Mr Pink, page 10
After the film had finished they discussed the plot on their way home to Andreas’s flat. Inside Andreas put both of his mobile phones, one with his Swedish number and the other with an American one, on the coffee table by the sofa. Mr Pink had some water in the kitchen before he sat down on his inflated bed. He decided to lie down, still feeling the effects of the jet lag. One of Andreas’s phones started ringing but Mr Pink was not about to answer it. As Andreas came back from the bathroom he phoned the number as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hello,” Andreas said. “I’m sorry, did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
Mr Pink listened and understood that logically Andreas was talking to someone in Sweden since it was early morning in Sweden. When he continued listening he gathered that Andreas must have pocket-dialled the person first and woken that person up. That person had then phoned Andreas back and was now very agitated that Andreas had not picked up.
“I was in the bathroom and I didn’t hear the phone.” Then there was a moment of silence before he continued. “I’m in the kitchen and Steven is lying on his bed.”
Andreas went to his bedroom and continued the conversation there and that meant that Mr Pink could not hear the conversation any more. He understood that the person who had phoned was the male model boyfriend, and who apparently had thought that Mr Pink and Andreas must have been up to something since Andreas did not answer the phone call. Mr Pink looked up at the ceiling and heard a neighbour playing the piano as he pondered the fact that since he had arrived Andreas had not mentioned the male model boyfriend with one single word.
12
Mr Pink had now spent some days in Los Angeles and there was still a silence concerning Andreas’s boyfriend. Mr Pink was nothing short of baffled, but he was not going to be the one who addressed it. Andreas had the same routine here in LA as he did in Stockholm; every second day in the morning there was the long walk, and every second day the gym. Today Mr Pink had woken up to a written note from Andreas that said that he had not had the heart to wake Mr Pink up because he had slept so nicely.
After Mr Pink had got ready he sorted out a cab that took him to Rodeo Drive. He thought it was time for a bit of luxury and this was really the place for it. The first visit was to Tom Ford’s shop that oozed every sense of luxury that you could desire. There was not a single piece that was out of place, everything was in pristine order and Mr Pink could probably have been able to eat straight off the floor. He found a pair of blue shoes that were a hybrid between a monk shoe and a brogue, and he wanted them the second he set his eyes on them. When Mr Pink left the shop, he felt a pleasure in carrying the bag and its contents. After Tom Ford there were visits to Hugo Boss and Gucci, but it only amounted to browsing. Mr Pink decided to have lunch at Saks on Wilshire Boulevard and went up to the department store’s top floor where the restaurant was situated. As he had just sat down he got a text message from Tulah.
How’s it going?
Ok, I suppose. We spend time together but there are weird moments.
What are you waiting for? Tulah wrote back. Just grab him by the balls.
I don’t think that that is the right approach.
I MEAN, BE HONEST AND DIRECT!!!!! Mr Pink could really imagine her screaming.
Haven’t really summoned enough courage yet, he answered.
Ok. But keep me posted.
Then Mr Pink’s Caesar salad arrived and he put down his mobile phone. As he was eating his thoughts were like ping-pong balls bouncing in his brain. He thought about Andreas and the somewhat weird situation they were in, and if it was worth it for him to run it to its hilt. But there was something with Andreas that he could not let go of, and that was that feeling that stirred in him the first time he lay eyes on Andreas. A feeling that he had never felt before. The other thing that occupied him was his self-proclaimed mission, and were these two big things compatible and could he have both or was he going to have to sacrifice one? If so, which? Mr Pink took a swig of his mineral water and looked at the clear blue sky that he could see from his vantage point on the top of the department store. No matter what happened in the near future he needed to have his head on straight for his next meeting. Mr Pink asked for the cheque and declined the waiter’s offer of a doggy bag with his leftover Caesar salad.
Outside Saks was the black Rolls Royce that Mr Pink had ordered and that would take him to Silicon Valley. A car ride later and Mr Pink was at his destination and as he looked up at the tall buildings he could feel the sense of high technology in the air. When the car stopped at the correct address he asked the driver to stay until he returned. Mr Pink pressed an intercom by the large glass doors and had his face scanned before being let into the building. Inside he signed the iPad that the security officer had by his desk and then sat down in one of the Scandinavian-designed chairs. After ten minutes one of the lifts opened and a man in a grey suit and with platinum blonde hair stepped out.
“Mr Pink, nice to have you here.” The blonde guy offered his hand. “I’m Mr Mitchell. I’m sorry for the delay but we had a little glitch in the presentation.”
“Nothing major, I hope?” Mr Pink inquired.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle. Shall we?” Mr Mitchell indicated to the lift. When the door had closed Mr Mitchell entered a code and had a retina scan before the lift was allowed to move up to the twenty-second floor.
“It feels like I’m visiting Fort Knox or something.” Mr Pink actually felt nervous.
“It’s easy getting into Fort Knox compared to this building.” Mr Mitchell smiled.
When the lift doors opened Mr Pink was presented with a reception area all in white and glass. Mr Pink felt a bit like he had stepped into the TV series Westworld and the Delos company. He almost expected to see a partially finished android being wheeled by.
