How Not To Be A Groupie

Chapter Eleven: Cliff Williams

"Me?" I asked.

"Yeah, if you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?" This was the kind of question you asked people who didn't like where they lived. They always pick somewhere else. But I liked where I lived. It wasn't perfect but I had lived there my whole life. I didn't adjust very well to moving or changes. It was like I had grown roots and refused to be taken away. But I was fascinated by Australia and New Zealand for that matter. It was like they lived in their own world down here. So far away from American drama. Now that sounded nice.

Then again. Australia was known for having B-movie spiders crawling around soooo....

I shrugged. "I like it here," I said. "I'd like to have a winter birthday."

"Will ya' move here after you're done journalin'? Or is that a dream for another day?"

I fiddled with the pen in my hands. Moving was such a big jump, especially moving to another country so far away... "I don't know, I don't like sitting on a plane that long." Cliff nodded.

"Yeah, that's rough," he said. "Tourin' around Australia you have to use a plane, jus' 'cause the damn thing is so big." More cheering forced us to wait until they finished. "But right now when you're playin' in clubs in adjacent cities ya' get a bus. An' buses aren't great either," he laughed. "The loo is smaller than a doghouse an' the beds are like coffins on some of 'em...but you're on the ground." He shrugged. "There's good an' bad to lots of things, an' ya' gotta take 'em both."

I squinted to see what I was writing. Some words were falling through the lines and sentences were sloping downwards. I'd fix it later. Right now someone came up to us and sat next to me, wrapping their arm around my neck. 

"Fancy seein' you two here," Bon said. My eyes widened at his tight hold on me. "Sorry 'bout that." He let me go and drank the glass of whiskey he brought over from the pool table. "Here's a lesson for ya', write this down." He pointed at my notebook. "Don't play pool for money."

"How much, Bon?" Cliff asked.

"Twenty," he said. "I was good for it but I gotta quit now or I'll be borrowin' from Angus again." He sniffed. "Think I still owe him something...." He nudged me. "You play?"

I closed my notebook, thinking the interview was done for now. "I'm not falling for that," I said with a smile. Bon frowned. "I'm not playing with sharks, I don't even have any money."

Some coins jangled in my pants pocket. I was a filthy little liar. 

"Not for money, I'm done with that for now," Bon said. "Jus'...in general, do ya' play?" I shrugged.

"I've played a few times," I admitted. "I'm not good but it's fun." Bon's grin widened.

The Grinch got a wonderful, awful idea....

"How's this then," he said sitting up straight. "You an' I play...if you win, I'll do whatever you want, but if I win...I find ya' some proper music in this place an' you start dancin'."

What was this man's fascination? I wasn't even good!

"That's not fair, you'll still win!" I said. "And I'm not dancing on the bar."

"Oh, like it a bit more private, eh?" Bon asked taking a long drink. He was surely tipsy by now. "I won't argue with that." My face burned red. 

More cheers erupted from the same table across the bar. It got our attention, except Bon who was still drinking. "Some party over there," Cliff said when the noise died down. Bon slammed his empty glass down on the table. 

"Oh, them," he said. "Some contest they're holdin', or somethin'." The ice clinked around in his glass. "Maybe I should join 'em."

"Now that's not fair," Cliff said smiling. "You'd be walkin' out with the shirts on their backs." Bon laughed. "If you're not stayin' long I can get us a cab back to the hotel."