You, Me and Us. Read online

  “Don’t go sneaking up on people from behind round here mate, you’ll end up with a smack.” He said.

  “If anything, mate people would want to be snuck up on from behind round here, or are you more of a giver?” I said.

  Or at least I should have. Instead I looked down and shuffled my feet from side to side and mumbled an apology of sorts.

  “No worries, out you go then.” He took a step back to make room for my turtle-like stature.

  I obediently took a few steps out into the night and the smoking area, smiling at my new pre-evolved friend as I passed him.

  “Have a good night big lad.” He added as I turned away from him.

  “Dickhead.” I breathed.

  I looked for a nice secluded spot to smoke in. I scanned around the fenced-off area. Four lads were clumped together around a fifth compatriot, who was throwing up over the metal barrier. No thanks. There was a pair of girls stood facing one another deep in conversation. Both of them were six feet tall, blonde, tanned… terrifying. I wasn’t going anywhere near them. I turned finally to the far end of the smoking area to my left and saw a space occupied by just one person.

  It was you. All I could see when I first laid eyes on you was the back of your head and your leather jacket. You seemed reasonably normal and likely to not speak to me so I walked your way. I pulled my cigarette packet from the inside pocket of the suit I had been talked into wearing by my two best buds. They had forgotten that although suits made them look like stylish young professionals, I looked like a divorced dad who’d just been sacked. Trying to relive his youth in the gay capital of the North of England. It was the receding hairline that did it. And the way I kept accidentally looking at people’s penises. I marched towards you and went to pull my lighter out, ah balls, I’d left it with Ryan last time we’d came out for a smoke.

  It was after I noticed my lighter was missing that I also came to the realisation that I was stood directly on your right leaning over the rail in the same way you were. I was mirroring you. Eventually you figured out why the moon had suddenly been blocked out and tilted your head my way. Obviously, it kills me to say it now but you were beautiful. Seriously stunning. Those big green eyes stared at me as my mouth began to droop open as if someone had spiked me. My cigarette nearly fell from my open swinging face hole. Your wondrous eyes were just the start of my sudden inability to move or talk. Your warm jet-black hair fell elegantly from the top of your head to a tantalising conclusion around your chest area. The long smile splattered across your face showed off the wideness of your face. I liked that. Your lips were stained red with bright lipstick and your teeth were blinging out at me from the underneath the smile.

  “Do you need a lighter?”

  The first words you ever spoke to me. And I was so mesmerised I didn’t even understand them.

  “Huh?”

  “Do you need a lighter?” you asked me again.

  “No, it’s okay the bouncer and his mates should be due to discover fire any moment now so I’ll light it off that.”

  You laughed but looked confused.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “Never mind, yes that would be great please.”

  You pulled your lighter from your handbag and passed it towards me. Your fingers brushed the inside of my palm as I clasped the lighter. Electric. I could feel the tension between us, but then again maybe that was just hope. I lifted the lighter to the cigarette hanging from my lips and clicked it down, inhaling as the spark appeared between us.

  “Thank you.” I said with a nod.

  I handed the lighter back to you and made sure to once again allow our digits to connect. Another zap of electric.

  “No problem.”

  You were about to turn away from me. I think that 99% of the time I would’ve just left it at that. I had a nice chat with a good-looking girl, and I hadn’t freaked her out. It was a win. But for some reason this time was one of the only times that a win wasn’t enough. I needed more, even if I could end up losing.

  “So, big night tonight?” I asked. I silently cursed myself for my inability to be suave or cool or anything but bland.

  “Just out with some friends, you?”

  “Same. I’ve got rare night off so thought I’d take advantage.”

  “Cool.” You smiled.

  The silence hung between us for a moment. I knew I’d have to try and press the conversation somehow.

  “So, er, do you like music?”

  “What?” you laughed. “Do I like music?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t do this often, do you?” you said.

  “Speak to people? No, not really.” I said.

  You laughed again. I felt my chest tighten each time you did that.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Jimmy.”

  “Erin.”

  “No, Jimmy.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” I said. “You never answered me anyway, do you like music?”

  “Why are you asking me that? Are you in a band or something?” You said.

  I felt my face grow hot but luckily it was night time so you couldn’t see the redness erupt onto my cheeks.

  “I am actually.” I said.

  “Fuck off! I was only joking.”

  “No genuinely, I’m a singer.”

  “Amazing!” you chimed. “What are you called?”

  “Jimmy.”

  “The band!” you pushed me. I’m pretty sure that was flirting, that was flirting, right?

  “Ha, we’re called Who’s That Band?”

  “Why?”

  “So, when people ask, oh who’s that band from the other night? People can just say ‘yes’.”

  “Catchy.”

  “Like warts. That was the back-up name.”

  We laughed together again. More electric, and this time I’m sure you felt it too, your eyes had lit up. Plus, we both stopped smoking some time ago and you were still stood talking with me.

