Page 27 of Marley
“Fuck off, Marls.” He looks over my shoulder and his frown became a smile I turned and followed his gaze to a bar across the street. “I need a drink.” Is all he said before making his way across the road.
The place was busy for a weekday afternoon; a mixture of construction workers, blokes dressed for the beach, as well as a few girls in shorts and vests.
We ordered a pitcher of beer and a couple of whiskey chasers from the pretty barmaid and sat ourselves at the bar, thankful that we hadn’t been asked for ID. This being twenty-one to drink nonsense had caused us issues since we’d been there and I blamed that law entirely on the reason why so many parties ended up back on the bus or in hotel rooms.
After knocking back the whiskey, followed by two glasses of beer each, Maca finally spoke.
“Your brother’s a dick.”
“No,” I replied, “my brother’s a good bloke, but our manager is the dick.”
“Either way.” He lets out a long sigh and rakes his hand through his hair. “She’s been out of my head. I’vekepther out of my head for these last few weeks, at least, and then he has to go and say shit like that.”
“I know, mate, it was wrong. He shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
He poured us each another beer and held his fingers up at the barmaid that was watching us for a while, and asked her for two more whiskeys. She came over with a bottle and topped up our glasses.
“You boys are asking for a headache in the morning if you keep going at this rate.” She said with a smile, looking between us.
She was pretty, in an all-American kind of way; tall, blonde, tanned, with perfect teeth and clear blue eyes. My cock twitched and I smiled back at her.
“Well, is there anything that you can suggest that’s gonna give us less of a headache and make us feel equally as good? Maybe something a little less legal?” I asked her.
That wipes the smile off her face and I watch her throat move as she swallows, hard.Bingo. Miss USA knew exactly what I was after and where I could get hold of it.
We’d smoked a lot of weed and popped a few pills, even tried some LSD while we’d been on tour, but we’d stayed away from the marching powder. But right now, we needed a quick fix and couldn’t afford to be hungover in the morning, making cocaine the perfect drug of choice for the evening.
“You guys cops?” she asked me outright.
“No, love,” Maca said. “We’re tourists on holiday, over here from London, and we’ll make it worth your while for a few grams of good quality white stuff.” He made a point of being nonspecific about what we were after, just in case she did recognise us and went running to the papers.
She flicked her hair over her shoulders and looked up and down the bar.
“I get off in ten minutes. I’ll make some calls then, but it’ll cost ya.” She narrowed her blue eyes at us, probably trying to work out if we had money or not. We showered and changed after our game of golf and were both wearing cut off jean shorts, T-shirts, and flip flops.
“Not a problem, love,” Maca told her. “We got a really good pound to dollar exchange rate, so we’re feeling flush.” He lifted his glasses up from the bar and winked at her as he spoke. I watched in silence as she visibly melted a little and then leaned across the bar towards us.
“Flushed enough to share with me when I get off?” She asked quietly, while we both stared down her vest at her tits.
“We’ll share with you, if you share with us?” Maca leaned forward and asked. She smiled her Hollywood smile and looked up at both of us through her lashes.
“What would you like me to share?”
“Yourself,” He said bluntly.
“Well, I could, or I could call some friends up and we could all have a good time together.” She said, adding her own wink.
I was suddenly very hot, and very hard. I took off my cap and ran my hand through my hair. It was either that, or I pulled out my dick and wanked myself off all over her face from across the bar, which I was pretty sure would’ve been an offence in America, and probably the rest of the world. So, I decided to keep my dick in my pants, at least for a little while longer.
An hour later, we were the proud new owners of five grams of class A. We’d done two lines and played three games of pool, and we were flying high and feeling fine.
Like I’d said before, don’t judge. It was the 80’s, and we were rock stars living the dream. Underage drinking and snorting coke was practically written into our job descriptions.
Almost.
The barmaid approached the table we were sitting at with two friends in tow—one blonde, one brunette. “Hey boys. I called up some friends. A few more are on their way.”
Being the perfect pair of shit-faced English gentlemen that we were, we both stood up. “Ladies,” Maca bowed slightly for affect.
