Be Careful What You Wish For - 13. Chapter 13 'Epilogue'

Six months later

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The Spanish resort of Gran Enculo

A church

Roberto knelt in the confessional,

‘Bless me Father, I have sinned’

‘How long is it since your last confession?’

‘Are you kidding?’

Long pause.

‘If you deny yourself the consolation of the sacrament of penance, how shall I help you?’

‘Last night I almost killed a man, he got me so mad. I had him on the ground, with my hands around his throat’

‘Go on’

‘I have done many bad things in my life, but coming to Spain was a grave error of judgement, and has brought me only unhappiness. My quest was to find the magic water that would give me the dick of death’

‘Ah, now I see. And, if you are who I think you are, you found it. You are notorious, the perpetrator of a terrible sacrilege against one of this country’s greatest shrines. In times past they would have burned you alive’

‘That, I can believe. But now, I am under house arrest in this country, and doubt I shall ever leave. If I am deported to my native land, I can no longer enter the United States or Europe. I am trapped here forever, in the land of tapas and game shows’

‘But what of this man, you said you nearly killed him?’

‘Yes, Kris Karton. He paid the surety that granted me my freedom; were it not for him, I should be languishing in a Spanish jail. However, it’s a sum of money I can never repay’

‘Surely you should be grateful to him for that’

‘Except that it comes at a fearsome cost; I must pleasure him relentlessly, night and day. If I once fail to meet his insatiable demands he will withdraw his financial support, and the Spanish government will deport me’

‘Pleasure him? Then you are a sodomite. How dare you soil this holy place with your presence? Your crimes grow by the minute’

‘I came here for consolation and forgiveness’

‘I see you are between a rock and a hard place, or possibly, in a big hole expresses it better. Did you ever expect to end your days in un gran enculo?’

‘Hardly. Nor did Kris for that matter!’

‘There’s little I can suggest. I may say you both deserve your fate’

‘You’re a great comfort......not’

‘You and this man must learn to live in harmony, and spend the rest of your lives together’

‘I wish I could die’

‘Now your penance; you must say one hundred ‘Our Fathers’ and fifty ‘Hail Marys’ ’

‘Thank you, Father, and I’ll try not to trip over and smash any valuable objects as I leave the church!’

‘Not so fast! My fellow priest at San Cava tells me that you do indeed have a cock like a baby’s arm’

‘It is so’

‘Let me blow you, and we can cut a deal on those penances’

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New York City

A trendy bar near Central Park

Jezebel Roth raised a finger-snapping hand and summoned the waiter.

‘Two dry Manhattans, and hold on the twist’

The waiter was puzzled; why hold on the twist? All the Angostura and citrus in the world couldn’t make this woman bitterer.

Beth Coleridge had just entered the bar. She and Jezebel greeted each other with the slightest of formality, and even less grace, and it was Jez who opened their discourse,

‘So....’

It sounded like a declaration of war, but Beth was magnanimous,

‘You’re looking good. I envy how you keep in shape’

Beth was being tactful; she knew that Jez’s humming bird metabolism, and fifty a day habit, alone, were responsible for her trim figure. But the hard bitten journalist was not interested in compliments,

‘So what’s the deal with your boy? Still not heard from Brad Chaytor?’

Beth looked slightly uncomfortable,

‘You’re aware of what I can and cannot tell you’

‘For Christ’s sake, we know each other better than that. I’m still looking for a story out of all this mess’

Beth sipped her cocktail and thought for a moment,

‘OK. Brad’s not with the bureau any more. Basically, he said he needed to find himself, and so forth. I’ve been back to the UK to debrief him’

‘The UK? What’s he doing there?’

‘We were using some kid to get into the Karton house. I introduced him to Brad. Seems they’re living together in some apartment in Manchester. That’s all you’re getting’

‘This has all turned so crappy. Come on. What did Brad find out before he quit?’

‘Nothing really’

‘I don’t believe you. And you say you debriefed him’

‘I did, but it’s not my problem’

‘Come on, Beth. Vapid News needs something’

‘Well how about this? At least four guys come out of this whole story better off. Karton’s long term partner Gordon seems to be settling down with a guy called Greene, he lives with him, and Brad and Justin are an item. Can’t you be happy for them?’

