Jam Tops, the Fonz and the Pursuit of Cool

by Kris Lillyman

  Nevertheless, by the time Daisy arrived there she had almost completely run out of funds so there was very little she could do about it until she had saved up enough money to move on.

  The only thing to do was to make the best of it, which she duly did by taking a job in a busy bar that was situated right on the beach.

  After all her years of travelling, Daisy now had a deep, even tan, contrary to the fact she was a ginger and tended to burn rather than brown. Her body was curvy in all the right places and her legs were long and graceful, so she looked sensational in a bikini which was the accepted style of dress for her daytime shifts at the bar.

  Daisy’s hair was long and flowing now and after many years of trying she had finally managed to tame it - training it into a glossy, auburn mane that hung down her back.

  She had blossomed into a beautiful young woman and had scores of the aforementioned lotharios chatting her up and asking her out on dates. But even though she was now worldly and much more confident in her appearance, she was still relatively shy and never could shake that ‘fish out of water’ feeling that she’d had since she was a little girl.

  However, bit by bit, she came to enjoy herself in Lloret and her time at the beach bar. She made friends with her workmates, with whom she shared a small, rented apartment and, even though it wasn’t really her bag, she often went out with them at night - usually ending up having a good time - much against her initial expectations.

  Yet it was during a busy lunchtime shift in July, on a blistering hot day, when Loz (short for Lorraine), her loose, loud, Liverpudlian room mate and best friend at the bar, came over to her whilst she was in the middle of mixing a pina colada.

  Loz, a big-boobed, brassy, blonde, described herself as a ‘pocket rocket’; five foot nothing with a pneumatic body and a sex drive that was sky high, but even though they were as different as chalk and cheese, Daisy liked her - and admired her forthright view on life.

  “Hey, Chick,” whispered Loz, who called everyone ‘chick’, “There’s a really hunky bloke over there who says he’s an old friend of yours from school.”

  Immediately Daisy thought of Gordy and, with a big, delighted grin on her face, discarded the large slice of pineapple she was cutting and turned excitedly in the direction Loz was pointing.

  But sitting at the end of the bar, where she had hoped to see her best friend from Bailey’s Bandstand, she saw somebody else entirely.

  Because instead of Gordy Brewer, Daisy was staring at Steve bloody Cool.

  ***

  In all the bars, in all the world, Steve Cool had to walk into hers (to misquote Humphrey Bogart in Casablanca).

  Daisy was stunned, shocked, surprised - yet still had the presence of mind to observe that the Steve Cool of the present was every bit as dishy, every bit as desirable, as the Steve Cool of the past.

  And every bit the bastard, Daisy was willing to bet, as he casually waived her over.

  He resembled a Greek (partially Glaswegian) God, all rippling biceps, six-pack and perfect hair as he sat there, shirtless, at the bar. Daisy tried hard not to be awed by the glorious sight if him, but it was difficult, very difficult.

  She was suddenly very conscious of the fact that she was only wearing a skimpy string bikini - although it might have been worse as she could have been on the beach topless, which she was most mornings before her shift began. Daisy had resisted baring her breasts at first, but in Lloret de Mar she would have been more conspicuous had she not sunbathed topless. So eventually she gave in to it and let them hang free which, in truth, she found incredibly liberating.

  Now it was nothing to her; she was just another girl out of the hundreds, maybe even thousands, on the beach who ‘got ‘em out’ in the sun every day. Nonetheless, she was immensely relieved that Steve Cool had recognised her at the bar and not on the beach.

  Even so, she felt quite anxious as she approached him, remembering well the ‘lezzie’ taunt at the roller-disco many moons ago which still hurt now whenever she thought about it.

  “Hello, Beautiful,” was Steve Cool’s opening gambit which, Daisy had to admit, could have been worse even though it was a little cheesy. She felt herself blush and berated herself for it.

  “Hi,” she said back, “what the hell are you doing here?” Sounding much more aggressive than she’d intended.

