I don't know what I was expecting as I followed Craig to the flat above the pub. I think a part of me assumed that, just like the décor of the bar, the living area would bear an uncanny resemblance to The Dog in the Pond. But I couldn't have been more wrong.
Opening the door to the main living area Craig stepped back to allow me to enter ahead of him. As I walked in I looked around for something familiar, for something of the Craig I had known. But there was nothing.
The walls of the room were of a bright clean magnolia, the plainness of the colour broken up by a scattering of abstract paintings that looked almost, but not quite, entirely out of place amongst the rest of the furnishings.
The carpet was a deep maroon colour, a shade that was continued through the curtains and a smattering of cushions that were stacked upon the white leather sofa and accompanying chair.
At an invitation by the wave of Craig's hand I took a seat on the sofa while he placed himself on the chair, perching on the edge with his hands gripping onto the seat cushion. He looked as uncertain and as uncomfortable as I felt.
What the hell was I even doing there?
We sat there for a while, just sitting, staring, not saying anything. It felt like hours but it was probably only a few minutes, still long enough for me to drink in the sight of him.
Craig's hair was dark and silky, the light from the window to his left making it glisten in a way that made my fingers itch to stroke it. It was longer than I remembered, slightly curling as it touched the collar of his shirt. The half smile was still present on his lips, broken only by the occasional flicker of a nervous tongue as his eyes connected with mine briefly before darting away again.
His white shirt was open at the top button, allowing me a glimpse of his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down as he swallowed and his firm muscular thighs were clad in faded blue denim, his muscles tensing beneath the fabric.
Finally my eyes rested on Craig's hands. Those strong fingers that once caressed me so gently and touched me deeply and intimately. Hands that had brought me to the peak of ecstasy time and time again.
And then I caught a glimpse of the gold band around his finger and I was brought crashing back to reality. Craig Dean was now a married man and, a part of me hoped, a happily married man.
I cleared my throat nervously as I sought the words to make my excuses and leave.
"You're looking well," Craig said before I could speak, "I couldn't believe it when I saw you last night and then you were gone and I… well I thought I must have just imagined it."
"Yeah I…" What could I say? That the very sight of him had made me turn and run? "Think I'd had a few too many," I finished lamely. Well it was at least partly true.
"I'm glad you came back." Craig smiled, his eyes shining so brightly, such deep mysterious pools that I felt like I was about to fall into them, never to find my way out.
"I'm not sure why I did," I admitted quietly.
"Coffee!" Craig said suddenly as he jumped to his feet, "I forgot to put the kettle on…"
"No really I…" Getting up from the sofa I shook my head as I began to walk slowly towards the door, "Forget the coffee I shouldn't… Craig I really shouldn't be here…"
"John Paul?"
The sound of my name in his voice after all those years was beautiful but at the same time it tore at me. I could hear echoes of our past in Craig's voice, the times he had called out my name in passion or whispered it in my ear as we held each other close, a hundred different moments that I had locked away deep inside because they were too painful to remember.
"I shouldn't be here," I repeated quietly, "I'll go and we can… let's just pretend this never happened eh?"
"Wait." In a heartbeat Craig was before me, I could feel the heat of his skin and the burning of his stare. "I…"
Craig's hands cupped my face gently, just as they had done a thousand times before, as they had done the day we parted, my eyes closed involuntarily as I relished the warmth of his touch.
"I've missed you," Craig breathed, his breath bathing my skin and making me shiver. "I've often wondered where you were and how you were doing…"
"Craig," I replied, the name falling from my lips in a whispered moan as I opened my eyes and saw something that stole my breath from my lungs.
In the depths of Craig Dean's beautiful chocolate coloured eyes I saw a reflection of everything that I knew must have been shining from mine. The loss, the longing, the desire and above all the love.
We might not have seen each other for years but it was still there as deep and as frightening as ever. Although I may have long since denied the fact to myself my love for that dark haired man had never really died, we had parted not because we didn't love each other but because we did… we still did.
Craig's tongue ran nervously over his lips, the action both moistening them and taunting me as I found my hands gripping onto his hips, I don't remember moving them but suddenly I was holding on so tightly as if I was afraid to let go, afraid that if I lost contact with him he would cease to be real.
