Surviving Michael (9 page)

‘Jesus Christ,’ Charlie says, looking at them. ‘It’s just like being at home in here.’

‘I was only messing anyway,’ Liam shouts at Danny.

‘Well, it’s the only way you’ll ever get a shag, Byrne, without having to pay for it.’

‘I haven’t paid for it in ages, I’ll have you fuckin’ know.’

‘You haven’t had a ride in ages either,’ Danny shouts back at him.

‘What the fuck is this all about?’ Charlie asks me.

‘He says to me a few minutes ago...’ Danny starts.

‘I didn’t fuckin’ mean it,’ Liam interrupts.

‘Liam, shut the fuck up for a minute,’ I say.

‘He’s says that if he went into a nightclub and asked every girl in the place would they fancy a shag, that the odds are at least one of them would.’

‘One of them would what?’ Charlie asks. ‘Give him a swift kick in the bollocks?’

‘No. That one of them would shag him,’ Danny says.

Charlie looks at me. I look at Charlie. We both look at Liam.

‘Statistically speaking,’ Danny says.

‘Possibly,’ Charlie says. ‘But it’d have to be more than one nightclub. Three or four at the very least, over the course of a couple of weeks. Since we’re statistically speaking.’

‘Ask me arse, Charlie,’ Liam says.

‘So do it then,’ Danny says.

‘Haven’t we had this conversation before?’ Charlie says.

‘I’m not doing it. I’d get me bleedin’ head kicked in by some Polish bird’s muscley fucker.’

‘Do you no harm,’ Danny says.

‘I was only saying, that’s all.’

‘Yeah, that’s you all over. Only saying. I’m only saying,’ Danny says and opens up his book.

Cupboard doors are banging closed in the kitchen. ‘Have you any decent coffee, Nick?’ Charlie calls out to me.

Liam’s focus is back on the cartoons. Danny is watching them as well from the brim of his book. He must have hundreds of those self-help books in his house. I don’t know why he bothers. A lot of work and a little bit of luck, or a lot of luck and a little bit of work seems to do the trick for most successful people I know.

Charlie walks back into the sitting room holding a jar of Nescafe.

‘Is this the best stuff you have?’ he asks.

I need to get the conversation back on track.

‘No, wait a second Danny,’ I say, ignoring Charlie. ‘In fairness, Liam should try saying something a little bit more subtle.’

I THOUGHT LAST night when Nick asked me to come over today, he wanted to talk in private about something. Something about Aoife, but now I’m not so sure. He never talks about Aoife, but I know he’s thinking about her all the time. How could he not be? I’ve tried a couple of times to talk to him about her, but he always changes the subject. It’s not something you just pop into a conversation. I’d no idea Danny and Liam would be here as well.

For a moment I’m not sure what Nick’s talking about. I look at Danny and I can see he feels the same. Strangely, and for the first time, Liam knows exactly what Nick’s talking about.

‘Nick, I’m not doing it. That’s final,’ Liam says.

‘There’s no way he’ll do it,’ I tell him. ‘He gets nervous even saying hello to chicks. Besides, he’s right. He’d get the shit kicked out of him, or at least get thrown out of the place.’

‘That’s what I’m saying,’ Nick says, ‘it’d have to be something a little more subtle.’

‘Like what?’ Danny asks.

Nick looks at me. I shrug.

‘I don’t know, I say. Something light and easy and simple to remember. Non-confrontational, but the message gets across. No ambiguity. Get in; get out. Em... how about... something like... “I think you’re very cute. Would you like to come home with me tonight?”’

They all look at me. Then we all look at Liam.

‘Would yous ever fuck off the lot of yous,’ Liam says.

‘That’s perfect,’ Danny says.

‘That’ll do the trick, alright. Nice, short and specific,’ Nick says.

‘I’m not fuckin’ doin’ it, no matter how fuckin’ pacific it is’ Liam says.

‘Specific not pacific. You’re all mouth and no action,’ Danny tells him. ‘It’s not even that hard. It’d just be a bit of craic.’

‘Why don’t you do it then, smart arse,’ Liam says.

‘You’re the one who came up with the idea,’ Danny says. ‘You’re all talk as usual.’

‘No, I’m not.’

