Freeing Kirsty Ch. 08

"No, I'm waiting for Ronnie to deliver our meat order. Enjoy yourselves guys. These babes are almost as solicitous as under-worked hookers."

"Asshole," Karen cried, swinging at him with her handbag but missing as he ducked, grinning and winking at Brian.

Disappointingly, Beachcomber was a rather nondescript and untidy restaurant from the outside -- rather messy architecturally, and nor was the interior uplifting.

A handsome young man dressed in white shirts, block trousers and shiny black shoes and wearing a long black apron approached them with a smile worthy of a toothpaste advertisement. Both women greeted him as Antonio, and he kissed their outstretched hands.

"Separate tables, senoras?" he enquired.

"Si, But close enough so we can talk."

"Si."

Merrick growled at Brian, wondering what was going on. Brian was also nonplussed. What kind of game were the women playing? They were enlightened.

"You might find this arrangement peculiar boys," said Karen, weaving the wheelchair between tables. She'd obviously decided she'd take Merrick, confirmed by Melissa hooking her arm around Brian's.

"The truth is that business at Vinny's here has been very slow, particular for lunches. Cory, being the businessman he is, has asked us to take a couple of men for a complimentary lunch to help make the restaurant appear busy. So there's nothing more in this for you two than a free lunch."

"Oh," responded Brian, in a small boy's voice, sounded very disappointed.

The two women cackled helplessly. He had sounded if he'd lost his prized toy.

Merrick remained neutral, and thoughtful. "That's a commendable initiative, but a rather cumbersome way of going about it, don't you think"

"Cumbersome? What do you mean?' Karen asked, bending over the top of the chair as they reached the outdoor table to look at Merrick. The fragrance of her perfume wafted over him, infiltrating his mind as it was designed to do. Her dark, almost violet eyes locked on his, the wheelchair crashing into their table with a glancing blow. Fortunately it hit the side of Merrick's good leg.

"Jesus, I'm sorry Merrick. I'm notorious as an undisciplined driver. Are you all right?"

Brian has turned in alarm, but saw his patient was laughing. In fact Merrick, he thought, seemed to be enjoying the incident, with Karen's not inconsiderable cleavage inches from his face as she brushed Merrick's forehead tenderly with his lips, just as a mother would do to a child involved in a scrap.

"Where was I? Oh, yes. Cumbersome. You were about to savage our marketing plan."

"No, I was not mounting an attack, Karen. What you are doing is commendable in principle but cumulatively it will have little more effect than a feather dart up a duck's ass."

Karen and Mellissa looked shocked, while Brian sported a big grin, aware that this was classic Merrick.

"That's both very critical and rather vulgar, Merrick."

"Well," responded Merrick, "Both you and Cory must be aware that you are only pawing the ground -- you're wallpapering over the deficiencies instead of working to root them out."

"Root them out -- is that a New Zealand male expression; it sounds very male?" queried Melissa.

"I could have said eradicate but wasn't sure that Californian blondes could handle such a big word," Merrick grinned.

Ignoring the finger from Karen and Melissa's poking tongue, he continued: "Taking two men to lunch -- I guess you do two shifts -- is only playing with the problem. You need to look at the operation globally, analyzing its strengths and weaknesses and then moving forward intelligently with those findings."

Karen looked at Merrick as if he were the Thirteenth Disciple. "Okay, Mr Mastermind, our lunch partners have never bothered to talk to me like this. So, tell me about moving forward."

Brian cast a worried look at Merrick, but his friend did not look like a victim sinking into a hole he'd dug for himself. The bastard was enjoying himself; he had Karen dancing on a string!

Merrick began by saying that six even eight couples eating under umbrellas in front of the premises with another eight couples inside would not necessarily lure more people inside. "Why should they come in? The premises are neither inviting nor different. Restaurant patrons are very demanding, unless they are drunk. They expect a little excitement, to be pampered a little and to be entertained, even at a low-priced establishment. Look around you," Merrick urged, warming up. "This place looks a dump -- it is a dump. I bet this restaurant replicates hundreds of similar restaurants all over Los Angles, right?"

Karen looked at him coldly while Melissa drawled 'Yes,' pressing her knee against Brian's causing him to reach for his water glass to cover his confusion. The women had previously indicated there would be no 'afters'.

