But that would have to wait.
He would pick up his money from the restaurant the following day and see how well the staff had done on tips that week.
§
That annoyed the hell out of Jimmy: the shared staff tips. He was always the perfect waiter to his tables: attentive, polite, patient and sometimes even shared a laugh or a joke with his guests, to ensure that they tipped well and that they would ask for Jimmy as their waiter on their undoubted return. Yet gratuities were placed in a jar and shared equally among all staff members at the end of the week. His hard-earned tips were being awarded to the pot washers, the cleaners, the lazy, the clumsy and the neglectful other waiters and waitresses... it wasn’t fair.
However, if they were left on the table, instead of being added to the bill, they were straight in his pocket. He was meant to declare everything but, hey, they were his tips. He had even shared his thoughts with some of his regulars and mentioned the fact that if they left a generous tip on the bill, they were not, in fact, paying for the service at all. They were merely contributing to an increased minimum wage for certain members of staff, who deserved to receive exactly that: minimum wage. Jimmy would have paid some of them even less, had he been the manager and it was not against the law. They were next to useless.
“Why is it that some of your regulars never leave a tip, Jimmy?” The manageress had confronted him about it one evening.
“They always leave it on the table and I put it straight in the jar, Mrs. Johnson,” Jimmy explained, hoping that she had not been scrutinising him too closely. She was on salary plus profit share from restaurant takings and did not receive tips. Hopefully she would not press the matter.
“Can’t they just add the amount to the bill, the same as most customers?” Mrs. Johnson was becoming a nuisance.
“A lot of the dinners are client meetings, Mrs. Johnson.”
“What difference does that make?”
“The receipts are kept for tax purposes,” Jimmy was really pushing his luck now because he didn’t know why this was important. He remembered something his father had said once about why he had tipped a waiter directly by putting the cash straight in his hand. Maybe it was his father’s taxes, maybe it was the waiter’s taxes, who knows. But it was something to do with tax. He was, however, very well aware that Mrs. Johnson was, by no means, the sharpest knife in the drawer and probably knew as much as he did about UK tax laws.
“Of course. Silly me,” she confirmed Jimmy’s suspicions about her lack of education or interest in the matter as it did not affect her monthly take-home pay. “Just be sure those tips always go in the jar.”
“You’re the boss, Mrs. J.” Jimmy gave her one of his cheeky smiles. She received her bonus on restaurant takings and she knew that Jimmy contributed towards that with his regulars. Even if she suspected him, he thought that it would be the last time she would mention it.
Jimmy pictured the meeting between her and the hotel manager should the matter ever be raised again:
“What’s the story on Knight’s regulars and the gratuities?”
“His regulars always leave cash and it goes in the tips jar.”
“Why don’t they leave the tip on the bill?”
“Something to do with tax.”
§
Jimmy could worry about a scarf when he had his wages for the week. All he had to worry about that lunch break was how smooth he looked in that coat. And rich. He practically swaggered back to the school and into the quad, where Xavier was busy tearing some poor group of passing nobodies to shreds as they tried to hurry through the quad to the safety of the dining hall, where the verbal abuse would stop.
“Groomer!” Xavier shrieked, with obvious surprise at seeing his old comrade breaking new boundaries and entering the quad. Groomer was the nickname Jimmy had been given from his grey-flannel suit and centre-parted hair days. “If you are going to start dressing like this I might have to start hanging out with you again.”
“I’m not sure that I have room for you in my busy schedule these days, Frogboy,” Jimmy retorted.
“That’s a shame, because I was going to ask you a favour.”
“Go on...”
“Not here. Come with me,” Xavier tipped his head in the direction he wanted to walk and Jimmy followed him out of the quad.
“What is it you’re after?”
“I want to stay with you this weekend.”
“I never knew you cared.”
“No, I want to take an exeat and I need your Papa to sign the request form to say I am staying with you.”
“Will you be staying with me?”
“Yes, but I want to spend the Saturday evening with a girl. Maybe get a hotel room. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I get the picture. You want to shag some girl and you want me to cover for you with both my father and the school. Who is this girl? Dare I ask how old she is? Are you planning to bring her to the house, too?”