“This way, Mr Pink.” And Mr Mitchell ushered him down a corridor that was so sterile it could make a new hospital look dirty. “We need to prep you before you are allowed into the lab.”
Mr Pink was asked to take off his clothes and step into a white overall that also covered his hair, and to put on a pair of protective glasses.
“Step into the airlock,” Mr Mitchell ordered. “And my colleague will take care of you on the other side.”
Mr Pink had a three-metre-long passageway in front of him and gusts of oxygen and fluorescent light filled it before a door was opened at the other side and revealed a woman dressed in similar attire to his. She smiled at him.
“I’m Miss Spears. Welcome. Come this way.”
Mr Pink was led into a large lab where two men were waiting for him and Miss Spears to join them. After more introductions, they started to show Mr Pink what he had come to see. And Mr Pink could hardly believe his eyes, especially because there was basically nothing to see.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Miss Spears said. “It is the latest in space technology.”
“And are you sure that this will do what I need?”
“It should do exactly that if administered properly,” one of the lab technicians assured Mr Pink.
“Then I suppose one of you will come to London to do it properly for me.”
“When do you need us?” Miss Spears asked.
“Well, that’s the question. I don’t know yet.”
***
In the afternoon Mr Pink went to the food shop close to Andreas’s flat. He bought some tuna and sweetcorn and two tubs of Häagen-Dazs ice-cream. When he was in the flat and had put some Cookies & Cream in a bowl he sat down on the sofa. He was both psychologically and physically drained and needed the sugar rush. Next to him on the sofa was a book he was reading, The Clockwork Prince, that he had bought in a bookshop on Sunset Boulevard. When he finished the ice-cream, he lay down on the sofa and started reading. An escape from reality was more than needed.
Mr Pink woke up when the door opened. He had fallen asleep with the book on his chest. Bumble, the dog, jumped up and licked his face which Mr Pink welcomed very much.
“Hello,” Andreas said, dropped his backpack on the floor and went into the kitchen. He opened the fridge and asked, “Can I have some of the tuna?”
“Sure! And there is some ice-cream in the freezer,” Mr Pink said as he stroked Bumble’s fur.
“Do you mind if I finish the Cookies & Cream?”
“No, go ahead.”
Andreas came to the sofa. “Can you sit up so that I can have some room?”
They sat there with Bumble in between them, who longingly looked at the ice-cream. Andreas let her have the last spoon. They did not say anything for quite some time, but the silence felt comfortable and easy. It was Andreas who broke the silence.
“I thought we could go out for a meal and then we could go to The Abbey.”
“Cool. Sounds like a plan.” Mr Pink made a mark in his book.
“I need to take a shower,” Andreas announced.
Mr Pink lay down on the sofa again with Bumble next to him. They were spooning and Mr Pink could feel the beat of Bumble’s heart against his hand, and the warmth of her against his chest. Mr Pink could hear how Andreas turned on the shower but suddenly he was out of the bathroom with a red towel tied around his waist, which looked dangerously close to falling off his hips. Andreas got something in the kitchen and returned to the bathroom. Mr Pink put his face against the softness of Bumble’s ears and whispered,
“What am I going to do with him, do you think?”
***
Mr Pink and Andreas had switched places and Mr Pink was in the shower. When he was finished, he decided to wear a pair of linen trousers from H&M and a light blue shirt that he had got from Anja for his birthday. Andreas was on the sofa in a pair of jeans and a light blue T-shirt. Andreas took a look at Mr Pink’s shirt and went to his room to change to a yellowish T-shirt with a cartoon of a horse on it.
You have got to be fucking kidding me! Mr Pink thought but said nothing.
They walked to a restaurant on Santa Monica Boulevard that served what would be considered as typical American food. Mr Pink was quiet because he felt that there was not much to say. Andreas felt his mood and made an effort to start a conversation.
“I looked at the web edition of the latest issue of Pink Magazine today. I liked the article about Iris Van Herpen.”
“Yes, she is a fascinating character and a brilliant designer.” Mr Pink put down the menu and called the attention of the waiter. “I’ll have a burger with extra bacon and a side salad. And whatever he is having.” He pointed to Andreas who ordered a steak.
“So, what can you do for Pink Magazine right now, if anything?” Mr Pink asked Andreas and his voice was laced with ice.
“There is this new TV series, Stranger Things, that has a premiere showing here in Los Angeles in the middle of the summer. I could write about the premiere and something about the actors,” Andreas suggested.
“Possibly.” Mr Pink drank from his beer without looking at Andreas.
“Or is there something you would like me to write about?” Andreas asked.
“Not that I can think of at the moment.”
After the food had arrived they let the food silence their mouths. They were sitting outside the restaurant on the pavement and Mr Pink looked at the people who walked past as well as at the traffic on the boulevard. A couple of men said hello to Andreas, and it annoyed Mr Pink. Everything seemed to annoy him just now. He wanted to leave but just as much he wanted to stay. These conflicting feelings were taking a toll on him. He felt trapped and that was not something Mr Pink liked. But instead of freeing himself he would rather make Andreas feel trapped. Mr Pink summoned the waiter again.
