The Blinding Light (12 page)

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came through at fifteen minutes before 9:00 p.m. on Friday night. Patrick was getting in the taxi and would be with me in ten minutes. I wiped my hands on the apron I wore and chucked it aside to go and find Charlie.

“Hey, Charlie. Can I ask you to do me a favor?”

Charlie never even paused or looked up from where he was pouring Merv a beer. Merv was a regular from 6:00 p.m. until 9:00 p.m. He was broad and stocky with a big handlebar moustache like the cricketing legend Merv Hughes. I didn’t even know if his real name was Merv; we just all called him that and he answered to it.

“Not if it involves money or sex. I don’t do loans and I never want to see another man’s wrinkled snake,” Charlie answered.

Merv guffawed into his empty beer glass as Charlie placed a new one in front of him. I cringed. “Ew. Gross, Charlie. You’re older than my old man.”

“Stuff you,” Charlie threw back. “I’m not more’n twenty years older than you.”

I nodded. “As I said, older than my old man.”

Merv gawked at me. “How old is your fuckin’ Pops, then?”

I did a quick calculation in my head. “He’d be forty-four now, I guess.”

Merv whistled through his teeth. “Fuck, Charlie. You’re old enough to be this man’s Grandpop.”

Charlie glared at Merv in mock anger and went to swipe the man’s fresh beer, but Merv was quicker, lifting it to his lips and chugging it down before Charlie could snatch it off him. I laughed and turned back to Charlie.

“I’m serious. I need a favor. I have a friend who’s coming in a few minutes and I need you to keep an eye out for him while I finish up with the dishes.”

Narrow eyes assessed me up and down. “Is he going to be trouble?”

I laughed. “I hope not. The man is fucking blind. How much trouble can he get into?”

“Blind?”

“Yeah. As in he can’t see. I’ll put him up on a stool here next to Merv, but I need you to be nice and keep an eye on him. Can you do that for me, Charlie? Please?”

Charlie agreed and I went outside to watch for the taxi. It arrived promptly and I watched as Patrick paid the driver and emerged. He had his white cane and sunnies on, which were more of an indication to others of Patrick’s disability than props for him.

“Patrick!” I hailed him. “Dude, you look mighty fine. You make a gay man’s heart go pitter-patter in that outfit. You’d better watch out for the ladies tonight.”

And I wasn’t lying. He’d changed into tight dark jeans and had tucked a plain black T-shirt into the waistband, which showed off his taut stomach and narrow hips. He had black boots on and a black belt, and I felt my palm itching to touch and feel.

Down, boy!

Patrick smiled hesitantly at me and I could see he was nervous, which I’d never seen before on him. He was always so confident and in charge at his house. I grabbed his arm and slipped his hand into the crook of my elbow like I’d seen them do in movies. I jabbered on about nothing as we slowly and casually made our way into the establishment. When we reached the bar I gently took his hand and showed him the height of the bar in front of him and whispered in his ear. “There’s a stool on the other side of you.”

Once he’d made himself comfortable, I hailed Charlie, who was down the other end. “Charlie! Come and meet Patrick.” Charlie lumbered down, grabbing empty glasses on his way. “Charlie, this is Patrick, my daytime employer. Patrick makes me scrub and clean his place for him. Patrick, meet my nighttime employer, Charlie. Charlie is a mean SOB who makes me scrub and clean his place for him.” I stopped in mock surprise and fluttered my eyelids and hands dramatically like a flaming drama queen. Putting on a teenage girl’s voice, I exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh! You two are like… the same! You’ll have so much to talk about!”

Charlie roared with laughter and grabbed Patrick’s hand on the bar, giving it a couple of firm shakes before saying, “Good to meet you, Patrick. I’ll give you a couple of hints on how to keep this young one in line. Now, what are you drinking?”

I saw Patrick relax slightly at Charlie’s jovial manner. He unobtrusively folded up his cane and placed it on the bar within reach. “Umm…. Beer? Something pale would be good. And in a bottle, please. A bottle makes a lot less mess if I accidently knock it over.”

I leaned in close so my lips were brushing his ear. It was torturing myself, but I wanted it. I whispered, “Good boy. I noticed you managed to put a ‘please’ in there.” Patrick’s lips twitched as if he were trying not to laugh. I turned back to Charlie. “Patrick’s first two beers are on me, okay?”

