Blue Suede Shoes
Pat Barnett
Hannah carried a tray of glasses from the bar and gave Dan a wink.
“Jan tells me she’s just sold the last four tickets for Saturday night.”
“Every table – full?”
“Yes – and if it’s a success, we could do another, then another – say every fourth Saturday.”
Dan took hold of Hannah’s shoulders. “Look, Mum – you’ll burn yourself out.”
“Rubbish. I love all this – we’ve got good people working for us, and I have you.”
“And what about Neil?”
“What about Neil? He’s having a fortieth, that’s all – though the way he’s acting lately, I’d say more like a sixtieth.”
“You’re cruel to the man.”
“I’m cruel to all men – except you.”
She filled the shelf and stood back. “Think we might need more glasses.”
“I’ll get them.”
Dan returned with another tray and gave his mother a sideways nod that told her she was needed in the main bar.
“Neil?”
He nodded. “He doesn’t look very happy.”
“That’s no way to talk about the man I’m about to marry.”
Squinting, she peered through the crack in the double doors.
“Ugh, I see what you mean.”
She turned back to her son.
“There may be a few loud voices – so I’ll take him to the office.”
“Poor sod.”
“You men – always ganging up together. Oh, and before I forget – I want the pub empty on time tonight, okay?”
“Yeah, fine by me.”
Hannah crept through the door and up to Neil, who was hunched over the bar watching beer gush into a glass. She put a finger to her lip as Jan saw her approach.
“Isn’t it great, Jan, when your fiancé is so keen to see you he has to rush from work covered in brick dust?”
Jan gave Neil a wink as she placed his pint on the counter, took the money, and turned to serve other customers.
“So, beloved, to what do we owe the honour of your company so early?”
Before answering, Neil took a thirsty gulp of his ale.
“This – er – birthday bash. It’s getting out of hand.”
“In what way? Because you’re turning forty? Because it’s being held here? Or is it the dressing up that’s bothering you?”
“It’s the costume. The theme. I don’t want to be Elvis anymore.”
“I see. But we’ve been planning this for weeks.”
“I know. And I know it was my idea in the first place.”
“Yes, it was.”
“Yeah – well I changed my mind.”
Hannah picked up Neil’s beer and walked toward the office.
“Ah, so that’s it. Honestly Neil, you really are the limit. You come up with the idea, everyone says it’s great, they go to town to make it work for you – and all you can do is whine in that pathetic homophobic way.”
“I’m not homo anything.”
“Well like it or not, on Saturday night the function room will be full of Marilyn and Elvis lookalikes.”
She picked up a tray of glasses. “And if the young kids can jive to your theme – all the better. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a party to organise.”
~
Hannah stiffened when the young man’s fingers adjusted her chin.
“You really are tense tonight.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Jason.”
“It’s okay – but I want to catch that little twist in your smile, and you only do it when you’re relaxed.”
He stepped back, held the pencil horizontally, gauged with one eye, and shook his head.
“Maybe we should take a break.”
Hannah pulled her towelling robe tighter, stepped down from the table, and poured two glasses of wine. Jason took one and sipped.
“What’s troubling you?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Everything. I’m trying to organise a party that everyone wants except the birthday boy.”
She tried to peek around the easel. Jason pulled down the cover.
“When I get the mouth right – you can see it. But don’t let Neil’s mood worry you. It’s because he’s turning forty. Happens to all blokes – thirty-nine one minute, old and bald the next.”
“Neil isn’t old or bald – he’s in his prime.”
“It’s late, Neil,” she yawned. “You stink – and you’ve had more than a couple of beers.”
“Yeh – it was Ted’s way of saying thanks for me fixing his shed. An’ he’s filled me van with meat. Can I put it in your freezer?”
“No. Catering rules. And you shouldn’t be driving.”
“I wanted to say sorry for being a grump.”
“Aw, that’s lovely. But it’s late, you’re drunk, and I’ve got an early start.”
“Yeh. So have I. But Ted and I got talkin’. He put me right ’bout all the things I get wrong. Like thinkin’ it’s not right blokes dancin’ together. An’ me always gettin’ the wrong end of the stick.”
“Ted’s clever, considering his only companions are pigs.”
“Told me to think before actin’. I’m gonna do just that from now on.”
“Good.”
“So you forgive me?”
“Of course. And normally, Neil, I’d love you to stay. But not tonight. Go home and sleep it off.”
“But I –”
“But nothing. Shall I call you a taxi?”
“No, I’ll go. I’ve not had that much. Come here and say goodnight properly.”
Hannah sighed.
“You’re in no fit state to drive. You can stay – but you shower now, and I’ll make coffee.”
“I love your coffee. Love your hair. Love you.”
He moved to kiss her, but she ducked and pointed upstairs.
“Shower. Now.”
He nodded like a schoolboy, but stopped at the office door.
The night of the party arrived. Everything was going to plan.
Women dressed in Marilyn Monroe’s most iconic outfits. Hannah wore a replica of the dress worn during Happy Birthday, Mr President. She moved through the crowd, collecting glasses, chatting.
Onstage, Elvis lookalikes took turns to perform while couples jived across the dance floor.
Jason stood near the bar – shoelace tie, velvet lapel jacket, drainpipe trousers, blue suede shoes… and a black eye. Behind him stood Neil – in a spangled Vegas-style suit, and also sporting a black eye.
Neil coughed.
“Er… look. I got it wrong. I’m sorry, okay?”
Jason kept his eyes on the stage.
“I’m not sorry.”
He laughed.
“But I bet you got a surprise when I floored you. Anyone who damages art deserves what they get.”
“It wasn’t deliberate. Look – can I commission you to do another portrait of Hannah?”
“As long as you don’t take it wrong – like if she wants to be naked.”
“I won’t take anything wrong again. Just look at her. Isn’t she beautiful?”
Jason looked around but couldn’t see Hannah. Gus, Neil’s boss, was chatting with the band.
Jason turned back. Neil pointed to the stage.
“She’s some woman, isn’t she? My Hannah.”