"Make this place physically different so that it heightens the expectations of passing prospective clients so when lured inside they are not disappointed. Regulars also need to acknowledge that this is the place to be. Give regulars first-rate ambience, service and food that satisfies them; give casual customers the dining experience they desire. Then and only then will you see a major turnaround."

"Merrick, I'm sorry but don't you think Cory and I know all that -- Cory is an experienced operator. Have you even run a restaurant?"

Brian interjected: "Karen, you are not listening to him. You have your pre-conceived ideas and you want him to say some magical words to you; the magic comes when set up properly and run it with aplomb. The elements are here -- a tremendous location, a reasonable building and that smart young waiter presents a great image but after him, what is there?"

Karen looked rather hostile and clasped Melissa's hand when it was held out to her.

"Listen to my mate Merrick, Karen. Nothing will change unless you and Cory change. We don't doubt that you are experienced operators, but this particular location perhaps needs different treatment. Your main clientele are beachfront strollers, not slack mum and dad diners who go to the same comfortable place for thirty years, with the express mission of shoveling down food and getting half-pissed at minimal cost. I bet many of those people promenading past here are international dining sophisticates and even some of the beach-bum types are used to eating low price meals in places with some class and character. This place has no character, believe me -- believe Merrick."

"OK Brian. I do hear you two. But you must concede you are not experts in the restaurant trade."

"That is readily conceded," Merrick said.

"Yeah, but we are very discriminate diners and we're also Kiwis?"

"Kiwis, Brian? What on earth does that mean?" Melissa asked, a hand now on Brian's thigh.

"New Zealanders have an international reputation as being practical problem solvers."

"And who gave them that reputation -- fellow New Zealanders?" Karen snapped.

"Cory's consultant advised him to create the impression that this restaurant is popular. The consultant said what you have said and that is most of our potential trade are people walking by. She said our sole objective has to be to drag those people in here. We paid a lot of money for that advice so Merrick what do you have to say to that?"

"Fuck consultants, they are usually failed business people or are academics either unable or unwilling to transpose themselves into the real world."

Karen clapped her hands, saying she agreed entirely that their preoccupation seemed to be on fee mining.

"Some consultants are good. In the world of medicine we..."

"Sorry Brian," interrupted Merrick. "But could we keep focus -- we are detailing with retail here, customer food and beverage service."

"Right, go ahead, mate."

Merrick told Karen that he did not believe that she and Cory would accept the consultant's recommendation "to drag people in" as being the complete answer; something had to happen for those people once they were contained.

"Look at them," Merrick said, waving his good hand at the streams of people passing on the beachfront; hundreds of potential customers. "What you have to do is to say to them, 'Hullo, here we are; we are different'."

"Hullo, here we are," Karen said, almost absentmindedly.

Merrick's eyes were attacked to her left hand as she adjusted the top of her dress. He raised his eyes to meet Brian's gaze. Brian's eyes were cocked quizzically as if saying, "This is bullshit, mate."

Shifting his butt into a more comfortable position in his wheelchair, Merrick decided to let fly. The worst that could happen was the women would walk out on them, leaving them to pay the bill and to thereby reinforce the saying, 'There's no such thing as a free lunch.

"Right he said -- here goes. Just sit back and listen, Karen." Merrick said that the restaurant looked ten years out of date, the interior was uninviting, giving dinners no sense of arrival apart from the view beyond the open front sliding doors to the beach and ocean. "Encouragingly," he said, "the staff appear to be very professional, the menu is varied and interesting and the food we have had so far has been of excellent standard. So what needs attention is the exterior -- signaling, 'Here I am" plus an ambience that when one walks in signals, 'This is where I want to be.' Tie those essentials to the existing good food and service and bingo -- you'll be drawing in the custom you deserve."

Karen looked a little miffed. "Excuse me, Merrick, but as I've already said, Cory and I are experienced operators. Don't you think we know what to do?"

Merrick shrugged: "Do you mind if I take a look at the CDs."

Karen wheeled him over to behind the bar, although Merrick was capable of doing that himself.

"There's no need to go over the top, Merrick," said Karen. "We've enjoyed the company of your both -- in fact you're two of the best."

