Blow

The fact that the shoes were 'push-ins' was accentuated by the thrust of each footfall on the murky-looking carpet steps. As if the owner of those feet wanted to push them deeper into the bright orange blue aerodynamic lines push-ins with each step up the stairs. Like some new service of the Gauteng Provincial Emergency Services advancing through the provincial underworld, which was not left unperturbed, as miniscule clouds of carpet dust were stirred up with each step.

Along the stair rail the hand of this character was pursuing not the general gliding approach, but the leapfrog approach, tracing an arc every so often, and landing quite expertly each time on the railing, with a perfect and firm clutch around the wooden rail. All in time to the overall ascent up the stairs, which seemed long. The wrist was adorned with a thin red string to ward off evil spirits and attract the good variety.

The character was wearing faded jeans and a pink, loose-fitting vest, which too may have exuded a bright sentinel-like presence in its day, but was now undoubtedly cast into the shadows of the new push-ins. The vest openings for the arms and neck were huge and gaping, almost more hole than vest, so the character's lean but muscly torso was on full show.

In the face, a handsome set of eyebrows extended out like umbrellas over an auburn face characterised by sharp features. And here sat the most prominent sentinel of all. Below the right eye an ash-coloured bruise had blossomed, sending the already high cheek even higher, so it encroached on the eye, which was a bit bloodshot. Had the impact been just slightly higher, the character could have been said to have a full-blown black eye.

On reaching the top of the stairs, the character banged the stairrail one last time and set forth into a bar area, making a decisive beeline for a high bar stool, on which the character positioned himself in such a way that his whole body was extended diagonally, the orange push-ins on the footrest of the adjacent stool, and an elbow on the counter on the opposite side of the seat. The character's head rested heavily in the cradle of a hand.

The bar was lit as for the night, but it wasn't nighttime. Daylight was lurking, quite blatantly, behind some tall, off- white curtains, which were thin enough to allow the elongated sepulchral shapes of the windows to show through. There were blotches, which could have been marks on the windows behind, or stains in the curtains. These blemishes were not unlike the bruise on the character's cheek. At one point, the curtains had been parted to one side, and the determined and stout form of a cleaning lady was scouring the window sill with a hard brush. Notwithstanding this energy, the process could be seen but not heard, as music was being pumped out, minus bass it seemed, from a jukebox. This music had also blotted out the sound from a television, mounted high up in one corner of the bar, from which it seemed an infomercial for home gym equipment was being broadcast.

The windows, which also appeared like tall glasses of very skimmed milk, with dark half solids floating within, extended across two walls of the bar, which was perfectly square, with a square bar right in the middle. Set amongst the windows was a double door, closed for now, which was upholstered in what was probably black imitation leather, with silver studs.

The character observed the barman, who was unpacking beer crates. He lifted his head up, took in the bar as a whole, with a quick scan leftwards, then rightwards, and then resigned his head back to the cradle of his hand, so he could continue looking at the barman.

After the barman had emptied out the last plastic Castle Lager crate, he came up to the character in the pink vest. On seeing the bruise, he let out a long whistle.

'Ay!' he exclaimed, shaking his head and chuckling softly. 'You guys!'

'A Black Label,' the character uttered, dispassionately, head still stuffed into palm of hand. Only the mouth moved, and the eyelids could have sunk down a bit further.

'Who did this?' the barman persisted.

'Just give me my beer,' was the response.

The barman shrugged and proceeded to extract the beer from behind the stainless steel fridge doors. He was a portly man with short limbs that moved around with a grace of their own as they went about their business, slamming fridge door shut with a rubbery thud, opening beer bottle, ringing up on the till, slamming down the change on the counter.

On the other side of the bar, the eyes of another customer had been following everything. More or less a drag in a knitted tank top, no bust though, and long hair that was probably meant to flow, but didn't really. Maybe the result of a bad hair straightening job.

The drag came round the counter to address our first character.

'It was those Xhosas, the ones who were sitting over there, ne?' She gestured to to the corner with the television, using a hand that was unexpectedly large, and a bit like a motor mechanic's. A prominent pewter ring adorned the thumb. 'Never trust a Xhosa, I tell you, they're all skelms.'