"John Paul…" My name was breathed hotly against my mouth and before I could find a reply Craig's lips crashed against mine, his hands slipping to the back of my head and his fingers curled into my hair pulling it hard as the weight of his body pushed me back against a wall and he kissed me with an intensity I had forgotten could even exist.
I parted my lips, urging his tongue inside my mouth, caressing it with my own and sucking against it with the hunger of a man who had long since been denied true sustenance. The soft scratch of the light dusting of Craig's stubble against my face was electrifying, reawakening senses that I had long forgotten.
My hands slid down over Craig's hips and back to cup the firmness of his buttocks as he ground his groin against mine. I could feel the hardness of him rubbing against my own desperate desire and I gripped him tighter, pulling him into me as hard as I could.
I wanted him so badly that I could hardly think or breathe or do anything but feel the overwhelming need that he sparked in me. Our tongues danced in the combined heat of our mouths as we kissed fiercely, Craig's fingers clawed at my scalp and I pulled his shirt from the back of his jeans, my hands searching for the seductive heat of his flesh.
Pulling on my hair Craig broke our kiss, his mouth sinking to my neck where he feasted on my skin. I whimpered as I felt his teeth sinking into my flesh, the sensation making my whole body shudder with pleasure as my hands began to fumble with the buckle of his belt.
Craig bit harder, making me gasp and moan, the button and zip of his jeans melting away beneath my touch until I could slide one hand into the heat of his boxers, my fingers wrapping around the fullness of his erect cock to the groans of pleasure panted against my neck.
I could feel Craig's body shudder at my touch as I stroked my hand along his length, my thumb teasing over the already leaking head of his cock making Craig gasp loudly as his mouth sought mine once more.
I felt drunk and elated, excited and terrified, a million different emotions colliding through me and crashing against each other with the unexpected joy of holding Craig in my arms again, of hearing him moan as I touched him and knowing that he wanted me, he still wanted me.
And then it stopped.
With a loud gasp Craig stepped back, his hands firm against my chest as he pushed himself away, and then quickly darting to his groin to push his erection back inside his jeans.
"I'm sorry," Craig panted, his face flushed and his gaze looking anywhere but at me, "I shouldn't have… I… God John Paul I'm sorry…" Craig's right hand gripped his left, his fingers nervously spinning the simple gold band around and around.
I felt as if I'd been hit by a truck. The elation I had felt only seconds early now replaced by crushing disappointment. Following the direction of Craig's gaze I spotted something I hadn't seen, or had chosen not to see, earlier.
Standing proudly in the centre of the sideboard was a simple gold picture frame, it was elegant and classy but I knew it wasn't the frame that had become the focus of Craig's attention but rather the picture contained within.
"I'm sorry," I said, echoing Craig's words, "I shouldn't have come here…"
Craig continued to stare at the picture, almost as if he was consciously avoiding looking at me.
It was obviously a beautiful sunny day, the day of Craig's wedding and the couple looked filled with all the joys they should have on the day of their marriage.
She looked beautiful, the blonde woman, the woman I had seen the previous night. Craig's wife. And Craig looked so content, so handsome and happy and for a moment I hated him for it. But only for a moment.
"I am sorry I… it's just that I…" Craig's eyes turned back to me and I saw something in them that tore at my heart, an echo of something I had seen so many years ago.
Craig loved his wife, in that instant I had no doubt of that fact. And he loved me. In his eyes I saw Craig's turmoil, the uncertainty and confusion as he tried to reconcile the emotions that I had awoken in him, just as he had awoken them in me.
My presence in Craig's life again would cause him nothing but pain, so I did the only thing I could do at that moment.
"It's OK," I said kindly, smiling at him despite the desperate desire to cry, "I'll go… I shouldn't have… I'll just go… Goodbye Craig."
Taking a deep breath I pulled open the door.
"John Paul," Craig said quietly, making me pause for a moment, "Happy birthday."
Closing my eyes for a second I forced the tears to stay inside as I took another step forwards and closed the door behind me. Rubbing my hands over my face I shook my head to steady myself and then I left.
I don't know how long it took me to get back home, I just seemed to wander aimlessly for a while, I didn't really want the seclusion of my own four walls but in the end I had no other destination to head for.
