Politically Incorrect

The night of 4th September 1999

AFTER TALKING TO Cristina, I went home to sort out what I was going to wear that night and for the photoshoot the day after tomorrow. In the evening, I went back to the apartment. My whole body was tingling: I like this kind of chance meeting. It’s really thrilling, it gives me an adrenalin rush, and makes me feel as though my head is going to explode from all the blood pounding at my temples.

Cindy was ready when I arrived, so we took a taxi to the bar. I was picturing what the two politicians might look like: very serious in their Ermenegildo Zegna suits, their pockets stuffed with notes and business cards, perhaps leather briefcases containing unpronounceable speeches written by others more skilled than them at constructing a coherent argument. I had never spoken to a real politician. What kind of language would Manuel use with me? We were supposed to talk for an hour: what could we say to each other?

‘Do you know what this Manuel looks like?’ Cindy asked all of a sudden, putting a stop to my inner monologue.

‘I haven’t the faintest idea!’ I confessed. ‘All I know is that he’ll be wearing a grey suit and a red Loewe tie.’

‘How are we supposed to know what a red Loewe tie looks like?’ Cindy protested, smoothing down the hem of her skirt, which had ridden up when she got into the taxi. She kept lifting herself up to tug at the material stuck under her backside. As she did so, I got a glimpse of her stockings and the garter round the top. She looked very sexy tonight.

‘I don’t know. But we’ll find them.’

The bar was up in Tibidabo, with a fantastic view over Barcelona. It was pretty dark inside, and the music was going full blast. Not exactly the ideal place to meet two politicians from Madrid. We were going to have to shout our heads off just to make ourselves heard!

I left Cindy on her own for a moment and went to the bathroom. I had my sponge in my bag. I was waiting until the very last minute to put it in. At home I had taken the trouble to cut it into three pieces, because the original ball was far too big. As soon as I was locked in the cubicle, I took out one of the pieces and carefully inserted it. It gave me a strange feeling to be doing this, but it was my only option. It also took me quite a while, because I was not used to it. Then I went back to join Cindy, who was closely studying every man who came in the bar. It was so dark inside that, like cats, all their suits looked grey, and I was beginning to think we were going to have a hard time finding our clients.

‘Can you see anything?’ Cindy asked me.

‘No, not a thing. But it’s not midnight yet. I don’t expect they’ll be punctual anyway. Let’s wait a bit longer.’

We asked for a drink: Cindy wanted a gin and tonic, and I had a whisky and Coke. We began to chat. Cindy seemed very pleasant, with very clear ideas and a tremendous loathing for men that she made no attempt to hide.

‘I can’t stand them. Only for work; apart from that I don’t want to know,’ she said, raising her glass in a toast with me.

‘Don’t you have a boyfriend at least?’

‘A boyfriend?’ she almost shouted. ‘You must be crazy! Just so that he can spy on me and discover everything I’m doing, then start a scandal? No, no, no . . . I had more than enough with the father of my filha.’

‘What happened with him?’

‘What happened was that when my girl was two years old, he left me for another woman. Since then, he hardly ever comes to see sua filha and gives me next to nothing for her keep. He’s such an asshole! And he’s got dough, the idiot! That’s why I don’t want a boyfriend. Besides, I wouldn’t know how to be with a man who didn’t pay me now.’

‘Too bad!’ I didn’t know what else to say. ‘But you’re OK in the agency, aren’t you?’

‘Yes. Sometimes there’s muito trabajo, and at others, nothing. But I always pick at something.’

‘You pick at something?’ I liked Cindy a lot, but I was having a hard time understanding her, what with the noise of the customers and the loud music, and the way she used Portuguese words and expressions the whole time.

Sim. I mean I always find work. I used to work in New York and London, so I’ve been around. What about you? Why are you here?’

Even though I felt I could trust her, I did not want to go into detail about my life.

‘A man’s to blame for that too. He stole money from me, and I have debts.’

‘I get it. So now it’s you who makes the guys pay. It’s your revenge.’

‘I don’t know. I don’t think it’s just that.’

As I was trying to explain to Cindy my reasons for joining the agency, I could feel someone caressing me with their eyes. Instinctively, I looked up, and saw a man whispering into his friend’s ear. Two men on their own! It must be them! I couldn’t make out the colour of his tie. It looked quite bright, but I couldn’t swear it was red. But they were the only two men on their own at the bar, so without giving it a second thought, I left Cindy in mid-sentence and decided to go over to the man looking so intently at me. As I stood up, I could feel something wasn’t right between my legs. The sponge had moved, and I felt tremendous stomach cramps, and as though my legs were made of cotton wool.

Cindy could tell something was wrong, and grabbed me by the arm.

‘Are you feeling all right?’ she asked, visibly disturbed.

‘Yes, it’s nothing. It’s only the stupid sponge . . . Wait, I think I’ve seen them. Over there at the end of the bar. I’ll be right back.’

I could feel beads of sweat on my brow, but I had stood up and was looking at them purposefully, so I had to go through with it. I did the best I could.

‘Aren’t you Manuel?’ I asked, trying hard to raise a smile.

‘No, I’m Antonio, and my friend here is Carlos. And what’s your name, gorgeous?’ said the guy who was supposed to be wearing a grey suit and a red tie.

