You, Me and Us. Page 4

  “But I’m not a singer.”

  “I’m not asking you to do a whole gig, just half a song… plus I’m sure you sing when you’re on your own and it’s just me here.”

  “But I don’t even know the tune or anything. Or the words.”

  “Well I can remedy that. The tune first of all, is hmmm hmmm hmm hmmm hmmm hm hm.” I hummed.

  “That doesn’t help at all.”

  “You’ll get it, we just need the lyrics and I’ll start.”

  “But I’m not a singer.”

  “And I’m not a doctor, but if you collapsed right now I’d give you mouth-to-mouth.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing, what’s your number?” I pulled my phone out.

  “Why?”

  “I need to text you the lyrics, otherwise we’d both be huddled around my phone.”

  “Why can’t you just message me them on Facebook?”

  “I don’t know.” I said, my plan had fallen apart in two questions.

  “Give it here.”

  You grabbed my phone and punched your number in. You handed it back to me, I smiled down at my phone for a moment. All eleven numbers were there. Excellent.

  “Right I’ve sent it you.” I said.

  “I’m going to save you in my phone as Jimmy the Singer.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t”

  “Sorry already have.”

  You flashed your phone at me to prove it. Great.

  “Ok, so I’ll do the first line and you do the second.”

  “It’s called Bang, Bang?”

  “What’s wrong with that?”

  “Nothing, nothing…”

  You rolled your eyes.

  “Right that’s it I’m not singing.”

  “No Jimmy, I was joking.” You jumped forward and grabbed my arms. You held them for a second. We looked at each other. “Sorry.”

  You pulled away.

  “No don’t… it’s… yeah.” I shook the cobwebs from my head. “Look, let’s just get on with this debacle.”

  “Okay.” You grinned.

  I cleared my throat.

  “So, we need to do a tune.” I patted the couch between us. “Like this.”

  You copied me and we began to get a steady rhythm going. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay, so I’ll do the first bit and you follow me in.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’ve never sung this for anyone else, so just you know… it’s not finished or out.”

  “It’s fine, come on.”

  “Right ok…” I waited for a few more beats to pass before singing the opening. “Bang, bang baby, shake shake, sugar.”

  I pointed at you. You were smiling at me.

  “Oh! Sorry.” You looked down at your phone. “Erm… I don’t know you, but I kinda thinka shoulda.”

  You sang quietly and looked embarrassed but your voice was good. I relaxed and sang the next lyric with a tad more gusto.

  “Your lips are making me lose control.”

  I shuffled a bit closer to you to hear you sing. You edged towards me in return before completing the lyric…

  “And damn those eyes are gunna make me fall.”

  I smiled.

  “You didn’t do the ow!”

  “What?” you said.

  We were drawing closer to one another.

  “After ‘gunna make me fall’ there’s an ow! Like James Brown.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “You can! Come on, let’s do it again.”

  Another plan was forming in my mind.

  “Fine.”

  “Okay I’ll start again. Do the beat…. Okay… Bang, bang baby. Shake, shake sugar.”

  “I don’t know you, but I kinda thinka shoulda.”

  You were ready this time. I moved a tad closer to you. We were inches apart.

  “Your lips are making me lose control…”

  You moved closer to me, I could see where a bit of lipstick had smudged your teeth. My eyes were drawn to your mouth. My head seemed to be following.

  “And damn those eyes are gunna make me fall.”

  You tilted your head left, I went right. I could feel your breath on my face. Just as I was about the make contact, you shoved your hand into my chest and held me in place.

  “Ow!”

  I laughed, it was a brilliant James Brown. The laughter took me off guard however, and you kissed me. You kissed me clean on the lips, it took me by surprise for a second but soon I was coming back at you with everything I had.

  It was not the kiss of two adults, it was the kiss of two teenagers at a school disco. It was a kiss of lust and passion. A kiss to stop the world moving, a kiss to launch a new life.

  A kiss to ruin us all.

  Chapter Three- The Only Time

  Joe wasn’t lying about my Friday punishment. I was on my hands and knees in the dressing room (which had returned to being the staff room), scrubbing the floor with a brush and a bucket of hot water and soap. My back was killing and the sweat coming off my head onto the carpet was surely making it dirtier than a bit of cig smoke did. I exhaled quickly and dropped the brush back into the bucket. I turned my head towards the doorway and shouted loudly:

  “Joe!” I waited a moment and listened for footsteps. “Joe!”

  I couldn’t hear anyone coming. I came up onto my knees and leant back slightly on my heels. God, it was hard work, and I was not cut out for physical labour. I pulled my phone out and a little jolt of excitement went through me as I saw I had a text from you.

  1 NEW MESSAGE- ERIN POPPET-

  I’m bringing some fajitas back from work, shall I save you some or will you have eaten?