I could have gone to see Nathan, but I knew that within minutes I would have ended up telling him everything and I wasn't ready to do that, not when it was so raw. For so long Craig had just been "him" and now… now he was Craig again and I didn't know how to cope with that, I wasn't sure I really could.
As I opened the door to my studio apartment I heard the beeping of my answer phone telling me of the messages waiting for me. Dropping the post that I had picked up on my way in on the table I pressed the button and smiled as I listened to the voices that bubbled from the machine.
One after one my mother and my sisters sang a tuneless happy birthday down the telephone to me, each one complaining that I wasn't there to receive their greeting in person before wishing me a good day. I laughed as I wondered what they would think if they had known why I wasn't home to take their calls.
My mail contained an assortment of bills and birthday cards; the bills were carefully put to one side to be dealt with later and the cards stood across my mantelpiece. I knew that the cards were gestures of love but as I looked at them they only served to remind me of two things. I was getting older, and I was alone.
As the day wore on I found myself sprawled, naked but for my boxers, across my sofa, still allowing the machine to answer any calls for me, calls which ceased as the day moved into evening, my eyes gazing at endless films on the television, not one of which I could later name or even recall.
My eyes might have been seeing the actors playing out their fictional lives before me but all my mind could see was Craig.
And it wasn't just that I could see him. I could still hear him, feel him and smell him. My lips still tingled with memory of his kiss and my skin held onto the sensation of his stubble scratching softly against it. And I could still smell his aftershave, it was on my skin and in my hair, I couldn't believe he still wore it, the fragrance I had chosen for him our first year in Dublin, the scent that to me would always be Craig Dean.
Closing my eyes I lay back, all pretence at watching the television abandoned, instead I chose to revel in the pictures that danced through my head.
My hand rested on my belly as I relived that afternoons encounter but instead of it ending where it did I allowed my imagination to create another reality.
Instead of pulling away from me I felt Craig's hand mirror what mine was doing to him as it slid into my boxers, touching me in a way that made me groan loudly into a kiss that was more frantic and hungry than ever before.
"I've been dreaming about doing this for so long," Craig whispered in my ear, his teeth nibbling at my lobe before he sank to his knees before me.
I let out an incoherent cry as Craig's hot wet mouth encased the head of my cock and sucked, gently, so very gently, his tongue dancing along the slit that was dribbling precum into his mouth. Craig's lips slowly worked their way up my length, the pressure of his suction increasing the deeper he took me into his mouth until I was completely consumed by him, both physically and mentally.
I knew I couldn't last very long under such intense and wonderful pressure and I began to pant out Craig's name, urging him to go faster, suck me harder, to make me come, I wanted that release so badly I could hardly bare the wait.
Within moments my whole body began to shake, my balls throbbed and my thighs ached as I felt my climax build up inside me. I threw my head back, and arched my body as I came, my cock spattering wave after wave of hot come over my belly until I was spent and I relaxed back against the sofa the reality of the situation returning to me. It hadn't been Craig's beautiful mouth that had pleasured me but my own hand, Craig's presence had just been a wonderful fantasy.
With a sigh I accepted the truth. From now on that was all that Craig would ever be. A fantasy.
And so for the next three weeks I didn't think about Craig at all. OK maybe I thought about him, but not a lot. Well some... you know, occasionally, yes alright a hell of a lot.
The truth is that, as hard as I tried, I couldn't get him out of my head. I was thrown back in time to being a teenager again, hopelessly in love with the one person I couldn't have and I hated him for it.
What right did he have to come back into my life like that? To kiss me and make me want him all over again when he knew it couldn't happen? And I know that it was unreasonable to blame him, after all I chose to seek him out again, I chose to go up to the flat with him when I knew it was a bad idea, but somehow blaming him was easier. Telling myself I should hate him was easier than aching with the worst kind of love that there is, unrequited.
"You alright mate?" Nathan asked with a warm squeeze to my shoulder as he paused on his way past my desk.
I smiled up at my friend. He was the only person I'd told about what happened in the flat above Craig's pub on the afternoon of my birthday. He had sat with me into the early hours the following night while I poured my heart out and soaked his shoulder with my tears, he had topped up my whiskey glass and told me things would be alright and, I assume, when the alcohol had finally over taken me, he had put me to bed and then spent the night on my sofa just in case I needed him.
