The Bowl Nine Yards (Part Two)

'It's just you.' I said, my face turning red with every second.
'Yes.' Allison faked a smile. 'And you. And Steve.'
'Allison.' Steve smiled.

Steve squeezed himself into the other side of the booth and picked up a menu. I just stood still, I couldn't think of anything to say or do. Allison slid out of the booth and told me she was off for another drink.


'That's funny.' Steve said. 'She's still got half of her orange juice left.'

Yeah, she wasn't happy. I met her back at the bar.


'I'm so sorry, Allison.' I tried.
'For what? Can I get an orange juice please?' She said to the man serving. 'What do you and Steve want?' She sighed.
'I'll get these.'

I stumbled around in my pocket for my wallet, fully aware of my increasing red face and her increasing annoyance.


'I'll tell him to go. If it's just you and me.'
'That's the idea of a date.' She rolled her eyes.

Why can't things like this be made clear beforehand? You and me are going on a date. A night with a possible chance of romantic future depending how we get on. Why does it have to revolve around vague text messages and awkward little smiles? Cavemen and women never did that, and look at how much they got done!


'I just...I thought you were going to bring friends. Alex told me that bowling is a friendly thing to do.'
'Oh, so we're friends, then?' She asked.
'Well, yeah, i'd like to think so, but...no, no. We're more than that. Or else...I'd like to think...'
'Dylan.'
'Yeah?' I said quickly.
'Let's just enjoy the night.'

She handed me my half pint of lager and headed back over to our booth. When I arrived back there Steve and Allison were sipping their drinks and chatting away. Not such a bad idea after all, was it Allison?


'So what's with the glove then?' Allison asked Steve. 'Are you a Michael Jackson fan?'
'God no. Well, I've got Off The Wall on twelve inch, but who hasn't? Anyway, he had a silver glove.'
'So why do you wear it?'
'Grip.' 

Steve picked up his pint of bitter with the glove, to show off the grip of the glove. He knows how to impress a girl. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't how it was going. Surely she was mad about me bringing Steve on our date, but look at her! Chatting away about grippy gloves and smiling. Normal girls would blank both of us and spend the rest of the night texting people on her phone.


'Shall we head over to the alley?' I suggested.
'Sure. Game on!' Steve shouted.

Allison headed outside first, which gave me chance to stop Steve before he got through the door.


'Steve.'
'Yeah, mate? What size are you?' He said, looking down at my feet. 'I want the ones with velcro on them.'
'Maybe we should call it a night.'
'What? You've got an alley booked.'
'I know, but...Allison, she...'

This was awful. I didn't want Steve to pull that face again, like a cat who's been slapped in the face. It was like I was splitting up with him.


'What's up?' He shrugged.
'Three's a crowd, you know.'
'Well, you shouldn't have invited her!'

Steve slapped me on the back and headed to the bowling alley. Safe in the knowledge that I was trying to get rid of Allison to be with him.


Mega Bowling used to be a cinema until they had a fire a few years ago. Some idiot set fire to a toilet roll in the men's toilets. The police caught him a week later, he said he did because they wouldn't give him his money back after watching Big Momma's House 2. Natural reaction, in my opinion.


'Size, sir?' The bloke asked me.
'Eleven's please. What lane are we on?'
'Six.'
'Is five free?'
'Yes, do you want to switch to it?
'No, I want to book that lane too.'

A few minutes later we ready to bowl, armed with a fresh round of drinks and those shoes that make you look like a twat.


'Right, Steve. You're on that lane. We're on here.' I pointed at both lanes, side by side.
'Why? Couldn't you get one lane? How are we meant to play each other?'

I know it sounds pretty lame, but at the time I thought it was a great idea. Me and Allison. Alone and on a romantic date on one bowling lane. Four yards away, Steve. On his one with his little glove. Allison smiled as if I knew what I was up to, programmed our names and threw a ball down the lane. Half a hour later we were still bowling. Steve took his time on his lane, making sure his glove was properly fixed to his hand and re-attaching his velcro shoes every two minutes. Me and Allison had finished our game and sat on the plastic chairs with our drinks.


'I'm sorry again. For bringing him.' I looked down.

I could feel her smiling at me. It felt good.


'It's OK. He's a laugh.'
'It's just...I like you a lot and I didn't want to come on my own if you were bringing your friends.'
'I see. Friendship politics.' She nodded and looked into the middle distance.