Charlie nodded his understanding. The man was a great guy. Each of his employees was allowed six free drinks a night—either to consume for themselves, to shout to mates, or to diffuse a tense situation. It was amazing how many people calmed down over mistakes or accidental breakages when you said the words, “The next one’s on me.”

I nudged Patrick and told him loudly, “Sitting on the stool next to you is one of our regulars, Merv. Now, if he tells you anything—anything at all—you have to know it’s a lie. Merv tells big porkies regularly. Why, he once told me he met Muhammad Ali.”

Merv spluttered like I knew he would and said, “Why, you little rat. That’s no lie. I met the man. I even shook his hand. It was twenty years ago now but I was….”

And Merv was off on his favorite story. I patted Patrick on the back, caressing his fine shoulders slightly—hey! Who could blame me?—and softly spoke as to not interrupt Merv’s recitation, “I have to go and do some dishes. I’ll be back in ten to check on you. Don’t run away, now.”

The dishes were waiting for me and seemed to have grown exponentially since I had last seen them. With renewed vigor, I attacked the pots and shoved the plates and cups into the dishwasher. Twice I stuck my head out the door to check on Patrick, but he seemed to be fine, chatting with Charlie and Merv. The second time I checked on him, Charlie caught me and waved me off with a frown.

With the dishwasher full, I emerged from the back and walked around the bar so I could check on things. I placed a hand on Patrick’s back to tell him I was behind him and leaned in. “All okay?”

He turned to me, tilting his head slightly, which had the effect of baring his neck. I had to stifle the urge to bite down on those juicy tendons. “Yes. Don’t worry too much. I’m having a good yarn with Merv here.”

“Good.” I patted his back again, wishing I had the nerve to follow his spine all the way down and caress his butt.

I kept one eye on him while I cleared tables and swept the floor. At one stage, some bozo approached him and said something. In the bar’s mirrored back wall I saw Patrick’s face pale with shock beneath his dark sunnies. The broom I was holding hit the deck as I raced across the room, avoiding patrons and making my way around the remaining tables. The pub was beginning to get crowded, and it was taking me too long to get to Patrick’s side.

“Patrick!” I called in alarm, afraid of what Bozo was planning on doing.

But before I could make it, Sav was there. He gripped Bozo’s upper arm and dragged him away, Bozo protesting every step and struggling to find his feet. It was obvious that the man was stone drunk despite the earlyish hour. I flew to Patrick’s side, my arms encircling his waist, and asked urgently, “What did that dick say? What did he do? Tell me so I can fucking beat the crap out of him.”

Patrick swiveled on his seat, laying a comforting hand on my arm. “Relax, Jake. He was drunk and trying to pick a fight. He didn’t even realize I was blind; he just thought I was being an arsehole by wearing my sunnies at night.”

Charlie leaned over the bar and laid a meaty paw on my shoulder. “Chill, Jake. We’ve got your man here. Piss off and do some work for once, and I’ll watch over your boyfriend.”

“Oh, but he’s not—”

Patrick laughed loudly, cutting me off. “Charlie is right, Jake. Piss off. I’m fine.”

I took a second look at the bottle in front of Patrick and realized he’d finished his third beer. He was mellow and smiley and I had to chuckle. I cuffed him on the back of the head lightly. “Piss off yourself. You don’t get to tell me what to do after 3:00 p.m. You’re gonna have to write it in a note and wait for Monday.”

I went back to work with a smile on my face and quickly finished clearing the tables off the dance floor. Mikey was deejaying that night, and he was impatiently waiting for me to plug him in so he could start spinning dance tunes instead of the preprogramed crap that was currently playing. Finally I was done, and the crowd surged onto the wooden area as I removed the rope barriers.

I looked up to see Luke standing nearby with a beer.

“Jake!”

“Hey, mate.” We bumped shoulders since my hands were full with the rope. “How’s it going with that chick you wanna ask out?” I had to yell a bit over Mikey’s first tune. Luke blushed a bit and rolled his eyes without answering. I got the gist of what he meant. “Hang here for a minute, will you? Just let me stow this away and I’ll be back.”

Two minutes later I was pulling him over to meet Patrick, chasing a pretty young thing off one of the stools so Luke could sit beside him. Two minutes after that, Luke and Patrick were chatting away like old friends, and I ducked behind the bar to help Charlie with the patrons who’d formed three deep, looking for a drink.

