The Naked Drinking Club (4 page)

‘All right, let’s have a look at what you’ve got then. Come in.’

The thrill I got from running the show and not knowing what was going to happen set my heart thumping.

The hall wasn’t ideal as it was a little narrow to set out all the paintings and to allow him space to stand back and see them, but at least I was in. I had already planned that if the Gordons came over, then I would either make out that it was another couple I had met, or, if really pushed, I would come clean about the whole thing, which wouldn’t be the entire whole thing. I’d leave the bit out about the paintings being mass-produced and completely shit, but I would admit I was a struggling artist who was desperate for money. As I worked through my emergency back-up plan in my head, I felt calmer.

‘My name’s Kerry, by the way.’ I put out my hand to shake his, which as a gesture felt really out of place alongside my jeans, vest and torn sweat top.

‘Pleased to meet you, Kerry. My name’s Jeff and that’s my wife Kim. Kim, love, come here for a minute, please!’ he shouted through to the back of the house. I started to feel like I had a conscience and that what I was doing was wrong, but then I convinced myself that I would probably never live in a house like this, and that these things were technically paintings, and that, like Greg had said in the training session, no one was forced to buy them; they bought them because they liked them, and they had the money to.

‘Kim!’ he shouted again. I didn’t want the wife around; she’d only bring the child with her, who was a potential hazard.

‘What? I’m trying to finish dinner.’ She appeared with the child, who was sucking a dummy and thankfully sedate. I started getting the paintings out of the folder, hiding my nerves at what I might find.

‘Tell you what, Kerry, bring them through here where there’s more room.’

‘For goodness sake, Jeff, back and forward,’ said Kim, as Jeff led the way into the kitchen and out through the back into a conservatory. The back garden was massive and all lit up with candles. Kim sat down on a basket chair near the door,
while
Jeff refilled her glass. I was desperate for a drink, having gone way passed my usual start time.

‘Do you want to have a glass with us, Kerry?’ Jeff asked, on cue.

This was going ridiculously well.

‘Em …’ I play-acted a dilemma out of politeness. ‘Yes, all right, thanks. Just a small one.’

‘So what do we have here, then?’ asked Kim.

‘Hey, love, she’s just been over Pam and Michael’s,’ said Jeff, pouring me out a glass of red wine and handing it to me. ‘They bought a painting. She says they were a real laugh.’

‘Oh yeah? God, that’s not like Michael to be frivolous. He must have been pissed.’ They both laughed.

I just smiled, not wanting to laugh at someone having to be pissed to buy my paintings.

The wine tasted good and only fired me up even more. I fantasised about selling Jeff and Kim three pictures and then just staying there until nine o’clock, drinking with them before returning to the car. Easy.

‘Now then, I’m going to show you a few paintings. Jeff, you just sit down there and take it in. Don’t be rushed; you have to see what you like.’ I put my wine down and returned to the job. I rifled through my folder and made a decision to hold back the triptych till last, all the time worrying about Kim and Jeff suggesting we get the Gordons over.

I laid the other paintings round the conservatory. The child fell asleep in its mother’s arms. They both said nothing. I stood back and took another drink from my wine, planning at speed what to say next.

‘They are very eclectic,’ I said finally. Eclectic was good, I thought. It’s a word arty people use.

‘Mmm,’ said Jeff, seriously giving them some thought. ‘What do you think, love?’

‘Not my cup of tea. Quite like that one.’ She pointed to Peter Stuger’s boats. Bingo. I quickly did the biog routine about him, the Dutch angle, said he came from a long line of artists dating back to the eighteenth century, hoping there would be no questions about that part of things, or about why the mast of one of the smaller boats in the picture was clearly
glistening
with wetness. I was desperate to pee but knew that if I left the scene they would confer among themselves or, even worse, call their neighbours and I wouldn’t be able to control things. So I persevered.

I went through every one with them. I told them that the abstract wasn’t for everyone, said Stuger was our most popular artist, told them the Blue Mountains had never been painted with such love of their beauty and such understated simplicity. Jeff refilled the glasses.

‘OK, Kerry.’ I saw him look at my tits a bit as I bent down to pick up my wine. ‘What did bloody Pam and Michael buy?’

‘Well, I’ll show you.’ I pulled out the bland, green, hilly triptych.