There was a few moments of silence filled by the distance clacks of arcade games and rolling bowling balls.


'I like you too.' She looked at me. 'In that way, just to make sure.'

Thank God for that. We both smiled at each other and sipped our drinks again, before looking up a Steve throwing his final bowling ball. He needed a strike to beat...himself...and through everything at it, revealing his hairy arse crack in the process.

How romantic.

The Bowl Nine Yards (Part One)

So the date was set for tomorrow night. A quick drink in Almonds bar and then next door for a few rounds of bowling. Good old ten pin bowling. A perfect neutral place for casual dates. 'We're going bowling' I think. 'Just a quick game of bowling. Nothing special.' When really, we're going bowling! Bow-ling. A nice long game of relaxed yet slightly competitive game of bowling. I pity those who think too much about things like this.

It was a bright sunny day. A few charity collectors were wandering around outside, shaking their buckets and smiling broadly. Inside the foyer stood a large stand advertising a brand new brand of cheese. On the stand were a small bowl of complimentary segments for customers. Well, customers and colleagues.


'Dylan.' Sharon barked from behind me. 'Alex. What are you doing?'
'Trying the cheese. It's lovely, you want some?'
'These are testers. For customers. Customers who may go inside and buy our new cheese.'
'I might buy our new cheese. Once I finish.' Alex said.
'Really?'
'No, have you seen the price!' He chuckled.

Sharon chucked us out into the fresh March day.


'So hows the wedding planning going?'
'Oh good.' Alex smiled. 'Only a few months away. Planning an awesome stag do.'
'Great.'
'Speaking of weddings. How's it going with you and Allison?'
'Oh, good.' I tried to keep my excitement in. 'Going bowling tomorrow.'
'Ah, you just being friends then?'
'No...' I thrust my head back as I looked at him. 'Why?'
'It's just bowling, you know...bit of a friendly thing.'
'Not really. I'm paying for them. As a treat. Might even buy her a drink.'
'Oh right...' He winced.

It worried me that Alex's angle on bowling. I wondered if I could spruce it up a bit. Maybe ring up the place and ask to add love hearts to our lane, or even play romantic songs. But I was thinking too much. I knew I was thinking too much when I sat down with Tommy on my break.


'Tommy, has Allison ever been bowling before?'
'Erm...I dunno...probably. Why?'
'With friends or...on a date?'
'I don't know. She's been for a birthday I think. Aren't you going with her tomorrow?'
'Yeah, I just wanted to know If she's ever been before.'
'Oh I get it...' Tommy said, putting his cheese sandwich down. 'You're wondering whether she's any good at bowling. I think she won when she went on her birthday, so you better be good.'
'Right...' I smiled.

This was useless. Maybe Allison and I were going to bowling as friends. Maybe Steve would help.


'If she has invited others to come, then it's not a date.' He said. 'And I've got a glove you could wear. Professional and everything, got it off the market. You can grip really well.'
'No, no. It's fine.'
'Are you sure. I've beaten Mary three times in a row...'
'No.'
'Would have been four times but I had a bad back. She didn't believe me.'

Useless. But he was right about inviting others. She probably had invited others. She went on her birthday, that was with others. You don't go to bowling on your birthday on your own. I wouldn't. Well, not again. I just couldn't call myself a winner at the end of it. Just to be on the safe side I invited Alex. But he was busy. I invited Tommy. Me, Allison and her brother Tommy and a lovely fun night of bowling. But he didn't want to come. So I invited Steve, who was over the moon.


'Cool, I'll bring my glove!'
'Brilliant.' I said, trying to draw out an inch of excitement from a glove.


Friday night came around. I spent most of the day trying to figure out the atmosphere of the night. The easy thing to have done was to text her, but no-one does easy things anymore. Allison did text me, though. Saying you was looking forward to the night and that we're going to have a great time. We're? We? Me and Allison we? or Allison, me and our friends me? I wasn't taking any chances. I met Steve at outside Almonds bar at 7pm and headed inside. I was glad to see he wasn't in full roadie gear this time, but he did insist on wearing his bowling glove, two hours before we were due on the lane.


'Allison!' I shouted
'Dylan...and Steve.' She gleamed back at us.

Allison was sat in one of the side booths with the comfy seats, sipping an orange juice.


'So, you're friends running late, are they?'
'No...'

I looked around. No other drinks were on the table.


'It's just me.' She looked at me.

