Love and Robotics (28 page)

This was reckoning without Boo’s ingenuity. She knew she wouldn’t appeal to everyone - the town’s old guard remembered who she used to be - and capitalised on the bar’s niche status. She let it out to writers and fortune tellers, beer festivals and jamming sessions. You’d find yourself jostling the unlikeliest characters.

Once a month she held a movie night. It was very low tec: the screen a sheet in the garden, the picture beamed upon it. Josh was disappointed he wouldn’t be needed.

“Tell you what,” Manny said. “I’ll need an extra pair of hands - that movie crowd loves their cocktails. How about it?”

“Really? You’ll let me mix them and everything?”

“Why not?”

Since the Festival of the Dead was that week, the night had a spooky theme. Boo decorated the bar with cut out bats and baked gingerbread bones. The films were classic chillers about ghosts and revenants.

Watching one,
Death and the Maiden
, Alfred realised he’d seen it before. It was a simple story. A beautiful girl is locked up in a tower. She has no idea how long she has been there. She occupies herself with reading, painting, recalling her former life. She knows time is passing. One night a stranger comes to her. They start talking and hit it off. He visits her every night, learns all about her. She isn’t allowed to see his face and grows agitated when she asks. “If you did, I could never visit again.”

Alfred looked up to see Boo beside him. “Remember this?”

“Our first date.” Come to think of it, it was the only date he’d been on. “A bit melodramatic, isn’t it?”

“It still makes me cry.”

It was a few days after the adventure on the beach. Boo had decided that whatever this thing was between them, he wanted to do it properly. He insisted on paying, both for the tickets and the enormous bucket of popcorn. They both reached for the same piece and ended up holding hands. Alfred remembered Boo’s euphoric grin in the dark.

On the screen, the heroine falls in love with her visitor. She grows paler and thinner, begins to cough. When she brushes her hair at the mirror one morning, it comes away in her hands. She realises she is dying. That night she asks her lover to reassure her. He can’t.

The last day of her life, she is resigned. She writes her story, hoping future generations will find it. This done, she waits for night. As the last chink of light disappears her lover arrives. She steps towards him. “I know who you are. I’m not frightened anymore.”

With the thrilling chord beloved of filmmakers, he moves into the moonlight. Death was traditionally a stern, lovely woman with a bare breast and scythe, but that would never have made it past the censors. This is a male Death, handsome and long haired like a consumptive poet. When he kisses her she closes her eyes. As ‘The End’ scrolls across the screen, she lies dead in his arms.

“Why did you think this was a date movie?”

“You’ve Death’s moves.” Boo wiped away a tear. “Right -” she raised her voice - “we’ll have a break while I set up the next film.” To Alfred, “Freddie, could you check the boys haven’t trashed my bar?”

He pushed his way into the bar, watched the show Manny and Josh were putting on. Manny turned bartending into an art form. He rolled the shaker down one arm, caught it and decanted it. Josh copied him, but somewhere between the toss and the catch the imitation fell apart.

Josh bit his lip. “Ugh, what a mess.”

“Beginner’s bad luck,” Manny shrugged.

He passed behind Josh, ostensibly to fetch a dustpan, but his fingers grazed the artificial’s buttocks. Nobody else noticed. Manny winked as though this was an everyday occurrence and breezed into the passage.

Alfred steamed outside, down the side of the building where Manny was having a smoke. “Do you often do that?”

Manny cupped his hand to shelter the flame. “What’s eating you, Freddie?”

“Don’t ‘Freddie’ me. I never gave you permission. Do you often grope your colleagues?”

“I’m a hands on guy. Josh and I are buds.”

“Do you grope your ‘buds’, then? I can’t believe Josh lets you take liberties.”

“He doesn’t holler when you do it.”

Alfred reeled. All Manny’s affability dropped away.

“Before you get up on your high horse, take a long hard look at yourself,
Freddie
.” His cigarette had become a dog end in record time. “I’ve more important things to do than fend off a jealous old fag.”

Alfred fumed through the rest of the programme. He refused to accept another drink from Manny, mixing his own. They tasted vile but it was a matter of principle. Boo didn’t sense anything was wrong.

“That was the best yet,” she said. “Thanks for your hard work, boys.”

Josh usually waited for Boo and Manny to finish creaking back and forth before crossing the landing. That night there was no time lag. He joined Alfred on the bed, warm and vital.

“Has something upset you?”

“Does Manny - touch you?” Alfred might have phrased it more delicately but he wanted facts.

“No more than normal.”

What counted as ‘normal’? “Does he touch you anywhere you don’t like? He obviously fancies you -”

Josh placed his hand over his. “You’ve nothing to worry about. I’m not interested.”

Alfred felt as though a coal was lodged in his throat. “Personally I can never tell. Men have to jump me first. ”

Josh brought his fingers to his lips. “They needn’t do anything so drastic.”

Alfred kissed the palm. “Is this real? Please don’t say I’m imagining it.”

Josh crawled across the bed so he was sitting on his lap. “You know I don’t lie.”

The feel of his bare legs and buttocks against him was so unexpected, so sensual, Alfred gasped. It was a close, sticky night, but it became imperative they touched. He dropped his dressing gown to the floor. He could only make out Josh’s eyes and lips. Josh ran his hands up his back. They cleaved closer together. Josh reached up to stroke his beard – 

A tap at the door. “Can I come in?” Boo’s voice asked.

“Go ahead,” Josh answered. Alfred could have screamed with frustration.

Boo blinked at Josh being there. Alfred was sitting with a blanket up to his chin, Josh was practically naked, but she didn’t see. She must think the old crock had had a turn.

“I wanted to say how much I’ve liked having you around. It’s been lonely since - then. My family didn’t want to know, my friends dropped me. Having a good, loyal friend means a lot.”