The character with the pink vest seemed anything but keen on the conversation. He simply slunk deeper into his slouching position.

The drag had broad hips, which made up for the hands in a way, and an exposed midrif that sported a dainty navel ring.

'So did they rob you? What did they take?'

'I wasn't robbed. It was just a fight.'

'Ooh, just a fight.' The drag managed to bum a cigarette off the pink vest character, who was already halfway though a smoke. There were steel ashtrays nailed to the bar counter, but the ashtray next to the character was still clean, so he had to be ashing on the floor.

'God, moffies don't fight.' The drag took a long drag from the cigarette, and seemed to ponder this statement. 'Lesbians fight, all the time, but not moffies.'

'Moffies can fight too. Why not?'

'Ja, but not a lot. I'm sure those Xhosas aren't moffies. They're straight. Just here to rob us. So who boxed you?'

'A friend.'

'Some friend!'

The character in the pink vest broke, without warning, into an extended yawn, bending then stretching his arms, so that muscles bunched, and then unbunched. The drag followed these antics closely.

'God, you're so cute. I wish I could have you, but I know I can't. I'm not your type.' She took a couple of nervous puffs on the cigarette, not really inhaling. 'I just wish I could be your friend. That would be fine enough for me. Being my friend wouldn't cost you anything.'

The character in the pink vest went straight from the yawn into an incredulous laugh, and crash-landed the last of his cigarette in the steel ashtray, which was thus put to use for the first time.

'You could at least buy me a beer.'

'No.' The character looked truly bored.

And the drag looked truly miserable.

'One day things will turn around, honey. One day you will need me. You can laugh, but every dog has her day. When that day comes, I'll remind you of this day, this moment at Night City.' It was a theory that served the drag well. It perked her up.

'I do get good-looking guys, like you, every now and then. I've taken some of the best looking guys from this place home with me.' The drag turned her eyes, which were acquiring a glaze of blissful nostalgia, at the television mounted in the corner. A bronzed man with training shorts was doing scissor movements on a walking machine. 'You don't believe me?'

Shoulders protruding from the pink vest shrugged nonchalantly.

'Well I have.' The barman came back into focus and removed the Black Label bottle. 'Jason, I've had some of the most lushest men in this place, ne?'

Jason didn't even look at the drag, but he acknowledged with a hearty chuckle.

'You see, Jason agrees.'

No sooner had the barman gone, than a new person entered the sphere of the drag and pink-vest. He glared at the drag and put his hand out at the same time.

'Gabriel.'

'I'm Celeste. Pleased to meet you.'

The man, Gabriel, continued to glare, or maybe it was that the physionomy of his face was such that it appeared as if he were constantly glaring.

'Honey, you want to kill me with that stare?'

The man turned to pink-vest, and shook his head, which was round and sturdy, intensely. 'I came to say I'm sorry.'

Pink-vest looked deadpan at Gabriel.

'I'm really sorry.'

Now pink-vest shook his head back at Gabriel, in a kind of mirror action, and smiled.

'Come.'

Pink-vest led Gabriel towards the wall of white curtains, and led him through the black double doors, which made a sucking noise as they closed, as if the bar were pressurised.

Celeste sighed loudly and demonstrably, so that Jason the barman could hear her. She clenched her too large hand into a fist and sent it, slow motion film style, towards her cheek. As it hit her cheek, she jerked her head backwards, still film-like. This time Jason laughed audibly.

'I wasn't sure whether you'd come back,' pink-vest commented, almost breathlessly, holding Gabriel's hand, and leaning against a wall.

Pink-vest's eyes were darting all over the features of Gabriel's face, like a searchlight. He eyed the lips as Gabriel apologised once again. He eyed the forehead, which indeed did have a frown engraved in at least one half of it. There was something slightly lopsided about the whole face, like a part of it had melted slightly.

'It's okay.'

'I should never have done a thing like that to you.'

'It's o-k-a-y!' pink-vest insisted.

'Sure?'

'Sure sure.'

'So you forgive me?'

'I forgive you, man.'

Gabriel breathed a heavy sigh of relief, which had the effect pushing pink-vest, quite willingly, right against the wall. Gabriel placed a hand on either side of pink-vest, on the wall behind.