‘Oh, OK.’ He looked surprised.

‘Hey, how come they bought them if they’re here?’ said the wife, who was obviously less drunk and less stupid than her husband.

‘This isn’t the actual painting they bought, but it is by the same artist and it is related to theirs.’ They looked at each other, then looked back at me and laughed; I joined in, not wanting to seem defensive.

‘This is what we call a part of a double triptych.’ I laid it all out as I talked. ‘It’s very unusual to be done in this way, but the artist, who is a Welsh woman, painted this in a set of six. This would be one half and the other, obviously from a different angle, is the set your friends have bought.’

‘How much is it?’ Jeff was first to ask.

‘Each part is a hundred and fifty dollars.’

‘Jeff, you’re mad – it’s nice but you’re mad,’ Kim laughed.

He ignored her. ‘They bought the other three, you say.’

‘Yes, they did, which I think is rather extravagant. I mean, if you like it, just get one. Who needs three?’ I knew where I was going with this.

‘Nope, if they bought it, then it makes perfect sense that we have the other set, don’t you think so, love?’ Jeff swung round a bit too hard, which was an indication of how much wine he’d drunk.

‘No, it makes no sense. I like them but it makes no sense, you’re crazy.’ She laughed lovingly. He lapped up the crazy part.

Oh yeah, I thought, you’re fucking crazy, crazy suburban office guy. I finished my second glass of wine, and decided, despite it being my first night on the job, that if I sold this I would retreat early to the car and call it a day at one house.

Jeff walked round the pictures looking at them, moving his head from his ear to his shoulder at either side.

‘We’ve got all that space in the study, Kim, you have to admit. They’d look nice there.’

‘Yes, I can see that. You’ve got a point there. It’s just, what … four hundred and fifty bucks!’ She threw her hands in the air and slapped them down on the outside of her thighs for dramatic effect, but Jeff wasn’t fazed, and I helped things along with one final relaxed push.

‘It is a lot of money, but it’s cheaper this way though, me bringing it to you. A gallery or even a coffee shop would charge double. But it’s still a lot, I couldn’t afford that.’ I sounded so reasonable, I believed myself.

‘No, fuck it, let’s do it,’ said Jeff, covering his mouth with his hand afterwards for the kid’s sake, mouthing ‘sorry’ to a disapproving wife. ‘Come on, love, you gotta admit it, it is kinda cute, and we have spoken about getting some real art in, haven’t we?’ He sidled up to her, until she bore a half smile. I wanted to vomit on their immaculate tiling.

‘OK, Kerry, my little Scottish mate.’ He put his arm round my shoulder and pulled me in. Kim rolled her eyes at me. At this point I would have felt guilty had it not been for the Mercedes in the drive out front, and the Ducati I could see out the back by the garage. I nodded back at Kim, smiling. I wanted to rush for the credit-card forms but knew I had to appear relaxed to the very end.

Jeff walked out of the conservatory through to the kitchen and picked up the phone. I felt the blood drain from my face.

‘The cards are in the drawer in the study, love,’ Kim shouted, which gave me a second to think.

‘Yeah, I’m going to phone Pam and Michael.’

I was fucked. I couldn’t move from the spot. I tried to keep a smile going and lifted up my glass for cover, then remembered it was empty. I turned to Kim. ‘Hey, it would be better
as
a surprise, you know? Imagine their faces when they come over next.’

‘Jeff!’ she shouted, and the kid woke up. ‘Oh shit, I’ve woken Mattie. Jeff!’

I’d never been so pleased to see a child start to cry.

‘What?’ Jeff came back in with the card.

‘Don’t you think we should surprise them?’

‘Oh, yeah, I suppose we could. Here, give Mattie to me.’ He picked up the kid and rocked him about a bit while I got the payment forms out from the bottom of the folder. ‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Then he got completely distracted with the child. ‘Come on, little Mattie.’ He took the boy off down the hall.

‘I just need to use your phone to call an authorisation number.’

Kim yawned; the atmosphere felt flat. ‘Yeah, sure. The card’s there. Let me get you the phone.’

I felt full of dread, convinced that the wine that once worked for us was now working against us. Jeff came back without the kid. I proceeded to dial the number on the slip, trying to hide my hands, which were shaking. I began chewing on my lip. I dialled, listened to it ring at the other end, and then a Chinese-sounding voice answered.