Christ, I was happy to have an excuse to get out of that red head’s apartment this morning, but if this is what the day has in store for me, listening to these two bitches bickering, then I wish I hadn’t left now. I knew last night when I got back to her place that because of the double matinee with the English client in the Westbury, I wouldn’t be able to put in much of a performance for her, and I’d much rather have a no-show than a bad-show, so I pretended to be a little more drunk and a little more sleepy than I actually was, but by six am I woke up with all guns blazing, and with a hard-on that would knock nails into the wall. We fell back asleep after about an hour and then woke up about ten and went at it again. Then I split. If I didn’t have a couple of appointments set up already tonight, I wouldn’t mind going back there now. Hang out for the afternoon with her. She was alright. Good listener. Soft speaker. Small hands with the most perfect white painted nails. And a great kisser. It’s a rarer quality than you’d imagine, being a good kisser. You can learn to speak any language in the world if you put the time and effort in, but when it comes to kissing, you’ve either got it or you don’t. Pity I don’t have her number, and I’m pretty sure I didn’t give her mine either. I never give them my number. What’s this her name was again?’

‘Hold on, hold on,’ Nick is saying. ‘I’ll tell you what, Liam, if you don’t do it, never mind the Polish Schwarzeneggers that may or may not beat the shit out of you, we’ll beat the shit out of you.’

‘Fuck off,’ Liam says, ‘I don’t give a shite, I’m not doing it.’

‘Then you’re getting the slaps, Byrne,’ Danny says, closes his book and stands up.

‘Come on, then,’ Liam says, and like a beached whale, attempts to haul himself up off the couch.

‘No wait a second, Danny,’ Nick says. ‘He hasn’t heard what happens if he actually has the balls to do it.’

We all look at Nick. I’m not sure where he’s going with this, and from the looks on Liam and Danny’s faces, neither do they.

‘Here’s the deal,’ he says, ‘we dare you to do it and if you don’t do it, then each of us can give you a punch in the face.’

Liam attempts to get off the couch again.

‘No wait, Liam,’ he continues, ‘if you actually do it, and have the balls and be a man for once in your nonsensical porno-filled existence of a life, then you can give each of us a punch in the face. How’s that?’

Nonsensical. Porno-filled. Where did that come from? Sounds almost rehearsed if you ask me. ‘I’m in,’ I say.

Nick and I look at Danny. Danny once told me that he’s never hit anyone in his life, and that he’s never been hit either. He rubs his jaw, and looks at Liam.

‘I’ll have you know, Nick,’ Liam says, ‘I watch all those adult films for purely business reasons, and in a strictly professional manner, I might add. And I’m not bleedin’ doin’ it, so yous can all go and shite.’

‘Alright, then,’ Danny says, ignoring Liam. ‘I’m in.’

‘I’m not fuckin’ doin’ it.’

‘But only,’ Danny adds, ‘only if I get to see him do it. I’m not in if I can only hear about it the next day.’

‘Yeah, I want to see it as well,’ I say.

‘Don’t worry,’ Nick says, ‘we’ll all go together.’

‘Are yous lot deaf?’ Liam almost shouts. ‘I’m not fuckin’ doin’ it.’

‘When can we do it then?’ Danny asks.

‘Why not tonight?’ Nick says.

‘He won’t do it anyway,’ I say, ‘and I wouldn’t mind giving him a few slaps. They’re well overdue.’

‘I’d beat the shite out of you, Charlie,’ Liam tells me. ‘You skinny little prick.’

He tries to get off the couch again, and he leans back against it.

‘Oh, yeah,’ I say to him, ‘well now’s your chance, fat man.’

As he’s getting off the couch, he’s pushing on the back of it, so much so that I think it’s going to snap off with his full weight on it. I push him as he’s still getting up, and then I flip him and the couch backwards. The back hits the floor with Liam rolling away from it. He’ll have a tough enough time trying to get himself off the floor, but either way I leap over the couch and land right on top of his belly, as if I’m straddling a horse.

‘Ow, get off me you fucker,’ Liam screams up at me.

I’m looking down at Liam’s reddening face, as Danny and Nick start pissing themselves laughing. I lean over and slap the side of his face, and then slap the other side of his face with my other hand.

‘Are you going to do it?’ I ask.

‘Fuck off, Charlie,’ he yells, ‘get the fuck off me.’

‘Are you going to do it?’ I keep repeating, slapping his face stronger and stronger. ‘Are you going to do it?’

‘Get off me.’

‘Danny’s right,’ I tell him, ‘you haven’t got the balls to do it, have you?’

‘Maybe he actually hasn’t got any?’ Nick says,

‘Is that true, Liam?’ I ask him. ‘Hitler had one, Liam has none. Well, let’s see if Nick’s right.’

I slide backwards and go to grab his balls. He has literally sheets of clothes on him. I’d be lucky to be able to find a football with all this material and fat padding, never mind a small pair of balls. I search nonetheless.

‘Get off me, ye queer,’ Liam cries.

I make a grab for his balls.

‘Alright, alright,’ he blurts out, ‘just get off me.’