I shrugged and gestured to the half written press release on my computer screen. I was supposed to be writing a rave review of the labels latest signing and their upcoming album but the words wouldn't come. It wasn't that they weren't a great band, after all they were one that I had discovered and then recommended, but my enthusiasm for most things was at a low ebb.
"Give us a look," Nathan offered, pulling up a chair beside my own and reading over the couple of hundred words that I had managed to conjure up.
I couldn't help but smile as Nathan instinctively picked up a pen and began to gnaw on its end. It was something I had witnessed him doing a thousand times before, as his brow furrowed in concentration and his eyes danced over the document on my screen. I sometimes wondered what I had done to deserve a friend like Nathan, from the moment we met I had known he would be someone I could rely on, and not once in the intervening years had he ever shown me otherwise.
After twenty minutes, and a lot of help from Nathan, the press release was looking far more presentable, finally suggesting that our new signing was a band to keep an eye on rather than the lukewarm review of their music I had managed.
"Oy McQueen, you got a minute?" My boss called from his office door, not waiting for a response before going back to his desk, the door left open in the correct assumption that I would quickly be following him.
"What's up?" I asked as I entered his office and closed the door behind me.
At thirty eight Alan Sculp was only a few years my senior in age, but as the man who had started his own record label from a small studio in his garage and subsequently built it up to the growing success it now was, had earned the respect of a much older man, and even the few employees who were chronologically older than him still looked up to him with awe.
He was strong willed and driven and as such had no time for wasters or slackers, but if you worked hard and achieved your goals then Alan was not the sort to scrimp on praise and even monetary rewards when he felt the circumstances justified. The first bonus I was paid after "discovering" a band that went on to have a number one smash hit paid for the deposit on my studio apartment.
"How's it going?" Alan asked, leaning on his desk and smiling at me as he waved me into a chair opposite. His eyes always seemed to shine with good humour and it was rare to see him losing his temper, but if he did you knew his anger was justified. His hair was almost jet black, which he wore slicked back with gel, but the past few years had seen it becoming peppered with silver, especially at the temples. But the greying of his hair did nothing to detract from the man's inherent attractiveness, if anything it probably added to it.
Alan Sculp was the sort of man who could easily turn heads when he walked into a room, his very presence as well as his looks demanding attention, yet he seemed unaware of the fact. Behind his polished exterior there still lived the echoes of a man whose wife left after a prolonged affair with another man, but not just any man, his closest friend.
The man who was now the sole owner of a rapidly growing, and incredibly successful, record label had once been a broken shell who had thrown himself into music as his only means of escape and he could often be heard citing his personal experience as an example of how to turn something bad into something good, something very good.
"Alright," I replied, mirroring Alan's smile with my own, "Just about finished that press release for Blue Sunrise."
Alan nodded in a manner that suggested he hadn't doubted my work would be completed on time or that it was my work he was asking after.
"You've looked a little distracted over the last couple of days," Alan said kindly.
"Shit I'm sorry… I mean if my work's not been up to scratch…"
"I wasn't suggesting that John Paul," Alan replied, "You've never let me down since you started working here and I doubt you ever will… but if there's something wrong… something you need to talk about, to get help with?"
I sighed softly and shrugged. "It's nothing, really," I said, "Bit of relationship drama… but it's sorted now… you know how it goes."
"Yeah I know that one… but you know you can come to me if there is anything… You're one of my brightest John Paul and if you need help…"
"Yeah Alan… and thanks… but it's OK, really."
"Good."
"If that's all…"
"Oh there was one other thing," Alan said as he picked up a piece of paper from his desk and handed it to me. "New band I've been hearing a few whispers about… think you should check them out… RodeoTraffik… stupid name but still, go and see if they're worth anything eh?"
"Yeah no worries," I replied, taking the note, the words jumping out at me and making me gasp as if I had just been struck.
RodeoTraffik, 8pm tonight, The Sailor and Mermaid.
It had to be didn't it? I was trying to forget, to pretend I hadn't seen him again. So where else would my boss be sending me that evening but back to Craig's pub?
