8 June 2012
15.
The day had been mad, not one second’s rest for anyone who had been designated a job for tonight’s party. Felix had left Ali early that morning with a promise of being back the day after and that this would be the last of his absences from their bed for a long time, a promise he already knew was broken. When he left the sun had been shining but this didn’t matter because he’d spent the largest portion of the day underground making sure that everything was in place, that everyone knew exactly what they were doing and that nobody was doing anything which they shouldn’t be.
Inside The Bar not only looked totally different to how it would usually but the atmosphere was completely different. Even though it was empty, save for a few of the temporary members of staff milling around, the tables which were usually dotted around the expanse had been removed and safely stowed away in the back room. What was left were three enormous tables to accommodate the private parties which would be descending on the place tonight. Two black oblong tables occupied the two alcoves at the back of the bar overlooking the space which was now a dance floor. Each table was made of solid acrylic in the style of an old E.J Riley table with thick ornate legs, the surfaces were polished to mirror quality and both had Hebrew characters passing in an anti-clockwise rotation from their centre. One large round table in the middle of the room had been custom built, per Felix’s request. It came in two enormous parts which could be turned vertical for storage. When placed together they made a table about ten feet across making a central podium which would normally be used to house a resident dancer. Today however, at the last minute, Felix had called in some professional ice sculptors to construct a model of a woman in the shape of Venus de Milo. His insistence had been on the fact that one must be able to pour drinks into her mouth and have them come out of her nipples.
Around lunchtime Caleb and Felix met with Liga Bella, the DJ pair who Felix assumed were lesbians, both wore large black sunglasses indoors which irritated Felix who purposefully kept it dark in The Bar at all times. Neither girl could have been over twenty-five, one had ghostly white blonde hair with pale skin which was pulled tight over slender bones. The other was slightly fuller in the face and had jet black hair but was equally pale with a bright red pout that looked as though it had been varnished. They referred to each other as Liga and Bella respectively, something else about them which grated on Felix.
“So have we decided on what type of music you’re going to be playing?” Felix asked as much to Caleb as to Bella and Liga.
“Can I smoke in here?” Asked one of the DJ’s pulling out a rose flavoured Vogue cigarette with an expectant snarl on her face.
“Bella, we’re inside,” said her brunette counterpart, “it’s ill-ee-gal.”
“Smoke away,” said Felix, “we’ll ignore the law for the next few hours.” Liga lit her cigarette and exhaled the pale smoke through an O shaped mouth. “Okay can we sort this out please? I have a million and one things to do today and I want this out of the way.”
“Hey look you’re a poet,” said Liga, blankly.
Felix looked over at Caleb as if to say who the fuck are these morons. Caleb decided to mediate, “Look we just need to agree on a general gist of what you’ll be playing for us tonight.”
“Well you know how we do,” said Bella, as she reached over to pull a long thin cigarette from the box in front of Liga.
“I’m not even sure that means anything,” said Felix beginning to lose his patience.
“We like to centre on mixing modern classics, something pumping and vibrant which is totally chilled out,” said Liga in a voice that suggested this type of explanation took a huge toll on her personally.
“We’ll change the music for the mood swings, you know?” Added Bella as though this clarified the nonsense which had already been spoken. “It’s like, you won’t notice it’s there because we jam so well with the feelings on display.”
“If I’m not going to notice you then why am I paying you five G’s for the privilege of whatever it is you do? Which by the way is still totally unclear.”
“If we weren’t there,” Liga began, leaning forward and taking another drag, “then you’d notice. It’s like covert ops music, you need us....trust me....you need us.”
“Cal, am I just too old to understand this? Does it make sense to you?”
“Well what do you want us to play?” asks Bella exasperated.
“Music, just good music, you want to do it in your own style or whatever that’s fine, just make sure it’s good.”
“Haven’t we just been telling you that that’s exactly what we’re going to do?”
Felix turned to Caleb, “Cal, you sort this. If I stay here we’ll end up with two bodies and no DJ’s.” He got up from his seat and walked away without another word, the two girls following him in sync with their covered eyes.