Jeff and Kim started cuddling; they were talking but I couldn’t make out what they were saying. I was worried they were pulling out. The Chinese voice asked me for the credit-card number. As I read off the card, Jeff asked me would I mind if he took the paintings into the study. I nodded for him to go ahead. Kim followed him until they were completely out of my sight. I felt sick and panic-stricken as the voice asked me for the merchant number. I read it back, straining to hear Jeff and Kim. The voice confirmed payment. I put down the phone, picked up my wine and toasted my reflection in the conservatory glass. I looked out into the garden and breathed deeply.

I was packing up a few minutes later when Jeff and Kim came back.

‘They look great,’ Jeff said.

I smiled. ‘You know it makes me happy to see people
appreciating
art, especially when I’ve played a part in bringing art to people and not making them come to some stuffy, pretentious, overpriced gallery.’

I shook hands with them both. They showed me back to the door. I couldn’t wait to join the rest of the ‘team’ in the bar, and brag about my exploits.

‘Enjoy them,’ I said as I left.

‘We will,’ Jeff nodded.

‘Is Pam and Michael’s light off?’ asked Kim, leaning on Jeff.

‘Yeah, guess they must have gone to bed early.’

My back was already turned to them; I looked up at what was a perfect evening sky and felt warm with the wine.

CHAPTER
THREE

SCOTTY DRUMMED AWAY
on the bar while he waited for the drinks to come. The Danish girls stood next to him. I sat at a table with Jim. He was laughing at my story; no one had ever sold a triptych on their first night.

‘I’m bloody impressed,’ he said.

‘Yep, so am I, but, you know, I was genuinely shitting myself at one point.’

‘And you wouldn’t have wanted to do that in their toilet, otherwise there’d definitely be no bloody sale.’ We both pissed ourselves laughing.

‘Alrighty,’ said Scotty, as he and the Danish put their drinks down on the table. We all sat together in the Honest Irishman, a block from the ART house. Things felt really good. Jim and Scotty seemed familiar already despite the fact I’d only known them for one day. Now the drinks were about to flow and there was, in my experience, no better way to speed up getting to know people than by drinking with them, but also no better way to know what people don’t want you to know about them. I was good at latching onto people, and I was equally good at dropping them again; both came quite naturally to me. I forgave myself for these personality traits that others might find callous. It was just what I had to do – my life was about moving on. I felt confident and cocky on the back of my sale; I was going to do well in this, I knew it.

‘Well, I think we’ve got to raise our glasses to Kerry here for a bloody superb first night,’ said Scotty, clinking his glass against mine. I clinked with everyone after him.

‘And to Andrea and Karin,’ added Jim. The Danish had
sold
two each, which I found utterly perplexing given that they hardly said anything.

‘It is really fucking addictive, isn’t it, though?’ I felt cheerful and light and far away from my darkness. Jim and Scotty nodded as they gulped their schooners, the Danish just smiled blandly. I couldn’t stop smiling. It turned out that Andrea and Karin went to college together in Denmark, and were here on some kind of gap-year thing. They told me a little about their course, after I felt I had to ask something, and I nodded politely throughout, but felt completely uninterested in their lives. Scotty and Jim, however, hung onto every word they said. I didn’t dislike the girls, I just found them to be lacking in the essential qualities that make me really want to know someone. Plus, they were just so snowy-white and boring.

I thought about Anaya, and wondered why I found her annoying yet compelling. All the time I was hoping that she would turn up so I could boast about my triumph.

By the time she and Greg arrived, we were all fairly drunk. Scotty had shown us how he could take a cigarette inside his mouth on his tongue and completely close it. I pretended it was the first time I had seen it done. And for the Danish it genuinely was.

‘Hey, I believe you have had an excellent first night, Kerry, congratulations,’ said Anaya.

‘Yeah, mate, really well done, especially on your first. You’ve all done very well,’ said Greg.

‘What happened to the English girls?’ I asked.

‘They couldn’t stand the heat, mate!’ shouted Scotty, overexcited by the company paying him attention.

‘Yeah. It’s not for everyone this job, some people just couldn’t do it for the life of them.’ Jim wiped lager froth from his top lip. I was glad that the team was limited to two mousey girls, rather than four. That would have been too much.