  “Well that’s nice,” Steve Cool said with mock indignation. “Here I am, a stranger in a strange land who suddenly sees a friendly face and that’s the greeting you give me - well, I’m hurt, I don’t mind telling you.”

  Clearly he was joking and Daisy couldn’t help but giggle, “Sorry,” she said, “It’s just such a surprise, that’s all. I haven’t seen anyone from home in ages. Why are you here, anyway?”

  Steve smiled, a twinkle in his dreamy dark eyes. “And there’s that dagger in my heart again!”

  Daisy laughed again, “Sorry, that came out wrong, too. What I mean is, hi, how are you? Are you here on holiday?”

  As Daisy spoke she couldn’t help but eye him up and down and admire his impressive physique. He was deeply tanned and wearing nothing but a pair of faded cut-offs that emphasised his muscular torso and toned legs.

  Good enough to eat she thought, before berating herself once more. ‘Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard...’ she had to keep reminding herself.

  “No, I work here too,” Came the surprising reply to her question. “Just down the road - touting for the ‘Dirty Duck’, trying to get the punters in, been here a couple of weeks now.”

  The Dirty Duck was a disco pub a short distance away, Daisy knew it well and had been there many times. “Really? The Dirty Duck? Blimey I was in there just the other night - I’m amazed I didn’t see you!”

  “Yeah, me too - and believe me, I definitely would have noticed!” It was another cheesy line but it had the desired effect and Daisy could already feel herself succumbing to his considerable charms but she had to stay firm and remember her mantra ‘Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard...’

  “You look great, Daisy. Really great,” he continued, licking his lips hungrily as he took in the delicious sight of her, now she was up close in that bikini.

  “Thanks, you too,” she replied before she could stop herself, but it was true, he did.

  “Hey, I work with what I got, you know?” He was trying to be self-deprecating but the arrogance was clear to see - he knew he looked good. “How long you been here anyway? Quite a while judging by that sexy tan.”

  Now that was cheesy. Did girls really fall for that? She guessed maybe they did because she was already feeling a little weak at the knees much against her most serious attempt not to.

  “I’ve been here for a couple of months but before that all over the place - Thailand, Australia - Africa of course - which is why I left school—” she briefly wondered if he even noticed that she’d left school, but pressed on anyway. “I haven’t been home, to England I mean, in years. What about you? Is that where you were before you came here?”

  “Nah, before here I was in Ibiza and before that I was up in Scotland for a while. Me and Pip went—” suddenly he clammed up, as he if he’d said too much.

  “Pippa? Pippa Wilson, you mean? Do you still see her?”

  “No. Not since Scotland. Not since— anyway, let’s not talk about that, it’s all in the past. What about you? You still hear from Geoff?”

  “Geoff?”

  “Yeah. You know, that kid you used to work with in the record shop - what was it called? Baker’s Boomtown or something—”

  “You mean Bailey’s Bandstand—”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Geoff, who used to work with you there. Fat little git if I remember rightly, always ogling Pippa.”

  Daisy felt her hackles rise, “You mean Gordy,” she said through gritted teeth. “
And no I don’t see him. I’d really like to tho—”

  “Yeah - Gordy, that’s it! Steve interrupted. “What kind of a name’s Gordy anyway?”

  “It’s short for Gordon,” Daisy said curtly.

  “Ha, yeah, well that figures. He looks like a Gordon. ‘Gordon is a moron’” he sung, quoting the famous line from Jilted John. “Anyway, never did like him much - he was always sniffing round Pip, making her laugh.” Suddenly he was lost in thought, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else, before he at last said, “Anyway, at least he’s not here now, eh?”

  Well I wish he was, Daisy wanted to say, but instead just sort of harrumphed under her breath.

  “So what you up to tonight then, Beautiful?” Steve continued unperturbed.

  “Urm, er—” The question took Daisy by surprise, she just wasn’t expecting it, although judging by the way he had been eyeing her up, she perhaps should have been.

  And he had called her ‘Beautiful’ again, the annoyance she felt at his derogatory comments about Gordy instantly cooling - but not forgotten.

