Bad Boy

Language Land, the chain of schools Carole and her husband Keith taught for, had branches all over their remote island country off the coast of China. Every three months, a hundred or so new teachers from all over the English-speaking world flocked to the Language Land headquarters for two weeks of new-teacher training, and then got farmed out all over the island. Some didn't even make it through training, others got one look at their town and decided to go home, others found better-paying jobs at a cram school somewhere. Carole and Keith's best friend from training two years before, Kathryn, was also their only remaining friend still with the company. She had stuck around in part because she'd fallen in love with a new arrival last year, and she had lately secured a transfer to his branch at Junglaw.

"I've heard some stories about this Len guy," Carole said as she turned on the oven to heat up the munchies for the evening. Their hole-in-the-wall flat over a fabric shop in the high street of Tansi, their little town half an hour or so from Jugnlaw, looked positively third-world from the outside; but they were the only Westerners she knew who had an oven. "They say he's a drunk and the women in Junglaw are careful not to be alone with him. Except Kathryn, because he won't mess with a friend's girl."

"You didn't have to invite him," Keith reminded her.

"Couldn't really invite Kathryn and Brad and PJ but not him," Carole said. She and Keith had made fast friends with Kathryn's boyfriend and fellow Kiwi, Brad, and with their American colleague, PJ. But not Len. "But I wish I'd thought of that before I invited Arlene."

"She can take care of herself," Keith said. He and Carole alike loved their junior colleague like a kid sister - a very rebellious one.

"But she might choose not to," Carole said with a sigh. "I can see you haven't heard, she finally ditched Richard."

"Thank heavens! That guy was such an absolute..." Keith's voice trailed away as he saw the concerned look on his wife's face, and he couldn't imagine why. She had always hated Arlene's immature, chauvinistic ex just as much as he had. Then he put two and two together. "Oh, no, Carole, you're not thinking Arlene's going to fall for Len, are you?"

"I'm terrified of it, frankly. I don't get it when she's so book smart, but she really seems to have a thing for jerks."

Keith shrugged. "I care about her too, love, but we're not her parents." He uncorked the bottle of whiskey Carole had bought that afternoon and set about pouring himself a drop.

"That's for when they get here!" Carole protested.

"We can have some then too, can't we?" But Keith did put the bottle back where he'd found it. Then he laughed. "PJ is American, he probably thinks getting wasted is part of Saint Paddy's Day, you know?"

"You haven't met him," Carole said. "He's no more stereotypically American than we are stereotypically Irish."

"She said while preparing for a Saint Patrick's Day party!"

"Are you trying to get in trouble before the guests even get here?" With a flirtatious grin, Carole bent over and hugged her husband from behind and nuzzled his neck.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.

"Let 'em wait," Keith quipped.

Carole laughed, but let him go and gave his back a firm pat. "Sooner they're in, the sooner you get your whiskey, dear."

Keith dutifully got up and went down the narrow staircase off the kitchen. He opened the door to find Arlene hugging a paper bag. "Well hello!" he said, standing aside to let her in.

"I brought some whiskey in case you ran out," Arlene said, pulling the bag away to reveal a bottle.

Keith read the label. "Three Ships? Never heard of it."

"Best whiskey in South Africa, and don't you dare say that's an oxymoron!" Arlene warned with her best mischievous smile. "I cut my teeth on this stuff at university, I'll have you know."

"Looking forward to trying it," Keith said as they shuffled up the stairs. He had learned never to question anything about the hidden charms of Arlene's country.

The kitchen was just starting to heat up and the smell of the snacks hit Arlene like a welcome blast as they stepped in. "Hi, Carole," she said. "Smells wonderful."

Carole hugged her hello and took the bottle with thanks. "That's a new one to me," she said. "From South Africa?"

"Of course. Anything you need help with setting up?"

"No, go ahead and get a seat in there," Carole said. "The others should be here..." She was interrupted by the doorbell and Keith was off back downstairs. "Right," Carole said, picking up a tray of glasses. "Let's try that grog of yours, huh?"

Their living room took up well more than half the flat, and it was strewn with armchairs of various vintage, reflecting that decades of Western expats had lived there while teaching English like Carole, Keith and Arlene were now. Carole helped herself to a seat on the only couch while Arlene curled up on her favorite of the old armchairs, where she had spent many an evening drinking and watching movies with Carole and Keith.