Nick walks over and looks down at him.

‘Are you going to do it, then?’ he asks.

‘Okay, okay, I’ll do it,’ he says, almost in tears, ‘just get him off me.’

I look up at Nick and he’s smiling. He winks at me and I jump off Liam. Danny grabs one end of the couch and Nick grabs the other, and then lifts it back onto its legs, leaving Liam still lying on the floor behind it.

NO ONE KNOWS, but I’ve never actually been hit in the face before. Not only that, but I’ve never actually punched anyone before either. I’m not too keen on the prospects, to be honest, but I’m pretty confident that it’ll be me administering the punishment and not Liam. He’s still sprawled across the couch, only now he’s biting at his nails, alternating from one hand to another like a squirrel. Charlie has had to bring a chair in from the kitchen, and is sitting cross legged sipping on his coffee. He keeps tilting his head towards Liam, and shaking his head at something. Nick’s not looking at the TV either, his eyes are shuffling between Charlie, me and Liam. I wonder if he and Charlie took something earlier. I’ve never been into the drugs myself. Maybe the whole thing about poor quality coffee was a euphemism for cocaine or something.

‘We can’t let him go out like that,’ Charlie says, standing up. ‘Look at the state of him.’

Liam pulls the bottom of his T-shirt down over his exposed umbilical mound of a belly button. It’s one of those disgusting inside out ones and doesn’t look dissimilar to the Hellfire Club on top of the Dublin Mountains. Either that or even his belly button is fat.

‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ he protests.

‘Have you nothing else to wear?’ Nick asks him.

‘I have a suit.’

I remember that suit. I think it was at Charlie’s sister’s wedding. It was a pair of dark brown trousers (Nick called them Guinness shite brown), an open-necked cream shirt and a pair of runners. Charlie told us that his Mam had ordered them online from an American website that catered to the ‘larger man,’ although Nick said it was for the ‘larder man.’

‘You mean the one from www.bigfatfuck.com,’ Charlie laughs. ‘You’re not wearing that again. You’ll look like a bouncer.’

‘Alright then,’ Liam concedes, ‘I’ll buy another shirt.’

‘And shoes,’ I say.

‘And get some trousers that don’t come with an elasticated waistline,’ Nick adds.

‘And while you’re at it,’ Charlie says, ‘do something with your hair as well. It looks like a fucking crow’s nest.’

‘And shave,’ Nick tells him, ‘I know beards are getting fashionable again but that yoke looks like someone shit on your face.’

We all laugh at this.

I don’t think I’ve ever purposefully looked at Liam’s hair before, but now that my attention is drawn to it, Charlie’s analogy isn’t too far from the truth. Charlie takes out his mobile phone.

‘I’m getting a shirt and that’s it,’ Liam says, ‘I’m grand the way I am.’

‘You’re so parsimonious,’ I tell him.

‘Stop fucking calling me words I don’t understand,’ says Liam. ‘You didn’t go to fucking Harvard College or something.’

‘Harvard is a university, not a college, and besides I can’t help it if I’m self-educated.’

‘In that case,’ Liam says, ’your teacher was a fucking eejit.’

‘There are some words, Danny,’ Nick butts in, ‘that are best left written on the page.’

Why is everyone giving me hassle all of a sudden?

‘I’ll get you an appointment with my hairdresser,’ Charlie says, as he puts the phone to his ear.

‘Your hairdresser?’ Liam laughs. ‘Who the fuck does he think he is? Bleedin’ Cher?’

‘I’m only trying to help you,’ Charlie says, and then into the phone, ‘hi Justin, it’s Charlie. Are you free?’

‘I’m free,’ Liam calls out, and we all start laughing so loudly that Charlie has to leave the room.

While he’s out of the room, Nick turns to me. ‘So, where do you think we should go tonight, Danny?’

Why is he asking me? I don’t know where any of the decent nightclubs are. He’s the one who’s single. Jesus. Thank God I didn’t say that to him.

‘I’m not too sure, Nick,’ I say. ‘What about Rory’s?’

‘Nah, it’s always full of nurses on a Saturday night. And where there’s nurses, there’s always...’

‘Cops,’ Liam says.

‘What about the Odeon?’ I suggest.

The Odeon has a reputation for being a bit of a meat market; full of aging womanisers, well past their prime, and divorced women looking for a bit of bedroom distraction for the night. I’ve often heard it said that if you didn’t get laid there, then there was something wrong with you. But I’d heard the same stories about other places too – Newcastle, Glasgow, Prague, Tuam. All urban myths, and I have no reason to believe this one either, but we weren’t sending Liam there to find the love of his life.