars?” I say disbelievingly. “But you were in The Empire Strokes Jack! You played Chewbackdoor! You stroked Jack!”

    “Contractual obligations, darling, nothing more,” she says tiresomely and, if you ask me, more than a little patronisingly. She turns to Murray, “Would you like some champagne?”

    Murray’s expression makes him look like he has just had an orgasm, which in his case is a distinct possibiltiy. I myself, however, am feeling somewhat less enthused as I find myself being cannonballed out of the loop.

    “I’ll…leave you to it, then,” I say and edge backwards through the curtain, squeezing my eyes tightly shut so that I won’t see them doing what I think they are going to start doing any time now.

    About a quarter of an hour and a diminished libido later I find Ruth propping up a bar with Vance and a twenty-something guy in Speedos.

    “Hey!” says Ruth, “So how was the big dream come true? Did she exceed your expectations?”

    I sigh,”No. Quite the opposite actually. She hates Star Wars but lurrrves Star Trek. Can you believe that? I left her and Murray to whatever.”

    She laughs and gives me a peck on the cheek, “Never mind. I’ll get you a drink.”

    As she turns away Vance puts his hand on my shoulder, “Sorry, pal. Didn’t know she was a Trekkie.”

    I wave away his apology gracefully.

    “Anyway,” he continues, “let me introduce you to another friend of mine.” He indicates the Speedos guy. “This is Coy Johnson. He’s in the business.”

    “No kidding,” I say and I shake hands with Coy Johnson.

    “Actually,” says Coy in a Texan drawl, “I’m taking a sabbatical. I’ve kinda lost my groove for any kind of sex.”

    “I know the feeling,” I agree lamentably. I can’t really be bothered to have another conversation with another porn star.

    Ruth hands me a rum and coke and turns to Coy.

    “So, Coy, tell me something. You’re currently abstaining from any sexual act at all?”

    Coy nods.

    “Why is that?”

    “Oh, nothing, ” shrugs Coy, “I just haven’t been feeling myself lately.”

    Vance starts to massage Coy’s neck, “You just need to relax,” he says. “What’s your favourite yoghurt?”

    “Are you married?” asks Ruth.

    “Here we go,” I say, rolling my eyes.

    “I used to be,” replies Coy. “My ex-wife didn’t take it too well when I decided to get into the adult entertainment industry.”

    Ruth snorts and downs her cocktail, “Some women can be such opinionated witches.”

    I finish my drink and decide to have a walk around on my own. I make my excuses and sew myself into the crowd. An hour or so later finds me desensitised to the whole shebang and so I make my way to the end of the atrium and outside. I find Molly standing by two breast-shaped pot plants, talking into her phone. She sees me coming and I wave. I reach her just as she’s ringing off.

    “Seen enough pink, then?” she says as she puts her mobile in her handbag.

    I put my hands in my pockets, “I might just head home.”

    “I’ll come with you,” she says.

    We start walking. It’s a clear night for a change.

    “I really, really cannot stand porno movies,” she says after a while.

    I grin and nudge her, “You think you could do better?”

    She gives me a withering stare, “Hey, I’ve got a sex life and an imagination. I  don’t need to do better.”

    “And let’s face it,” I say, “you’d need a hell of a lot of imagination where your current boyfriend is concerned.”

    Molly punches me on the arm.”You leave Randolph alone. He’s a sweet guy and he treats me like a lady.”

    “Well, I’m glad to hear it,” I say approvingly. “Otherwise I would have to slap him with my glove.”

    My mobile message alert sounds and I check my inbox.

    “Who is it?” asks Molly.”Bootie Hadley?”

    “It’s Ruth.”

    “What’s she going to do?”

    “By the looks of things, Coy Johnson.”

    “Who?”

    I put my phone back in my pocket, “Oh, he’s just some porn star on a sabbatical.”

    Molly laughs, “Is he married?”

    “Close,” I say, “he’s divorced.”

    “I’m not surprised,” says Molly. “Still, it’s not much of a challenge.”

    I look at her, “What isn’t much of a challenge?”

    “Pulling somebody who has sex all the time anyway. Where’s all the thrill of the chase?”

    “I suppose,” I ponder. “But then again, having sex with someone who’s had more traffic than the M25 could be an eye-opener for some people.”

    Molly shudders at the thought.

    We walk on a bit further until I can’t be bothered anymore.

    “Do you want to share a cab?” I ask.

    Molly checks her watch, “Good idea.”

    We stand at the side of the road and scan the traffic sailing past for an orange light. After a couple of moments a pink limo streams up towards us. It stops and one of the blacked out windows lowers and a pair of jockey shorts suddenly fly out at us. This is followed by a hairy arse which shoves itself into the window frame and starts wiggling to the chill-out music inside the car.

    “Ohhh, nooo….”I mutter.

    The arse disappears and is swiftly replaced by a very drunk and naked Murray, who raises a bottle of champagne up towards us.

    “Heeeeeeeyyyyyyy!” he drawls.

    “What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, though I’m not sure if I actually need or want to know.

    Murray winks and yells, “I’m living the dream, my friend!”

    The limo suddenly jerks away from the kerb and we hear Murray scream at the top of his drunken voice.

    “I’M LIVING THE DREAM!!!!!”

    I notice a jewelled hand grab his arm and pull him back in as the limo slips away with the traffic.