“It’s not like that, it will just...”
“Actually, I don’t want to know who she is, I don’t want to know what you are going to do with the time...”
“I’ll pay you.”
§
Exeats were one-night vacations, where a boarder could leave school on a Saturday afternoon, after sporting activities had finished, returning no later than 10:00pm on Sunday.
All the boarders at Bankside School were allowed to take up to four exeats in the autumn term, and three in the spring and summer terms. They had to be approvd by houseparents, which meant a parent or guardian needed to accept responsibility for the student during their absence from school.
Many of the boarders at Bankside would see whole terms pass without taking any exeats, because their families lived too far away and they did not know any day pupils whose parents were prepared to act as guardians.
Jimmy lived his life outside the school as a free man and so had never thought that an exeat opportunity had a resale value. Xavier wanted to pay him for the opportunity to have a night of passion with... who cared.
Xavier wanted to pay him.
§
“How much?” Jimmy asked.
“I’ll give you one-hundred pounds,” Xavier offered.
One-hundred pounds?
Sold!
“I don’t know, Xavier,” Jimmy was trying to hide his enthusiasm. “I’m going to have to run this by my dad. I’m not sure how he would feel about putting his name down as guardian. Actually, I’m not sure that I want my dad putting his name down as guardian. It means I will have to babysit you to make sure you come back to the house when you have finished playing Pepé Le Pew with your little tart. And how come you’re the only one getting laid here? Doesn’t she have a friend?”
“Come on, Groomer,” Xavier’s eyes were a picture of desperation. Jimmy almost felt guilty. “Do you think I would be asking you for help if I could rustle up girls who wanted to have sex so easily?”
“Okay. Get the paperwork. I’ll see what I can do. But I’m going to need that today if you want to stay this Saturday. Exeat applications are meant to be in by Thursday evening and I’m going to have to bring it to your boarding house later.”
“I already have the paperwork,” Xavier handed Jimmy the Exeat Application Form. It was already filled in with Jimmy’s name and address and with his father down as guardian. “I just need your Papa to sign it.”
“You presumptious little git.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”
“This doesn’t get handed in until I have my money. And one-hundred quid or otherwise, you still owe me one for this.”
“You’re a star.”
“And you’re still a presumptious little git.”
Jimmy knew that there would be no problem getting his father to sign the application form. Xavier was a little shit at school, but he was one of the most charming individuals when he wanted to be and Jimmy’s father really liked him. Clearly that same charm worked with young girls and their knickers.
Sure enough, the form was signed without question and even prompted Jimmy’s father to comment: “You know your friends are always welcome to stay here on Saturdays as long as I have met them.”
Jimmy took a mental note of those words as his next business venture relied upon them. His father was going to be meeting a lot of his ‘friends’ over the next few months and Jimmy was keen to get started making those friendships so that he could start booking people in for exeats at Knight Towers. The more the merrier.
He took the signed forms to Xavier’s boarding house later that evening and knocked on the window. Xavier had been waiting in anticipation and had the money ready when he came and spoke to Jimmy. “Did your Papa sign the form?”
“Of course. Do you have my money?”
“Of course.” Xavier handed Jimmy the cash in exchange for the form.
“Just don’t forget where you’re staying on Saturday night. I don’t want you getting too comfortable in the hotel and dozing off until Sunday morning.”
“Don’t worry, she is a boarder. She has to go back to her house at ten o’clock.”
“So, why do you need the exeat?”
“Do you think that, after losing my virginity, I want to go back to the boarding house? I want to have a few beers and maybe go to a club.”
“Really? Saturday is going to be your first time? I’m amazed you’re not walking around with a permanent boner.”
“Nobody else knows, okay? I should be with you in the bar by nine o’clock and she will go back to her house. We can have a few drinks together. I want to be there when the duty teachers are clearing out the bar so that I can laugh at them.”
“That’s where I am going now.”
“You wanker! I am stuck in here.”