Shit.



End of part one.

The Long Piss Goodnight

'Which one's Shelia again?'
'Grey hair. Glasses.' Steve tried to put her face to the name for me.
'No...'
'Her husband's the caretaker.'

I wasn't getting it.


'She pissed herself at the Christmas do.'
'Oh, Shelia. Yeah. Why is she leaving?'
'Retiring, we think. There's a collection going around. So far i've tried to avoid it.' Steve squirmed.
'Why?' Alex asked.
'Are you kidding? We've had six retirements since January, I've given enough.'
'Fair point.' Tommy backed him up.
'Anyway, they get enough, old people. Shopping carts. Free eye tests. Bus passes. 

I looked at Steve.


'Don't look at me like that, Dylan. Shelia's house is massive.'
'Just give what you can.' I suggested.
'Bollocks! She's got enough. What has she ever done for anyone else?' 
She runs a girl guiding troupe.' Said Alex. 'And she helps out at the homeless shelter.'
'I'm giving 50p.' Tommy smiled.

I have to admit, giving 50p maybe worse than giving nothing. At least Steve was sticking to his principals. 50p is tight. That's tighter than my Nan and she haggles in charity shops.


'Only because it's got a polo stuck to one side of it.' Tommy added.

How special. 50p and a dusty old polo. Calm down, Tommy. She's not Mother Teresa. I had to up the game.


'Well I'm giving two quid. That's the average, looking at that form.'
'There's a form?' Steve shouted. 'Jesus, she's retiring not doing a charity fun run for div kids!'

Steve scanned the piece of paper, squinting at it without his reading glasses on.


'Two quid. Two quid. Three quid. A fiver?!'
'Generous.' Tommy raised his ginger eyebrows.
'I thought retiring meant you stopped earning cash! She's getting more than I do in a month here!' Steve protested.

Alex pulled out the card Sharon had given him for us all to sign. It was unapologetically pink, A4 size with a huge frowning animated face on the front of it. But the huge frowning animated face wasn't the worst thing about it. The worst thing about it was the title of the card.


'Sorry for your loss?' I asked.
'So?'
'Sorry for your loss is a card for a funeral!'
'So what?' Steve shrugged. 'It's still a card.'

He was right. And what made it worse was the fact that the card was almost filled with signatures and messages from colleagues.


'Didn't they have any Happy Retirement ones?'
'Sharon said this one was the cheapest A4 one we had.' Tommy said.

Brilliant. Now we're giving a card to a retiring woman that basically says 'Sorry someone has died.'


'She'll be happy with that.' Steve looked at the card.
'Steve.' I fought back. 'How would you like it if someone give you this when you retire?'
'Ha ha...if I'm still here when I retire...ha ha...shoot me!'

Steve laughed, but there's nearly a 100% chance he will be.


'Let's see.' Tommy opened the card. 'Happy Retirement Shelia.' He read. 'Oh, I was going to write that.' He frowned.
'I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you wrote that too.'
'I've just put "Good luck, Alex."' Alex said.

Oh great, she's gone from being in mourning to getting ready for a job interview.


'What? It's better than what Steve's put!'
'What did you put?' I turned to him.
'Steve.'
'Steve!' I shouted.
'What? I've signed it haven't I? I might not be giving her any money but I'm not an animal!'

The canteen was covered with all the usual celebratory aperatus. Balloons, banners and primary coloured table cloths with fizzy drinks on them. A retirement is an odd thing and can be taken in different ways. Our ex-greeter spent his last day smiling and flirting with all the middle aged checkout women, whereas Sandra off the kiosk shouted at everyone ended up on the floor, crying in the milk aisle. But Shelia took the former, smiling in the middle table with managers surrounding her. Baskets, flowers and pretty white gift bags filled the table. All the porters were made to attend, so Alex, Tommy, Steve and I took our seats at the far table and tucked into the free sausage rolls.


'Ladies and gentleman.' Sharon stood and clinked her glass. 'Welcome to Shelia's retirement party. She is far too shy and get up herself and thank everyone, so from her, thank you. Thank you for your kind messages in the card and thank you for your donations.' 

Sharon knelt down and picked up the small bucket of coins along with a piece of paper.


'I have the names of the donators here and Shelia would like to thank them all. So thank you to...Gordon Mersy. Helen Chapel.'

Steve turned to us with a panic in his eyes.