When I heard their names, my face fell.

‘Sorry, I thought you were someone else. I’m really sorry, I was sure you were him.’

I extricated myself as quickly as possible, before I was completely overcome with embarrassment. It had all been for nothing, and I had looked ridiculous walking over there, as if I were wearing a baby’s nappy. By the time I got back to my seat, Cindy was deep in conversation with two men at the next table.

‘They’re from Kuwait,’ she explained. ‘But they only speak English, not a word of Spanish. I falou a poquinho of English, but it’s hard. What about you?’

The two Kuwaits were eyeing me up and down in a way that left little doubt as to their intentions.

‘Look, if our two guys don’t show up, I’ll pick up one of these Arabs. They’ve got money, and I’m sure they’d pay well. We could keep the lot, and not tell them a thing at the agency.’

‘Are you crazy? Susana is expecting my call, and our clients haven’t appeared. If they don’t, we’ll have to go straight back to the apartment.’

‘Well, she can wait a bit, and besides, she’s just about to leave and soon Angelika will be in charge. She’s great: all we have to do is go back and tell her we waited and they never came. And in the meantime, we can have these two here.’

To her, it was all quite simple.

‘Do you want something to drink?’ one of the men suggested.

‘No thanks. I’m sorry but we are waiting for some friends,’ I replied, ultra-politely.

I was beginning to get anxious.

‘I’m going to give them meu telephone,’ said Cindy, searching in her bag for a pen to write her number down with.

‘Don’t hesitate to call me,’ she said, handing one of them a piece of paper.

‘Are you satisfied?’ I said, almost angrily. ‘Everybody is staring at us. Now we really do look like hookers.’

‘Don’t get so annoyed! You’ll soon be doing exactly the same as me, you’ll see! A man who looks at you means money in the bank, you can bet on it.’

She burst out laughing.

She may have been right, but as yet I didn’t feel I could behave like that.

‘Val?’

I turned round to see who was calling me. I found myself face to face with a man of around thirty-seven, wearing a grey suit with a red tie. Not only was he attractive, but I was impressed by his impeccable manners. I didn’t think twice about it, but replied, ‘Manuel? I don’t believe it! What are you going here? I thought you lived in Madrid.’

He kissed me on both cheeks as though we were old friends.

‘Let me get a proper look at you. You haven’t changed a bit!’

I followed his lead. This was turning out to be fun, and I could see that Cindy could scarcely contain her laughter either.

‘Nor have you!’ I said, smiling broadly back at him. ‘You must meet my friend. Cindy, this is Manuel, we’ve been friends for ages.’

Manuel kissed Cindy’s hand. She leaned over me and whispered, ‘Such a touching scene!’

I ignored her and turned back to Manuel, who by now had another man standing next to him.

‘I’d like to introduce my friend and colleague, Rodolfo. We had a meeting in Barcelona, and tonight it’s his birthday, so we decided to celebrate it here.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Rodolfo, and congratulations,’ I said, shaking his hand.

‘Pleased and congratulations,’ Cindy said, imitating me.

Rodolfo was also good-looking, and seemed very friendly. But I preferred Manuel.

‘Are you expecting someone?’ Manuel asked, before sitting down at our table.

The next problem was going to be who went with whom. As I understood it, Rodolfo was allowed first choice, as this was his night. Manuel was supposed to take the girl his friend did not want.

‘No, please, come and join us,’ I said, with my best smile.

After a moment’s hesitation, Rodolfo sat down next to Cindy. It looked as though he had already made his choice. Manuel sat in the fourth chair, and I felt distinctly relieved.

‘Are you still in politics?’ I asked him.

‘Yes, I have to earn a living.’

It really seemed that both of us had learned our lines perfectly. He leaned closer and whispered to me, ‘Your friend knows Rodolfo isn’t to suspect a thing, doesn’t she?’

‘Yes. Don’t worry.’

‘Fine. And by the way, you look great!’ he added, much to my surprise.

‘So do you. And I’m glad your friend chose Cindy.’

‘So am I. I was scared he wouldn’t!’ he said, still staring me in the face.

I said nothing. I was rather intimidated by him.

‘You’re incredible. It’s as though we really have been friends all our lives.’

I liked this politician. I wanted to take him to bed with me.

After we had chatted a while with our respective opposite numbers, I remembered I had to ring Susana. I said I needed to go to the bathroom, and got up from the table.

When I rang, it was Angelika who replied. I could tell she was fuming at the end of the line, but I calmed her down. I also replaced the piece of sponge properly. It was still killing me! What a great idea Cristina had! This was the first and last time I was going to put crap like that inside me.

By the time I got back to our table, Rodolfo was feeling very sick. He was about to throw up because of all he had been drinking. Manuel was really sorry, but said he felt he had to take him back to their hotel. I tried to persuade him we could meet up later in his room, but he would have none of it. He did not want to risk it, he said, with his friend in such a state.

Cindy and I were left there like two idiots, not knowing what to say, and feeling frustrated because each of us had liked our client. The Kuwaitis at the next table tried to chat us up again, but I managed to convince Cindy not to have anything to do with them, and soon afterwards we clambered into a taxi to take us back to the apartment.