Chapter 2
NICO
I don’t usually come to places like this.
Not that there’s anything wrong with this bar, or this part of the city, it’s just not one of my typical haunts.
I’ll usually go for drinks near work. There are three or four bars there, where my mates and I like to go. They are barely distinguishable from one another – the bars, not my mates – but they’re more our scene, and I always know exactly what I’m going to get.
I know the lighting, the kind of music they play, the drinks they serve.
It’s more of a chilled-out vibe, better for social drinking and chatting.
Here the lights are low, the music is blaring – I know, I’m only thirty-four, and I feel ancient admitting it, but I don’t think I’ve heard one song that I recognise yet.
Thankfully, there’s no one checking if you’re cool enough to be here at the door, asking you if you can name the song that is playing, kicking you out if you can’t.
‘Maybe we should go somewhere else,’ I suggest.
‘No, I like it here – it has a fun vibe.’
I was worried he’d say that. It’s strange to be out, just the two of us. I’m used to the strength in numbers of a bigger group.
I glance around, checking out ‘the vibe’.
Beyond the loud music and the kind of lighting designed for making bad decisions, it seems like the kind of place where someone is definitely going to spill a drink on me before the night is over.
The sort of bar where people will scream at you for having the audacity to take a leak in the ‘cocaine snorting room’ – as though I’m the one confusing the use of the toilets.
I sound boring but I’m not. I love a night out with the lads usually… just not in these circumstances.
We’re standing near the bar, waiting to be served, but not having much luck catching anyone’s attention.
Another reason to hate the place. The Loft, it’s called, despite being on the ground floor.
Yeah, okay, maybe I’m trying to find fault now.
Truthfully, the venue isn’t really the reason I don’t want to be here.
‘You need to loosen up,’ he says, nudging me with his elbow. ‘You’ve got that face on again.’
‘What face?’
‘The one that says: I am judging this place and everyone in it.’
‘I’m just looking around,’ I say, holding up my hands, as though that somehow shows my innocence. ‘I’m just… observing the nightlife.’
‘Suddenly he’s David Attenborough,’ he jokes. ‘Observing – pah. You know that at some point you have to actually participate, don’t you?’
‘I’m here, aren’t I? That’s participating,’ I insist.
‘Well, if you could let your face know that you’re happy about it – or at least pretend to look a little more cheery,’ he suggests. ‘You’re supposed to be here to attract women, not scare them away.’
‘And here’s me thinking you wanted to spend time together,’ I say, sticking out my bottom lip, clutching my chest, pretending to be wounded.
He was honest, at least, about using me as some kind of bait to try to attract women. I think he used the words ‘babe bait’ but I could happily never hear them again. All the more reason for me to suggest we don’t go somewhere where I usually go, or where I ever plan to go again.
We finally order our drinks – two beers – and move slightly away from the bar, to somewhere a little less chaotic. I would have had a cocktail, but I’m certain he would have had something to say about that, so beer it is.
‘Right,’ he says, scanning the room strategically. ‘Where do we start?’
‘We don’t start anywhere,’ I point out. ‘We stand here. We drink. We talk.’
‘That’s not how this works.’
‘That’s exactly how this works,’ I reply.
He shakes his head, already spotting something – or someone – across the room.
‘Two o’clock,’ he says.
‘I’m not doing that,’ I say immediately, laughing it off.
‘What?’
‘The military clock thing, like this is some kind of operation, and you’re my lieutenant.’
‘You would be on the floor, dropping and giving me twenty, if I were,’ he replies. I see the light bulb spark behind his eyes. ‘In fact, that might actually attract women…’
‘No,’ I say quickly. I assume he was joking but I’m not taking any chances.
‘It’s an efficient way to give directions,’ he says. ‘Except now they’ve gone, I don’t know what time they’re at.’
‘Probably time to leave,’ I reply. ‘Which I’m hoping we’ll do soon.’
‘Look, quick, four o’clock. Blue dress,’ he says excitedly, ignoring me.
I follow his gaze – albeit reluctantly.
Two women. Late thirties, early forties maybe. Talking to each other, laughing at something, oblivious to the two men staring at them. I get the feeling they would rather keep it that way.
‘They look like they’re having a nice evening,’ I say.
‘Exactly,’ he replies. ‘And we could enhance that.’
I really, really don’t think we could, but he’s already on his way over there. Of course he is. I take a swig of my beer and follow him – maybe I can limit the damage.
‘Evening, ladies,’ he says, stepping into the space between them like he’s been invited.
The women look up, polite but cautious.
‘Hi,’ one of them replies.
‘We couldn’t help but notice you seemed like you were having a good time,’ he continues.