'What is she doing?' Steve asked me.
'Reading the names of the donators.'
'Why?'

Sharon kept going.


'Roger Dreardon. Carol Little. Emma Freer.'
'Sharon!' Steve stood up. 'I don't think that's appropriate.' 

The whole room turned and looked at Steve.


'And why's that?' Sharon asked.
'Because...because we've all given generously and I don't think anyone needs to be singled out.'

Several colleagues told Steve to shut up as Sharon kept going.


'Dylan James. Tommy Krueger...'

Sharon scanned the width of the paper.


'50p!'

The whole room mumbled to each other. A few pointed over to Tommy and after a few seconds, all eyes were on Tommy's sweating ginger face.


'It was all I had!' Tommy stood up. 'Steve didn't give anything!'

All eyes shot over to Steve.


'What?' Steve raised his arms. 'At least I didn't piss myself at the Christmas party!'

All eyes shot back over to Tommy.


'No!' Steve shouted. 'Shelia! Shelia pissed herself at the Christmas party!'

All eyes shot over to Shelia. Who started to cry.



Happy Retirement Shelia.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

You know when you're thinking about something, something that needs you're full attention but someone or something is taking a part away from you? That's what Alex was doing when I was trying to think about Steve and how I made him feel. It was true, I did use him to get to Allison at the nightclub, I did go to the pub with him so I could secretly celebrate the date we'd arranged. But there was no malice involved. Besides, he likes going out. Mary likes him going out. So if I want him to go out to save my social embarrassment, where's the harm? Well, the harm was here at work. He hadn't spoken to me all weekend. So when tuesday morning came around, I thought I'd try to prepare my most sincerest apology for when he arrived in work. But Alex and his talking was in the way.


'We finally got together, the parents, to celebrate the wedding.'
'Oh, right...' I mumbled.
'Round at our flat, it was. We put table cloths over the tables and everything. Made it proper posh.'
'Posh?'
'We had After Eights.'

Ah, the After Eight. I heard it was the Queen's favourite after meal treat. Prince Phillip prefers the Cream Egg.


'Mine and Fran's parents seem to be getting on well...'

What's going on? Six months ago you were lucky to get a cough out of Alex, now he's blabbering on about parent's and wedding's non-stop. It's like he's actually turned into an adult, all thank's to an Argos engagement ring.


'What's wrong, Dylan? You seem quite distracted.'

You can't tell the truth the people anymore, it's just unpleasant.


'Me? Naa, mate. Just a bit tired.'
'Steve told me you're with Allison off checkouts?'

That sounded good, but wasn't right.


'Steve told you that? No, we're just friends, for now.'
'I see...'
'What else did Steve tell you about me and Allison?'
'Nothing much.' He shrugged. 'He looked pretty pissed off, though...'
'Really?'
'Yeah, but then it was a Sunday morning, so what d'you expect?' He chuckled.

I would have appreciated Alex's light-hearted banter any other day, but not today. Before I knew it, Steve had clocked in and was marching over to me, his eyes dead set on mine. Was this it? Was this the way I was going to die? Battered in a car park on a wet afternoon? He can't be that angry, really. If I was him I wouldn't be angry, i'd be more pissed off, as Alex said. But as Steve grew closer, his face wasn't a look of anger, it was panic.


'Dylan, come here!' He tried to whisper.
'What?'
'Come here.'

I walked a few steps and met him by the trolley bay. He was sweating, his eyes still fixated on mine.


'No one has passed on anything...to you? Have they?'
'What?'

No assault? No name calling? Not even a nipple twist?


'Something involving me...and Mary...nothing? Over the last day or so?'
'I'm not following, Steve...'
'A picture.' He moved inches from my face, clenching every muscle in his body.
'No...no, I haven't. What picture?'

Steve looked around a bit whilst getting our his phone. He pressed a few buttons anxiously and shoved it back into his pocket.


'Listen, we're mates, yeah?'

That was good to hear.


'I hope so.' I smiled.
'Good, so if you hear anything about a picture, call me, e-mail me, fax, whatever...'
'Fax?'
'Whatever. Let me know.'

Steve turned back to the store.


'Hang on, what picture.'
'There is a very private picture going around this store. Of me and Mary. Very private.'

On one hand I was relieved that Steve's anger towards me had been thrown out of the window. It just seemed a bit odd that it was chucked out by what clearly was a rather compromising picture of him and Mary. I hadn't seen any picture and I think it goes without saying I wouldn't want to see it. But with my relief in full swing, I wandered over to Alex and joined in on his cheery light-hearted banter.


