Andy, Brad, Chook and Dane

Andy was feeling miserable. Andy’s monthly allowance hadn’t come in as yet. His parents were now grey nomads, the family house was leased out, mum and dad spend their lives wandering across the continent, and they don’t always remember to make the transfer. It was all right while his father still had his business, the girls at the office took care of all that, but since his parents had retired, they took over their own finances… 

“No, nothing on the 15th.” The phone cut in and out, reception wasn’t good where mum and dad were.

“You need nothing,” said mum. “That’s good.”

“No, that’s not… 

“…We’re in Durg...”

“…hello? Hello?”

“Sorry, hon, the reception isn’t good here.”

Andy was feeling bored. Frustrated. “I haven’t got any money to put petrol in my car.”

“You were like a pig at the trough the first week of your monthly allowance, and you used it all up. I told you to slow down,” said Chook. 

“Slow is for left behind…”

“Are we at the beginning of the month again? Are we about to whiteness that? Again?” said Chook. “Because buddy, I almost didn’t make it through with you the last time.”

“I’ve got nothing now. Nothing. I’m on empty. Not a lazy debit card with $50 on it, Nothing.” 

Andy went out to a gallery opening, "Suffocation." Chook gave him the ticket to cheer him up. “Here, take it,” said Chook. “I was only going because I wanted to shag John Smith the sculptor." Considered one of the young, hot Turks. "But he isn’t on the bill, any longer.”

It was an instillation about how air pollution is slowly suffocating all of us. There were chicks with mauve hair. Guys with yellow beards. Both sexes with piercings. All the pants seemed to be ¾ length, men and women. Black had clearly made a big return, as it was clearly the new black. 

There were installations with rocks where Antarctica used to be. There was a woman’s head wrapped in a plastic bag, reminiscent of the Goat’s Head Soup album cover minus the glamour. Rainforests represented as parched, dry land. A koala on fire. Beaches where the sand was completely replaced with microplastics. A topless Scotsman in a kilt, sunburnt. There were dead baby foetus’ on dinner plates made to look like boats, refugee boats, thought Andy.

The finger food was all brown, it was meant to be representing the earth: figs, dates, prunes, meatballs, won tons, pastries with rich flavoured sauces. 

Andy headed to the bar. Two American sailors were holding it up, as they say, at one end. Loudly, as only Americans can. They were bright and shiny, thought Andy.

“Long Island Iced Tea?” asked one of them. 

“Sure,” said Andy. He was a little confused by the offer.

“I’m Chip.” He produced a glass placing it down in front of Andy.

“I’m Randy,” said the other sailor. He filled the glass with what was left in a jug of presumably Long Island Iced Tea.

“Cheers,” said Chip. He held up a glass. “Up your bum.”

“Up your bum,” said Randy.

They all clinked glasses.

“You enjoying the show?” asked Chip, slurring noticeably.

“Yeah, sure,” said Andy. “Black is clearly the new black,” he exclaimed. 

“Clearly,” said Randy.

Chip and Randy were trying to get the barman, Eugene, to make the correct Long Island Iced Tea. They’d drunk jugs of the stuff.

“You need sweet and sour mix,” said Chip.

“The 5 white spirits and sweet & sour mix,” said Randy. “Otherwise…” Randy pulled a face.

“Please don’t tell me shoulder pads are making a comeback,” said Andy. “Please don’t tell me it is a hot trend beginning to percolate to the surface.”

“Okay,” said Chip.

“I won’t tell you,” said Randy.

“Your funny,” said Chip.

“Cute too,” said Randy.

“Are you two a couple?” asked Andy.

“Exclusively,” said Randy.

“Two sailors,” said Andy.

“Two sailors,” said Randy.

“What do your ship mates think about that?”

“What do they think?”

“Yeah, about you two.”

Randy shrugged and pulled a face. “They don’t think anything.”

“Because they don’t know?”

“Oh, no, they know,” said Randy. “They fully embrace it.”

“They don’t care,” slurred Chip.

“They are cool,” said Randy. “Sometimes I think they like it.”

“I don’t feel so good,” said Chip.

“You wanna go?” said Randy.

“Yes,” said Chip.

“See ya,” said Randy. “I better take my guy home.”

Chip giggled the giggle of a drunk.

And the two boys were gone.

