Pay and Pay

Chapter 9

Kevvin got up and washed his supper dishes then went and changed into his bathrobe and took his toilet kit and towel to the bath. After his shower, he dressed carefully and changed the sheets on his bed. He went back out into the living room to check the tea table. There was not much sherry left, so he opened a new bottle and poured it into the decanter. When everything was ready, he put on his camel hair coat, wound his cashmere scarf around his neck, took his hat and left the apartment.

It was quite cold out, but still very damp. There was enough frost on the ground, even at that hour, to make walking treacherous in places. Despite having to watch his step to avoid slipping, Kevvin embodied the old confidence that was starting to return to him. In fact, his own enthusiasm made him walk much more quickly than his normal pace. He cut across the street after a car drove past and walked into the lane that provided the short cut for him to the main street of the Village where his destination lay.

As he approached the little park, he thought of Mike. He had not given the young man much thought at all in the past several weeks, but that was all for the better, he believed. Whatever other emotions had intruded themselves momentarily, the one thing Kevvin had consistently felt about Mike was that he wanted him out of his life. He felt almost exuberant.

After arriving at the bar, Kevvin unbuttoned his coat and adjusted his scarf then went up to the bar to place his usual order. He was pleased that both of the two men who took turns behind the bar now seemed to recognise him when he ordered. Smiling to himself at this affirmation, he made his way across to the counter running along the opposite wall. It was barely 9:00, but it was a Saturday night, so there was already a good number of customers there. He knew that it could become very crowded and noisy later on in the evening.

As always, the brash and noisy younger men stayed mostly around the tables in the back, but there were already enough that small groups of two or three were detaching themselves and moving forward to the front of the bar. Within an hour, enough reinforcements would arrive and they would be able to claim the whole territory as their own.

Kevvin found himself caught in between the younger men and the half-dozen or so older men seated at the bar or standing at the counter. Most of the older men were at least 10 years Kevvin's senior. He was sure that many of them had been coming to the bar for years and simply refused to give up their claim to it, no matter how much the clientele changed. From their looks and the way they dressed, Kevvin assumed that they were just ordinary men with ordinary jobs. With nothing to set them apart, they could offer no real competition to him for any of the younger men.

Kevvin almost felt sorry for some of the older men. One or two would occasionally turn to look longingly toward the men at the back, but very seldom did anyone venture back there to try his luck. They simply did not have a plan, or their own experience had made them reluctant to risk bruising their egos any further in competition with men half their age.

For Kevvin, planning was what ensured success, whether in writing or in life. Once you had the key elements on which to hang your story, it would write itself. You needed a suave opening line to get someone's attention and to suggest your character. Then you made a few tentative comments about yourself to pique someone's interest. You made a few leading statements to encourage questions. Then, when you had made your decision, you might offer a nightcap with the suggestion of something more. For all this to work, you needed a few likely choices; if one turned out to be unsuitable, you could quickly move on down your list.

It was in sizing up likely candidates that Kevvin was smugly certain that he excelled. His gift for observation and analysis seldom failed him. He was able to tell so much about people just by watching them. It was all about preparation, moving in, taking charge and remaining in control throughout. His system had served Kevvin reasonably well in finding inspiration; any bright young thing impressed with Kevvin's persona was putty in his hands.