'Has he spoken to you to?' I asked.
'Yeah, he was sweating like a whats-it in a thingy.'
'I know.'

That's the actual saying, by the way. I felt it was my obligation to help Steve out. I was still feeling guilty and even though he had other pressing matters on his mind, I still treated him wrongly and no weird little picture of him and his girlfriend would change that. So I decided to ask around with all the subtlety of a grizzly bear.


'Danny...'

Danny was at his security podium. I didn't like Danny. He makes that awful throaty noise that people do on buses and scratches his balls too much for my liking. But he was a security colleague. Steve wanted something securing.


'Yes, Dyl.' He glanced up at me.
'An.'
'Ah?'
'Dyl-an.'
'Right.'
'A friend of mine is looking for something that he's lost.'
'Check the lost and found.'

This wasn't a forgotten umbrella or a shoe. This was a picture of a couple. I didn't want to think of the picture for too long, I wanted to keep my breakfast down.


'Have you heard anything?' I tilted my head.
'About a picture? That belongs to your friend?'
'Yes.'
'What kind of picture?'
'Just a picture.'

I needed to be vague. It was all I knew.


'Of what?'
'A friend.'
'Go on...'
'And another...friend...'

Danny rolled his eyes.


'Oh, I see. A friend?' 

He looked at me with lowered eyebrows, insinuating something horrible.


'It's not me! I'm not the friend.' 
'OK.' He smiled.
'But if you hear anything...'
'I'll let you know.'

Out of the other five people I asked after that, nearly all of them presumed the same thing as Danny. It was only Sharon who didn't, but that was only because she told me to get out of his office before I could explain what I was looking for.

Allison was at the checkouts, chatting to an old couple about the price of bread.


'Afternoon.'
'Oh, hey you!' She gleamed.
'You haven't heard anything about a picture, have you?'
'A picture?' She said, with one eye on her scanner.
'Yeah, apparently there's a picture going around.'
'Of who?'

I couldn't say it was of a friend, I didn't want Allison thinking the same as Danny.


'Steve. A picture of Steve.'
'Erm...I saw him rushing out earlier, he had a picture.'
'Really?' 
'Yeah.'
'Great.' I moved off.
'Hang on, we still on for next week? Pay day?'
'Sure.' I grinned.

What a day. Steve has forgotten about being angry because of a sick and sordid picture, and I've secured a night with Allison. Steve was bent over in his car when I got down to the car park.


'Steve! Is all OK now?'
'Yeah, dude.' He said with his back to me. 'I've got it. Luckily it was handed in to Anne in the offices. She can't see a thing without her glasses.'
'Great.'
'Do you want to see it?' He asked, his arse pointed at me.
'Sorry?'
'The picture...you want to see it?'

Did I? I didn't think so. I mean, I was intrigued, that's natural.


'Erm...if...if you want. It's only certain people who can't.'

Oh, God. I felt like part of a cult. They are going to invite me round and feed me nibbles in the nude. Steve stood up and thrust the picture in front of me. At first I didn't know what it was. I had to move away from it to get it into focus. At first I saw two white faces, pace from the flash of the camera, one on top of the other. I recognized Steve, the higher face. And then Mary, the lower. I would have been shocked but they both were fully dressed.


'What the hell...'
'It's me and Mary.' Steve looked at the picture himself.
'I know, but...what are you doing?'
'The Scary Stretch.'

Oh, they've given them weird names. Oh, god...


'The what?'
'Mary's new wrestling move.
'That's the picture?'
'Yeah?' Steve seemed offended. 'I don't want this getting around, do I? It took Mary two weeks to perfect this move, we wouldn't want other wrestlers finding out do we.'
'Wrestling? I thought it would be like...porn or something...you know...'
'What?'
'You were really panicked about it!'
'One of the cleaners is the Womens Hardcore Champion. This would be gold to her.' He nodded to the picture.

Steve looked at the picture before looking back at me.


'Porn, Dylan?'
'Yeah, you know...a picture of you and Mary...'
'Dude...you're sick.'