Gabriel squinted at pink-vest, as if he were looking far away.

'I'm glad I found you here.'

'I'm happy you came,' pink-vest responded, almost coquettishly.

The two men began to kiss.

They were at the one end of a very long balcony, which, judging from the sounds, was above a busy street. Except it wasn't possible to look out as the balcony was enclosed by a further line of windows, this time with partly tattered net curtains that billowed gently, tatters and all, where windows must have been open, or missing. The balcony was wide enough to make an impression of an elongated, abandoned banquet hall quite possible.

In the background, in a blur beyond the vortex of the kissing lovers, were two other men, also engaged in an intimate embrace. They were supporting themselves against a pillar between two panels of net curtains, which would billow slowly and momentarily obscure the two, adding to the sense of bluriness.

Gabriel lifted his hands, as large as the drag's, but the nails were not painted, and the hands suited Gabriel's heavy-boned stature, and movements. He slipped a metallic watch, as heavy as the hands, off one wrist and dangled it in front of pink-vest.

'Here.'

'What?'

'I want you to take it back.'

'What for?'

'You must take it back. And the money.' Gabriel grabbed a small wad of banknotes out of a breast pocket in a polyester shirt that could been off-white with age, or maybe the fabric was dyed to look that way originally.

'Ha!' Pink-vest looked at the banknotes in front of his face, amused. 'It's not that easy.'

'I'm sorry, man.'

Pink-vest laughed and shook his head. 'No way.'

'Why?' Gabriel looked around for a niche in the pink vest to put the things, but there was of course none.

'You took them. You robbed them from me. Now you must keep them. I can't just take them back.'

'Come on!' Gabriel bumped the heavy watch playfully against pink-vest's exposed shoulder. 'Otherwise I'll throw them away,' he threatened.

'Go for it.'

Gabriel took an indignant step backwards. 'I can't throw your things away, man. Come on, I said I'm sorry.'

'Keep them!' pink-vest almost hissed.

Gabriel looked at the contents of his hands, agitedly.

Pink-vest pulled Gabriel towards him again, and initiated another kiss. Gabriel did as best he could with his hands full.

'They're just things,' pink-vest went on hissing, from the depths of the kiss. 'I don't care a shit about things. It's not what's important.'

Gabriel put the money and watch into a trouser pocket, and plunged deeper into the kiss. He was wearing formal wear, but informally. The shirt, not tucked in, hung loose. The trousers, otherwise smart, had come undone at the seam just below the pocket where the money had been returned, leaving a small hole that exposed only lining. The black shoes could probably still be considered fine shoes, it's just that they were unpolished and appeared as if they went everywhere. It was almost the look of the reveller who hadn't slept the whole night, which was odd considering Gabriel seemed totally fresh, clean-shaven and with a morning bounce.

'Why don't you wear it?' pink-vest enquired.

'Wear what?'

'The watch.'

'You want me to wear it?'

'It looks good on you. I want to see it on you.'

Gabriel took the matt steel watch out of his pocket ponderously. He made a beak out of his left hand and slipped the thing on, slowly, as if he were engaged in some ceremony. Pink- vest and Gabriel looked at the watch together, for a long moment, as if the watch had acquired a life of its own. Then they returned to each other, with another drawn out kiss.

'You're strange,' Gabriel managed to utter.

Gabriel was looking at the bruise as he kissed. Eventually he disengaged, and spoke, looking at the bruise all along.

'It's not a serious bruise. In a week you won't see anything.' He touched it for an instant with his forefinger, as if it were hot. 'I've had worse than this myself.'

'You have?' Pink-vest sounded surprised.

'Many times.'

'When?'

'Many times. In prison, outside prison. From friends, from my father, from police.' Gabriel smiled wistfully.

'In prison. You were in prison?'

Gabriel said nothing, just raised his eyebrows.

'But you must have given some of these as well?'

'Plenty times. And much worse than this.'

'How bad?' pink-vest enquired, with a certain dull dip in his voice.

'There are some things you don't talk about. And that was before. Not now. I've changed.'

Pink-vest bunched his lips as if for a laugh, and looked quizzically at Gabriel.