  ‘Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard...’ She chanted to herself over and over again, before finally saying, “I’m, er, going out with the girls - it’s been planned for ages.”

  “Hmm, shame.” Said Steve, “I could’ve taken you out.”

  ‘Oh, you could, could you?’ Daisy thought, amazed by his self-confident assumption. “Oh well, not to worry,” she said flippantly, as if nothing could have mattered to her less - yet really it did, even though she hated herself for being so fickle.

  He looked genuinely dejected, before fixing her with his big, brown eyes, looking dreamier and more hunky than ever. “What about tomorrow?”

  ‘Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard...’

  “No. Busy tomorrow, too, sorry.” Daisy was proud of herself - a little victory for her and for Gordy - who Steve had been so mean about.

  “Hey, you’re not giving me the brush off are you?” Even though he’d asked the question, this was clearly unthinkable - Steve Cool was obviously not used to rejection - and why, indeed, would any girl ever reject him? But the ‘lezzie’ remark was still pricking her subconscious and his comments about Gordy had been simply unacceptable, so yes, she was rejecting him - at least for the present, although she wasn’t sure how long she could hold out.

  ‘Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard, Steve Cool is a bastard...’

  “What, me, no. Course not,” she said with heavy sarcasm. “I’m just busy, that’s all.”

  Steve Cool laughed again, somehow managing to look even more handsome if that was at all possible. “That’s okay - I understand. You’re playing hard to get.”

  Daisy guessed that yes, she probably was, and suddenly felt a little burst of self-satisfaction. That’ll teach him.

  “Well, that’s okay - it makes it all the more fun, there’s nothing like the chase.”

  “Oh, isn’t there?”

  “No, there isn’t. And be assured of this, Daisy Flynn, gorgeous, goddess that you are, I’ll pursue you until you agree to go out with me.”

  Gorgeous? Goddess? Blimey!

  Daisy had never thought of herself in those terms before - and didn’t even now - but he had said it. That’s what he had called her and it was a whole lot better than being called a ‘lezzie’.

  She thought she might swoon, even though she knew it was just him trying to chat her up, it still felt good to hear.

  “Oh you will, will you?” Was all she could say in response.

  “Yep. I’ll pursue you to the ends of the earth until you say ‘yes’.

  “Blimey.” Was all Daisy could say, her face colouring up, her heart melting and her knees trembling.

  “But until then, how about getting me a San Miguel?

  ***

  Surprisingly, Steve Cool was every bit as good as his word. He did pursue Daisy, he pursued her eagerly and earnestly. He would drop in at the bar daily and chat to her, wooing her with is silver tongue - even though his efforts always bordered on the cheesy. But this only seemed to add to his appeal and there was no doubt he was devilishly good looking with a body to match. Gradually he was getting under Daisy’s skin and melting her resolve.

  She could only hold out for so long, his pursuit of her was intoxicating, flattering - charming and the odd thing was the longer Daisy held out, the keener Steve Cool became.

  Even Loz and the rest of the girls - who all thought he was drop dead gorgeous - were begging her to go out with him, wishing that he was pursuing them so eagerly.

  It was getting harder and harder to resist, and when Loz remarked, in her broad Scouse accent, ‘Chick, you’d be mad to let that hunk of prime British beef get away,’ Daisy couldn’t help but agree.

  It also hurried her decision along a little when Loz added quite seriously, ‘If you don’t shag him, I will!’

  So Daisy finally said ‘yes’.

  She agreed to go out with Steve Cool - getting what she had so badly wished for when she was fifteen, before she met Gordy, before she met Frazer - before she was called a ‘lezzie.’

  And she felt strangely triumphant, all the more so because he’d had to work for it, she had made him woo her.

  Ultimately, his pursuit of her had been successful but Daisy felt that it was she who had won in the end.

  ***

  Their first date was romantic, just the way Daisy had always imagined it would be; a quiet drink in a bar along the coast off the well beaten tourist track, then a long stroll back along the beach hand in hand. This culminated in their first kiss, which was magical; perfect, the gentle waves of the seashore lapping at their feet as Steve pressed his soft lips against hers.