They had just enough time to set down the glasses and pour the first round before Keith returned with Kathryn, Brad, Len and PJ in tow. "Sorry we're late," Len said, "But Brad just had to get some beers for the bus. Damn Kiwis can't go one trip without travelers."

"Bah!" Brad said. "We still made the bus, didn't we?"

As usual, Brad didn't take the bait on Len's bashing, but Kathryn did. "Here we are to celebrate Ireland and the Aussies still can't get over our superiority, huh!" she chortled as she greeted Carole with a hug and shook hands with Arlene.

"At least I didn't take my affinity for the Irish too far," Len said, helping himself to one of the glasses without asking. "Not like Mister Cultural Sensitivity here." With a bemused grin, he turned and gestured at PJ, the last of the gang ushered inside by Keith.

"Oh my dear, PJ!" Carole exclaimed when she saw him. She'd met the quiet American a few times now and had always gotten on well with him, but nothing could have prepared her for his appearance now. He was wearing a shy, nervous grin, and what appeared to be a blue and green plaid kilt.

"We tried to tell him, the Irish don't wear kilts," Len said.

"Yes we do, but not plaid ones generally," said Keith. "Ours are solid."

"It's not a kilt," PJ said. With a playful twirl around, he declared, "It's a skirt."

"You're gonna love this," Kathryn said to Carole. "You gonna tell them or am I, PJ?"

"Loose lips at the pub," PJ said as Carole leapt up from the couch and helped herself to a hug. "I mentioned, back when I was a kid, we once had a Saint Patrick's Day decoration at school with a girl in a skirt like this, and I had to go and say how much I liked it, and these two wouldn't shut up about how of course I'd like a thing like that, and Kathryn says, if you think they're so sexy, maybe you ought to try wearing one. My ex left this when she went back to Denver back at Christmas, so why not?"

"Do I even want to know how much you got stared at on the way here?" Carole asked.

"We're four white people, we were gonna get stared at anyway," Kathryn said.

"Yeah, it was really no worse than usual," PJ agreed. "Thanks," he added as Carole offered him a glass. Carole was privately delighted when PJ chose to claim the chair nearest to Arlene's, and impressed when he remembered to smooth his skirt out before he sat down. Turning to Arlene, he said, "Hi, I'm PJ."

"Arlene, and I'm really impressed. I'd never wear anything of my ex's." She couldn't help laughing.

"Oh, don't get PJ started on his ex," Len said. "Or on second thought, do get him started. He's hilarious when he gets all bitter."

"I'm not bitter," PJ protested. "It was a messy breakup, but it's over and it's better for the both of us." Turning back to Arlene, he said, "I'm sure you've noticed, we all either take to this place like a fish to water or we hate it. My ex was the latter."

"I'm afraid I am, too," Arlene said, though now she was wary of sounding bitter too. "Maybe because my ex was the opposite."

"Oh, Richard didn't love it here either," Carole said. "That's why he drank so much, sweetie."

"Richard didn't like much of anything," Keith added. "Hope you don't mind our saying so, Arlene, but we're both really glad you're rid of him."

"Richard from Calgary?" asked Len, who spent many a weekend in the capital city schmoozing with the Language Land brass. When Arlene nodded, he added, "You don't even want to know what the trainers thought of him."

"I know what they thought of him," Arlene said. "That's why I fell for him, he was so funny and he didn't seem to care who he rubbed the wrong way." She chuckled. "The first time I noticed him, it was the first day of training, and he sneezed. Some American guy said, 'Bless you,' and he said, 'Nah, you can keep your blessing."

"And I can confirm, he treated everyone like that," Carole added. "Including you, Arlene."

"I know," Arlene conceded. "He did it to me one time too many the other day."

"Sorry that came up," PJ told her with an empathetic smile. "It does get better."

"We're sure glad to hear it is for you, mate," Len said. "Ever since Christmas, Peej has been..."

"He hasn't been that bad!" Kathryn interjected. "Haven't you ever had a bad breakup, Len?"

"I agree, man," Brad said. "No offense, but some of the things Tina used to say, not just about you but about this place in general..."

"Thanks." PJ made a point of not acknowledging Len's comment in any way. "Really, I'm happy for her that she's back home."

"You're way ahead of me, then," Arlene confessed.

"Glad you came out tonight, then," PJ said. "After Tina left, I could've used a night in with friends in a cozy place like this, really!"

"Cozy?" Carole looked around. "Never thought of this place that way.

