Mary, it turns out, didn’t want to be found.
“Fuck off, you weirdo!” were, if memory serves, her exact words when I approached her in a bar. “I’m a lesbian.”
I’d tracked her down to Greenwich Village on Saturday night, and Deadfast and I spent alot of dollars and most of our energy trawling bars until I recognised her.
Deadfast, of course, wouldn’t recognise himself in a mirror unless prompted, so these things are always left to me.
I pointed her out, and he sent me over;
“Walter, lad, we don’t want to spook her. She’ll recognise me,of course… so you go. I’ll just sit here and have a drink. Could I borrow some money?”
I had got within five feet of her, and was about to ask if I knew her (well, I wasn’t stupid enough to actually tell her why we were there), when she’d spun around, made eye contact, and growled her above response. Then, with a flourish, she’d grabbed the nearest young lady to herself and proceeded to give her a long and lengthy kiss.
I was enjoying the moment, actually, but it was ruined by the crashing of a table behind me and Deadfast approaching at speed, and with a big dopey grin on his face.
“Ladies,” he annoucned, but I managed to wheel him away before Mary decided to kick either of us in the unmentionables. “Don’t go anywhere!” he yelled over his shoulder at them.
“I think it’s best if we…”
“Oh, tish and pish, Walter… I know what to do!”
“Have a drink?”
And, with that, he wandered off to the bar.
I figured it would be best if we followed her as she left, and approached her in a less-public place.
So, for the next two hours, we sat about and drank (water for me, with a slice of lemon, and alochol for Deadfast… he isn’t fussy which type).
I was keeping a close eye on Mary and her friends (most of whom, as far as I could work out, were friendly with one another, if you know what I mean… they exchanged saliva an awful lot, and I’m sure that kind of thing isn’t sanitary), but, as is his way, Deadfast got bored of not having my attention and so declared he was going to dance.
He then proceeded to try to start a conga-line.
This didn’t work, of course, but provided enough of a distraction for me to lose sight of the young Miss Hellthwaite for a moment and, when I looked back, she and her entourage were nowhere to be seen.
The evening ended with me running out of there with Deadfast over my shoulder, and an irrate bar patron and his friends giving chase after his wife had been the unwilling victim of Deadfast and his rising libido.
He is still asleep, now, and I’m trying to figure out what to do next.
I’ve a friend who works in a video store (believe it or not, some still exist) down the road who says Mary is a frequent customer.
I’m thinking of sitting in one of the booths there all day on the off-chance that she comes in.
It’s going to be a long, hard day…
Posted by Walter