“I think we both know who will be doing the most wanking between now and Saturday.” Jimmy was very amused by the fact that his friend was stuck in the boarding house, counting down the minutes until Saturday evening. But fair play to him. It wasn’t easy to get laid at Bankside School. There were too many rules which prevented liasons between students of the opposite sex... if you were a boarder.
Jimmy decided to go to The Oak with his newly acquired coat and wad of cash. He felt quite a different fellow to the one who sat at the bar with a bag of misappropriated pens only a few days before.
Jimmy Knight was heading down to The Oak. Not sneaking into, or popping by The Oak. No. He was heading down to The Oak. A well-dressed young man with money in his pocket and the world at his feet. A man with a purpose and a lucrative little business of his own. He would need to rearrange his own bedroom so that it could be used as a second guest room. He could set himself up in the garage on Saturday nights. He wondered if he could convince his sister to empty her room, so that he could let hers out, too. In the summer, people could camp in the garden.
The possibilities were endless.
“A pint of your finest ale please, Sir.” Pete was working behind the bar.
“Ooh, that’s more like it,” Pete cooed, looking at the coat. “I’ll give you twenty quid for it.”
If only Jimmy had made it to the lost property sale, he would have made a fortune. But that was before he became a holiday tycoon with an exeat business for the rich, yet restricted, boarders of Bankside. Only a week before, he would have passed the coat over without a second thought, eager to get his hands on the money.
“Not this one, Pete,” Jimmy replied, proudly brushing down the sleeves. “This one is mine.”
“Won the lottery, have you?” Pete joked. “Or did you sell a few thousand more of those pens?”
“Keep your voice down,” whispered Jimmy. “I don’t want the world to know about our little deal.”
“Look who’s teaching grandma to suck eggs,” Pete said loudly, for the only other two people in the bar to hear. “The bar’s dead, kid. And Jonno and Dave are like partners.” Almost on cue, Jonno and Dave raised their glasses and laughed. Jimmy figured they already knew him as one of Pete’s little gang of thieves.
“You don’t want to take that coat off in here,” Dave winked at Jimmy. “It might go missing.”
“It might go missing even if you don’t take it off, if you have too many of those beers,” Jonno added. They both laughed again.
“Whatever happened to honour amongst thieves?” Jimmy countered.
“We’re not thieves,” Pete gestured with his hands that he was talking for them all. “We’re businessmen.”
“Can I get you guys a drink?” Jimmy asked, changing the subject.
“He really has won the lottery,” Dave quickly emptied his glass. “Two pints of Carling here, cheers.”
“And I’ll have a Stella,” added Pete. “Thanks, Jimmy.”
“You’re welcome. Nice to meet you.” Jimmy raised his glass to Dave and Jonno and decided to never wear the coat to The Oak again.
§
After rugby on Saturday, Jimmy met up with Xavier in the quad and they walked together to Jimmy’s house.
“Where are you meeting this girl then?” Jimmy was feeling nosy.
“I’m not telling you.” Xavier was not going to let anyone spoil his plans for the evening.
“What’s the matter? Do you think I’m going to suddenly turn up and ruin it all for you? Do you think I would cock block my first customer?”
“What do you mean, ‘first customer’?”
“You are the first exeat guest at Knight Towers.” Jimmy proudly announced. “I plan to promote myself in school as a provider of exeats.”
“But you’re a complete loner.” Xavier was off on one of his character assassinations. “Even Billy No Mates has more friends than you do. The only reason I didn’t have to hunt you down about this exeat is because you have bought yourself a coat, to be your new friend, and with it you dared to enter the quad. And the best friend you could find, you picked up at a lost property auction, because nobody else wanted it. Even the colour is grey, to match your personality.”
“Prick.” Jimmy had ignored Xavier’s tirades for a whole year before. Perhaps that’s why Xavier got bored and started to hang out with people who would bite when he wanted them to. People he could humiliate when the mood took him, in front of the rest of the group, before doing one of his pretend scared routines if they decided to get aggressive, safe in the knowledge that the rest of the pack would protect him. All of them laughing at whoever’s turn it was to be mocked, grateful that they were not the one being tormented.
