Page 4 of Geist Fleisch
“Transvestites?”
“Yes, isn’t it darling? Do you think those fellows are English? They look English. Perhaps after a drink or two we should introduce ourselves? Oh, I love this place, don’t you? It’s just so…”
“Richtig?”
A tall woman pulled her cigarette holder out of their path with a smile. The shoulder of her dress fell from her shoulders. Not a woman, then. Callum didn’t feign surprise. Even he’d not been so naïve as to miss the Eldorado’s well-earned reputation as a ‘daisy’ safe haven.
“At last, she deigns to join our humble table.”
Callum struggled to find the speaker in the dim light, until a freshly struck match lit the sharp jawline, delicate cheekbones and slick auburn hair of a young man. He ignited the cigarette of the dark-haired woman next to him, followed by his own.
Anne plonked herself down in a vacant chair next to the woman with the confidence of someone used to spending every night in the place. Callum gingerly took the seat next to her, spying a half-empty glass of white wine.
“He won’t be long.” The auburn-haired man gestured to another man in a stylish cream suit talking in earnest with a tall young fellow whose arm was draped around another. A marvellous place, indeed. “He’s talking to Karl about something quite urgent, if I follow.”
“It wouldn’t hurt you to pay a little more attention,” the dark-haired woman chided him.
“To politics?” The man ashed his cigarette with disdain. “Don’t be ghastly. Introductions?”
“Of course! This is my cousin. Callum, this is Jacqueline and Robert.” Anne accented the names with the kind of faux-Parisian precision only an English girl’s school could cultivate.
“Hello.” Callum extended a hand, which Jacqueline accepted with quiet amusement before Robert, the ‘t’ in whose name was silent, took it with a perfunctory shake. “You’re French?”
“Enchanté,” Jacqueline answered with a smile.
“Jacqueline’s from Spain, originally. Robert’s from…” Anne trailed off, uncharacteristically unsure of her words. “I’m sorry, how common of me.”
Robert finished for her. “Let’s just say we travel.”
“It’s all right.” Jacqueline squeezed Anne’s hand, which seemed to fill her with relief. “Being an international woman of mystery can be so tiring, don’t you think so, Anne?”
Callum smirked at the subtle barb, glancing at Robert’s handsome features and getting only a bored expression in return. Suit yourself, tosser. “And he is…?”
The man in the tan suit appeared to be guiling the one called Karl about something. Callum watched them, sure that they were having the most important conversation in the room. More important than snatches of ‘simply marvellous,’ ‘well I told you he was,’ and ‘a book about Berlin? How exciting,’ at any rate.
“Callum?” Jacqueline asked. “Where exactly did you say you were from? Anne told us the North… I could well say the same, but in your case?”
“A terribly bourgeois question,” Robert said through a smirk.
“I’m only curious. Please don’t corner me into saying something condescending about ‘the noble working class.’”
Robert flopped a pamphlet on the table. It was in German, of course, but Callum knew political propaganda when he saw it. “I’ve had quite my fill of working-class nobility for one night.”
“Again? You’ll exhaust that boy,” Jacqueline said.
“Bold of you, to assume it’s the same one. You wouldn’t believe the number of young Marxists who are willing to give queer capitalism a try to pay for their beer and pussy.”
“Do you have to use that word?” Anne asked. “It’s so… euphemistic and ugly.”
“Would you prefer cunt?”
“Oh, for pity’s sake!”
“Are all the young blokes here…?” Callum searched for a word that wouldn’t sound rude.
“On the game?” Robert rescued him. “You’ve no idea how bad it is in Germany, do you? I hope you haven’t come looking for work.”
“What does bring you to Berlin, darling?” Jacqueline took a long draw of her cigarette.