And the world seemed dull and less interesting all of a sudden, like a light had gone out.

“All that Long Island Iced Tea,” said a woman further along the bar.

“I guess,” said Andy.

“Americans love that drink,” she said. “They are always complaining it’s not like they make it at home.”

“Americans like to claim a lot of things,” said Andy.

“I’m Ann,” said the woman. She seemed to be on her own and keen to connect.

Andy slid his arse onto the bar stool next to him as well as the bar stool he was sitting on. He leant across with his hand out. “I’m Andy.”

“They were entertaining, those two,” said Ann.

“Yes, they were.”

“Did you fancy a shot with the two of them?”

“Did I?”

“Yes,” said Ann. “Who could have blamed you, two good looking American sailors.”

“Oh, um,” said Andy. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” said Ann.

“What would you like?” asked Andy.

“That is very kind of you,” said Ann. “Just some bubbles.”

“Eugene, some bubbles, please,” said Andy. “And an espresso martini.”

“Not exactly uplifting, now was it,” said Ann. She looked back at the exhibition.

“You thought an exhibition called Suffocating would be uplifting,” said Andy.

Ann laughed. “No, I suppose not.”

Andy held up his Espresso Martini, Ann held up her champagne. “To life,” said Andy.

“To our happiness,” said Ann.

“Do you think it counts to our happiness if we wish it upon ourselves?” asked Ann.

“Sure, why not,” said Andy. “Fuck yeah. To our happiness.” Andy and Ann drank again.

Suddenly standing next to Andy was a tall guy, over six feet, six two, possibly, blond hair and blue eyes. When people have said he had movie star looks, in the past, said Andy, I have never really understood the image, until I met Brad.

“Is anybody sitting on this bar stool,” asked the tall blond stranger.

Ann raised her eyebrows at Andy. Andy smiled back at Ann. “That bar stool, is it taken?” said Andy.

“That is what I just asked you,” said the blond stranger.

“Taken. No. This stool is not taken.” By this stage Andy was lifting his leg suggestively off bar stool in question.

“Do you mind?” asked the stranger.

“Ah”… Andy realised what Brad meant. “No.” He climbed off the stool back onto his original stool. “I don’t mind at all.” Andy made a flourish with his hands. “It is all yours.”

“Thank you.” Brad took his seat. Andy took his seat, next to Brad.

“How tall are you?” asked Andy.

Brad laughed at the question. “Six foot two.”

“I thought you were, I thought you were six foot two inches,” said Andy. “You can give me all the metric shit you like, 190 centimetres, whatever, nothing sounds as romantic as six feet two.”

“I guess not,” said Brad.

“I’m Andy.”

“I’m…” he said, nervously. “I’m Brad.”

“And this is the lovely Ann,” said Andy.

““Enchantée” said Brad.

“Oh, very smooth,” said Ann. “Lovely to meet you.”

“I don’t know where you are from man,” said Andy. “But why don’t you join me in one of what I am drinking.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Trust me, that is the point,” said Andy.

“Sure,” said Brad. “I trust you.”

“You here for the exhibition?” asked Andy.

“Yes, yes I am,” said Brad.

“Are you enjoying the exhibition?” asked Andy.

“Yeah, sure,” said Brad. “It’s a bit bleak."

“We live in times that are bleak."

“Yes, I know, but maybe I want to escape from that at an exhibition."

Eugene puts two espresso martinis down in front of Andy and Brad.

“Oh,” said Brad.

“This is your chance to escape,” said Andy. He pushed one of the martini glasses toward Brad.

Eugene put another glass of champagne down in front of Ann. She lifted the glass up in acknowledgment of Andy’s generosity. Andy winked at Ann.

Brad’s eyebrows raised as the taste hit his taste buds. 

That has to be a good sign, thought Andy.

Andy took a large swig of his espresso martini. “Ah! Come to mama!”

Brad sipped again. Then he smiled. “Not bad.”

“Not bad,” Andy repeated. Andy took a second swig of his espresso martini, giving Brad the 'once over' as he did. “Not bad? Nectar of the gods.”

“Oh, nectar of the gods,” repeated Brad.

“It’s no good unless it has bubbles,” Ann chimed in.

“It is customary that you toast back with the same cocktails,” said Andy. “As your host, to show good will.”

Brad turned to the Eugene. “Two more espresso martinis, it is then.”