Pubstitute

I was excited. I was so excited. Allison and I had a conversation. Allison and I had quite a large conversation. But that was only part of my excitement. I happened to quite cleverly time my lunch break so I could have it with her. We sat and watched the world go by out of the window, a man illegally park in a disabled bay, kids throwing jelly babies at each other. You know, the usual. She asked me about me and how I got to work at the supermarket, about my degree which I'm doing very little with. Most people tend to criticise or even worse, look down on me when I talk about my degree, but she just smiled and thought it was cool. Maybe it was because she didn't know what Biomedical Sciences were. I don't blame her, it's been so long since I've studied it, even I find it hard to remember.


Anyway, there was an inevitable lull in the conversation after ten minutes or so, and the topic moved onto the weekends activities. I looked up and pretended to think of the dates and what i'd be doing. I think she bought it, actually. When all I could think of was that I had nothing planned for the evenings and desparetly hoping it would involve her.


'Nothing. Not much money at the moment.' I smiled.
'Naa, me neither.'

Another bit of silence filled by sips of our cans of fanta.


'But hey!' She flinched. 'We get paid next Friday, we could go out!'

And there it was. An excited burst of emotion centred around a monthly wage. We offered suggestions to each other. Cinemas. A meal out. I think at some point I even suggested go-carting. Thankfully she ignored it. It's just been so long since I've wanted to do something with a girl. And it gets even trickier when the actual terms of the relationship aren't specified. I mean, we weren't actually going out together. But we where planning on going out together to do something. Things would be so much easier If people discussed these subjects openly. The excitement was keeping me going.

That's why I was excited. Me and Allison. On pay day. Going out. It only took us half an hour to come up with that. Quite vague, I'll admit. But it was a start.

When I came down from our shared break was trying to hide my joy. I gazed into the post-rain sunlight, scratched the back of my head and made my way down to Steve at the far trolley bay. He was hard at work, sending a stiff text message to his mate about an XBOX game delivery.


'I sent the money nine days ago, Dylan! PayPal and everything! And i'm not going down to the post office to get it, it's a bloody shithole down there. And there's no free places to park!'
'And they say doctors have it tough...' I grinned.
'Anyway, what's up with you?' He asked, finally looking at me through squinted eyes.
'What?'
'You were walking quite...merrily just then...'
'Merrily?'
'Yeah...in a good mood, are we?'

I didn't want to tell him about me and Allison's date-that-might-not-actually-be-a-date, Steve doesn't do congratulating very well. When I told him my Uncle was out of hospital last year, all he said was 'Thank God for that, that hospital stinks of shit.'


'No, not really...well...fancy going to the pub tonight?' 

Steve's eyes lit up. In fact, Steve's face lit up. He suddenly forgot about his angry text message and stared at me.


'What? Do you mean that?'
'Yeah...Why wouldn't I? Like you said, we had fun at the club the other night.'
'Yeah...yeah we did.'

Steve stuck out his chest and smiled broadly. I know he doesn't do congratulating well, but I had no idea he didn't do excitement well too.


'Tommy!' Steve shouted, his chest still puffed out.
'What are you doing?'
'Asking Tommy if he wants to go. You know, the whole gang!'
'Hang on, we're not a gang.' I said, trying not to speak so loud. 'He's underage.'
'I'll buy him a small cola.' 


So the celebratory night was set. Me. A forty odd year old loudmouth and my future girlfriend's ginger brother. Fucking brilliant.




'Corr...this place brings back memories...' Steve sighed.

Do people say 'corr' any more? Anyway, The Potters Is an oddly shaped pub just next to the train station, next to a closed down tattoo parlour and a gents hairdressers. As you walked in, you could walk all the way around the bar in a complete circle, so God knows where you're head will be after you've had a few drinks. I was up for such an experience. I was out on a Friday night (well 6pm, Steve had to pick Mary up from wrestling practice at 9pm) with two lads, celebrating a possible date with a girl.


'You been here before?' Tommy asked Steve.
'Yeah, used to come all the time.'

I ordered a round and met them in the corner.

'Yeah...' Steve continued. 'Course back then it was called The Spinning Jenny. Lovely place, served real ale. I remember one night. It was Stiggy's birthday...'

Steve did a little santa chuckle, waiting for me and Tommy to react. But we just looked at each other.


'What. A. Night.' He grinned. 'I was Spinning Jenny at the end of it.'
'Oh yeah?' Tommy tried.
'Yeah, lovely girl. She was in a wheelchair.'

Me and Tommy shared another look.


'Probably still is...thinking about it.'

Steve put a dampener on the start of my big night by bringing up the disability of someone he doesn't even know anymore. I thought i'd move the conversation on.