'When I did this thing to you, I hadn't done it in a long time.'

'Wow. So last night was a strange night for you too.'

'It was a strange night. I swear, I'm not like that nowadays. Before, I didn't know how to control myself. So I got into a lot of trouble. But I'm different now. I've learnt,' Gabriel declared solemnly.

'From who?'

'From Jesus, man.'

'Oh Christ! Are you a Christian?'

As if in synchrony with the conversation, the tattered net curtains billowed outward dramatically, like sheets on a washing line in slow motion. Pink-vest eyed the spectacle warily.

Turning back to Gabriel, he asked 'So can you pray for me then?'

'For what?'

'For by black eye to get better, man.'

'Oh. I'll pray for you,' Gabriel responded, earnestly.

'Can I tell you something strange I thought this morning?' pink-vest asked.

'What did you think this morning? Was it about me?' Gabriel gave pink-vest a fond peck on the lips.

'Of course it was about you. God, I was incapable of thinking about anything else this morning.' Gabriel smiled self- indulgently. 'I was looking at myself in the mirror. And it was weird. I was still a bit drunk, from last night. Well it was the drink, and the klap you gave me. And I looked at the bruise and thought wow I've never had one of these before, I'd like to keep it forever. I'd like it to be there as a reminder of you. You see, then I didn't think we'd see each other today.'

Gabriel shook his head slowly. 'You mustn't say things like that.'

'But why? It's the truth.' And then, as an afterthought. 'Doesn't Christianity say you must be truthful?'

'Not with some things. Carl, there are some things you don't say.'

So it was Carl.

'Why the hell not? What are you afraid of?'

Gabriel was taken aback. 'I'm not afraid. Why do you say I'm afraid.'

Carl pondered over something, and then said it. 'You're afraid of yourself.'

'How can a person be afraid of himself?' Gabriel replied, indignantly.

'Gabriel is afraid of Gabriel. Isn't that so? That's fine. We're all afraid of something.'

'I'm not an afraid person.'

'Wasn't Gabriel the name of the angel? The angel that fell out of heaven and into hell?'

'Don't go there, man.'

'I'm sorry, but it's so funny that you should have the same name as the angel Gabriel. Gabriel who caused kak with God and was then fired from heaven.'

'Don't make fun of the Bible!'

'Why can't we make fun of the Bible?'

Gabriel grabbed Carl's bare shoulders firmly and shook him gently. 'You're bad. You know that? You're a very bad person. But Jesus can save you. He saved me. Jesus can do amazing things for you.'

'So he's your friend?'

'No.' Gabriel looked solemnly at Carl. 'He's my master.'

'Your master?' Carl scoffed. 'With that sorry look and long dirty hair. A master?'

Gabriel just glared.

'A master needs to be a bit tough. What kind of master is Jesus if he can't beat you up sometimes?'

Carl laughed mirthfully at the whole idea. Whether he did or did not expect the hand that came down and struck him so his whole face jerked, would be impossible to say.

Gabriel stepped back and Carl was bent over, his hand over his eye.

'Shit man, you've hit me in the same place. Fuck, I'm bleeding.' Carl looked into his palm, but there was no blood.

The two other men on the balcony had disengaged from each other and were looking at the scene. One grabbed the other by his hand, as if to lead him off the balcony. But the second one wanted to stay and watch. They were far enough from the scene, in fact just blurry figures in the distance, to maintain a disinterested view of things.

'You made me do that, man. Talking about the Bible in that way.' Then he shouted, 'I'm a Christian, man. Don't you understand what that means?'

The two in the distance flinched, but kept their ground.

Gabriel started walking towards the door, backwards, so he was facing Carl.

'Don't go!' Carl had tears in his eyes, one of which was now truly bloodshot. 'Don't go. I'm sorry. This time I'm sorry. Forgive me. I forgave you that other time.'

Carl was still holding his eye, and intermittently looking into the palm for blood.

'What you said made me angry, man.'

'I can see that.' Carl managed an anguished laugh. 'Come here.'

'Only if you don't fuck with me.'

'I promise I won't. I won't say another thing about Jesus.'

'Promise?'

'Hope to die. I'll respect you.'

