Chapter Two, Part Four
That night, Louise was alone. She felt it. Another night, sat on the floor with a bottle of wine watching DVDs on her laptop. She didn’t call her mum, she didn’t want to. She didn’t call her best friend, she didn’t want to. She sat, staring at the tiny screen, drinking straight from the bottle.
“Maybe I’ll get so pissed that when I wake up I’ll be different.” She said out loud. No one answered.
One bottle of Chardonnay and 60 minutes of Legally Blonde later, Louise was drunk. She didn’t know why she picked up her mobile phone, or why while looking through the list of names this one stood out. She didn’t know why her eyes and fingers lingered over the name, or why time stood still as she thought about whether to call or text. “Can I call you?” Louise had to concentrate as she typed the words, she didn’t want him to think she was drunk. She paused, hesitated. “Send to John?” Her phone asked. She hesitated, paused. Her drunken, foggy brain thought and calculated. “No” she’d chosen. “Maybe I just need to get some sleep.”
When Billy woke, it was dark. For a few seconds, in the drowsy haze that follows a well needed sleep, he felt fine. He felt great. He had dreamed of a blonde girl running to catch his cab. Now he could feel an ache in his side. Dull at first, getting sharper and bigger. It brought him out of his sleep into the painfulness of reality. He lifted up his t-shirt and looked at his wound, “that’s bound to scar” he said to no one, “crap.” Reaching over to the cabinet beside his bed, he picked up his phone: five missed calls and 10 messages. How did he miss that? The calls were all from Gary, so were the texts. One word, pub. Billy thought, a beer is just what I need right now. Dragging himself out of bed, he picked his jeans up from the floor and threw them on. It was painful to move his arms so he decided not to change his top. He glanced in the mirror, “I look a mess, great,” and limped out of the door.
“Oh my dear god,” those were Gary’s first words, “dear, dear god,” he was shaking his head, eyes were wide and his mouth half open.
“Well yes, I’m glad you’ve come around to my new nickname,” Billy forced a smile and gingerly sat down on the seat opposite his friend.
“What on earth happened to you? No wait,” Gary stood up, “you need a drink first.”
Beer in one hand, cigarette in the other Billy went over yesterday’s events.
“So what you really need is a lawyer.” Gary proclaimed two pints and one long story later.
“No, I hate them,” Billy was looking at his empty glass, “what I need is another drink. Your turn I think.”
“I’ll get you a drink,” Gary smiled, “and I’ll do one better. I’ll get you a lawyer.” Gary was a great friend. He was loyal, rational and most importantly a damn good drinking buddy. And apparently he could make lawyers appear from thin air and for free. Even better.
Gary carried on talking, Great friend that he was, he’d clearly forgotten about that drink, “You know my missus, well her sister is a lawyer. A good one. Leave it to me.” And Billy was more than happy to, “just don’t get on your high-horse about hating lawyers, she’s quite touchy about it. For some reason.”
Four pints, two shots and a fruity cocktail later, Billy was feeling much better. The beer and the noise had made him forget that he had a hole in his side – two more drinks and he would forget he had a hole in his arse. He was well away.
The two giggling girls, one next to him, one next to Gary, had made him feel manly, macho, sexy. Despite his bloody t-shirt, dirty jeans, two day old stubble, beer breath and the martini glass he was holding, he could pull. He suspected that it might be because of those things. Bimbos were not his type, and these two were the dizziest bimbos he had ever met, but in his semi-inebriated and semi-wounded state he was sure that a bimbo was exactly what any doctor would prescribe.
“So,” Gary was trying his luck already; he had his hand firmly on the thigh of the blonde next to him. He must be more pissed than I am Billy thought, “what are you two lovely ladies up to after this?”
They giggled. They bounced their curls and bounced their breasts. They looked at each other and shrugged, “What are you two up to? We’ll probably just go home” one of them replied.
“Well we wouldn’t be gentlemen if we didn’t walk you home now, would we?” Billy looked from giggling blonde to giggling blonde and smiled. At least today would be better than yesterday.
They didn’t walk the blondes home; they did the only thing true gentlemen would do in their situation: they got a taxi to Billy’s flat.