'So, Tommy...what have you been up to?'
'Nothing.' He shrugged, slurping his small cola from a yellow straw. 'Oh, I did complete 'Prisoner' on the XBOX last night, though.'
'What level?' Steve leaned in.
'Four.'
'Nice one. Fully armored?'
'AK's. Grenades. Backed up hyper-drive.'
'Dude!' Steve bellowed. 'What system?'
'Oh, the BS6..'
'Lads! Lads! Can we stop talking about this, please?' I butted in.
'Why?' Steve asked.
'Because it's my night and I want to enjoy it.'
'What do you mean it's your night?'

Oh shit. Blown my cover.


'What?' I blinked.
'It's your night?'
'Yeah, well...' I struggled.
'Is this about Allison?' Tommy asked.
'Who?' Steve asked.
'Might be.' I shrugged.
'Allison.' Tommy told Steve.
'Who's Allison?' Steve asked me. Or Tommy.
'My sister.'
'His sister.' I nodded to Tommy.
'What about her?' Steve asked.
'I might be...you know...going out with her...for a drink...next week.'

Steve stared at me.


'Oh...Allison. Check outs? Short hair?'
'Yeah.'
'Yep.' Tommy confirmed it.

Another spell of silence.


'Isn't she a lesbian?' Steve asked.
'No!' I said.

I looked at Tommy.


'Is she?'
'No.' He confirmed it.

Thank God.


'Well...congrats dude.' Steve held up his bitter.
'Cheers.'
'So, you might be going out with her? You two get chatting over a check out and now you might be going out with each other?'
'So?' I shrugged.
'Well, you did go and watch her play at Spence's too.' Tommy said.

Yet another spell of silence. This time longer and full of thought.


'Is that why we went to Spence's?' Steve leaned back.
'What? No.'
'To see her?'
'Allison.' Tommy confirmed it.
'Shut it, you.' I told Tommy.
'And is that why we're here? To celebrate you going out with her?'
'Might be going out with her.' 
'For fucks sake, Tommy!' I blurted.
'I'm off!' 

Steve sprung off his stool, grabbed his leather coat and rushed out the door. A few regulars at the bar turned and stared at me, the silence filled by Tommy slurping the last of his cola. Steve found out that I was using him to get closer to Allison. Not really a night to celebrate. Tommy put his empty glass on the table.


'Can I have another one?'

A Lot Mic Love

'How was you're night with Steve?' Mary asked with a glint in her eye.
'It was all right.' I shrugged.

It's a normal question, I know. But when it's only 9 O'clock in the morning and the 4th time you've been asked, it tends to grate on you. Yes, I did have a good night with Steve, I tell people. I told the Jane the receptionist when I walked up the stairs to clock in. I told the pregnant Grocery Manager who hadn't spoken a word to me since I started. And I even told the old cleaning woman who asked me the same question, and I didn't even know she spoke English.

Yes, I did have a good time with Steve at the club. But any clear minded person would know I went with him  because I didn't want to go on my own. If I chose to consider him a friend I would argue that's what friends are for. It's not because you like them or want to chat to them, it's because you can't stand the sheer embarrassment of social occasions on your own. That's universally acknowledged. Well, that's what I hoped. But Mary was smiling and proud of the fact that me and Steve where somehow friends, buddies and chums because I dragged him to a grotty club to chat to a girl I like.


'Steve said he really enjoyed it. Asked when you were going again.'
'Not sure.' I shrugged again.

Steve wants to go to Spence's again? If I was him I'd be calling it a 'dick infested, crap music based shithole.' But, no.


'I didn't think I was really his thing.' I said.
'Steve? No, he loved it. He loves a good night out every once and a while. Plus, it gets him out of the flat. Sometimes I think it's just me going out and doing things.'

So, now I'm Steve's 'going out' pal, now am I? That's just brilliant. All I wanted to do was go and spend a few hours with Allison outside of work. Now I've gained greasy, old man-date who looks like he fell off a Metallica tour bus. At 12 noon Steve came down to start his shift. I avoided him when he pulled up in his skoda, chatted to Mary and walked up to the store, but when he came down he was looking pleasantly relaxed. I couldn't avoid him for the whole day, that would be cruel and unnecessary. So I wandered over when the time was right, casually picking my nails.


'All right, Steve.'
'Afternoon, Dylan.'

