Chapter Eight
Sunday 30th September
I'm just a hunk a hunk of burning love
"Woah, Harry, You look rough!"
"I love you too!"
"Did you have a good night?"
"Surprisingly yes, I really enjoyed it I went out with Jorge."
"Who?"
"Jorge, the doorman. We got talking when I first arrived because I called him George…"
"and…"
"He laughed at my accent and told me it was pronounced Horhay, and that if I didn't want to look like a total idiot I should start thinking carefully before opening my mouth, especially when it came to the letter j."
"So you two hit it off,"
"In a way,"
"I couldn't work out, why the lift always seemed to be playing the same songs whenever I got into it, day or night for a week or so at a time, it was always the same. It turns out, when he's not being a doorman Jorge is one of the more successful local Latino Elvis impersonators and he was learning the words to the songs one at a time for his act."
"So did you just go out with Jorge, or go and see his act?"
"A bit of both, we ended up in a karaoke bar so he did a few numbers. He said he couldn't do it properly without the suit but he sounded pretty good to me."
"Did you sing?"
"I'd like to go and see one of his shows, he really was good."
"Did you sing?" Nikki repeated.
"He says he gets the suits custom made, uses a fair chunk of his doorman's wages on them."
"Did you sing?"
"He's got the shoes too."
"Harry!"
"I did backing vocals for one of the numbers." Harry said quietly.
"Which was?"
Silence
"Harry! I'm going out with your mother next week, so you'd better spill the beans or there's all manner of things I might let slip to her…"
"Are you trying to blackmail me?"
She stared at him for a while, Harry wondered briefly whether the picture on Skype had frozen but then he heard,
"What did you sing?" and he knew it was just one of her hardest stares.
"I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love! I'm just a hunk, a hunk of burning love!" Harry sang.
"I think it probably sounded better when you'd have a few!" but she laughed despite herself.
"Jorge said it sounded good," Harry insisted.
"It sounds like a good night Harry."
"Thanks for going out with Mum,"
"That's alright, we're going to see the local amateur dramatic production of Chess."
"Chess?"
"It's a musical…big in the Eighties"
"Oh, good luck. I think I'll stick with a Colombian Elvis."
"It's your choice"
"Thanks," Harry smiled.
"How are you Nikki?"
"I'm ok. I had a date on Friday."
"Really?" Harry's interest suddenly renewed in the conversation.
"Yes, really!"
"And…"
"It was nice."
"That was it… nice…"
"We had drinks, Harry. That was it."
"And his name?"
"Rupert."
"You are kidding me!"
"No, I'm not and no he wasn't wearing a yellow checked scarf."
"Are you going to see him again?"
"Maybe? He's got my number.
"Good for you Nikki. The museum was a disaster. Way to desperate, or way to arty. I might try an Irish pub later, there's lots of those here."
"Is that entirely embracing you're new culture?"
"Who was talking about culture? I was talking about getting la…" Harry stopped abruptly.
"Have a good day, Harry." Nikki smiled.
"Aren't I supposed to be saying that to you?" Harry asked.
"They don't really say 'have a nice day?' do they?"
"Some do, and some get really shirty if you don't say 'hi, howareyou?' and even more shirty if you dare to reply? How can a country have a question as a greeting that you're not even supposed to answer?"
"Harry?"
"Yes, Nikki?"
"You wanted to go remember."
"Yes, I did," he said reaching out and touching the screen.
"Go back to bed Harry, you're getting maudlin and you look like you need to sleep it off a bit more!"
"Talk to you next week?"
"Sunday at one?"
"Sunday at one."
Burning Love: Dennis Linde &Arthur Alexander (Elvis)
Any Elvis songs that appear at the top of a chapter are the ones that Jorge is playing and Harry is subjected to in the lift of his apartment building everyday.
Thanks to Baibe, Charlotte, Freya 82, Owl-eats-waffles, KiwiSWfan and greylostwho for reading and reviewing. Did I ever mention reviews make great birthday presents?