"Mate," Len said. "Peej thinks everything is either horrible or romantic, and he thinks this place is romantic for some reason. Take it as a win." He held out his now-empty class. "Can I have another round?"

While Carole was somewhat reluctantly refilling Len's glass and Kathryn and Brad got lost in their own conversation, Arlene told PJ, "I never really thought of this as romantic either, you know."

"Well, context," PJ said. "Here we are, thousands of miles from home in a country where we don't even speak the language, and it's chilly and rainy out there, and here we are together...you know, romantic is a state of mind."

"Romantic is a state of mind," Arlene repeated thoughtfully. "I love that! I ought to try thinking that way myself about this place, really."

"How long have you been here?"

"Just about a year," Arlene sighed. "I went to uni for maths, thinking I could become a banker and get rich, but I had no idea how cutthroat that sort of thing can be. So I guess I was running away."

"I think we all were, one way or another," PJ said. "I had kind of a scandal to get away from back in Chicago myself."

"This sounds juicy!" Arlene grinned.

"It is, but it's also the kind of thing that'll have Len telling me I sound...you know, bitter."

"Ah, need say no more." Arlene darted a look over at Len, to see he was deep in conversation with Brad and Kathryn now. He took no notice of her, which gave her a chance to admire his well-built physique and neatly cropped hair. Somehow she was sure he wouldn't be caught dead in a skirt! But enough of that for the moment, and she turned back to PJ. "I'm sorry he kept saying that, I could see it was bugging you."

"Thanks. Some people, you let them see too much of you even one time, and they never forget it, you know?"

"That's what my ex was like. Once he knew what bothered you..."

"Classic bully," PJ said. "I know the type too well."

"Oh, me too!" Arlene felt utterly comfortable with her new friend all at once. "I was always the tallest girl in my class, no surprise I suppose?" She was slightly taller than PJ, and he nodded his acknowledgment. "And I was the first to..." She looked down at her breasts. "Maybe they don't look so big now, but back then..."

PJ laughed but said nothing.

"What is it? Don't be shy?"

"It just felt like anything I might say about your breasts would seem totally inappropriate, even when you brought it up. But they're beautiful. Elegant and just the right size."

'Well, thank you! You handled that very diplomatically!"

Their conversation steered towards matters less intimate than that, but it went on comfortably for some time - long enough for Carole to take note and feel relieved. Only when she noticed PJ's glass was empty did she dare break the spell by offering him a refill.

"Oh, thanks," PJ said, holding his glass up while Arlene drained hers and followed suit.

"My pleasure, or really Arlene's," Carole said. "Had you ever had Three Ships before?" She held up the bottle for PJ to have a look. "Best whiskey in South Africa, apparently."

"Never heard of it," PJ said. "All I know about South Africa, I learned from my Johnny Clegg records."

Arlene yelped. "You've heard of Johnny Clegg!" Turning to Carole, she said, "Told you he was real!"

"We didn't say he wasn't real," Keith said. "Only that we'd never heard of him." To the others he explained, "We were playing the name game, one night at the pub, you know, where you have to name someone whose name starts with the next letter of the alphabet from the last person mentioned, and Arlene got letter C."

"I said Johnny Clegg, and these two said they'd never heard of him!" Arlene went on. "If only you'd been there, PJ!"

"I don't know if you'd want that, mate," Len said. "These two, PJ and Brad, you get them started on music and they never shut up. And we had a musical controversy of our own last time we were all in the city for training, at trivia night."

"Not that again!" Brad protested. "We were right, man, you ought to be on our side!"

"Just wish you hadn't both been so pedantic," Len said. "Then we might've won."

"We should've won!" PJ said.

"What happened?" Carole asked.

"What happened is with these two on my side, we had no business losing a music trivia contest!" Len groused. "But the question was, in...oh, what was the Elvis Presley song about -"

"It wasn't Elvis, man," Brad corrected. "It was the Everly Brothers."

"RIght," PJ said. "The question was, in 'Wake up Little Susie', what time do Susie and her boyfriend wake up?"

"I love that song!" Arlene said. "And it's four o'clock, isn't it?"

"Thank you!" PJ and Brad exclaimed in unison.

"Right, that's what they said," Len went on. "But they didn't say AM or PM, and the right answer was four AM."

"Yeah, but the song doesn't actually say that," PJ said.

"That's right," Arlene said. She sang the line, "The movie's over, it's four o'clock and we're in trouble deep."

