A Very Dursley Lockdown

Chapter 6: Offering to help

7 August 2008.

Dudley Dursley, age 28, pulled into the parking lot for a rehearsal dinner. Piers Polkiss was getting married, and Dudley was a groomsman.

It was sweltering, and Dudley was on his third shirt of the day. He was wearing his suit trousers but planned to wait until the last possible moment to put on his jacket. He looked around. No one was looking, and if they did, it wouldn't matter anyway. He changed into a new undershirt, buttoned up his shirt, and tied a half-Windsor knot. Piers had wanted them all to wear black, skinny ties to every wedding event. Dudley thought the ties didn't look so great on his huge frame, but who was he to argue with the groom? Just tell me what to wear and where to show up, he'd said. He walked over to the restaurant, sunglasses on, jacket flipped over his shoulder.

A beautiful woman was pacing outside the building. Her numerous, twisting braids were piled up on her head in a massive bun, and she was fanning herself with her clipboard while looking at her watch. Dudley was glad he'd put on his tie. It made him look less like the recently laid-off video game tester that he was and more like a ... well ... a man with a job requiring a tie.

She whipped her head around to stare up at him.

Dudley was used to stares. He'd been heavyweight champion of Southeast England at age fifteen. He'd had three major growth spurts since then. And he'd kept up with boxing.

"You the bouncer?" she asked. "You're late. So's the damn D.J., but you're more important at the moment."

Dudley froze. Her dark brown eyes pierced him to the very soul. Was he the bouncer?

Suddenly, and with deep certainty, he realized he was. If this woman told him to toss someone out on the street, he'd do it, without question. Pay or no pay. License or no license. Tonight and for the rest of his life.

"Anyone causes trouble," he said, "I'll throw him right out."

"Well, get in, yeah? This crowd's a rowdy bunch, and they've only just started cocktail hour."

Dudley hurried inside and found a spot where he could see most of the crowd. The place was done up like a casino, with posters of Vegas and Baccarat and slot machines. It was to go with the "8-8-8" theme, Piers had said.

Piers was talking to his future mother-in-law, and his back was turned. Dudley was supposed to go up to his friend and greet him, but instead, he put on his jacket and stood next to the wall, looking out at the crowd. He put on his Bluetooth for good measure. The bartender gave him a wave, and he nodded back.

He realized he had no plan. Stand next to a wall? To what, get her number for future gigs as an unlicensed security consultant?

Then again, he'd been standing next to walls (to be out of the way) and intimidating people (whether he wanted to or not) for most of his life. So he wasn't exactly tricking anyone, he thought, as he straightened his shoulders and put his weight evenly on his feet. Just momentarily delaying greeting his friend.