"You alright John Paul?" Nathan asked as I slumped into my chair, the evening's instructions still gripped tightly in my hand. With a shrug, and I'm sure a pained grimace, I handed the piece of paper to my friend.
"I don't get it," Nathan said with a frown. "You don't like that band or something?"
"No idea, I've never seen them," I replied, "It's not the band that's the problem."
"So..?"
"The Sailor and Mermaid?"
"And..?"
"Nathan," I said with an exasperated sigh, "The Sailor and Mermaid? That's… it's… it's HIS pub isn't it…"
"Oh! Oh shit!"
"Exactly."
"Do you have to go?"
"It's my job isn't it?" I said taking the note back and looking at it again, half hoping that the name of the pub would have magically changed. "And they could be the 'next big thing', I can hardly risk that can I?"
"D'you want me to go for you?" Nathan offered with a bright eyed, generous smile.
"You?" I asked, laughing gently.
"Yeah why not?"
"Nathan, mate," I said, "You're the best graphic designer I know… the artwork you've produce for this label is amazing – it couldn't be better… but you know fuck all about decent music!"
"Oi!" Nathan objected before joining in my laughter.
It was true though. Despite working for such a successful record label Nathan's taste in music was mainstream to say the least, and sometimes it was just downright atrocious. But I had long since given up trying to influence my friends taste. After all that was the beauty of music – there was enough variety to appeal to everyone, and who had the right to claim their preference was "better" than someone else's? Not me.
"Well I could come with you?" Nathan offered.
Giving my friend's shoulder a playful shove I smiled. "That'd be good… thanks."
Walking back into Craig's pub would be hard but at least having my friend at my side should make it a bit more bearable.
"You OK?" Nathan's hand was strong and steadying as it gripped my shoulder.
"Yeah… just another job right?" I knew my lie didn't convince either of us but Nathan still smiled his agreement, his eye sparkling brightly, as he pushed open the doors to The Sailor and Mermaid and we stepped inside.
I had done this countless times before, visiting a bar or a club on the lookout for new talent, sometimes just on spec and others, like tonight, because of a prior recommendation. It was hardly the most difficult part of my job, going to a pub or club and listening to a band. If I was lucky they would be worth approaching to bring into the studio to record a few demos, if not I would just walk away and no one would ever know I'd been there.
Going to see RodeoTraffik should have been the same, but it wasn't, not on any level. Even before I'd left my apartment my mind wasn't on the music. I'd tried on a dozen outfits before returning to the short sleeved black shirt and ebony jeans, and it wasn't because Craig had once commented how good I looked in something similar, of course it wasn't. Just like it wasn't the thought of seeing Craig again that made my hands tremble as I walked through the semi-crowded pub towards the bar.
I was grateful to have Nathan at my side, not only as a support but also a distraction, his constant chatter helped to keep my mind from dwelling. Would Craig be there? Would he see me? Would he want to see me? So many questions I couldn't have an answer to.
"Orange juice?" Nathan asked as he leant on the bar, flashing his winning smile at the young brunette who came forward to serve him.
"Please," I answered with a nod. Despite the fact that at that moment I could have done with something stronger I had long since made it my policy not to drink until after the band I was there to see had played, I'd been caught out before when an alcohol impaired mind had seen talent where there was only mediocrity.
Gripping my juice tightly in one hand, in a vain attempt to stop the ice rattling against the side of the glass, I looked around the pub. Just casually taking in my surroundings I told myself, not looking for anything in particular.
In one corner I could see the band starting to set up their equipment. They didn't instantly strike me as anything special, but then how much impression could four twenty-something lads in jeans and t-shirts really make? I giggled to myself at the idea, I'm sure under different circumstances such a thing could make quite an impression indeed!
"Something funny?" Nathan asked as he stood at my side, a pint of lager in one hand and the other touching his hair to make sure it was perfect. And it was, it always was.
"Nothing," I replied, "Just me being silly…"
"Fair enough… so..?"
"So?"
"No sign of him?"
"Dunno… I wasn't looking…"
"Yeah right!"