Dylan? He called me Dylan. Not Student. I tried to ignore the heavy cloud of conversation above my head, the one that told me to talk about our 'night out'. But it was nothing. It was a night out, just a couple of hours.


'What did you do last night, then?' I asked.
'Went watching Mary.'
'Oh yeah?'
'Yeah, at the town hall. Beat Killer Jill in a ladder match.'

And I just played twister with my eight year old cousin. Seems boring now.
Op

'Told her all about our night out, too.' He smiled.

Oh, bollocks. That only took a few seconds.


'Good night, wasn't it.' I said coolly.
'Yeah, cracking.'
'I would have thought it wouldn't have been your kind of thing?'
'My kind of thing? A night club? Oh yeah, I told you...I'm rock and roll.'

Oh yeah, that's why he spent most of the night looking for accessable fire doors that didn't break health and safety regulations.


'You want to do it again sometime?'
O
I made a face. God knows what It looked like. I just stretched my face out in several different directions and looked away.


'Erm...yeah...could do...'

If I was Steve and a girl said that to me, I would cut my losses. But Steve grinned and walked off, happy in the knowledge that there would be a man-date in the near future. Sharon called me up into her office a few minutes later, calling one of her minions off the shop floor and pass on the message. I sat down at her desk as she finished one of her long cigarettes.


'Afternoon, Sharon.' I said, after clearing my throat.
'Dylan, how was your evening with Steve?'
O
Oh, for fucks sake!

'It was all right.' I shrugged, making them cramp up a little. I haven't shrugged that much in years.
'Dylan, I need you to do me a little favour.'
'OK.'
'Do you know how to get into the plant room, next to our personnel offices?'
'Yes.'
'Well, go in there and turn down Glen The Greeter's microphone.'
'OK...why?' I asked.
'Just a little knob on the right of the panel.'
'OK, but why?' I asked again.
'It's labelled 'Microphone'.
'Why, Sharon?'
'Because that's the knob that controls the microphone.'
'No, why am I turning it down?'
'Well, Glen's been a little...odd, of late. We think he's going through a divorce. And what with only third in The Weakest Link last year, we think it's got on top of him a little.'
'I haven't noticed.' I shrugged.
'He called all customers pillocks over the microphone.'
'Oh...'
'Luckily it wasn't turned up that much so not many people heard. But it gave me the idea of turning it down all the way. It keeps everyone happy.'

Sharon was right. Glen wouldn't notice. He could still hear his own voice and customers aren't labelled pillocks. It's a win win situation. I got to the personnel offices, opened the heavy door and stepped inside the whirring, massively over heated plant room. I turned down the knob that was labelled 'Microphone' and made my way outside.

O
'I've heard of a good club on Beckett's Street.' Steve squawked at me when I got back down.
'Oh yeah...'
'Yeah, cheap drinks too.'

I honestly didn't think it would come to this. Why can't he go back to being a boring, piss taking old man who occasionally lies about having been a roadie? Is that too much to ask? I seem to have re-captured his glory days of 'doing things' all in one night. People get paid for stuff like that, or at least get their own column in a magazine.

'What do you say then? Saturday night?'
'Maybe...'

The actual end of that sentence was 'Maybe if you suddenly become 20 years younger and Allison was in the same club.' But I just left the word hanging in the air, those three little dots whizzing around Steve head. He was about to ask about question when the walkie talkie hissed through to us. It was Sharon, screeching at me to get upstairs.

'Glen's probably gone off on one again...' 
'Oh, poor Glen. He came third in The Weakest Link.' Steve frowned.
'And his wife left him.'

Steve shrugged, I ran upstairs.


'What did you do!' Sharon shouted at me when I got to reception.
'What?'
'You turned down the wrong microphone! You turned down the receptionist's microphone!'
'Oh...sorry...what's happened?'
'Jane's collapsed. We needed a First Aider! We couldn't get one because the mic was turned down!'

Sharon was angry, and if Jane was still on the floor and not in the canteen having a sit down she'd have been angry and panicking. Two things that, when combined, turns her voice into a Scottish ball of fury.


'Sorry...I'm sorry, Sharon.'

She huffed violently and stamped back into the office, shouting at me with her back turned. Steve opened the door behind me.


'What's happened?' He asked.
'Jane's collapsed.'
'Oh...Hey, Dylan. That club on Beckett's Street is open tonight. You fancy it?'

Kill me now.