I close my eyes briefly. We. Why does he have to drag me into this? He could listen to me, at least. Take my advice. This is exactly how you don’t do this.
‘We are,’ the other woman says, smiling faintly.
‘Good,’ he says. ‘That’s good. Always important to enjoy yourself.’
There’s a pause. A long one, so I step in, anything to make this less awkward.
‘We don’t want to interrupt your evening,’ I say, offering a small, apologetic smile. ‘Just saying hello.’
‘Hello,’ the first one says again, a little warmer this time. She gives me a smile.
‘I’m Hank, it’s nice to meet you both.’
Oh, great, he’s taken this as his cue to stay, rather than to leave.
‘And this is Nico.’
He gives me a hard slap on the back as he says my name.
They introduce themselves too. Sandra and Zoey. It’s still hard to tell if they actually want to talk to us, or if they’re just being polite.
‘So what brings you here tonight?’ Hank asks.
‘A friend’s birthday,’ one of them says. ‘She’s over there.’
We all glance vaguely in the direction indicated. There’s a group of women dancing, drinking Prosecco, having a great time – and not a man in sight. Hank needs to learn who wants to be chatted up and who doesn’t. I’m certain these girls don’t.
‘And you?’ she asks.
‘We’re trying somewhere new,’ Hank says. ‘I love to try new things.’
‘Where do you usually drink?’ the other woman asks.
I open my mouth, to say anywhere other than where I do usually go out, then close it again as Hank answers.
‘Oh, all over,’ he says vaguely. ‘We get around.’
I stare at him.
He smiles like he’s really pleased with that answer.
The conversation continues for a few more minutes, never leaving that space where everyone is being polite but no one is particularly invested. Hank is trying his best, though.
‘It’s a shame you don’t come here often,’ Zoey tells me.
‘We would have noticed you,’ Sandra adds.
I don’t say anything – mostly because I’m not here to meet someone. I’m here to help Hank.
As their attention seems to drift in my direction, I notice Hank stand a little taller, puff up his chest a bit.
‘He might not be up for it, but I could definitely see myself becoming a regular,’ he tells them.
Zoey glances over at her friends and gives the thumbs up. I don’t think anyone did actually call her over, but I can’t blame her for trying to make a quick exit.
‘We should probably get back,’ she says. ‘But it was nice meeting you.’
‘You too,’ I say.
Hank nods, already recalibrating, scoping out the place for his next targets.
‘That went well,’ he says as soon as they’re gone.
‘It did not,’ I reply.
‘It wasn’t a disaster,’ he insists. ‘You were the problem – your one could tell you weren’t really interested.’
I would be fascinated to find out which one was allegedly my one, and which was his one, because neither of them seemed all that interested.
We drift back towards the bar.
‘You’re supposed to be helping,’ he reminds me.
‘I did help,’ I reply. ‘I was damage control.’
‘You could have been more enthusiastic.’
‘I was appropriately enthusiastic,’ I insist. ‘Given that they clearly didn’t want to talk to us.’
He shakes his head, smiling to himself.
‘You’ve got to take more risks,’ he tells me.
‘I came here,’ I remind him. ‘That’s already a deviation from my usual pattern.’
‘That’s not a risk,’ he says. ‘That’s a location change.’
I take a sip of my drink. Coming here with him – that’s the risk.
‘What would you define as a risk?’ I ask curiously.
‘Talking to someone you actually like,’ he says.
‘I don’t know if I like anyone here yet,’ I point out.
‘That’s because you’re not letting yourself find out.’
This doesn’t feel like the time or the place to get into that. I’m not about to explain myself next to a woman dancing on a table.
We stand there for a bit, watching the room. Hank is clearly scoping out his next target, so he’s gone quiet.
Hank – I’m having to remind myself to call him that, as per his request. It feels wrong. I’m so sure I’m going to blurt out the wrong thing that I’m having to remind myself to call him Hank in my head. For all the difference it will make.
‘You’re doing it again,’ he practically sings at me.
‘Doing what?’
‘Observing instead of engaging.’
He laughs again, then nudges me slightly.
‘Go on,’ he says. ‘Your turn.’
‘My turn for what?’
‘Talking to someone.’
‘I just did.’
‘You assisted,’ he says. ‘Now initiate.’
I look around.
There are people everywhere. Conversations overlapping, music drowning out almost every word, a glass smashes and everyone cheers and claps.
‘This is just not my scene.’
‘That’s the point,’ he replies. ‘You’re too comfortable in your usual places.’
‘I like my usual places,’ I say. ‘I know what I’m getting there.’
‘Exactly,’ he says. ‘And what has that got you?’