"Thanks for those kind words, Karen. But look at this: this stuff is crap, designed to drive beach dinners away. They don't want to hear sleepy Mantovani and thunderous Pavarotti with a little bit of strident Streisand. Your customers are on the beach, close to nature, with a sense of adventure in the air."

"If you say so Merrick."

Merrick wheeled back and spoke to Brian, who went outside to the van.

Bloody Merrick, thought Brian, sorting through the CDs in the van. He'd complicated what could have been a lovely sociable lunch with two lively babes. He'd goofed it up and there goes my chance with Melissa.

Brian arrived back with the CD and Merrick asked Karen what was the authorities' restricted limit on the volume control of the speaker system.

Karen called Antonia over who said it was 'red-lined' at twelve on the volume control.

"Antonio," said Merrick. "Put this CD on and wind the volume to fourteen. Complainants and officials without testing gear would be unable to confidently tell the difference between twelve and fourteen in volume. Anyway, you probably have to be warned about excessive noise levels before offices take the next step. Just obey them if they issue a warning."

Antonio looked questioningly at Karen. She looked as if she was wavering, so Merrick dug his fingers into her thigh just above the knee. She jumped and nodded a yes to Antonio.

"I'm a married woman," she hissed to Merrick.

"And I've done nothing to relieve you of that status," he whispered, flat-faced.

Karen stared at him and then giggled.

The 'Best of the Beach Boys' began thumping out.

"Christ, Melissa said brightly. "This is the music I used to hear way back in the days when I was just beginning to find out that boys had some use after all."

She said that loudly, and the few nearby diners laughed, causing Melissa to cringe.

"Always be proud of your past unless you have been vindictive or acted unlawfully,"

"There was go again -- Merrick the oracle," smiled Karen.

"No -- he's just a Kiwi," giggled Melissa.

Karen conceded that the music was "persuasive'. "But what's loud music going to do for us expected to get handed a violation notice?"

Patting her on the arm, Merrick said: "Karen -- notice how people here are speaking louder to make themselves heard over the music? None appear displeased and I can see one or two diners tapping their fingers in tune. This is beach territory, Karen, and many of these adults probably grew up on the Beach Boys even though are probably hail from Kansas or Ireland. Just give it time."

Like most Americans, Karen spent give minutes asking about New Zealand and then going on for twenty minutes around the glories of the United States, with Melissa adding her comments.

"Take a breather, Karen."

"Sorry, Merrick. Am I going on a bit?"

"Not at all, it's been very educational. But take a look at your restaurant."

Karen looked around. Every table under the umbrellas was taken and inside only five or six tables remained empty.

"This is amazing," she burbled. "We never had the restaurant this full for lunch expect on holidays or during special events."

She went around to Merrick and kissed him a smacker between the eyes. He nuzzled her cleavage as she did so, enjoying her natural scent and perfume.

"What more can you suggest?"

"But aren't I am idiot New Zealander?"

Brian and Melissa watched this byplay, grinning. Melissa now had her arm around Brian's back.

"No, you are the best, most entertain, enterprising person that I've ever had lunch with, apart from Cory.

"No better than Cory?"

"You've been elevated in my estimation, Merrick. Don't push it."

Brian looked at Karen closely. She must have been quite a beauty in her younger day. But now her face showed the ravages of excessive exposure to the sun, wind and probably the surf. Crow's feet were prominent, and her chin flap, breasts and probably her stomach and thighs would be heavier that in her glory days. One the other hand she had the mature women's sense of presence, an acid tongue uplifted by impish humor that younger women usually have not yet developed. That was a counter-balance that appeared to him. Marg had it, and so did Kirsty. He wondered if Merrick would fall under her spell, not that she appeared to be waving a wand at him.

"What do you think could be done to physically attack custom, Merrick?" Brian asked. He told Karen that Merrick was a professional photographer with a highly developed appreciation of visual presentation, perspective and, of course, ambience.

"May I be ruthless?"

"Oh dear, Merrick, sighed Karen, lifting her sunglasses above her brow. "Please give me a minute to prepare." Karen waved to a bargirl and ordered another beer for Brian, iced tea for Merrick and peach Bellinis for Melissa and herself.

They were now a foursome, Antonia having shifted them as newcomers wanted a table. The drinks arrived; Karen took a deep draught of her champagne cocktail and said: "I'm all ears, Merrick."