"Mates, I think you've found your long lost sister," Len said. "Arlene, you ought to hear these two when they get to talking about music. Half the time I think one of 'em is gonna say, hey, remember that really bad shit John Lennon took in 1969? Oh righto, and he was wearing an orange bathrobe at the time! No, it was blue but he spilled orange juice on it, that's why you're thinking orange!"

A chorus of "Ewwwww!" arose, and Keith added, "Len, are you thirteen years old or what?"

"Don't judge me until you've heard these two guys go off about music, is all I'm saying, mate," Len said with an unapologetic look.

Arlene regarded Len from a safe distance with a sigh.

She could have talked to PJ all night - about music, about exes, about what was and wasn't romantic - but the last bus to Junglaw left just before midnight. As they all stood up to say good night, she hugged him like an old friend. "Let me know next time you're in town," she said. "We didn't even get to compare notes on our favorite Beatles albums."

"Abbey Road, and of course I will."

"Mine too, how do you like that?" After pulling away, she looked over at Len, but Carole stepped between them while saying her own good nights to Kathryn and Brad. So she had to settle for a long last look at him as he zipped up his coat to go. Perhaps it was just as well, she decided.

"PJ, before you go," Carole said, "Could you do another twirl?"

"Sure," PJ chuckled, and he spun around, his skirt billowing gracefully out as he did. "I see now why girls liked that so much."

"I never did," Arlene said. "But it's great that you feel comfortable wearing that!"

After they'd left, Arlene busied herself with collecting up the glasses to take to the kitchen. Carole felt inclined to tell her she didn't have to do that, but she was glad Arlene had stuck around for the moment. "Looks like you and PJ really hit it off," she said, following her friend into the kitchen.

"Oh, he's a sweet boy, isn't he?" Arlene said. "I felt like I could've talked to him all night. But tell me, what's the story about Len? Is he single?"

Carole's sense of relief burst like a soap bubble. "Oh, Arlene, you do not want to get mixed up with him! He's nothing but trouble!"

"I know!" Arlene said with a saucy grin. Seeing the disappointment in Carole's face, she put two and two together. "Oh, Carole, you didn't think PJ and I..."

"I sure hoped so. Can't you see what a sweetheart he is?"

"Exactly, Carole. Where's the danger? With Len, I mean, that John Lennon joke was kind of gross, but...you just know he's gonna take you for a wild ride, you know?"

"Arlene, I can't warn you strongly enough..."

"I can take care of myself, you know." Arlene forced a smile as she set the last of the glasses in the sink. "Mind if I just leave these here?" She had intended to offer to wash them, but suddenly she just wanted to go home. No one there to judge her, after all.

"Of course you can." Carole hugged Arlene good night. The words "I'm sorry" formed on her lips, but then she reflected that she was not.

PJ had, as usual, had less to drink than his three colleagues. As they all had separate flats in the gated complex on the edge of Junglaw, he had no way of knowing for sure if the others were still passed out in their beds. But it seemed more than likely, so his joyous secret was to remain his alone for the time being.

As he gazed out the window at the cold but clear sky - the rain was finally gone for the time being - he reasoned it was probably just as well he not tell Len he was falling in love with Arlene anyway. Ever since Len had taken over as head teacher, he had an opinion on everything and no qualms about sharing it.

Especially, although somewhat less since Tina had left, about PJ's love life.

It was really only "somewhat less" since Christmas because PJ hadn't really had a love life at all since then. Not like Brad and Kathryn, who fought like cats and dogs but had the world's greatest make-up sex afterward (according to Brad after a few too many rounds at the pub anyway). Or like Len, who seemed to have an infinite supply of local women he'd charmed into his bed - and on one occasion into sex on his fourteenth-floor balcony - although the rest of the gang never got to meet them.

It wasn't that PJ wasn't open to a new love. He and Tina had effectively been history for quite some time when she'd finally gone back to Denver. He recalled all too well now, the last few times they'd made love in this very bed - you couldn't even really call it making love, for she had obviously been bored to tears and only humoring him. Even the expert way he'd caressed her breasts, which had once worked her up into a palpable lather...now it was, "Go ahead and play with them all you want, whatever you like." A few weeks before she'd left, she had stopped being willing to even pretend and had put her foot down entirely. She'd even taken to locking the door when she changed clothes. PJ had almost been glad one of them had the good sense to stop pretending there was any joy left.