Eugene made duck face as he reached for fresh glasses. He put two more espresso martinis down in front of Brad and Andy. He gave Ann another glass of bubbles.

“What do you do?” asked Andy.

“With 4 espresso martinis, between us, I reckon I could do just about anything,” said Brad.

“I reckon you are a fighter pilot,” said Ann.

“Oh, nothing that glamourous,” said Brad. “I’m a doctor.”

“A doctor,” said Andy clearly impressed.

“Does that mean you work unsustainable hours and never get enough sleep,” said Ann.

“Pretty much,” said Brad. “What do you do?”

“What do I do?” repeated Andy.

“Yes,” said Brad. “I’ve shown you mine.” Brad smiled. He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

 “You are two of the cutest things I “ever di dare see!” Ann said. “What do you do, Andy?”

Andy gave Ann a look, as if to say, I’d dodged that one nicely, thank you very much. “I’m… I’m… I’m a student.”

“A student?” questioned Ann.

“A student,” said Brad. “What are you studying a triple degree?”

“Well, I have no idea what you are implying,” said Andy. “But, if you must know, I am studying a PHD.”

“A PHD, well,” said Ann clearly impressed.

“A PHD in what?” asked Brad.

“What it’s in makes no never mind…”

“It does,” said Ann.

“It does,” said Brad.

“I just never wanted to get a job, if the truth be known,” said Andy. “So, a PHD, why not?”

“Why not?” questioned Brad.

“Why not,” said Andy. “Who wants to be an adult, anyway.”

“I’m going back into pharmacy after 10 years,” said Ann.

“Congrats,” said Brad.

“Yes, congrats,” said Andy.

“Oh,” Ann grimaced. “More of a necessity than a choice.”

“My marriage had just recently fallen apart, I’m on my first night out on my own in fifteen years,” said Ann. “I am just so grateful to you boys for all your kindness. Espresso martini’s all around!”

“You don’t have to do that,” said Andy.

“No, you really included me.” Ann’s eyes were wet with tears. “And I am intruding on your time together, I realise that.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” said Brad.

“You haven’t intruded,” said Andy

“Oh, I know I have,” said Ann. “You have both been very kind.”

Eugene prepared espresso martinis for the three of them. Andy, Brad and Ann toasted life and new friendships.

“You guys are lovely,” said Ann.

Andy handed her his iPhone. “Put your number in my phone." 

“I’m glad I came out tonight,” said Brad. “I nearly didn’t.

“I’m glad to,” said Andy.

Ann handed Andy back his phone. “There, I’ve texted you,” said Andy. “So, you have my number too.”

Then Eugene seemingly alive with the spirit of the evening, “Espresso martinis for everyone!” he shouted as well.

“Surely, they aren’t making that much money on us,” said Andy above the din of the voices, and the clink of glasses, above the hiss of bubbles. 

“Don’t question it,” said Brad.

“Good thing I didn’t drive,” said Ann.

The espresso martinis were put down in front of them.

“Thank you for making my night,” said Ann.

Andy and Brad held up their glasses.

“Here’s to many, many more,” said Andy.

“Here’s too long friendships,” said Brad.

“You guys are gorgeous,” said Ann, as they toasted with their three glasses.

Andy got fucked drunkenly by Brad all night until morning. There were condoms. There weren’t condoms. They were safe. They weren’t safe. Andy was having real trouble remembering exactly who was doing what to who, but he remembers they were dripping with sweat when they were done.

Andy remembers, um, wince. Did I do that?

Andy woke up in Brad’s loft, with the views of Port Phillip Bay, the complex is set on stilts over the water. Brad is asleep. Andy feels more relaxed than he has in a long time.

Andy put on MacArthur Park, instead of getting up, when Brad asked him to.

“Hey Andy,” said Brad. He came out of the en suit bare chested just in work trousers. He switches off Donna Summer. “I’ve got to be some where in an hour.”

“What’s with you,” said Andy. “Your wife coming home, or something?”

Brad came out of the walkin wardrobe in an unbuttoned, crisply ironed shirt. “People to see, places to be,” said Brad. “I’m just letting you know.” He disappeared back into the en suit.

“Did you only have 12 hours scheduled for a fuck?”

Brad’s head reappeared around the bathroom door. “Andy. Mate, it doesn’t need to be this hard. I had a great time.”

