Tropical Bumpkin

It’s not even ten o’clock in the morning, and the sun is already baking the brown-stained grass beside the pool area. Just two months ago, that very same patch of grass was a luscious mess from the torrential downpours we had in winter. Then, out of the blue, we get whacked with multiple anticyclones and hello, here we are, staring at a heatwave. The only upside about these prolonged heat waves is the constant flow of visitors and that means a high patronage and profitable days, meaning happy management and ultimately, additional shifts for me.

I waited in the café area just through the gates from the poolside area. We had a good team on. Jenny was on barista work, Robert making his amateur cocktails, Stephanie and her team in the kitchen and me, Jacob, on the frontline, serving the masses. Not many masses at the moment. Most people are probably lying in their Egyptian sheets wandering whether to laze around by the pool or do better things and sightsee our city.

“I hope it picks up,” Jenny said, as she wiped down the coffee machine for the fifteenth time in that minute.

“Don’t jinx it,” I said as I inspected my counter. I hate a messy counter. Condiments need to be perfect, facing one way.

“Well, having a crowd is better than counting how many grains of rice is present in that sack of rice down there,” Jenny sighed.

I looked down at the sack of rice in the corner, then looked back at Jenny with a “Are-You-Serious?” look on my face. She giggled.

“I much rather watch a constipated cow try and push out shit.”

On cue, someone happened to walk up to the counter, propped their sunglasses on their head and give me a strange look. Jenny couldn’t stop laughing. Meanwhile, I felt like my face had just gone four shades of red.

“Sorry,” I apologised. I almost wet my pants in embarrassment. I was staring at one of the finest country singers, to have come out in recent years. Austin Curtis, has had a string of hits, tall sturdy man, neatly trimmed beard – everything someone could ask for. If your preferences are like mine. But whether or not he swung the same way as me, is another story. He still had a strange look on his face, which was quickly evolving into a smirk. “Anyway, welcome to Gruffs. How can we help you today?”

“You’re fine,” he smirked. He inspected the food in the cabinet then looked at me, smiled, then looked back at the cabinet. He did this for the next two minutes and shit felt awkward. Well not entirely awkward but it was awkward enough. I looked over at Jenny who had seen it all, she made a subtle X-Rated gesture with her tongue while she waited. I eyed her.

“What would you recommend for a slight hangover?” he asked, still looking at the cabinet. “I had a pre-warm up for the show tonight but afterwards, led to beers and whiskey. I shouldn’t have drunken the amount I did, not before a show anyway.”

My thoughts travelled back to last night with the small crowd in the far corner by the pool underneath the palm trees. The manager had told us that a celebrity had booked out the poolside for last night. I was wondering who that would be, it was Austin. Damn, I should have taken the shift last night instead of during the day. I could have waited on Austin. I tried to hide my pity and responded with, “Anything greasy. Jenny here, makes the mean coffees after a brutal hangover.”

“I will definitely get a coffee. Something strong. Can I have a bottle of water too, please? Ooh, maybe one of those egg and bacon muffins.”

Eventually he finished his ordering and I told him to go take a seat. He looked half-wasted but still enough to look decent (and delicious to look at).

Jenny shuffled over. “He was totally eating you with his eyes.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “No, he wasn’t. More like trying hard not to throw up.”

“Stop being cruel. He was fully eyeballing you and you know it. I know you were. You were basically like a dog salivating at a Big Mac.”

I went a fifth shade of red. She giggled again.

“Coffee’s ready,” she whispered. “Shall I take it out to him?”

“No,” I said, defensively. “God knows what will slip out of your gob – I’ll take it.”

“That’s what I thought,” she teased. She handed the mug of Saviour to me and pushed me along out the door.

I waddled over to his table. He looked like he did drink too much. He smiled at me as I placed his coffee on the table.

“Do you like country music?” he asked. He fumbled around in his pocket and pulled out a ticket. “I saw you last night and I was going to invite you to the shindig we had but you looked too tired.”

I slumped in my shoes. He noticed me!?

“I’ve heard your music,” I managed to blurt out.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a toothy grin forming on his face.

“I do like your music. Something about country music, it’s wholesome music and hasn’t been steam-rolled like other mainstream shit,” I said. I looked down at the ticket sitting next to his coffee cup. If that ticket meant getting close to Austin, then sign me up. But, in saying that, does that mean he swings my way? What if the media caught whiff of this? It would be a PR-crises and I’m really not in the mood for that kind of hoo-ha.

