Page 8 of Geist Fleisch
He pushed back the curtain where Robert had disappeared moments before, and walked straight into a dark-haired youthwhose chest muscles heaved under his brown shirt, simmering on the edge of rage. The man barked a furious slew of German and shoved Callum against the wall.
“Aye! Sorry mate, I didn’t see you.” Callum got out, trying not to stare at the red armband which looked back through him, a quartet of broken black limbs at its centre.
The man gave him one last shove and stormed off. Then the other, taller and blond, looked Callum over with a smirk. Or was he leering at him? Callum didn’t look the brute in the eye. He could fight his way through any common thug well enough, but two? He wasn’t about to push his luck.
“English?” the blond asked, as if the word were a damning curse.
Callum nodded.
“More careful next time, eh?” The man playfully slapped his jaw, then stalked out after his colleague.
Now, Callum really needed to piss. He pushed another curtain aside to find Robert nursing a bloody nose over the sink.
“What the hell happened to you?” he asked.
The smooth-tongued traveller rolled his eyes, wincing as if it pained him. “You should see the other one.”
“I think I just did. Here.” Callum reached for one of Robert’s hands.
“Don’t… touch it. It looks worse than it is.”
“Why? What did you say to them?”
“What does anybody say to them?” Robert asked, at last giving Callum a view of the vicious cut below his eye where the thug had jabbed him. “I suggested some amusement. It seemsRohm has outbid me. Unfortunately, the only thing emptier than those boys’ souls is their wallets.”
“You tried to chat up a Nazi? Are you daft?”
“Good fellow, I’ve no illusions about the risks that come with seeking satisfaction in the body of a bigot, but don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. You’d be surprised how many of them will oblige.”
Callum was not yet ready to put a bloody nose and a night of bigoted passion on his list of Berlin must-dos. “Are you sure you’re—?”
“Oh, stop fussing! And please don’t tell me you came back here just to check on me. But… thank you.”
Unzipping as he approached the trough, Callum remembered a joke he’d heard when he’d first arrived. ‘German beer in, English beer out.’ He’d laughed at the time. “How long have you been in Berlin?”
“What’s that?”
“How long have—”
“Oh…” Robert paused. “Two years? Three? It’s the sort of place one tends to lose track, even of one’s own business. Makes a change from Paris, where every acquaintance makes it their business to keep track of yours.”
Callum zipped up, returning to the sink to wash his hands. “You should still get that looked at. At least tell someone.”
“Rohm would have this place shuttered within hours if anybody raised a scene. Unfortunately, that does give his bully boys a certain ego. They weren’t like that in the old days. Angry,yes, but it was all about the economy. Then came the rhetoric, then someone to blame.”
“You sound more worried than you sa…” Callum trailed off, glimpsing Robert’s face in the mirror. No. He couldn’t be! “You’re all right?”
Robert rolled his eyes. “For the last time—”
“No, I mean your eye.” He couldn’t see the cut anywhere, nor any bruising.
Robert wiped the last of the blood from his face and washed it away at the sink. “It’s as I told you, not as bad as it looks.”
Robert left the room without another word. The dim sound of the show outside pierced the curtains, but otherwise, Callum was left to stare at his reflection. He looked pale, like his skin had thinned somehow. So, this was the Eldorado? Free-flowing booze, transvestites, daisy boys and thugs given a free hand? Maybe there was a door or curtain here that would lead him to another cosy pub, ideally one full of working lads he could actually talk to, though he would have taken a solitary beer at a pinch. What did it matter if he only imagined it? And hehadimagined it.
Why was he even here? Because the wrong ‘working lad’ back in Nottingham would likely belt him around the mouth for a misplaced look. It had happened, once even after Callum had taken a mouthful from the nasty prick. But there were places to find working lads in Berlin who wouldn’t turn him down with their fists. As long as he steered clear of its loony radicals and bully-boy peacocks, this was the place. Berlin, not the Eldorado.Hier ist’s richtig?Not for him.
He made good on his promise to pick up drinks and returned to the table where Anne, Robert, Jacqueline, and Frank watchedthe clown show unfolding on stage with rapt attention. That’s all the crossdressers on stage were, really. Clowns in skirts. Callum didn’t see why people at home got their knickers twisted over a bit of silly fun that did no more harm than a Christmas panto. The woman in the oversized hat and man’s suit peeled off her moustache and stuck it on the tall singer’s face. It slid off immediately with a dusting of heavy pancake makeup. The queen looked shocked. The crowd roared with approval. The suited woman bowed, then, holding a bottle of champagne between her legs, took aim at the queen’s mouth, and fired.