I worked and smiled and flirted, all while keeping an eye on the gorgeous body who Charlie had called “my man.” It was true that he wasn’t my boyfriend, but he was my man. He was my friend, my boss, and my responsibility. And I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. Charlie and I poured drinks and got through the crowd a bit before I snagged an expensive bottle of water out of the fridge. Patrick had his back to me and was chatting with a group of men: Luke and a couple of others I knew by sight but not name. They were all laughing and intent on their conversations with their heads all bent together to hear each other over the music.

I snagged Patrick’s warm hand from where it was resting on the bar and pushed the bottle of water into his palm. I shouted to be heard, “Drink this or else you’ll end up shit-faced.”

He lightly ran his limber fingers over the design of the bottle and seemed to recognize it. He nodded his thanks to me and took a swig. Satisfied, I turned back to stacking the glasses in the dishwasher under the bar.

As the hours wore on, Patrick was never wanting for companionship. The circle of people around him changed periodically, but there were always at least three people with him. The women flocked to his side, drawn by his God-like good looks, then captivated by whatever he was saying. I saw several women try to pick him up, their hands roaming his body suggestively, and one even tucked her phone number into his back pocket.
Bitch!

The gay men had a stab too. Even Gary.

But Patrick handled it all with aplomb, even as drunk as he was. Each suggestive comment was rewarded with a large grin and a small shake of his head. I watched his lips move and I was sure he said, “Maybe next time.”

One particular woman got a little too friendly, rubbing her hands over his torso before diving down to his crotch. But I didn’t worry. Patrick had made too many friends tonight, and within seconds, the female python with touchy-feely hands was plucked away and pushed into the crowd where she wouldn’t be a problem to Patrick anymore.

I signaled to Charlie that I was taking a piss break and scooted around the bar to Patrick’s side. “Hey, buddy. I know you’re having fun, but did you want to drain the big snake? I’ll take you with me to the staff toilets where you don’t have to fight the crowd, yeah?” He agreed and staggered to his feet, gripping my arm and shoulder. “Whoa. I should’ve plied you with a bit more water by the looks of it!”

With my arm snug around his waist, I began to push through the crowd to the staff entrance door. He felt good plastered up against my side, and I could feel him leaning into me, completely trusting me to push aside the obstacles in his path and get him safely to our destination. He helped by snapping his folding cane out and holding it in front of him, swinging it like a pendulum. The people in the crowd saw the cane and pulled their friends aside to let us pass. I finally made it and leaned on the swinging door to propel us both through. On the other side was a plain corridor that led to the kitchens and out the back. The minute the door swung closed, the sound of the music was muted, just the thumping bass penetrating with ease.

“Phew! That’s a bit better. I swear I’m going to go deaf from working here.”

Patrick leaned against me more strongly. “That would shh-suck,” he replied, slurring slightly on his words. “I’d rather be blind than deaf.”

I chuckled. “How would you know? You’ve never experienced sight before. It could be fabulous.” We were in the back room now, and I made my way to the small staff toilet off to the side. There was a single cubicle inside and a basin and hand towel within the room, but outside the cubicle. It was squishy with us both crowding in.

“Here, mate. Toilet. Do you want to stand or sit? How the hell do you aim anyway?” I turned him toward the cistern and gave him a little push.

“Practice.” He fumbled with his fly and curled his hand inside. The cubicle door was still open and he leaned against its solid foundation. “Which way, Jake? You tell me where and I’ll go for it.”

I rolled my eyes and rubbed my brow in consternation. I hadn’t thought about the problems of helping a drunken blind man take a piss. “No. Not that way! Hold up!”

I moved in behind him and took a peek over his shoulder. He had his penis out, holding it in his hand. The thing was large enough flaccid to make me swoon and wish I could see it erect.

See it? Fuck. I wanted to touch and taste too.

I turned his body in the right direction, pushing him closer to the commode, but I could see that he was pointing wrong. So I corrected his hip stance, but he was still aiming high. The last thing I wanted to be doing was cleaning up urine in the toilets. “No. Not that way. Down a bit. To the left…. Oh, shit! If you fucking tell anyone about this I’m going to fucking beat you blind.”