As I got in the queue
for the cash point machine I heard an instantly recognisable voice, although I didn’t see a
familiar face in sight. My eyes carried on gazing in front trying not to make
eye contact with the people around me, knowing full well I had never met anyone
here before.
I
started to think about work, and how I shouldn’t have caught the train to this
town- however my intentions were objectable; just one drink, watch Billy’s gig,
maybe a lemonade or two, then the late train home ready for work in the
morning. Although normally I was only too accustomed to an alcohol fuelled
night. Just not this night.
My
daydreaming was distracted with the thought that the queue was taking forever
to get through, there were five people in front of me, at least four of whom
were very drunk, could be here a while.
That’s
when I started to notice that voice again;
it was the person near the front of the queue, so loud, so vulgar. I looked at
the jeans he was wearing; ripped look women’s jeans, they were ridiculously
tight on him. He was outrageously dressed, almost like a Mick Jagger type
character, very self aware of his own presence, but spoke with an almost comic
voice. Where did I know that voice?
Then
it hit me.
“S’cuse
me, are you Sam Mathews?” I asked.
He
looked at me in an angry drunken manner, even in his tight jeans and with his
comic voice, he was still quite intimidating.
“Who
the fuck are you? Do I owe you money or sumfin’?” He replied aggressively.
“I don’t know, do you?
You can get it from the ATM as were stood here” I tried to be funny. Not even a smile.
“You work at Project E Music don’t you? I’m
Sonny, the manager of the West City branch. You call up quite often requesting obscure
vinyl transfers. I recognise your voice.”
Sam’s body language
instantly changed, it resembled that of a clown.
“Hello mate, pleased to
meet you! You ‘ere for Billy’s gig?”
I had only met Billy twice; he had come from
the other branch to cover some of my staff who were on holiday leaving me
short. Billy was a small framed guy, almost looked like he didn’t eat. With
such a big character about him, he was very engaging and everyone around him
wanted his attention. The second time he covered in the store, he brought his
guitar, played a small set in the shop for us after we closed shop for the day.
We all knew he was destined for better things, if only he could keep his drug
habit at bay.
Sam was with one of his friends, an older guy
who didn’t talk too much, didn’t have much to say when pursued. None the less,
we three decided the pub was a good idea before the gig started. Although Sam
was quite clearly drunk, he was sniffing a lot and talked incessantly. It was
evident he had been taking cocaine and couldn’t control himself too well. I instantly liked Sam regardless of his
lifestyle choices, his charismatic and funny persona was hiding something
though; I felt as though a lot of what he said and did was a façade, an act for
everyone to see.
As I
came back from the bathroom, I could hear Sam before I could see him.
Extravagantly telling whoever would listen to him how much MDMA he had taken
just four days ago and he still hadn’t come down. As I saw his sorry figure at
the bar, with the non interested barman, Sam resembled a typical old timer you
could find in any British pub, with lots of stories to tell and no one to
listen. I didn’t feel sorry for him though, he didn’t care if anyone was listening,
he was going to tell his stories of messy drunken, drug fuelled times that
occurred.
“Where’s
your mate gone Sammy” I asked, at the same time noticing a tray of ten shot
glasses filled with tequila on the bar.
“Fuck
him, couldn’t take it and went home”
“Couldn’t
take what?” Feeling worried at this point. I really hoped those shots weren’t
intended for just us two.
I felt sick before the
tequila even touched my lips. As the liquor went down, I felt it trying to come
back up. Tequila has never been my friend. I quickly grabbed my ale to rinse it
down. I would have preferred lager, but Sam brought the first round without
asking what I’d like to drink, but he paid so I was in no position to grumble.
Before I had a chance
to compose myself Sam was passing me my next shot. “Bottoms up” he beamed with
his comic voice.