'And that means respecting Jesus.'

'Sure. Come,' Carl pleaded, tearfully.

Gabriel edged back to Carl, gingerly. The two men in the background were returning to their embrace, perhaps with renewed gusto.

Gabriel stooped downwards to peer into Carl's face. 'You're a mess, man.'

'I'll be fine. I'm sure. Just pray for me.' Carl's shoulders were heaving up and down. In laughter of sorts, it seemed. 'Let's just kiss again.'

He pulled Gabriel towards him, and they kissed, Gabriel a bit reluctantly it appeared.

'I'll be alright, I promise you. I won't do what I did again.'

'Okay, okay.'

Gabriel kept eyeing Carl's eye, which remained closed, as if he needed to check what he was really kissing. Eventually Gabriel shut his eyes too, and released his whole face, and body, to the momentum of the kiss. Gabriel's hands clutched Carl's forearms and upper arms in a dozen different ways, almost like a baseball player searching for the right grip, though it seemed every position was good for something. After the arms, Gabriel moved in under the pink vest and found the soft, rubbery buttons of Carl's nipples. He tugged gently at them, and then twisted them, like they were two synchronised tuning knobs on a radio. Whatever the new frequency was, it spurred pink-vest on to higher levels of kissing intensity.

There was a certain glossiness about the faces of both men, and not just round their lips, when they withdrew their heads from the shared pool to catch a breath, and take in the environs. The two lovers in the background had left the balcony, or otherwise disappeared permanently into the folds of some ragged net curtain. Gabriel leant against Carl, so they were joined at the forehead, like siamese twins.

Carl licked some gloss off his lips. 'You know, I was thinking something.'

Gabriel put a palm, surely sweaty, over Carl's lips. 'Not about Jesus!'

'No, no, not about Jesus,' Carl uttered into the palm, which then left his mouth. 'I couldn't stand another klap like the last one.'

'And you said you would respect me,' Gabriel whispered.

Carl nodded his head. 'I do respect you. It's because I respect you that I was thinking of this one thing we could do.'

'What?'

'I'd like to buy you some leather some time.' Carl's voice was trembling slightly, like it was hanging from a thread.

'What leather?'

'I'd like to get you leather clothes. From head to toe. Leather cap, leather jacket, leather pants, with a leather belt, and leather boots. Actually, instead of the leather cap, one of those leather bandanas.'

Gabriel laughed. 'Why?'

'I think you'd look good in leather, man.'

'You mean like some Hells Angels guy? I've seen those guys meeting in Yeoville. Big guys, with their bikes. Scary guys.'

'Hells Angels,' Carl pondered, and then laughed. 'I hadn't thought of it as a Hells Angels thing. No let's rather not think of any angels right now. I was thinking more about these gay magazines I've seen.'

Gabriel winced. 'I don't want to look gay, though.'

'No, you won't look gay at all. Not you. You'll look like Hells Angels,' Carl conceded. 'Not gay at all.'

Carl sniffed, licked some more gloss off his lips, and dabbed at his eye once again. As if in preparation for some denouement.

'I'm sure those things are expensive,' Gabriel pointed out.

'It doesn't matter. I think I can afford them.'

Gabriel looked at the ceiling, though more likely at an image of himself as a Hells Angel. He chuckled heartily. His shoulders heaved slightly.

'You'd look good. Damn good,' Carl assured.

'And you are going to get this stuff for me?'

'I'll get it for you. It's my treat.'

'You're not only crazy, you must be very rich,' Gabriel speculated.

'I'm not rich. It's just I've always wanted to do this.'

'But you've only just met me,' Gabriel commented. 'How can you say you've always wanted to buy me leather clothes?'

'I didn't mean it like that. I mean I really want to buy you this stuff. I would really like to.' Carl explained earnestly. 'What do you think?'

'That's fine,' Gabriel acceded. 'If you say you want to do this thing for me. Let's go!'

Gabriel took Carl by the hand and led him to the door.

'Now?' Carl exclaimed.

'Well when then?'

'I just didn't think we would do it now.' Carl was laughing, taken aback.

'Or were you just joking? Was this like the Jesus joke?'

'No, I was completely serious. We can go now.'

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