  You were already starting to look after me and I smiled with gratitude. It’d been a long time since a girl did something like that for me. And by a long time, I mean forever. Yeah you might be sat there thinking, fajitas? Big fucking deal. But at the time that was like someone offering me the world, and not only because of my constant hunger for all types of bread and cheese. I typed my response back to you and hit send. Fuck’s sake, the signal was always awful in the staff room, I got to my feet (my knees creaked on the way up and I grimaced) and lifted my phone into the air. I was hopping lightly back and forth willing the message to send.

  “Ah it smells much better in here!” came a booming voice from behind me. I jumped in shock.

  “Fuck’s sake Joe!” I span around to see Joe laughing holding two mugs in his hands. “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Sorry mate. Here, coffee?” Joe offered me a mug still laughing slightly.

  “Thanks.” I mumbled. I grabbed the mug and took a deep swig. “Ah that’s nice.”

  “Two sugars and milk yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I took another sip. “So, smells better yeah?”

  “It does, it’s took you long enough.” Joe looked around the room. “You’ve been here two hours.”

  “Well if a job’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right.”

  “How about, don’t smoke in the staff room in future?”

  “Well yeah that too.”

  We both smiled. Joe took a sip of his own coffee and pointed back out towards the main room.

  “Do you need to scrub the couch too?”

  “No, I don’t.” I looked down.

  “You didn’t fuck her?” Joe seemed shocked.

  “No, I’ve only known her two weeks.”

  “And…?” Joe held his hands out and looked around like this was a completely irrelevant point.

  “Well we’re taking it slow.” I drank another mouthful of coffee.

  “Don’t take it too slow or she’ll slip between your fingers. She’s way out of your league.”

  “Fucking hell Joe.” I complained. “I know that’s true, but come on don’t just throw it out there.”

  “Look you’re my mate but I’m trying to help you here.”

  “By reminding me of my ugliness.”

  “No, by reminding
you to play to your strengths.”

  “Which are?”

  “Well you’ve got the gab, don’t you? Talk your way into bed. Before someone better looking comes along and sweeps her away. She’s hot mate.”

  “Shit, you’re right.” I wiped the back of hand along my sweaty forehead. “I’m going to hers after work tonight, reckon I should try it?”

  “Wait, you’re going to hers at two in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Fucking hell mate not only should you try it, you should be expecting it!” Joe was looking at me like I was an idiot.

  “Really?”

  “Honestly, if I was in your shoes I’d have a condom on already.”

  My God doesn’t a shift go slow when you’re dying to finish it? There I was behind the bar, serving wave after wave of intoxicated students, idiots and posers. Each time I slammed glasses on the bar I looked up to the neon clock above my till and checked the time. Surely it had been two hours? Seventeen minutes.

  It was a bog-standard Friday night in Ronnie’s, 60s and 70s night, all the classics were being blared out as the DJ bounced up and down in his booth like a whack-a-mole. I was, as usual, sprinting (shuffling) up and down the bar as quickly as my twenty-eight-inch legs could carry my nineteen-stone frame. I was trying my best to put on a show for the punters to get some tips but I really couldn’t concentrate on anything but getting to two-o-clock. I kept my head down besides checking the clock and diligently served everyone in my zone. As it grew closer to my final hour I glanced at my tip jar. Empty. Fucking hell. It was my own fault, I knew the rules, hot girls and fun guys get tips. And I certainly wasn’t fun that evening, just a solid bartender. A 7/10, nothing spectacular, the Dennis Irwin of serving.

  The last hour was always the slowest and that night was no different as I somehow ended up in an argument with some dickhead who was demanding he’d given me a twenty-pound note, when he’d given me a fiver. I told him I had no twenties in my till and even offered him the chance to lean over the bar and look in the till drawer, he was adamant however, I’d stolen from him.

  “Just give me my fucking money back!” he slurred at me pointing his shitty pink drink at me. “I want to see the manager!”

  Fuck this guy, I was stood behind the bar looking to my left and right. My colleagues had their heads down getting on with keeping the crowd at bay. Joe had taken his break ten minutes ago so that technically meant I was the boss as things stood.

  “I am the manager.” I said staring back at him.

  “Fuck you, no you’re not!” he screamed; spit almost flying out at me. “Get me someone higher up now, you’ve stolen my money!”

  I sighed. I really couldn’t be bothered with this now, I was mere minutes away from finishing but this wanker was really fucking with my end-of-shift buzz. I snatched the walkie-talkie from my belt loop and clicked the ‘speaker’ button on the left-hand side.

  “I need a bouncer at the bar, till four.” I said into it trying to keep my voice quiet but obviously having to speak loud enough so the bouncers could hear me over the blaring of the Bee Gees. The drunken bell-end’s eyes lit up; clearly, he’d heard me.

