‘Don’t want to be caught cheating do you?’ he said.
‘For Christ's
sake, she is just a friend.’ Tony tried to hold back. He didn’t care what
anyone said. They were obviously joking and he could take a joke, nothing to
get stressed about.
‘Getting a
little worked up over this friend aren’t you?’ continued Simon.
Tony let out a
sigh. ‘Look, Emma...’
‘Any excuse to
say her name.’
‘Look, let’s
move on shall we. Any topic suggestions other than chlorine, class and platonic
relationships?'
Andy laughed
and began swirling the remaining dregs of his drink with his straw.
‘You are so US
sitcom mate,’ Andy said. ‘You’re like one long boring episode of Friends.’
‘So, an episode
of Friends then’, said Simon.
‘I’m going to
the bar,’ said Tony. He got to his feet.
‘Haven’t
finished your pint,’ Andy pointed out.
‘I fancy some
of that blue stuff. Might dumb me down to your level of conversation.’
‘Bring you up
to it more like,’ Andy said. He picked the straw out of his drink and examined
it under the light. It definitely looked a little eroded.
‘Want
anything?’ Tony said glancing from Andy's new found fascination with a straw
and Simon's amazing technicolour saliva deposits.
‘Yeah,’ Simon
said, ‘pint of Guinness, this stuff tastes like shit.’
Andy gestured
for another bottle of the blue and Tony turned to head for the bar.
The Cheeky Half
was more full than usual. It may not have had the certain attractions the
Bar-Moi had but a good quality drink and a friendly smile continued to keep the
place afloat. Tony stood at the bar as two women served the waiting customers,
slowly working their way towards him.
He looked up.
Reflected in a picture of a horse’s arse (this pub had a fascination with the
derriere of the equine, something Tony had never realised before) the group of
girls, led by their stunning leader, descended the steps behind him and headed
for the door. A black jacket was now draped over her shoulders. He could hear
the creaking of necks being turned as virtually every male in the pub glanced
round to see her leave. He watched them exit in the reflection, folding his
tenner, running it through his fingers and waited to be served.
He scanned the
array of drinks behind the bar; mountains of plastic coloured shot glasses, the
endless rows of transparent and brown colour liqueur doubling up in the mirror
behind them and mounds of fliers, leaflets and cardboard offers ranging from
cheap drinks to hilarious inflatable hats adorned with the current lager logo
of the week. The barmaid approached Tony and he waved his tenner at her. Fairs
fair, Tony thought as she began serving the guy next to him who had
admittedly been there first. Tony again scanned the bottles contemplating which
tipple to go for after his final pint. There was nothing like a vodka to burn
through that bloated lager filled stomach and warm him up for the walk home. He
looked at the bottles - vodka, whisky, brandy - and turned to view the assorted
mix of chasers at the end of the bar. He caught sight of the girl in red
heading back towards the stairs - jacket and bag under her arm.
This time Tony
turned to watch her ascend the steps, only to see that he was the only one. The
rustle of creaking necks and leering gazes did not occur. Even Andy approaching
him walked straight passed her without batting an eyelid.
‘I’m here to
help,’ he said. ‘Got’em in yet?’
‘Looks like the
class forgot something,’ Tony replied as he watched the girl reach the top of
the stairs.
‘Who?’ said
Andy.
Realising
something, Tony ignored Andy and followed the girl up to the table where she
had pulled up a seat and was sat on her own.
Andy watched
him from the bar and then followed to where Tony stood staring at an empty
table. ‘Tony, you Ok?’ he called. Simon too looked up from his table to see
what was going on.
Tony looked at
the girl. She had sat down and began talking as
‘For Christ's
sake, she is just a friend.’ Tony tried to hold back. He didn’t care what
anyone said. They were obviously joking and he could take a joke, nothing to
get stressed about.
‘Getting a
little worked up over this friend aren’t you?’ continued Simon.
Tony let out a
sigh. ‘Look, Emma...’
‘Any excuse to
say her name.’
‘Look, let’s
move on shall we. Any topic suggestions other than chlorine, class and platonic
relationships?'
Andy laughed
and began swirling the remaining dregs of his drink with his straw.
‘You are so US
sitcom mate,’ Andy said. ‘You’re like one long boring episode of Friends.’
‘So, an episode
of Friends then’, said Simon.
‘I’m going to
the bar,’ said Tony. He got to his feet.
‘Haven’t
finished your pint,’ Andy pointed out.
‘I fancy some
of that blue stuff. Might dumb me down to your level of conversation.’
‘Bring you up
to it more like,’ Andy said. He picked the straw out of his drink and examined
it under the light. It definitely looked a little eroded.
‘Want
anything?’ Tony said glancing from Andy's new found fascination with a straw
and Simon's amazing technicolour saliva deposits.
‘Yeah,’ Simon
said, ‘pint of Guinness, this stuff tastes like shit.’
Andy gestured
for another bottle of the blue and Tony turned to head for the bar.
The Cheeky Half
was more full than usual. It may not have had the certain attractions the
Bar-Moi had but a good quality drink and a friendly smile continued to keep the
place afloat. Tony stood at the bar as two women served the waiting customers,
slowly working their way towards him.
He looked up.
Reflected in a picture of a horse’s arse (this pub had a fascination with the
derriere of the equine, something Tony had never realised before) the group of
girls, led by their stunning leader, descended the steps behind him and headed
for the door. A black jacket was now draped over her shoulders. He could hear
the creaking of necks being turned as virtually every male in the pub glanced
round to see her leave. He watched them exit in the reflection, folding his
tenner, running it through his fingers and waited to be served.
He scanned the
array of drinks behind the bar; mountains of plastic coloured shot glasses, the
endless rows of transparent and brown colour liqueur doubling up in the mirror
behind them and mounds of fliers, leaflets and cardboard offers ranging from
cheap drinks to hilarious inflatable hats adorned with the current lager logo
of the week. The barmaid approached Tony and he waved his tenner at her. Fairs
fair, Tony thought as she began serving the guy next to him who had
admittedly been there first. Tony again scanned the bottles contemplating which
tipple to go for after his final pint. There was nothing like a vodka to burn
through that bloated lager filled stomach and warm him up for the walk home. He
looked at the bottles - vodka, whisky, brandy - and turned to view the assorted
mix of chasers at the end of the bar. He caught sight of the girl in red
heading back towards the stairs - jacket and bag under her arm.
This time Tony
turned to watch her ascend the steps, only to see that he was the only one. The
rustle of creaking necks and leering gazes did not occur. Even Andy approaching
him walked straight passed her without batting an eyelid.
‘I’m here to
help,’ he said. ‘Got’em in yet?’
‘Looks like the
class forgot something,’ Tony replied as he watched the girl reach the top of
the stairs.
‘Who?’ said
Andy.
Realising
something, Tony ignored Andy and followed the girl up to the table where she
had pulled up a seat and was sat on her own.
Andy watched
him from the bar and then followed to where Tony stood staring at an empty
table. ‘Tony, you Ok?’ he called. Simon too looked up from his table to see
what was going on.
Tony looked at
the girl. She had sat down and began talking as
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