‘Happy? Are you kidding me? We don’t do human interest. Since when did Vapid News care who was happy? and what about that son of a bitch Roberto Subero?

‘That’s your problem. So far as I know he’s stuck out in Spain, and can’t get back. You may never see him again’

Jezebel Roth looked rather wistful.

There was a part of her missed Roberto, or more accurately, there was a part of Roberto she missed.

Manchester

A suburban street in Didsbury

Gordon and Greene were watching television.

The phone rang in the hall, and Lady gaga who, till that point, had been purring contentedly on Greene’s lap, shot up vertically, taking his nads with her. The man screamed in pain,

‘For fuck’s sake!’

Gordon laughed.

‘It must be Kris. For some reason she knows when he’s calling. Don’t ask me how’

The telephone conversation lasted some time. Gordon returned looking a little perplexed. Greene switched off the TV,

‘Is everything OK. Is he still happy with me living here?’

‘Of course. He just asks that you don’t touch his Estée Lauder Man-on- Man-Love moisturiser. The reason I was so long is that he wants me to transfer quite a lot of his money to him’

‘Really? Isn’t he still getting his salary?’

‘Well he is, but I’m not sure for how much longer. He knows that the FBI, Interpol and the British police are all after him. He’s safe so long as he remains in Spain as there’s no treaty of extradition’

‘But he’ll only be safe while he stays there’

‘Yeah, that about sums it up’

‘We never really got to the bottom of what it was he was doing, did we?’

‘No. All that stuff on his laptop looked like data, then I realised it was a code. I couldn’t risk bringing in the police to break it because it might have landed Kris in even more trouble’

‘So we may never know what he was up to at Canis Carcinoma?’

Gordon did not reply, but looked thoughtful. Then he brightened up,

‘Anyway, there’s something else. Kris wants to buy a restaurant. Says he’s tired of tortillas and tapas and he wants to open a place serving traditional English fayre’

‘That being?’

‘Christ knows. Pie and mash, liver and onions, fish and chips?’

‘I can’t see that happening, who wants to eat that shite?’

‘You don’t know Kris. He’s a determined character. He’s already bought the premises. It’s called El Comedor; he says he’s keeping the former owner Rodrigo on as a waiter’

‘Let’s hope it works out, and Kris stays there’

‘Too right. Oh, and there was one other thing. He asked me if I’d mail him 200 menthol cigarettes. I have no idea what that’s all about. I didn’t even know he smoked’

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And a final word from Gran Enculo

A restaurant

The searing Spanish sun was setting over the mountains west of Murcia. Roberto wiped his forehead. How could things have come to this? Kris bustled about the restaurant El Comedor-Kris, flinging orders left and right like a toy dictator. He summoned Roberto,

‘That Sheffield family have complained about the steaks, they’re overcooked’

Roberto looked aghast. The meat was so rare a good veterinary could have got the animal back on its feet again.

‘But they were perfectly cooked, exactly as ordered’ he pleaded.

‘Well do fresh ones, and rare! These people are carnivores, damn it. They’d wrestle their own kids to the ground, and eat them raw, if they got hungry enough’

Roberto muttered as he returned to the kitchen. And Rodrigo, erstwhile owner and now head chef, was incandescent.

‘There are no words to express how I feel about the Eeeng-leesh!’

Maybe no words... so Rodrigo spat on the floor instead. Roberto gritted his teeth and returned to the restaurant, but Kris was relentless,

‘And the tables are not clean enough, wipe them again, and refresh the flowers’

‘Go fuck yourself’

Their eyes met in anger, as they had many times before, but Kris maintained an icy cool, and spoke with great deliberateness,

‘I was checking positions in that jobs magazine, Central American Vacancies. You lived for a while near Un Gran Polvo, didn’t you?’

‘You know I did, you filthy little worm’

‘It seems they have an opening there for a goatherd. Shall I check the flights to Porto Rico?’

‘Fuck you, I hate you’

‘Nice! I’ll take that as a ‘no’. Oh, and by the way, there’s a toilet blocked out back. Clear that out when you get a moment, will you?’

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