Felix took the stairs two at a time to reach street level, the enormous double doors were locked from the inside but he opened them so that he could smoke a cigarette outside away from the commotion downstairs. As soon as he stepped outside and lowered his hand from shielding his flame the inevitable happened, his phone began to ring. Felix didn’t need to look at the display to know who it was. Carlo was already two hours late to make his delivery and Felix knew that he’d done it on purpose just to complicate his life. A quick walk around the corner brought him to the alleyway into which a large black Volkswagen van had backed into right up to the gate at the end. Felix had had the alleyway swept and mopped earlier, which no doubt would have looked odd to passersby but was an essential part of preparation. At the open rear of the van stood Carlo, wearing a metallic grey Canali three piece suit with a scarlet Hugo Boss tie, with him stood two burly men who were in the process of carefully moving enormous bottles of champagne towards the back of the van to be unloaded. Felix flicked his half smoked cigarette down an open sewer grate at the entrance of the alleyway and approached Carlo and hugged him tentatively. “What have we got here then?” Asked Felix.
“Listen, I couldn’t get ten Cristal like you wanted, but I managed to get hold of some Armand de Brignac Gold, supposed to be pretty good I ‘ear.” He lead Felix over to one side by the gate, “There’s three bags in the van, I need you to take them down and put them in the office.”
“Three bags?”
“Yeah like in the nursery rhyme.”
“What the fuck? How much is that?”
“Hey when you said this would be the last time I had to organise a big shipment, see me through until I find a new place.”
“Carlo, you don’t need any money, why the fuck are you even bothering?”
“Because it’s fun, Felix. If I stopped now I’d get bored, and you know I ain’t so very pleasant when I’m bored.”
“Whatever, alright I’m going to open the gate. Get Lurch one and Lurch two to carry all that shit down and leave it in the back room next to the special trolleys I’ve got for them down there. You and me get the bags first.” Felix lit another cigarette and then stepped up into the back of the van, careful not to knock one of the bottles over, dreading how much money it could cost him. At the point where the rear compartment of the van met the driver’s and passenger seats were three large black sports bags. Felix took the straps of two and, imagining that he would be able to, tried to sling each one onto a shoulder. He found that each bag weighed about double what he had anticipated and thus opted to lift one and drag the others along the floor with him to the back of the van. “You take one of these you old fuck,” he said to Carlo who was stood watching everything disinterestedly.
“Alright, alright, no need to use profanities, Felix.”
“Don’t start,” said Felix already coming short of breath. He staggered with his cargo to the gate and managed to keep his balance long enough to open it. Beyond the gate was a small courtyard which Felix had fitted with a red velvet carpet and cascading drapes in various shades of red and gold which gave the effect of a Middle Eastern harem. Interwoven between the layers of fabric were thousands of fairy lights, all the wires hidden carefully by the technicians who had orchestrated it. In the far corner was the beginning of the balustrade of the spiral staircase which would lead the guests into The Bar later so as to remain discreet and away from the main street.
Felix shimmied the bag around onto his back so that he was able to fit down the narrow staircase, Carlo followed him into the courtyard but then stayed above ground, cackling down the phone. Down the stairs was a short corridor, lit by three dim, naked bulbs, the filaments quivering a burning orange in the near darkness. At the end of the corridor were three doors, one housed in each wall, directly in front was Felix’s office, to the left was the abandoned kitchen come store room and to the right was The Bar itself. Inside he could hear the movement, the clink of glasses being carefully stacked in orderly and attractive units, the fragmented music of the sound tests of Bella Liga and Caleb shouting at the bar staff to do their jobs and not stand and stare. In his office Felix found peace, he put the bag down by the wall to the left of the entrance, he knelt down beside it and carefully unzipped the top. He was unsurprised to find a number of large packages inside, all sealed in brown paper, presumably more secure than tape and plastic like the movies. Without counting Felix guessed that the bag probably housed at least thirty kilos, taking into a
Daddy's Gone 15.0 • Opuss № I