The 'Cousins'

Pt. Ninety Three: Largesse and Lies (Bravo)

                             CHAPTER NINETY-THREE

                                               (Bravo)

                                      Largesse and Lies!

   Fawley had just been handed a fresh whisky sour and was about to make another pronouncement when Wes popped up at his elbow; surprising the party giver and throwing him off track. The crowd jeered and catcalled the interloper, taking their attention away from Fawley – which he resented.

  “What? Who? Where the hell did you come from? You could’ve spilled my drink foolin’ around on the floor like some goddamn ethnic brat.” 

  Fawley bellowed angrily at the hapless Chandler, who was adept at seeking the advantage in any disadvantage and used his talent to turn Fawley’s displeasure into currying the big-man’s favour. 

  The Bamptonville grapevine that afternoon had been full of the rumour of Fawley running for mayor and that this party was celebrating his announcement. Wes quickly thought to use the celebration to explain the odd nature of his arrival. 

  Wes stood with his head to one side and lowered slightly forwards giving him an obsequious air. He looked around to check that all eyes were on him, waiting for him to speak before he replied to Fawley’s question. Wes enjoyed being the center of attraction, but so rarely did a chance come his way that he determined to make the most of this opportunity; with a twisted smile on his face and rubbing his hands together as if rinsing them under a faucet he looked into the bulging, piggy eyes of Fawley’s florid face to tender his apology.

  “I am so very sorry Mr. Fawley, and I do humbly beg yer pardon sir, I didn’t know it was you.” Wes spoke with feigned dolefulness, continuing to rub his hands together, “I heard the mayor was havin’ hisself a party in here an’ I come in to do my civic duty an’ pay my respects sir. I thought it was Mayor Denton, so help me I did, and I was down there with the beetles and the other lowlife where I expected to find him. I didn’t know it was the new mayor we gonna have later this year ‘til I stood up beside yer sir: sorry Mr. Fawley, I hope you’ll accept my sincere apologies.”

  A great roar went up from the crowd, hands holding glasses were raised up to the ceiling, spilling their contents over the heads of those around them. No one was more vociferous than Mitt Fawley, who threw an arm across Wes’s shoulder

   “That’s a good one Wes, best I heard so far today. No harm done, no need to apologize. Have yourself a drink, have as many as you like. Yessir, that’s a real good one. Whisky sour for my good friend Mr. Chandler and another for me, Merv?”

  Fawley played to the crowd, keeping his arm across Wes’s shoulder. Chandler made no attempt to break away from his benefactor, knowing where his self-interest was best served. He looked around to see all of the Harry’s staff beavering away behind the bar working through the deluge of incoming orders. Drinks were going out faster than usual tonight, since no money was changing hands for them.

  Merv had brought a stool into the bar, positioning himself strategically behind the redundant cash register from where he endeavoured to exercise some control over his staff and customers. Merv had no kind words or smiles for anybody tonight. His attitude was uncharacteristically alien and borne from,

  Worry!

  Nervousness!

  Harrassment!

  While the staff rushed around filling orders, he sat with a reporter pad and pencil supervising the staff and doing his best to keep a tally of the drinks going out. He wiped the sweat drops from his forehead and neckline with one hand as he barked questions and orders to his staff; adding amounts to already long columns of figures in his notebook with the other on receiving their replies.