“I think Dad should come with us into town. He hasn’t seen you for a while and it is him who is ultimately responsible for you.”
“Sorry, Groomer,” Xavier quickly relented. “But you have to admit that you’re hardly one of the school’s most-renowned socialites.”
“I haven’t been, but that was a matter of choice. I can soon ingratiate myself with those clowns in the quad if I choose. And, besides, you’re going to help me.”
“Why should I help you?”
“Because after you’ve had some pussy tonight, you’re going to want some more. And how many of your circle of quad buddies are day pupils, with a house within walking distance?”
Jimmy and Xavier walked the rest of the way to the house in silence. Xavier was thinking about getting laid and Jimmy was thinking about getting paid. And each needed the other to make it happen.
§
The two boys headed into town at seven o’clock. Jimmy was going to find a prominent seat at the bar in The Crown, the most popular venue for sixth formers on Saturdays, and Xavier was off to entertain his lady friend. Xavier would have to endure what would seem like the longest dinner of his life, before getting his nuts wet for the first time... or so he hoped.
The Crown was still quiet. Most Bankside students only came out for two hours between eight and ten o’clock. Jimmy ordered himself a pint and made himself comfortable at the bar, waiting for the mob of loud-mouthed Hooray Henrys to arrive and disturb the equilibrium of the evening.
He tried not to give it any thought, but Jimmy couldn’t help but wonder how Xavier was getting on with his potential conquest. He was probably sweetening her up with some of his chat-up-lines-au-fromage to try and hurry things to the hotel room.
It wasn’t long before the usual suspects began to arrive. Jimmy politely nodded his head to those who acknowledged him, although he had no desire to engage in conversation. He was waiting for the next two hours to rise from a quiet throng to a noisy mêlée, culminating in a shrieking, squawking, guffawing mob of buffoons unable to handle their once-weekly drinks.
Like he was one to talk.
Jimmy was also going to end the evening in a shameful state, wobbling home, probably singing songs, he and Xavier helping each other to stand up, but his drunken antics were paced more steadily. He was going to be staggering home at two or three o’clock in the morning.
So that was okay.
At around noisy mêlée time, Xavier turned up, not looking quite as pleased as Jimmy was expecting.
“Stupid frigid bitch,” he cursed. “I need a drink. Something strong.”
“Didn’t it work out as planned?” Jimmy was struggling to contain his mirth at the crestfallen Frenchman’s fate.
“Everything was going fine until I told her that I had booked us a room as a little surprise. Then she freaked. She started saying that all boys are the same. We are only interested in one thing. Why couldn’t I just like her for who she was? Why did it always have to be about sex?”
“Aww... poor Pepé,” Jimmy couldn’t help himself. “Just have a pint and forget about it. There will be plenty of girls around later.”
“I just thought that tonight... you know.” Xavier’s evening hadn’t started as planned, but he didn’t know Jimmy was going to take him clubbing later. “I’m going to sit with some of the guys from my house. Are you going to join us or stay here with all your mates?”
“I’ll come and have a drink with your fan club.”
“Don’t mention the other thing. If they know that I was putting muff before mates tonight, it will be bad for my reputation.”
Xavier went to sit with his housemates and Jimmy pulled up a chair at the end of the table, not wanting to squash himself on the end of the bench. He knew most of the names and faces. There were just a couple of upper sixth students whose names he didn’t know.
Jimmy didn’t think they were sporting types. At least, not the sports that were widely followed and supported in the school. Everyone knew the football and rugby players. They would have known Jimmy, as he played on the wing for the rugby first XV. One of them looked fit and strong, possibly a swimmer, but nobody seemed interested in making formal introductions as a tray of tequila shots had just arrived.
“Groomer, are you having a shot?” Asked Jack Randle.
Jimmy didn’t mind being called Groomer by Xavier as the two of them were friends, but he hardly knew the fellow who was passing out the tequilas. He was, however, offering drinks, which in Jimmy’s mind meant he could call him anything he wanted.
“Sure, count me in,” he enthused.
“Do you want salt and lemon?” Jack was holding out a tray.
“Rude not to,” Jimmy poured some salt on the back of his hand and grabbed a piece of lemon.