"The exterior of these premises as you approached from the street are forgettable, and I imagine the appearance from the boardwalk is only marginally better. The interior looks like the majority of restaurants -- homely, meaning clean and tidy and altogether wholesome, which means it would earn a low rating. Families and laid-back couples are used to going into such restaurants. But for this restaurant those types are not your catchment -- your potential clientele from what I've seen are tourists or holidaymakers and couples of all ages who walk hand-in-hand."

"So, what would attract those people?

"An environment, I would suggest, that compliments their euphoria of being in vacation or feeling of intimacy. So -- out go these yellow and orange painted walls incorporating huge murals of swordfish and crabs. In their place should be a wall mural of a surfer going through a pipeline at dusk with the sunset lighting her athletic power. Another wall could be a desert scene, with a rider on a camel cresting a sand hill, a woman in white draped romantically within his arms. A peaceful unbelievably beautiful underwater reef scene could be on the third all, leaving the unromantic to focus on the plain wall on both sides of the bar.

"Don't forget tables with sea grass tops and chair frames made of stout bamboo."

"Now you're cooking," Merrick said enthusiastically, giving her another horse bite just above the knee.

"Jesus!" Karen yelped. "That hurt, and I'll be bruised for days."

"Good -- that one was to ensure that when you wake up in the morning beside a hand-wandering Cory, you will remember what we were talking about."

"You are a strange man, Merrick. However I really like you," she said, massaging her painful lower thigh.

Brian wondered how Merrick could so such a thing to a woman virtually a stranger to him, and get away with it. If he'd tried that with a woman he'd either get his face slapped or she'd call the cops, or both. Women always seemed to be all over Merrick whereas they never looked twice at him. Correction: when women learned that he was a doctor they came on to him strongly, attempting to get a free consultation or else seeking confirmation that the opinion of their medical practitioner was sound. Precisely as that thought was drifting out of his mind Melissa's hand dropped directly on to his crotch, making him gasp.

Christ! She'd touched him sexually, uninvited and without any encouragement. He couldn't believe this was happed. He turned to Melissa and smiled weakly. She smiled right back at him, opening her lips AND her teeth; he could see her tongue flicking back and forth. She was now trying to stroke him. Brian began to perspire. Normally his mind categorized women into three groups -- patients, family and friends and thirdly women whom he found desirable, and that last group included Marg. Brian found difficulty in thinking they were women he'd like to bounce around with; that was rather improper. Yet sometimes his thoughts about a woman did border on the depraved. That, of course, was perfectly natural, wasn't it? No such answer ever came because Brian was too embarrassed to discuss such a subject, not even with Marg or Merrick.

When Melissa's hand had landed in his lap he'd immediately wormed his hand under hers, gripped it. She'd looked at him in a calculating fashion and deftly flipped his hand upwards, allowing it to pressure her hand against his stirring penis. Close to panic he looked at Merrick, but he was in deep conversation with Karen. He attempted to pull her hand away, but Melissa gritted her teeth and resisted. Hell, everyone in the restaurant must be looking at them! Furtively, Brian scanned all around them. Everyone seemed to have their focus elsewhere, which was a relief.

Melissa flipped her hand again, still under Brian's hand, and squeezed. Brian jumped; she smiled, appearing ready to giggle. Brian felt the need to pull out his handkerchief in his right-hand pocket, to mop his brow, but pulling his hand away --he'd managed to lift her hand off his tackle and on to his thigh -- Melissa would be free to grope him at will.

"I need to go for a visit," she said, looking at Karen who replied, "I'll come with you."

As they walked off Brian wanted to tell Merrick about what Melissa had been doing to him. But usually that only talked that intimately when they were rather intoxicated.

How would he start: Melissa has been playing with me under the table? Merrick being Merrick would reply, 'Then I think you better go off with her and shag her'. He'd say that in normal voice, causing people at surrounding tables to look at Brian as if he were some sort of sex fiend. Brian felt his confidence sag. He couldn't say that out cold to Merrick. No way!

Merrick eyed him: "What are you thinking mate, you look so pensive?"

"Oh, I was hoping that my locum is managing OK."

"You don't want to worry about that mate. You're thousands of miles away. Concentrate on where you are. "Take a good look at Melissa. Why don't you have a go -- she looks ripe for plucking?"