“I had a great time too,” said Andy.

The sound of running water can be heard from the other room.

“Is this mattress goose down?” Andy slides the flat sheet up between his thighs, over his cock and balls, crossing over his chest. 

Brad reappeared with shaving cream on his face. “I’ve got to go to work, mate.” Brad tapped his watch.

Andy just wanted to lie in. Why couldn’t he get ‘trade’ that worked afternoons. Shiftworkers. The bed was amazing.

“Mate, if you wanted to piss around, why didn’t we go back to yours, and I could be leaving right about now. I wouldn’t have minded. Everybody happy.” Brads face creased into a forced smile.

“He sure is pretty, but he makes me late for everything,” said Brad.

“You were consumed by him,” said Chook.

“He has no consideration.”

“He made up for it. Come on,” said Chook. “Are you telling me, you did not enjoy the added bonus of being hooked-up with Andy of seeing Andy naked…every… day?”

“It doesn’t last with me, if it’s always one sided. No matter how hot.”

“He’s beautiful.”

“But that is only for half an hour, tops, when I am in him at night.” Brad confided 

“Jesus!” said Chook.

“That’s what you wanted me to say.” Brad sipped his coffee, the sun pooled on the table. “Isn’t it?”

Andy took Prep.

Brad avoided Andy. He stayed out a lot more. His absence at home is noticed. “Andy was great, is great, but he doesn’t know when to let go.”

“That must be a record,” said Chook. “Even for you.”

Brad moved to St Kilda for the summer, right on the foreshore. His mate Dulcie, the 1940s psychopath, had gone to Europe indefinitely and Brad was looking after her place. Of course, her name wasn’t Dulcie, it was Kylie, or Indigo. Or was it, Summer?

“I missed every drug trend there was known to man,” said Dulcie. “I’m going to go and squat in the trendiest salons of today, and I’m going to smoke weed, snort, coke, smoke crystal and inject whatever and I’m going to get fucked the way I have always wanted to get fucked, and it is going to be excellent.”

“Should I worry about you?” said Brad.

“Here are the keys to the house, the 48 Chev is in the garage, if you dare, it’s all yours,” said Dulcie. “I don’t know when I will be back.”

Andy and Ann met at the dog beach in Brighton. Andy let Rocket off his lead, and Ann let Bronson off his lead. Rocket, the English Bulldog, and Bronson, the French Bulldog, ran directly to the water together.

“How are you and Brad going?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Andy. “He’s friends with my best mate Chook.”

“Really, is that a coincidence, or what?” said Ann.

“No, I think it was a setup,” said Andy.

“A setup?”

“Chook gave me the ticket to the exhibition,” said Andy.

“Oh, well, lovely Chook,” said Ann.

“He’s very controlling,” said Andy.

“Chook?”

“Brad.”

“Oh, no, you don’t want that,” said Ann.

“And is very organised,” said Andy.

“That’s not a bad…”

“Anally,” said Andy. “And not in a good way.”

“There is a good way?” questioned Ann.

“Honey?” questioned Andy.

“Oh,” said Ann. The realisation dropped.

“He doesn’t believe in monogamy,” said Andy.

“Do you want that?” asked Ann.

“Maybe in my twenties, I wanted to screw around,” said Andy. “But not in my thirties…”

“Late thirties.”

“Thank you,” said Andy. “I think I want them for myself now.”

“So, no?” said Ann.

“The jury is still out,” said Andy.

“Can you see Bronson?” said Ann.

“Can you see Rocket?” said Andy.

Dane jogged on the St Kilda foreshore.

Brad’s house had a deck out the front over looking the sea.

“This is the most amazing mirage… setting.” Dane’s hands opened outwards as though he was embracing all of the garden. “Urban jungle… oasis I have ever seen. This is great!”

“You’re pretty cute yourself,” said Brad.

“What? Mate?” said Dane. He pulled back.

“Oh? I just said,” said Brad. “What did you think my intensions were in escorting you back here?”

Dane laughed. “I’m just playing with you. How old did you say you were?”

“Oh thanks.”

“Escorting me back here? What were your intensions,” said Dane. His voice went instantly gravely and low. “You’re pretty fucken cute yourself.” Brad felt his jacket being tugged. His lips met Dane’s full lips, stubble. Warm. Sweet.