  “Oh yeah get a bouncer, why because you fucking stole from me!”

  He was pretty much yelling at the top of his lungs, and to emphasise the point he threw the sticky pink drink at me. I didn’t have time to react as the glass crashed against my chest covering me in sugar, alcohol and food dye.

  “For fuck’s sake.” I brushed the fluid off my front. People laughed at me around the bar.

  “Yeah go on, do something now before your bouncer gets here!” he shouted as I bent over to pick up the glass.

  I straightened up and saw that he was looking a lot soberer now and his eyes were full of rage. Shit, fuck, bollocks. You know how they say in this situation it’s a fight or flight response, well they forget there’s the third option. Freeze. And freeze I did, to the spot. My legs forced me to look back at him. He continued to shout words at me but I couldn’t hear them, my brain was stuck as rigidly as my feet were. It felt like hours before the bouncer arrived and dragged him away from the bar, still screaming and spitting my way.

  “Fucking hell.” I muttered.

  “You okay?” said a voice to my left.

  I turned to see Joe had re-joined us behind the bar.

  “Yeah I’m fine.” My voice showed I wasn’t.

  Joe looked me up and down for a moment before speaking again.

  “Look why don’t you go now, you’ve not had a break all night just get off.” He looked up to the clock above us and I mirrored him. 1:45am.

  “You sure?” I hoped to God he wouldn’t change his mind.

  “No go on, get off.” He waved me away.

  I nodded my thanks to him and slunk past him to the staff room to grab my things.

  1 NEW MESSAGE- ERIN POPPET

  Great! See you in ten minutes. Flat 36, Burlington Court, Betreunren Road. Xx

  I sat in the back of a taxi looking out as the lights from the lampposts as they blurred past the window. Fortunately, I’d left my gig t-shirt in the staff room on Wednesday, and with a straight choice between a top covered in pink shit or one in old sweat I went with old sweat. I took a cautionary sniff of my chest and it didn’t smell too bad, thanks to the liberal amount of Lynx Africa I had deployed all over myself. I smelt like a secondary school changing room. I even had the awkward erection to match it.

  “This is it boss.” The taxi slowed down outside a large grey building.

  I looked up and could see drawn curtains darkened the majority of the windows. The rain was bouncing onto the roof of the taxi. It was thundering down.

  “No worries mate.” I reached into my pocket to withdraw my wallet. I handed him a fiver. “Keep the change.”

  I jumped out of the taxi and made a light jog to the entrance to ensure I didn’t get too wet, the rain was coming down that quick though I was covered in mere seconds, plus a light jog for me back then wasn’t much more than a crawl. The glass front doors were illuminated by a small entranceway with glossy white walls and florescent lights overhead. I squinted at the intercom buttons that were covered in rain. After a moment, I pushed my stubby thumb at the digits ‘3’ then ‘6’ and then the ‘call’ button. A loud ringing made me jump. A cackled, Microsoft Sam version of your voice came spluttering out of the speaker.

  “Poppet residence, Erin speaking!” you chimed. I laughed and hunched over to speak directly into the speaker.

  “Let me in I’m soaking!”

  “What’s the password?”

  “I have no idea… erm…” I looked around for inspiration.

  “I’ll give you a clue. What are you?”

  “Jimmy?” I guessed. “Suave, debonair, charming?”

  “No come on one more guess.” You purred. “What are you right now?”

  “Wet!” I shouted. You laughed down the intercom as I heard a loud buzz and a click.

  “Pull the door, get the lift to the third floor!” you laughed.

  I did as you instructed and moments later I was looking at myself in the mirror inside the lift. I brushed my hand over my head and checked I had nothing in my teeth. They were clear and this was the one time having a buzz cut helped me, my hair wasn’t too wet. The lift slowed down as it came to a halt with a soft ‘bing!’ I stepped out of the lift and found myself in the middle of a corridor. It stunk of disinfectant. I looked up and saw a sign that directed me to the left for flats ‘30 – 37’. I walked slowly down the corridor counting off door numbers and took some deep breaths as I focused on what was possibly coming; Joe’s warning was ringing in my ears. She’s out of your league, Flat 30; you’ll need to talk her into bed, Flat 31, someone better looking might come along, Flat 32, and sweep her off her feet, Flat 33, I’d be expecting it, Flat 34, play to your strengths, Flat 35, someone might sweep her off her feet, Flat 36. Here I was.

  I stopped and looked at the door. It was light oak and had
cheap silver numbers stuck to the front. The ‘6’ was actually an upside down ‘9’. There was a mat at the base of your door that read; LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE. I made a mental note to mock you for that and rapped at your door. I took a step back. I took two shallow breaths to try and stay calm as I heard your footsteps grow closer. The door swung inwards and there you were.