Music to Watch Girls By

- ‘Wouldja rather be rich or famous?’ I ask.
- ‘What’s wrong with both?’ Nik wants to know. I drain half a bottle of San Miguel, while I consider that.
- ‘Nice dress, over there, on your left?’ I look over.
- ‘Nice enough,’ I allow. ‘What makes a nice dress, though?’
Nik considers this, exhales loudly: ‘ Don’t know if I should say…’
It’s a Spanish September day, legs are bare under the dresses. We’re in the shade outside Bar Rosamunda at the Cross roundabout. The beer is my third, Nik’s driving home though. My wife’s at the hairdresser’s; could be an another hour, could be three. Nik’s only here for the weekend. My wife is Nik’s sister. Nik’s face fell when I explained the hair-do could take anything from the morning to all day.
- ‘Come on spit it out, we’re family.’ And I do want to know.
- ‘Well…’ Then a sheepish look. ‘I think it’s a nice dress if it makes me imagine the skirt all rucked up around the thighs.’
- ‘Yeah… that’ll do it, I reckon.’ I’m a little taken aback.
- ‘And you?’ Nik demands.
- ‘What? Dresses?’
- ‘No. Rich or Famous?’
- ‘Give us 10 euros and I’ll tell you.’ I say to her.