    “Do you want to know something?” I say, still staring down the street, “I think he’s finally cracked.”

    Molly coughs politely, “Do you want to know something?”

    “What?”

    “You have Murray’s jockey shorts hanging from your shoulder.”

thirteen

“I’ve written a new song,” says Ruff as he arrives back at the table with the drinks, “it’s called ‘Judy’.”

    I take my drink.Try to seem interested. Try to seem interested. Try to seem interested. Try to seem interested.

     “What’s it called?” asks Molly, sipping her G and T.

     Ruff stares at her, “‘Judy’….”

     “I knew a girl named Judy,” I say. “I used to go out with her mum.”

     “So,” says Molly, “have you and the boys decided on a band name yet?”

     Ruff starts putting together a roll-up, “Well, we were thinking of The Nautical Bladders.”

     “Why can’t you come up with a nice name for a change,” I say.

     Ruff runs his tongue along the Rizla, “Like what?”

     “I don’t know,” I shrug, “Ice Cream?”

     “Ice Cream?” says Molly, cringing. “That’s just plain crap. How about The Love Poodles? The Sex Noodles? The Doodles?”

     Ruff plays with his earring, “I’m going to go outside and smoke. I may score some heavy drugs for the pair of you while I’m gone.” He stands up and weaves his way through the bar. Murray comes out of the gents and sits down at our table.

     “What took you so long?” asks Molly.

     Murray dabs his forehead with his handkerchief, “Bloody pub toilets. You women have no idea how lucky you are to not be men and have to suffer the routine humiliation that is laying pipe in a public convenience.”

     “Have the locks been kicked off again?”I ask.

     Murray takes a big swallow of his pint, “Trap A has no lock. Trap B has no door at all. Trap C has no toilet seat and Trap D has a couple screwing in it.”

     Molly gasps,”Noooo! Really? They’re in there right now?”

     Murray nods. He pulls out his phone, “Want to see?”

     “You didn’t,” I say, shaking my head, “please tell me you didn’t.”

     Murray grins and presses a couple of buttons, “You know you want to see it.”

     He’s right, I do want to see it but if I act disgusted enough I can maintain an intellectual superiority over him. I take the phone and press play. Molly leans in close, mouth wide open. Shot from above, it shows a woman resting her elbows on the cistern while a man with no hair goes at it from behind. At one point during the minute-long clip, the woman appears to pick her nose and wipe it on the wall.

     “Her blouse is dreadful,” says Molly.

     I hand the phone back to Murray who is still grinning.

     “Don’t grin,” I say. “It’s not clever.”

     “Did you get a little stirring in your loins?”

     “No.”

     ”That was so un-erotic,” says Molly.

      “You didn’t find that even a little bit sexy?” asks Murray.

      ”About as sexy as watching a bicycle maintenance DVD.”

      Ruff comes back with one of his friends who I’ve met several times.

      “Hey,” says Ruff, pulling up an extra chair, “look who I found outside.”

      “Hi Vance,” I say.

       Vance sits down, “Every time I see any of you guys you’re always in the pub.”

      “It’s the only thing we can think of to shake off the constant feeling of despondency and pointlessness that is our lives,” says Molly.

      “Do you like porn?” asks Murray.

      “Sure,” says Vance, “who doesn’t?”

      Molly raises a hand.

      “Yeh, well you don’t count,” says Vance.

      “Excuse me?”

      “Well, you seem a bit square.”

      “And what the hell is that supposed to mean exactly?”

      “Well,” says Vance, looking around the table for support, “don’t you think it’s sexist or something?”

      “They are just dull,” groans Molly.

      “Ruth has quite a lot of porn,” I say. “She’s got a few of the old classics with Bootie Hadley.”

      Murray takes a sharp intake of breath, “Man, I was in love with her. If there was any woman I could marry right now, it would be Bootie Hadley.”

      Ruff stares into his pint, “I don’t think I could marry a porn star, even if it did enhance my rock and roll image. I’d just keep thinking about all the heavy traffic that’s been through there.”

      “I know Bootie Hadley,” says Vance.

      Time freezes for Murray and myself.

      “You know Bootie Hadley?” says Murray incredulously.

      Vance nods, “Of course, She’s a friend of mine.”

      Murray looks at me and then back to Vance,”Can I …..meet her?”

      Vance nods, “No problem. There’s a porn show next week, awards and vintage screenings, that kind of thing. I’ll rustle up a handful of tickets.”

      He stands up and gives us the pistol fingers before leaving.

      “Look at you two,” says Molly.

      “That’s exactly what I’ll be saying when I meet Bootie Hadley,” says Murray.

      “She must be about fifty now,” says Ruff.

      “Age is experience, my friend,” says Murray.”She is a goddess.”

      ”What was the last film you saw her in?” I ask.

      Murray drinks his pint, “The Hills Have Thighs.“

      “Oh yeh,” I say, “that was a good one, that.”

      “Can we stop talking about Bootie Smedley?” says Molly, getting a little irritated.

      “Hadley,” Murray says.

      “Whatever.”

       I notice the sex couple coming out of the toilets, “At least someone is having a good time.”

       “I want to have sex in a public toilet,” says Murray.

       “I want to have sex,” says Ruff.

       “I want a cigarette,” I say, and go out into the August sunshine.