Two more tequila shots came Jimmy’s way, courtesy of Xavier’s housemates, most of whom were struggling after the two-hour drinking fest. They had all consumed more than Jimmy and he had started just after seven o’clock, an hour before they came to the bar. It was their Saturday mission to go out for two hours and make the most of it, because it was the only time that they were allowed out. It was no wonder they all came across so badly to the locals. None of the locals had ever experienced life in boarding school. Saturdays were just a release.
You only had to look at the local college and Bankside School to see two groups of similarly-minded individuals, grouped separately by social class or circumstance, placed together in one small town, where money or privilege was the divider. Bankside organised foreign exchange programmes for equally-privileged children from around the globe to experience each others’ lifestyles, yet it had no such arrangement with the college. Was it a rather shortsighted approach? Weren’t there many teachers willing to head an exchange programme with the neighbours? Not glamorous enough, perhaps?
Jimmy’s philosophising was brought to a halt by the arrival of the duty teacher, who was busy telling everybody to drink up. Xavier’s housemates gave him some backchat, but they all seemed resigned to their fate.
“Have you got any cigarettes?” Xavier asked Jimmy.
“No, I don’t smoke.”
“I’ve got cigarettes,” Jack Randle offered.
“Quick, give me a cigarette.” Xavier lit it right in front of the duty teacher as he was getting the boys to drink up.
“Xavier Dubois! What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m having a cigarette, Sir. Do you want one?”
“Put it out, right now!”
“I’ve only just lit it, Sir.”
“Wait until Mr. Randle hears about this.”
“There’s not much that you or Mr. Randle can do about it, Sir. I’m on exeat, staying with the Knight family.”
“You may think that you’re very clever, Dubois, but you’ll see.”
“You muppet,” Jimmy was shaking his head at Xavier. “You know that Mr. Gibson has a real thing for smokers, don’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Xavier looked intrigued.
“He’s an ex-Royal Marines Officer. He never reports anyone for smoking, he just chases them until they give up running and then forces them to smoke the whole packet in ten minutes. And now he’s got you down as a smoker.”
“Whoops!” Xavier didn’t look concerned.
“Yeah. Big whoops. And thanks for dropping Dad in the mix, too.”
“It’s okay, your Papa’s not here, they can’t blame him.”
“No, but they might not allow him to act as a guardian on any future exeat applications.”
“I don’t think it will affect anyone except Xavier,” Jack commented.
“Aren’t you going back?” Jimmy asked.
“No, I was going to stay with you guys, if that’s okay.”
“I thought you were a boarder, in the same house as Xavier.”
“No, my mum and dad are houseparents, Mr. and Mrs. Randle.”
“That makes sense.” Jimmy had never thought about the shared surname before. “Don’t your parents teach at all?”
“No, they’re full-time houseparents.”
“Well, with the likes of Xavier, I’m not surprised it’s a full-time job.”
§
Jack, Jimmy and Xavier got to Momo’s Nightclub and Disco at around midnight. Momo’s was not really a nightclub, just two overcrowded dance floors with a bar at each end. There was very little seating and everyone was sloshed by midnight on a Saturday. It was definitely a kids’ disco because anyone older went to Enzo, which needed a designated driver as it was twenty miles away.
The three of them were attracting quite a bit of attention from the girls. Their whole demeanour was different to the local lads. They sounded different, they acted different and, because they were all pissed, those differences made them stand out like sore thumbs. They were also new faces because Momo’s had the same crowd week-in-week-out. Unfortunately, the preppy teenagers who stood out to the girls, stood out to the boys, too. And one of the boys was eager to talk.
“What are you posh wankers doing in here?” Came the enquiry.
“Looking for your mum. I heard that she gives good head.” The little Frenchman replied, with his usual level of diplomacy.
What followed was rather one sided but, thankfully, nothing more than handbags. Xavier caught a couple of rather nasty punches before Jimmy intervened and Jack made sure that no-one else jumped into the fray.
The bouncers showed up after everything had finished and just sent the two parties to different ends of the room.
All good fun.
