Brothers

Big Judd lay on a sun lounger slathered in coconut oil, his pale skin pinking in the midday sun. Burning was like a deep tan to Judd, perfected over the years on building sites where he would parade topless on the roofs of new build houses as soon as the sun poked out from the clouds. 

A drained pint glass stood on the low plastic table beside his lounger. Judd signalled to the poolside waiter for another beer.

The waiter, a young Spaniard, uncomfortably attired in a neck pinching white collared shirt, duly obliged and a short while later appeared at Judd’s side with a freshly pulled pint of San Miguel. 

Judd sat up, his voluminous gut falling over the waistband of his speedos shielding his crotch from the sun. In three gulps he downed the beer and sat there watching a pair of twentysomething blondes catwalk around the perimeter of the pool. The sight roused him and through his Wayfarers sat back for a bit more bird watching. 

This was his umpteenth lad’s holiday in Spain except he was the only lad there. He always came back to the same place, to the same hotel, to the same bars. Judd, turning fifty, still carried on with life as though he was twenty-five. Most of his friends, the lads, were either married with kids or divorced with kids. Judd was neither. He managed to avoid any long-term relationship and certainly any partnership that might lead to marriage. One sniff of things getting serious and he made his excuses and was off being single again. This was the pattern of his life for the past thirty years. Some people he knew laughed at his way of life but to Judd they were only jealous. Some marvelled at how he could keep up that way of living for so long. Over the years his holidaying mates dropped away in accordance with their newly formed relationships. Judd resigned himself to the fact that he was going to come here solo every year unless one of his friends suddenly broke up with a wife or lover.

He closed his eyes and lay listening to the singsong of foreign voices filling the air: Spanish, French, German, Dutch and Italian, crisscrossing the pool. 

The hotel, a four star all-inclusive, soared into the deep blue Spanish sky. Behind Judd, over a wall, the inviting blue of the Mediterranean Sea lapped against the rocks. 

The nearest beach could be seen just along the bay, the sand concealed by a multitude of parasols. 

The quickstepping waiter, rushed off his feet, whirled around the poolside at the whim of every sun lounger. Judd watched as he flirted with a pair of heavily tanned Dutch girls whose unintelligible speech worsened by never ending demands for poolside booze. 

Judd’s cell-phone vibrated, a call from his brother Nick. 

“Bruv” said Judd.

“Yeah listen we’ll be there in twenty, just waiting for the transfer bus to pick us up.”

“Sweet. I’ll get the beers in.”

Judd could always rely on family when he needed them. His two brothers Nick and Rick were always back up for when his mates let him down. 

An hour later, two pasty fortysomething lads in baseball caps and combat shorts emerged from the hotel reception and strolled out onto the terrace. On seeing them Judd threw up his arm and waved. Rick strutted around the edge of the pool. Nick dived in fully clothed and front crawled to the other side where Judd was stationed. 

“What an entrance!” said Judd.

“Fucking water’s cold.” Said Nick climbing out of the pool.

“You cock.” Said Rick.

Rick pulled up a vacant sun lounger and took off his top revealing a torso as white as an oven ready chicken. Nick unable to spot any unclaimed, tossed away a nearby towel and dragged over the lounger it had laid on.

The three of them lying there, pale, flabby, each one with a Union Jack tattooed on his chest, raised a pint glass.

“To family,” said Judd

“Family,” said Rick and Nick in unison.

Suddenly, they were covered in shadow and a large bald headed man as wide as an American fridge stood over them. 

“Which one of you bastards took my sunbed?” he said in a strong Bavarian accent.

“Wasn’t us mate. Try the Dutch over there, they’ve always had in for you Germans.” Said Judd.

Narrowing his eyes the man turned and looked at his towel lying in a puddle of pool water. 

“You took my sunbed,” he said pointing at Rick.

“What if I did? Makes a change. You Germans are always grabbing sun loungers before anyone else can get their hands on one.”

The girlfriend, standing over her lounger towelling dry her hair, called out something in German, the gist of which was “leave it darling it’s not worth it.”

But the lurching Bavarian wouldn’t let it go. He stood there glaring at Rick.

“Is this guy gonna fuck off?”

“Doesn’t look like it, not until you give him back his sunbed.”

The man jolted forward and grabbed Rick by the throat. Rick held his arm. Nick and Judd sprang up incredulous.

The waiter, who had been watching events unfold, called security and before long a pair of burly heavies came out onto the terrace.

Nick and Judd were hanging off the Bavarian’s frame raining blows down on his head and back. His vice like grip tightened around Rick’s neck, whose face was turning purple. 

Security stepped over and pulled the two brothers of the man’s back.

The Bavarian released his grip from Rick’s neck and spun round and swung a right hook at the nearest guard.

The two of them overcame the German and frogmarched him to reception where two policemen were waiting having been called by the concierge.

Rick lay gasping massaging his throat.

“I think he needs a drink,” said Nick.

“Waiter,” said Judd clicking his fingers.

“Si senor?”

“Three beers por favor.” 

The waiter flustered, disappeared behind the bar and re-emerged carrying a tray full of beers.