“Uh, yes.” Alfred was hideously embarrassed.

She brought out the chair beneath the dressing table and sat down. She was wearing a gypsy shawl over a white night gown. She looked younger than forty six and very vulnerable.

“I’ve been thinking. Neither of us are getting any younger. You’ve retired, Gwyn’s past her majority. You used to say being Earl was temporary.”

Not this. Not with Josh listening. He was irked by how she spoke as though the artificial had no ears to hear, that he had no more standing than a shelf. For all her kindness, that was how she would always see him.

“Boo, I’m touched, but -” He could only manage a vague shrug.

Pain flared in her eyes. “It’s okay. I understand. Goodnight.”

***

If Boo had been anyone else she would have chucked him out. But she valued friendship more than love, and certainly more than hurt feelings. She said he could stay for as long as he liked and to put yesterday’s talk out of his mind.

He didn’t need to. The days following that followed had enough incident to last a lifetime.

The peculiar events began when Manny asked Josh to go to the beach with him. The artificial had noticed a mutual wariness between Alfred and the bartender and not known what to make of it. It hadn’t been helped by a warning from Boo.

“I like Manny but he’s a window shopper. If he comes on too strong, kick him in the nuts.”

“That’s against the Code,” Josh protested.

“I’m sure the Code can turn a blind eye. His trousers don’t seem to’ve realised you’re an artie.”

He frowned but Boo was very old fashioned. Like many people over a certain age her idea of a robot was a tin can. “Be careful,” she finished.

He wondered about his host. She and Alfred had this great friendship going back years but he’d never mentioned her before they arrived in Los. When Josh tried asking simple questions, like how she and Alfred met, or why she thought they had been friends for so long, she grew flustered and changed the subject.

There were only two pictures of Alfred in the house. One was a faded postcard, like you might get free in a magazine, and one showed him with a young man in uniform. The man had the same expressive eyes and sunny smile as Boo. Alfred looked ridiculously young, his hand on his friend’s shoulder. When Josh asked Boo who the man in the picture was, she remembered she had left the oven on.

So when Manny asked him to come swimming, Josh agreed. Living on top of each other the way they did, they should dispel any awkwardness. At first it went well. They strolled along the harbour wall, eating ice creams and chatting. Manny had hopes that his band would get a record deal, though Josh privately thought it unlikely.

“Let’s go for a dip,” Manny said.

The beach was crowded for that time of day, with tourists sprawling on mats and hawkers touting goods. As there weren’t any huts they undressed in the open air. Josh put on a pair of black trunks without a trace of self consciousness. Half the women on the beach turned his way.

Once Manny had pulled on his trunks, Josh wondered how he could breathe. They were so slick and tight they might have been painted on. When the bartender executed a twirl in the sand he realised he was supposed to admire him. He didn’t know what to say. He supposed Manny was attractive, with his broad shoulders and well defined torso; he obviously looked after himself. But it didn’t make any more sense than a tree asking him.

“Nice,” he said.

Manny grinned like a jackal. “Let’s go in.”

As they wandered towards the water, Manny slung an arm around his waist. Josh shook himself loose.

“What’s wrong?”

It felt alien having a hand there. He wasn’t sure he liked it. “It doesn’t matter.”

Manny began a fast crawl through the water. Josh floated on his back, watched the clouds and the boats drift past. The stresses of the last few days flowed out of him.

Manny was soon back. Sleek dark hair trailed behind him; he gleamed with sweat and salt. “What are you thinking about?”

Josh was tempted to tell him to mind his own business. “I don’t swim very often. It makes a nice change.”

He used the word ‘nice’ too much. It was a nothing word, papering over what you wanted to say.

“We could come here regularly if you like.”

“Alfred doesn’t like swimming.”

Manny jerked out of his float. “Why the fuck are we talking about Alfred?”

“Nothing - I was saying - ”

Manny’s smile had been stripped clean. Without it his face was lopsided and ugly. “I’m sick of you going on about Alfred and how fantastic you think he is. It’s boring.”

“He
is
fantastic,” Josh said hotly, “and more interesting than you could ever be.”

“The guy’s nuts. He’s woken me up three nights in a row screaming.”

“If I sleep with him and don’t mind, neither should you.”

Manny’s face contorted in disgust.“What are you
doing
? He’s ancient! When the band makes it big – ”

“Manny,
nobody’s
going to sign Voices in My Head. If everyone on the planet died, you’d still be the worst guitarist. I’m sorry.”

He front crawled to the shore. Manny roared at him to apologise but he’d meant it. He went back the long way, only relaxing when he knew he wasn’t being followed.

He walked through the bar and out into the garden. Alfred sat on the swing seat, scouring a map of Talos.

“Another victim?” Josh asked.

“Uh - huh.” His face was grave. “We’ve got to stop whoever’s doing this.” He folded up the map so Josh could sit down. “Are you alright?”

“You were right about Manny. He’s a – ” No word presented itself.

“Slimy dick?”

“Yes, that sounds about right.”

A few days later Josh had to get out for the day. He wasn’t fussy about where he went, merely that he did. Alfred was practically living at the station, only coming back to sleep. Boo had gone to the Licensee’s Fair. This meant he was alone in the house with Manny, something he didn’t want to be.

Since Manny had let his mask slip, Josh had a horror of being near him. He put on his old act when anyone else was around but it seemed insultingly thin: too many winks, too many vacuous smiles. He wondered how he had been taken in. Maybe he was wearing out. Maybe he had a bug. Whatever the reason, nobody could know.

Manny seemed to think intimidation would work: rude stares, bristling silences. He didn’t touch him again, but one time he trapped him in the pantry and wouldn’t let him pass.