“Why is it always the little guy in the group who causes the aggravation?” Jimmy asked Xavier, after they had moved to the other bar.
“Because I know I have my ‘Knight’ in shining armour!” Xavier was very pleased with himself for using Jimmy’s surname as part of his reply.
“No harm done,” said Jack, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get another drink and check out the totty.”
The totty consisted mainly of girls in groups. Trying to extract an attractive girl from a group of facially- or bodily-challenged friends is a very dangerous business. Ideally, they needed a group of three girls. Jimmy wondered if Xavier would take an ugly one for the team if they found a group of two plus one but, as it was his first time and his hotel room, that was a little unfair.
Jack soon spotted a party of three which was almost that, only it was more a group of one plus two: one very cute girl and two average ones. Time was ticking on. They were no Chippendales, themselves. Xavier was drunk. Jimmy wasn’t fussy. Jack decided to give it a go.
“I thought I’d better come and say hello before you catch me staring from across the room,” Jack said, introducing himself. “Otherwise you might think I’m a stalker.”
The girls laughed and Jimmy could see that Jack was indicating he had some friends with him at the bar. Did they want to come and join the group? Yes, it appeared they did.
Jack and Jimmy flirted with the girls, both trying for the cute one, but she had taken a shine to poor, drunken, little Napoleon, with his bruised eye. There wasn’t much to choose between the other two, but Jimmy settled on the slightly chunkier one, with the bigger boobs. Jack seemed quite content with the slimmer one, who definitely had the best bum.
They took a seven-seater taxi to The Swan, where Xavier had booked a hotel room for his earlier date, and the six of them went up to the room. Jack and Xavier had already got past first base in the taxi, but Jimmy had been sat up front and hadn’t had the chance to make a move. It was a deluxe room, with two double beds. Jimmy got himself a drink from the mini bar but before he could ask what everyone else wanted, Jack and Xavier had occupied the two beds and were carrying on from where they had left off in the taxi.
“Can I get you a drink,” Jimmy asked Gemma. He had at least managed to find out her name. “It was vodka and lemonade at Momo’s, right?”
“Yes, please.” She was sitting on the sofa, in front of the TV, between the beds and the bathroom. Jimmy got her a vodka and lemonade and himself a can of Stella.
“Here you are.” Jimmy handed her the drink as he sat down beside her. She put the drink straight on the table and made her move on Jimmy. And, despite putting up a brave defence, he soon found himself in the middle of a rather awkward snog.
“Let’s go back to my house,” Jimmy suggested. “It’s a lot more comfortable than this sofa.”
“Don’t you live with your parents?”
“Yes, but it’s okay, my dad was expecting him to stay tonight, so the spare room is made up.” Jimmy pointed at the half-naked Xavier, who was too busy to notice them leave.
Back at Jimmy’s house, his father had waited up. It wasn’t surprising, really, as he had signed an exeat form, taking responsibility for Xavier.
“Where’s Xavier? And who is your friend?” His father asked.
“He’s staying at The Swan.” Jimmy knew that he wouldn’t get a bollocking with Gemma there, but he also knew there would be one to follow later. “This is Gemma. I said she could stay in the spare room.”
“Okay,” his father nodded. “Nice to meet you, Gemma. The spare room is the last one on the left and the bathroom is next door to you.”
“Thank you.” Gemma disappeared up the stairs.
“We’ll talk more about this in the morning, when you’re not so drunk.” His father bolted the front door and started up the stairs to bed. “And no sneaking between rooms.” He added.
Jimmy waited almost a whole hour, until he could hear his father snoring, before he sneaked between rooms. He didn’t knock on the door as it would have made too much noise. He eased the door open and made his way in quietly. He climbed into the bed beside Gemma, who had already stripped down to just her underwear, and started kissing her neck.
Nothing.
He put his hand on her shoulder and started gently rocking her.
Nothing.
He tried whispering to her.
Nothing.
He pushed himself against her.
Nothing.
He gave her a shove.
Nothing.
She was not merely asleep, she was completely passed out. Jimmy gave up and went back to his own room, cursing his bad luck.