“Could we have the bill, please?”
“I can pay,” Andreas offered.
“No, I’ll pay,” Mr Pink answered. “Isn’t it time you took me to The Abbey?”
“Sure.”
They walked down Santa Monica Boulevard and after a while crossed the boulevard to get to the other side where The Abbey was. It was one of the best-known gay clubs in Los Angeles and there was a row of pillars with fences in between them. There was a courtyard and an outside bar before you got into the actual building. Mr Pink got the feeling that he was at a Greek restaurant but he did not know if it was intentional or not. There were lines of lamps drawn back and forth across the open courtyard and Mr Pink looked up at the sky that was darkening.
“What do you want to drink?” Andreas asked.
“A cosmopolitan would be nice.”
A minute later Mr Pink was given his drink and Andreas had bought himself a Budweiser. Andreas had wrapped a napkin around the bottle in an intricate way.
“It gets so cold otherwise,” he explained.
“Then it is a clever solution.” Mr Pink felt on the warpath and had to ask about something that had happened some weeks ago. “Why did you think that I had commented on your blog post, and that I would write in such a mean way?”
Andreas avoided looking at Mr Pink. “Well, you can be so bitchy sometimes.”
“Isn’t that a bit like a pot calling the kettle black?” Mr Pink asked but he realised that Andreas was not going to take the fight but instead kept silent. A man rose from a table and came up to them by the bar.
“What a cool T-shirt you have,” he said and pointed towards Andreas. Mr Pink could hear from his accent that he was English. He shook hands with Mr Pink and Andreas and introduced himself as James.
“Are the two of you a couple?” James asked Mr Pink.
“He should be so fucking lucky.” Mr Pink jutted out his chin towards Andreas. It just took a few moments after that comment that Andreas announced that he needed to get home to Bumble.
“Take care of my friend,” Andreas said to James.
“But I’m leaving shortly.” James looked slightly bewildered.
Andreas left them after looking into Mr Pink’s eyes without saying anything. You run. You always run, you coward. Mr Pink’s eyes must have felt like daggers in Andreas’s back. He turned back to James because he was too proud to follow Andreas. And on the other hand, he had not been invited to come along. Mr Pink learnt that James had lived in Los Angeles for more than ten years and that he lived with his boyfriend in Beverly Hills. They had had an argument, so James had decided to go to The Abbey and drink by himself. Mr Pink listened to James’s troubles and James reciprocated in kind and took in all the frustration that Mr Pink felt about Andreas. After a while a couple of lesbians standing next to them joined in. Mr Pink had a long evening of not having to pay for a single drink himself. He appreciated it quite a lot. When James had to leave and go back and patch things up with his boyfriend, Mr Pink continued to party with the lesbians and enjoyed himself immensely. He had always enjoyed the company of women before men, except from one vital part that is. Quite a few drinks later they took Mr Pink with them to another gay club that was just next to The Abbey. This place was trendier and more clinical than The Abbey. Not that Mr Pink was in a state to notice much. He went into the restrooms because he needed to have a piss. Mr Pink looked in the mirror and saw that he was red-faced and that his eyes were cloudy. His head was spinning, and he knew that he was close to losing control completely. Self-preservation made him leave the restroom and go out of the club without saying goodbye to his newly found companions. Mr Pink walked down Santa Monica Boulevard and it felt like the longest walk. Like the drunk he was he walked from one end of the pavement to the other because he could not walk straight, not even if his life had depended on it. He swore over Andreas in a way that would have made a sailor blush. The anger was like steam out of his ears. When he came to the door of the flat it was a small wonder that he could get the key into the lock. Mr Pink took the few steps to the inflatable bed and sat down. Bumble was lying on the floor and put up her head. Suddenly Andreas came into the room in his white briefs, took a look at Mr Pink and turned right around and went back to his bedroom. Mr Pink threw himself backwards on the bed with his clothes on and muttered to the room.
“I think I might kill you.”
13
A row had started the day after in the afternoon since Andreas had left before Mr Pink had woken up, and woken up with a massive hangover. It had started by Andreas asking calmly,
“When did you come home last night?”
“Don’t you know? You came up and made a turn in the living room!” Mr Pink almost spat out the words.
“I woke up and wanted to know where the dog was.”
“Yeah, right! You felt guilty about leaving me at the club and had to check that I came home all right!!!”
As always when confronted, Andreas went into silent mode, and they went around like two angry lions for more than a day with puffed chests and blazing eyes. Then last evening Andreas had suggested that they should go to Santa Monica Pier, and now they were here in a fragile and volatile truce. They had taken the bus to the beach since Bumble’s owners were back in Los Angeles and had fetched both dog and car. The pier and most of the path area along the beach were packed with people since it was a Saturday. The mix of people was everything from old hippie survivors playing drums on white plastic barrels to men and women who stood with plaques saying that ‘Jesus loves you’. There were tables here and there with people who sold tie-dye T-shirts and braided bracelets and all sorts. There was a seventies hippie vibe over the whole area and Mr Pink realised that he liked it. There was something welcoming and comfortable about it and it was completely fitting with the sunny LA weather.