  “Sing for me then.”

  “Pay me and I will.” That was my standard reply. “If I did gynaecology in my spare time you wouldn’t ask to give you the once over right here, would you?”

  “Ah well you’d have to pay me for that.”

  It was my turn to laugh now. I was already beginning to love the way you could go toe-to-toe with me.

  “We’ve got a gig next week, come see us play.”

  The words had left my mouth before I could even think about them. Why the fuck had I done that I thought? I’d spoken to you for all of ten minutes and now I was trying to arrange a second meeting. I was about to say something and backtrack, but you actually looked like you were thinking about it.

  “What do you sing?”

  “Mostly cheesey songs, guilty pleasure music. TV themes. It’s always fun, but this gig is a nineties night in town so be mostly nineties stuff this time around”

  “Amazing. Well, where is it? And when?”

  A plan had formed in my mind. It was time to shift gears.

  “I’ll invite you on Facebook, hang on.” I pulled out my phone. After unlocking it with my magical thumbprint I loaded Facebook up. You still hadn’t spoken yet so I assumed you were on board. “Erin…?”

  I looked to you.

  “Erin Poppet.”

  “Poppet?”

  “Don’t”

  I laughed again as I found your profile and hit the ‘add friend’ button. Your profile picture at the time was the one in the glittery dress. Amazing. I stood transfixed at the image for a second too long. You interrupted.

  “Okay I’ve accepted now you can invite me.”

  I gormlessly looked up to you and completed your request. You were still looking at your phone.

  “Ooooh it’s at Ronnie’s? I love it there!”

  “Ha, yeah I work there. That’s how we got the gig.”

  “Do you really? How have I never seen you there?”

  “Because I hide from pretty girls.” I said.<
br />
  “Fair enough.” You leaned back slightly on your ankle and began to turn back inside. “Anyway, I best get back in, my friends will be worrying.”

  “Yeah, I best do the same, my friends won’t be at all.”

  Laughter again. It was getting dangerous. We began to walk back into the club together, it was going to be loud again any moment and you would disappear for the night, I needed one last word.

  “So, Poppet yeah? Like the sweet?”

  We stepped inside together; thankfully the bouncer had seen us coming this time and made way for us. I turned to the left and you to the right; we were about the go in different directions. You looked back at me just before heading into the big gay crowd.

  “Oh no, much sweeter.”

  And you were gone. Into the crowd leaving me once more dumfounded. I was amazed. Transfixed. I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  What seemed like decades later I hadn’t seen you again and the three of us fell out of the club into the nearest taxi.

  “No, you didn’t tell me it was a gay club!” Tom said.

  “It’s in The Gay Village! That’s what I said, we’re going to The Gay Village!” Ryan argued as we pulled ourselves into the back of a seven-seater cab.

  “I saw my cousin in there! He’s not gay! He can’t be, he introduced me to porn! Straight porn!”

  “You watched porn together?” Ryan said.

  “Yeah, we were only young though. I was twelve, he was twenty-one.”

  “He might not be gay, but he’s probably a paedophile.”

  “He’s not! Take that back!”

  “That’s what you should’ve said to him!”

  Tom dived at Ryan, they grabbed each other in double headlocks on the floor of the cab. Luckily, it was a seven-seater/ wrestling ring. I looked down at the pair and laughed. I pulled my phone out to fire up Snapchat and broadcast their fight to the world. However, the world would never know the great battle which took place in the back of taxi. I was staring at my phone in shock. It must have been easy to read on my face because Ryan looked up, mid-way through putting a choke hold on Tom and said to me;

  “What’s up Jim?”

  I didn’t say anything. I just silently span my phone around so they could see the home screen. Scrolled across it were five words;

  Erin Poppet has poked you.

  Chapter Two- The Private Gig

  “Half of these aren’t even nineties songs!” Ryan shouted at Tom, and waved the set-list in his face.

  “It didn’t have to be all nineties.” Tom argued.

  “Look at the fucking sign!” Ryan pointed at a nearby poster.

  The neon pink logo for Ronnie’s was spread along the top of the page and underneath in classic comic sans font were the words ‘ALL 90s. ALL THE TIME. WEDNESDAYS @ RONNIE’S!”

  “Ah well, fuck the 90s. Overrated.” Tom said.

  He sat down and pulled his keyboard out of the case. Ryan slammed the set-list down on the coffee table. I scooped it up. Ryan began to tune his guitar and strum a few chords. I wish I played an instrument sometimes, I mean singing is great but guitar is without a doubt the coolest of all musical instruments. Ryan could bring girls back to the flat and ‘accidentally’ leave his guitar out meaning girls would beg him to play for them. They’re like putty in your hands then, or so Ryan says. Whereas I can’t play the guitar so I’d have to leave Ryan out in my room if somehow, I managed to convince a girl to come back with me. Girls would jump when they spotted the strange man sat on my bed and say ‘who is he?’ and I would explain ‘ah it’s my guitarist! What a dope I forgot to put him away’ then and only then could the wooing begin.