  They kissed some more and chatted for a while about nothing much in particular - and then it was over as he had to work, handing out drinks vouchers for the Dirty Duck on the heaving streets of Lloret, but he had been the perfect gentleman and Daisy was well and truly smitten.

  She couldn’t wait to see him again, which she duly did the next day at the beach bar, then again that following night.

  This time, Steve rented a scooter and took Daisy out into the countryside to a little restaurant, again away from the hustle and bustle of the tourist trail. The owners of the restaurant seemed to know Steve well, which Daisy thought was quite impressive being that he’d only been on the Costa Brava for a few weeks.

  Nevertheless, they had a wonderful candlelit meal, holding hands throughout dinner. Steve was full of compliments and very attentive and Daisy couldn’t help but be bowled over by him, he was so good looking and looked so cool in his white ‘grandad’ style T-shirt, turned-up khaki shorts and white espadrilles; his golden tan and gleaming teeth making him look all the more alluring in the soft glow of the restaurant.

  After the meal they took a short stroll in the moonlight, to a secluded stone bench that overlooked the sparkly lights of the town. It was so romantic. Daisy could scarcely believe it was really happening, that she was actually there with Steve Cool.

  She felt weak just looking at him and when he kissed her she just melted in his arms and relished the taste of him.

  They kissed passionately for a long time and when his hand found her breast she did not put up a fight, indeed she surrendered to it, after all, upstairs outside was acceptable for a second date, wasn’t it? She didn’t have much experience in that department - but it seemed sort of appropriate. However, when Steve’s fingers tried to find the opening of her blouse, she shrugged them away.

  He tried again twice more but each time Daisy wriggled away. Soon maybe, but not yet.

  “Hey,” she said playfully, “I’m not that type of girl.”

  “Yeah, but I thought you liked me,” he replied, sounding just the slightest bit petulant, like an adm
onished child.

  “I do. It’s just that well, you know, I’d rather wait a bit—”

  “Wait for what?” He said suddenly.

  “Well, till we know each other a—”

  “We do know each other - we’ve known each other since school, remember?” He sounded a bit cross now.

  “Yeah, but you know, it’s different now—”

  “Fine. No problem. I understand.” His tone indicated that he was neither fine or understanding but he smiled at her anyway and gave her another little peck on the cheek to reassure her.

  “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got to get back - don’t worry about it, it’s fine.”

  Daisy really hoped that it was, even though Steve seemed a little bit surly on the way back to town but when he dropped her off back at her little apartment, before heading off to his evening stint at the Dirty Duck, he appeared to have snapped out of it, much to her relief.

  “See you tomorrow?” Daisy asked as she kissed him goodnight.

  “Yeah, maybe,” he replied. “Dunno yet. But I’ll see you soon for sure.”

  “Oh.” Daisy said, just a little surprised. But they had seen each other every day since they first met at the beach bar, so it was okay not to see him for a day or so - just not what she’d expected. “Sure, okay. I’ll see you soon then, I hope.”

  “Of course you will, Beautiful,” said Steve with a reassuring smile, before giving her yet another kiss then riding off into the night on the rented scooter.

  Daisy watched as he headed off for the bright lights of the sea front, taking her heart with him.

  ***

  Forty-eight hours later Daisy had not seen or heard from Steve and was beginning to wonder if maybe he had gone off her.

  Loz and the girls said no, definitely not, so she tried not to worry.

  But four days later she still hadn’t heard a dickie bird and was now really starting to panic. Had he gone off her because she hadn’t let him explore the inner contents of her blouse?

  Suddenly she hated herself for being so prissy, so bloody frigid - after all, Loz and the rest of the girls practically got off with a different bloke every night and had no qualms whatsoever about first, second, or even third base - indeed, had there been a fourth, fifth or six base (and maybe there was for all Daisy knew) then she was confident that Loz would have gone there, too.