New readers. Read Part One first. Not that I’m guaranteeing anything, you understand.
Barman (He’d been listening): Remind me.
RR: Martini straight up, Tanqueray, three ice cubes in the shaker, with a twist.
The barman nods towards Oxblood staring out at Central Park.
RR: Better ask him. He’s not with me
Barman: Sir! Buddy!
Oxblood turns slowly, as if suddenly finding himself in the Gents.
Oxblood: Er… Brandy Alexander.
The barman looks at me and I look back at him. Both heavily silent.
Oxblood: I been thinking. Just can’t find the right words.
RR: Not good in your line of business.
Oxblood (Briefly terrified): Wha..a..!
RR: Media, surely. Slip-ons with no socks.
Oxblood: Shee-eet.
The Brandy Alexander is served. The barman and I watch on. Oxblood sips, realises we’re spectating, and gulps off the whole drink. The cream leaves him with a white moustache. He seems strengthened.
Oxblood: Got a sort of intimate question.
RR: Shoot.
Oxblood: You have any success…?
RR: Success?
Oxblood: Y’know. With women?
RR: Not in the UK, it’s why I left. American women have shown some slight interest. College types.
The strength drained out of his face. He stared down at his sockless feet.
Oxblood: You’re shitting me. Foreign shit.
RR: Why would I do that?
Oxblood: Acting superior. Being a Brit.
RR: Bet you earn three times as much.
As if I’d handed him a crutch.
Oxblood: Yeah! Sure! Four times at least! (Looks me up and down.) This shirt’s Armani, fr’instance.
RR: Something to talk about.
For the first time he realised what a bastard I was.
Oxblood: So what do you talk about?
RR: You guessed it. Hygiene. I slay ‘em.
A long pause while the sun went down.
Oxblood: Never done a martini. Should I try one?
Was Oxblood drunk, or just stupid? Serious question.
ReplyDeleteDitto!
DeleteIt's hard to figure out what his intentions were. Mmm? Just meaningless conversation, killing time in a bar?
ReplyDeleteAll: My apologies to you all. It didn't work. Perhaps I should have given it another 24 hours instead of rushing into it. There was (is) an idea that's been hanging around for years but it needed the most delicate of touches to bring it off. But it's only a short step between "most delicate" and "woefully obscure" and the latter is what you got.
ReplyDeleteIronically the idea of drunkenness never occurred to me; if it had perhaps the end result would have been clearer without (And this was my major concern) becoming too clear.
I hope I haven't scared you off. As far as I can remember this is my first attempt at writing a story almost entirely in dialogue. It's far harder than it looks but when it works (as it seemed to do in Part one) it can be quite thrilling. It's a technique often used by writers who do humorous columns for newspapers: Beachcomber in the UK, Art Buchwald in the US. I'd like to try it again some time, but based on a less complex idea. In Spring perhaps
I'm leaving Part Two as is. A grim reminder. One point which has just occurred: the story lacks a woman and in almost all the fiction I've written during the last decade women have played a significant (often central) role.
Hey, why don't I blame it on Covid. Truth to tell, as I kicked off the story I daydreamed futilely about an actual afternoon spent drinking martinis in that same bar. During a locked-down past.
This is such a great exercise! Do you mind if I copy your efforts? I want to try to use dialogue.
ReplyDeleteColette: By all means. But to test it to the limits (and get the best out of the technique) aim for the absolute minimum of what one might call "stage directions". Ensure the dialogue is both super-condensed and animated, implying action.
Delete