  “What do you think Jim?” Ryan’s question snapped me out of my daydream, which was leaning towards a musical three-way.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “The set-list. There’s not enough nineties, right?”

  “Oh shit, yeah, hang on.” I pulled my eyes down back to the sheet of paper and began to scan over Tom’s choices. “Erm… yeah we can’t do Twist and Shout Tom it’s a fucking Beatles song. Sixties.”

  Tom looked hurt, it was turning into a 2-on-1 situation. His eyes brightened slightly, however, as a counter argument formed in his mind.

  “Yeah but Ferris Bueller sang it in that film, oh what was it called, you know the one, where he has the day off…”

  “Yes, in the eighties.” Ryan ignored Tom’s idiocy.

  “But I only saw it in the nineties!” Tom slapped his hands down onto the keyboard, which emitted a loud thud.

  “That is not the same thing.” I said.

  “Well fuck it then, you two do the playlist.” Said Tom.

  He jumped up and pushed the keyboard to one side. He walked towards the side of the small dressing room snatched up a pack of cigarettes from the vanity table and sat down looking into the mirror.

  “Ah you can’t really sm- “I began to protest but he’d already lit the cigarette before I could finish speaking. “Never mind.”

  I walked over to the window and opened it as wide as possible. Joe, my manager, would have my balls on toast if he found out. He hated smoking. Tom had begun to fill the room with smoke. Fuck it, if he was having one I might as well too. I held my hand out to Tom and he passed me the cigs and lighter without making eye contact or turning around to face me. I sparked up quickly and passed them on to Ryan.

  “Look,” I began. “We can obviously still do the Pokémon theme, Oasis, The Primitives and Lightening Seeds. But seriously Tom we can’t do Twist and Shout, or Jackson 5 or, oh my god I didn’t even see that, we can’t do Elvis!”

  Tom looked up to me through the mirror ready to protest.

  “But we can do Bow Wow Wow, Turtles theme and Beautiful South. They should be ok, deal?” I compromised.

  Tom shrugged and continued to draw on his cigarette. Ryan leant over and took the set list from me. He pulled on his smoke and spoke as he exhaled, looking like a talking dragon.

  “So, we’ve got seven songs?” he said and scratched his head. “We’re three short.”

  I was eager not to have another argument.

  “We can take some requests, it’ll be fine.”

  I checked the time, 7.15pm. We were due on in fifteen minutes. Shit the nerves had started to build. I decided to go outside and get some air for a bit, which always helped me focus. I turned on my heels and left the two of them to prepare their instruments whilst I went to ruin mine.

  I opened the door and scanned my eyes around the bar. I loved it in Ronnie’s. Yes, it was my workplace, which ergo meant I should’ve hated it but I really did love it. The sticky floor, the old jukebox and the fact that the optics hadn’t been cleaned since 1982. Loved it, still do in fact. If I had a Horcrux I’d hide it in Ronnie’s. It wasn’t a bad crowd to be fair. The speakers, mics, Tom’s chair and keyboard stand had been set up in the middle of the dance floor. Almost the full seating area directly in front of the dance floor, and the bar to the left were full. About thirty, thirty-five maybe. The butterflies were back again, my stomach was starting to do backflips. I made my way to the fire exit at the back, Joe was behind the bar, he waved at me and smiled as I passed, I nodded back in return. I was just about to head out when I had one last look around. Tut. No luck. I couldn’t see you anywhere.

  Once I was in the back alley I realised it was roasting hot. Boiling in fact. May was really heating up. I pulled another cigarette out and lit it. I’d only just finished one but this was the best way to get through the last-minute nerves. I looked at my phone, 07.19pm. Shit, ten minutes. Fuck I hated this bit, always have. Right before you go on it’s like a climax of anxiety. I tried to calm myself and think about how much I loved being on stage. Which is true, but oddly right before you walk on it’s the last thing in the world you want to do. The second cigarette was scratching at my throat; I was going to be sore by the time we got to the fourth tune. Fucking idiot. I used my free hand to rub up and down my neck and closed my eyes trying to fo
cus on the opening lyrics to our first track.

  “Jimmy?”

  My eyes ripped open. I looked to the left. The sun was blaring at me, it was setting on that side meaning that the two bodies at that end of the alley were in shadow. But the voice had given it away.

  “Erin?”

  You walked towards me, your companion in tow. As you got closer to me I looked you up and down. You were wearing that blue playsuit and obviously your permanently attached leather jacket. You’d put eye shadow on to match your outfit and you were walking with the swagger of someone who knows that they look good. In complete contrast, your mate was hunched over à la Quasimodo. She had the ragged blonde hair and the piercing eyes of a classic ‘I-want-to-speak-to-your-manager’ bitch. She looked at me her eyes flickered over me from my head to my toes.