“I have a promo ticket here, if you’re keen,” he said, pushing the ticket close to me. He quickly took it back, pulled out a pen and jotted his number down. “We’re meeting at the same spot tonight, afterwards. Probably head back to my hotel room.”

Well, that just escalated quickly.

“Do you want a ticket for your workmate too?” he asked, a flirty smile pushing through again. “I can sort one for her. If not, that’s cool. Meet my back up band then enjoy the show, then drinks supplied by my music company. No need to bring anything but yourself.”

Is he hitting on me or am I looking too deep into this?

I took the ticket, thanked him, and put it in my jeans. I walked back to the counter to find our manager, Jacqui, and Jenny looking at me, gleefully.

“What?”

“Are you actually getting cosy with Austin? Jacqui asked, gobsmacked. “Does he swing that way?”

“I have no idea but he did give me a ticket to tonight’s gig,” I said, tapping my pocket.

“Tonight’s gig has been sold out for months,” Jacqui said, still mouth dropped to the floor. “You better lap it up!”

The egg and bacon muffin were ready at the kitchen pick up table. I picked it up and Stephanie winked at me. What does she know? News travels fast. I took the muffin out to Austin, confidence at a record-breaking one-hundred-and-ten-percent. He looked at me as I placed the muffin on the table with a knife and fork. He pulled out a hundred-dollar note.

“Good service here. I will recommend to my fellow muso friends to come here and stay. You have a wonderful team here. Sorry, I missed your name,” he said. He squinted at my name badge. “Jacob?”

I smiled.

“Well, Jacob. I look forward seeing you tonight at the gig. Message me if you finish earlier,” he said, with a wink.

His strong southern accent made me weak at the knees. I said goodbye and walked off back to the counter. I was mocked and ridiculed till my first break. I took the liberty and messaged Austin – what could hurt? I needed to suss out the waters I was about to enter. I typed in his number and messaged a rather generic response: “Hey, Sup?”

I sat at the bar with my milkshake, tapping my phone, waiting for a response. Robert came waddling over, tea towel draped over his shoulder and drying a handle.

“You’re hooked on him, aren’t you?”

I looked up, looking like I had gone through the whole shades of red paint, on the paint palette.

“It’s okay,” Robert said, a smile on his face. “We’ve all been through this situation. Hot person comes for a holiday or on tour, we get horned up for them and boom, it’s all over. If Austin does secretly swing your way, you best be prepared for a shitstorm. We love you round here and don’t want you hurt. Please be careful.”

Robert’s like a father figure. I would much rather listen to him than my own father. Rob’s more chilled than most parents around here. But, when he’s serious, he means well. I smile at him and say thank you, went back to my milkshake and staring gloomily at my phone. I tell myself he is probably busy with his sound check or trying to nurse his hangover. Just as I finished my drink and counting the remaining hours of my shift, I received a picture message from Austin, smiling at his phone, sitting next to a chair with my name on it. Following the message, came a text message saying, “See you in two hours!”

And just like that, the perishing thoughts had a breath of fresh air breathed into them and they came back to life. Also, sitting in the reserved spot beside the pool was Austin, taking photos. I saw his messages that followed through after the text message, in real-time.

-

The show had finished not so long ago and there were crowds still leaving the building. Austin had gone backstage, probably to change and to get out of his sweaty gears. I had gone back to the reserved spot and there he was, getting comfortable with a chick. Did I look too deep into this situation? Was I just dreaming? I had waited at the venue just in case we could have travelled back here together but he had long gone. I walked into the poolside area and sat down at a spare BBQ table. He hadn’t seen me and I was sitting there for a good half an hour, sipping a low-percentage beer, as I had work tomorrow. The shindig was boring. It was just chicks, booze, and corny jokes. I supposed, I just felt flattened because I looked into a situation too deeply and got bummed out. No-one would notice if I slip out. I downed the remainder of the beer and looked around, planning for the dash. Just as I got up and was halfway around the pool, I looked over at Austin who looked like he had a piece of candy taken from him. He pushed the chick off his lap and buried his head into his hands. No-one knew why he was acting strange and to be honest, I wasn’t in the mood dealing with a baby, so I walked off in a huff. Strange things have happened and I feel like the next few hours could be something stranger.

Oh dear.