How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Forty Six: Malcolm's Hernia

"Is that chocolate on your nose?"

Nat King Cole sang on the radio of the little bar in the background while I desperately looked for something with a visible reflection. Malcolm handed me a spoon from the table and I checked over my face that was stretched out in the tiny mirror. A tiny brown spot sat on the bridge of my nose. With the bridge being a more...prominent one...it wasn't hard to miss. 

"Here," Malcolm said, handing me a napkin. I could see the edge of the smirk on his face while I wiped my nose clean. Deciding to save the bar of chocolate Bon bought me for later, I finally gave in this morning and had a delicious albeit unhealthy breakfast of authentic Australian chocolate. And I didn't notice the mess it left behind until now. 

"How embarrassing," I muttered, putting the napkin down. The little bar was almost empty, as it was only eleven in the morning. Not many people had the same idea as Malcolm to start drinking this early. The less people to see my grubbiness, the better. 

"Not to worry, I only jus' saw it myself," Malcolm said. "Ya' looked jus' like Angus for a sec."

"I've always wanted to look like a man," I said and Malcolm coughed on his beer. As gorgeous as Angus is, I really can't pull off masculine features. I'd bring him nothing but shame.

"Now now, you know that's not what I meant," Malcolm said, checking his shirt for any spills. Bing Crosby took the spotlight on the radio and a few people at a neighboring table started belting out 'White Christmas'. Satisfied with his clean shirt, Malcolm listened in on the concert. "Should get in on that. Lovely."

"Me?" I asked and Malcolm shrugged. "I can't sing."

"Neither can I but I do it anyway."

"That's different, that's your job," I said, swirling the straw around in my ice water. "Besides. You sang 'Baby Please Don't Go' and that was pretty good." My eyes widened at my mistake. I looked around the near empty bar, having no previous intention on revealing my secret yet. It wasn't a fatal mistake, was it? Anybody could have heard that little performance of his. He didn't have to know I found it on accident....on YouTube....

"Were you there for that?" Malcolm asked, his brow furrowed. I searched frantically for a way to explain. Malcolm studied me as if he was trying to recall seeing my face in the small gathering. "Sorry if I missed ya'. Sort of focused on serenadin' the women."

"Do I look like Barry Gibb to you, Malcolm?" I asked, raising my eyebrows. Malcolm closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat, holding back about five apologies. I started laughing, thankful for getting the subject off my explanation. Malcolm's flustered expression was pretty satisfying too. 

"'M sorry, 'm sorry," he said, chuckling at his own expense. Either his one glass of beer was getting to him already or he hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before. His movements were slow and tired. "Strike two, better keep my mouth shut."

Malcolm's glass was almost empty but the one sitting across from him remained untouched. Our third companion had disappeared. After Malcolm and his friend made plans to go out drinking this morning after a quick early interview, the friend whom I had met previously apparently wanted me to come along with them. Malcolm didn't seem to mind and Stelle encouraged me to go so I did. And here we were now, just the two of us.

"Where the fuck did he go?" Malcolm asked, looking around the bar. Besides us and the choir next door, there was only one other couple in the whole place and they were both women. "I'll take his drink if he doesn't come back."

"Maybe he's still in the bathroom?" I suggested. The man took one sip of beer and excused himself to the bathroom and hadn't been back since. Malcolm sighed.

"Then mate's gotta problem," Malcolm said. "An' I'm not sure I wanna see what it is."

I didn't blame him.

Malcolm stood up, however, and downed the rest of his beer. "I'll have a look." I sat there with my water and waited for Malcolm to come back. I expected him to return with his friend any minute but after a good two minutes Malcolm returned alone. "He's not in there."

Malcolm walked right past my seat at the table and grabbed the abandoned glass of beer. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"I looked in every fuckin' stall," he said. "Saw some things I didn't wanna see in the meantime....an' he's gone."

"Did he leave?"

"If he did, he left without payin'." Malcolm pulled out his wallet and paid for the two beers while I left a little of my own money for my water. "Come on," he said, chugging the beer and gesturing for me to follow him. Finishing my water, I stood from the table and followed Malcolm across the bar. "Let's find the bastard."

In a small cubby in the back of the bar was a booth with a telephone on the wall. It was a pale shade of green with a swinging cord. I wished colors would come back into modern decorating. Everything here had color whereas 2024 was beige and industrial looking. Kitchens looked like factories with all the sterling silver appliances. Malcolm pulled me inside the booth and pulled a red velvet curtain shut. 

Something told me people didn't just use the telephone in here.

Cramped as it was, it was big enough for the two of us and Malcolm stuck in a coin and dialed a number. "If he's home so help me God...."

"It's better than being kidnapped," I said. We waited for the other end to pick up and when it did after the fifth ring, Malcolm let loose.

"Hey, ya' little prick, pull the old 'take a shit' trick on me?" he asked and I started laughing. I couldn't hear the man on the other end but Malcolm later translated for me.

"I promise I didn't mean to, Mal," the man said. "I actually did have to piss and I meant to come back. But on the way out the most amazing woman showed up and I got....distracted."

"Ya' know that excuse only works on Bon," Malcolm said. "So, what, you get a date an' jus' leave me with the bill?"

"I wanted to show her my record collection after saying she digs your music," the man said. Malcolm didn't seem flattered in the least. "I told her I was your friend and she thought that was pretty groovy."

"I'm still waitin' for a reason to not rip ya' a new one," Malcolm said. "Hannah an' I are gonna show up at your place at one in the mornin' an' haunt the fuckin' place."

"Tell Hannah I'm sorry too," Malcolm's friend said. "But you two ought to have met this woman, she's sitting here next to me and she's a hell of a gal."

"An' I almost had a hell of a hernia lookin' for your arse in the fuckin' shit stained stalls," Malcolm said, making me laugh again. "Thought someone busted in an' was holdin' ya' ransom." Angry Malcolm was quite a sight to behold. I was glad to be invited if only for this. 

"You would have left too!" the man said. Malcolm told me he could hear a woman's voice on the other end who sounded 'very French'. "She's a twelve on a bad day."

"You an' I make a twelve put together, that wasn't good enough for ya'?" Malcolm asked. Tears ran down my face as I couldn't stop laughing. "What about Hannah, hm? She wasn't good enough for ya'?"

"I'm sorry, I'll pay you back for my drink," he said. "Hannah's fine, nothin' wrong with her." As nice as that sounded I knew I was no French twelve. "I'll call you back, Mal, alright?"

"Shit in a ditch," Malcolm said before hanging up. I know, it sounded pretty bad. But I remembered these men were Australian. And the laws of friendship in Australia didn't exempt anyone from calling their dearest friends 'shit eating prick suckers'. There were no hard feelings between them. "Guess we're on our own, then."