By
the time we reached the venue I could hardly talk without mixing up my words. I
was excited to see Billy’s performance; I didn’t want him to be angry that I
was so intoxicated for his gig though. So for the first twenty minutes of being
there I avoided Billy, just casually waving across the room trying to seem
sober.
While hiding in a sea
of people at the bar, trying to drink a pint of water without bringing it back
up, Sam found me, with more tequila. I didn’t know much more tequila I could
handle. “Please, anything but tequila.” I prayed to myself.
By this point Billy had
made his way over to me and Sam.
“Ah boys I’m so glad
you made it down for this!” He beamed, making me feel proud I turned up.
“I didn’t know you two
knew each other?”
“Haha,
funny story…” I started.
Sam vulgarly interrupts “Yeah man, old
mates, known each other since we were ten years old. This guy is a fucking
animal” He said pointing at me.
“I,
uh…” Is all I could manage before Sam hands us a shot each.
As I looked at Billy, he didn’t seem nervous
or concerned, Billy loved the music, and people loved him. Gigging was him, it
was obvious to see. Yet I could see something wasn’t quite right. There was sadness
about him
“Right
then lads, toilets? Cheeky couple of lines before I go on?” Billy said with a
grin on his face.
Sam
was all over it, almost running towards the stairs leading to the toilets. I
decided to just wait at the bar, not that they waited for me to reply.
When they returned it
was time for Billy to go on stage. He started off with a couple of folk covers,
before moving onto his own material. Everyone was entranced by Billy, his on
stage presence, his guitar skill, his voice. Billy had the full package.
Sam moved towards the
front of the crowd, looking round towards me, edging to join him at the front.
I could see he was out of control by this point. Billy’s talent couldn’t be
denied, the music carried me somewhere else.
In between songs, Billy
would engage with the crowd, but this was inundated with shouts from Sam;
“We
love you Bill! Play another song! Play a fucking song I know” which then
quickly moved on to messy shouts of
“You’re
shit!”
After
the gig, I waited around for Billy, to say bye and what a great night it had
been. Sam stood with me. Billy came up to us, shook my hand and thanked me for
coming.
He then turned straight
to Sam and kicked him right in the nuts. Sam fell to the floor in a fit of
laughter while holding his groin in pain.
“Bastard!” said Billy in such a casual way. “Right
boys, let’s go and get messy”
“Let’s
do it!” shouted Sam still lying on the floor cupping himself.
All I could think was ‘How much messier can
this get?!’
I obviously had a train
to get, so with a sense of relief declined the offer to get messy. Sam and
Billy knew an easy route back to the train station and offered to walk me. I
knew better than to accept offers from fiends, but they were both loveable
rogues in there own way.
Twenty five minutes
later and with only three minutes until the last train of the evening leaves,
we were lost…
The
next morning, with a pang of regret, and the worst pain my head had ever felt;
I headed toward the bathroom of Billy’s small unkempt flat. As I walked into
the bathroom for a quick wash before leaving, the first thing I could see was
blood on the wall and sick all over the floor.
Startled by Billy’s panicked shout of
“Get
out, I’m having a beeriod mate, you don’t want to be in here for this Sonny!”
I decided to shout my
goodbyes and leave for the train. If quick enough, I may just be in time to
open the shop at 10am.
As I arrived to work,
just over half an hour late, my staff all stood at the door waiting to get in,
one of them asked me why I have the word ‘twat’ on my left cheek and a crudely
drawn penis on my right cheek.
That would explain the
angry looks on my train journey; I had just assumed it was the smell of stale
alcohol coming off of my breath. Brilliant! I thought sarcastically.
Later that day I received a call from Billy
saying Sam hadn’t turned up for work that day, and asked if I was ok. Neither
of us could recall what had happened that night, but according to Billy the
blood was a lot more than I had first perceived.
Sam wasn’t answering
his calls from anybody, I felt worried about this, but Billy assured me it was
probably nothing.
“Classic Sam” he laughed, as he hung up the
phone.
