Café Ultimate, short stories 3

Radio KTFQ

Pete worked the night shift at Café Ultimate. He started at ten and left at six. Between eleven and five there were no other staff on. Sometimes people would ask him if this was dangerous: working alone in the small hours. He would reply that it was generally OK but even if it did get “a bit naughty” he could handle himself. The cornerstone of Pete’s ability to handle himself was being aware and observant. “Spot trouble before it starts and it can be prevented” was Pete’s watchword.

One night just before two Pete became aware of, and then observed, some potential customers standing outside the café looking in at the menu hanging above the counter. Four tall blokes, late twenties, smartly dressed, fit. Pete guessed that they had just come out of a club. He started to worry: people, especially men, often got boisterous after they had been out clubbing (if they were not too wasted). It was only a short step from boisterous to trouble.

And these were certainly boisterous. They were pointing at the menu, laughing, talking, and walking around on the pavement as they did so. Then one of the men sneaked his arm around the waist of one of the others. Having done this he took a quick glance at the other man, but the other man made no move to indicate that he had noticed, although he must have. The two men had stopped pacing and were standing facing Pete, though looking over his head. Apparently emboldened by the lack of complaint, the first man moved his hand lower so that it disappeared from Pete’s view behind the second man. Pete stopped worrying. The men were gay and gays were never any trouble.

The men walked into Café Ultimate, gradually approaching the counter.

“Mineral water for me. A big bottle, please. I need to rehydrate.”

“D’you know I’m starving all of a sudden. Can you do me a roll? Ta.”

“Two teas, please.”

They sat at a table big enough for four and started chatting about the club they had just left. The two who were having tea very soon dropped out of the conversation and got off with each other. The other two continued to talk for a while, ignoring the necking couple next to them. At a natural break in the smooching, a few whispered words were spoken between the two men. The couple separated, stood, and announced that they were leaving. Pleasantries were exchanged to the effect that it had been nice meeting the others and that it had been a nice evening. The two remaining men continued to talk on the same subjects for a while then lapsed into silence.

“Well, I want to head home.” It was the one who had ordered a bottle of mineral water, half of which he had now drunk.

“Yes. Just let me finish my roll.”

“No, I’m going to go back to my place.”

“But.....I thought.....”

“I’m really tired. I’ve got things to do tomorrow. Sorry. Maybe another time.”

“Next week?” A bit eager sounding that.

“Same place? Yeah might do. Bye.”

“Bye.”

The remaining man looked unhappy, annoyed. He pushed what remained of his roll around its plate a little, tapped the table, scratched his head, then, suddenly remembering, looked at his watch. He got up and went to the counter.

“Could I have a coffee please?”

“With milk?”

“Yes please.”

Pete took a cup and saucer and poured in coffee. As he was getting the milk the man spoke again.

“Does that radio work?”

“I think so. Shall I check?”

“Would it be all right, I mean could you tune it to 99.7?”

“Sure.” Pete put the white coffee on the counter, where the man could reach it. He took the man’s payment then turned to the radio.

At that time of the morning most stations seemed to have closed but as Pete approached 99.7 a crackly voice came forth.

“.....the minister was not available for comment. That’s all for now, more news at three.”

Some powerful guitar chords, then a champagne cork being popped, then a loud splash.

“It’s a little after two. That’s what I call late, and this is the late show. Coming at you, over you and inside you for the next three hours this is Dick Froth on Radio KTFQ Keep This Frequency Queer.”

Dick played a record. Peter noticed the man was relaxed and smiling now, he left the radio on.

“Hello to everyone who’s just come out of William. In case you didn’t already know ..... hang on, if you didn’t know already then you are nowhere and nothing. Do such people listen to my show? Do they Jack? Jack’s my producer. What’s that?”

“Don’t be stupid Dick.” the muffled voice of the producer answered.

“OK Point taken. As you probably don’t know, William is now every Tuesday at Club Venice. So, OK let’s get to the phones. Anybody just got in from William get on the phone now.”

A jingle voice announced the phone number then some adverts came on. Pete looked up and noticed the man rubbing his chin thinking. Evidently he rejected the idea of calling with a wrinkle of his nose.

“OK I’ve got twenty lines up. Who’s it going to be? Who’s it going to be? Well, none of you, you sad losers. You went to William, hoping you’d find someone. A bit of a dance, thought your luck was in, but you ended up with nothing, sitting on your own, at home. How do I know? If you’d got off would you listening to KTFQ Late? Would you? So now you’ve dialled in for a bit of compassion. Pathetic. Get off the lines, all of you. What Jack? Too harsh? Tell them the truth? All right, all right. You can stay on if you’re prepared to be bitter. I want bile, now. Acid. Why? Because I just got dumped. And you know what the worst thing about it is? I keep seeing happy couples, smiling, joking, kissing. Must be because it’s Pride week. What a joke that is. Let’s all walk around wearing pink triangle badges, holding hands and being proud. Who’s proud to be gay? Unattractive wankers who can’t get a shag unless they advertise. I’ll tell you when I’m proud, I’m proud when I’ve got my cock stuffed into a cute boy’s arse and I’m pumping it full of hot, high protein, intestinal lubrication.”

More adverts and another record.

“They’re going to fire him this time.” The man addressed his remark to the world in general, which, at that precise moment, meant Pete.

“Yeah?”

“For sure.”

Advanced analysis concluded.

“OK. Line six. Your chance to get bitter.”

“Hello? Dick? I’ve never called your show before. Am I on now?”

“No you’re off because you were too slow. Useless. You all have got one more chance. It’s line five.”

“Straight people!” An explosion. Line five clearly knew how to get on Dick’s show.

“What about them?”

“They’re the ones making Pride week .....” The caller could think of no word and settled for a strangled cry of hatred “Uargh! They’re ruining it.”

“Is it the liberals, line five? Muscling in? What’s it got to do with them right?”

“I’m walking down the street OK? and I see this hot guy with a Pride sticker. We get talking, we have coffee. We talk some more. So I pop the question OK? And what does he say? ‘Oh I’m not gay. I’m wearing this for solidarity.’ Can you believe it!”

“You don’t want solidarity you want a shag, right?”

“Yeah. In fact if there’s any straight people listening, wanting advice on how best to be supportive to lesbians and gays then pay attention. Next time you see a person wearing a gay Pride pin go right up to them and offer them your body. That’s it.”

“Sorry but I’m going to have to scratch that, line five. If there’s any straight people listening then switch off now! I don’t want you.”

“Yeah Dick. Hey, why don’t they have Straight Pride week. Truth is nobody’s proud to be straight.”

“Actually the truth is that guy you chatted up was gay but didn’t want to sleep with a dork like you. G’night line five.”

Another record. More adverts.

“You know something? I’m not feeling so bad now. I think I’ve found a cure for the single man’s blues. Verbal abuse. Yeah. OK if there’s any security guards out there, who want to make me feel better then call now. But be warned, you’re gonna be crying.”

More adverts. Another record.

Pete looked up to see the man tipping his coffee cup back to drain it.

“Another coffee? It’s on the house.”

“I won’t be able to get to sleep if I do.”

“Really? Not at all? I mean not even by four a. m.?”

“Probably not.”

“How about five a. m.?”

“I shouldn’t think so.”

“And now the big one: what about six a. m.?”

“What’s so special about six?”

“I get off at six.”

“Looks like I do too.” The man took the coffee with a smile.