"I wasn't I…" I stopped talking as Nathan's dark eyes observed me knowingly. He knew me too well, frighteningly well sometimes, even when I managed to lie to myself I had never been able to lie to him, he could see through me as easily as my mother used to. "No, no sign…" I finished lamely as Nathan grinned around a mouthful of lager.
"Good! John Paul you really don't need the hassle… it's better if you just leave all that in the past and…" Nathan's words ended abruptly and I knew why without even turning to follow the path of his gaze.
"He's here isn't he?"
"Doesn't mean you have to talk to him…"
"I know… I just…" I couldn't stop myself, or maybe it was nearer to the truth to say I didn't want to, but in a heartbeat I had turned around to face him.
Craig was still a distance away across the pub but, as I looked at him and he turned his face to meet my stare, I felt as if he were only inches from me. I could see rich chocolate of his eyes and the impossibly beautiful lashes that framed them, I could see the soft pink of his lips and the small mole that rested above the upper one.
And then, in a heart wrenching moment, I could see his hand resting on the shoulder of the woman at his side. She was smiling, her head turned to one side as she listened to whatever it was he was saying, one hand strayed unconsciously to her hair, smoothing down the locks that were already perfect as they glistened golden in the subdued lighting of the bar.
I wanted to hate her, I wanted to find her hideous, to pick fault with something, anything, her clothes, her hair, her makeup. Anything to give me the right not to like her, but I couldn't. She was beautiful in an understated way that suggested she wasn't even aware of the fact; her black dress that fell just below her knees was simple and elegant. Blinking back tears I had no right to shed I laughed to myself. She was everything that Frankie Dean had always wanted for her youngest son.
I realised I was staring, my eyes had become fixed on Craig's mouth, watching his lips moving as he talked but I couldn't look away. I wanted to run forward and grab him, to kiss him hard, until his lips were bruised and he was marked as mine.
Instead I turned away and forced a faked smile at Nathan as he shrugged his shoulders sympathetically.
"Sorry mate…"
"Not to worry… the band better be worth it eh?"
I fixed my attention on the young men who had almost finished setting up their equipment. They weren't especially handsome but there was something appealing about each one and the marketing portion of my mind knew that that would be a great help if we were to sign them. Looking them all over my attention lingered on the drummer, tucked away at the back and usually the least noticed, least appreciated, a much baser part of my mind conjured up a few things I would like to do to him.
"John Paul?"
I froze. He was stood behind me. Craig. My Craig. No, not my Craig, her Craig. I wanted to flee, so somehow pretend that I hadn't heard him and just turn and run, but of course I didn't. The instant I turned to face him I wished I had.
"Craig." I said with, what I hoped was a calm steady smile. "Good to see you."
Craig smiled back at me, a smile that had once turned my knees to jelly but its impact was somewhat lessened by the blonde woman at his side. Why would he bring her over to me? What reason on earth could there be for my ex-lover to present his wife?
"See I told you it was him," the woman said, her elbow nudging into Craig's ribs as she laughed softly and smiled at me. "I told him," she continued, turning her attention to me. "'That looks like your John Paul' I said, but would he listen… of course not… well you know Craig… but I recognised you instantly…"
I frowned, shaking my head, as my eyes darted between Craig and the woman.
"I'm sorry," she said patting my arm in an overly familiar way. "Here's me going on and you're probably wondering who the hell the mad woman is… I'm Helena… Craig's wife…"
Helena held out her hand to me and I felt trapped, I had no option but to shake it. Her grip was gentle and her skin soft and smooth to the touch, her fingernails were long, but not excessively so, coated in a subtle pink varnish that was echoed in the colour of her lipstick.
"Do you … know me?" I asked, my brow still furrowed with confusion.
"Well I feel like I do," Helena said with a bright smile, I've seen that many photos of you… that's how I recognised you from over the other side of the bar… Craig's told me all about you…"
A sudden flash of warning from the depths of Craig's eyes told me that wasn't entirely true.
"I was such a shame when you two lost touch," Helena continued, oblivious to the look her husband was giving me, "But I guess that's what happens when people finish uni and move away… and look at you now… both here again… who would have thought?"
"Who indeed," I replied with a smile.
"Craig… aren't you going to say something?" Helena asked with a teasing smile.
"When you stop talking long enough to give me a chance," he replied. I wanted there to be bitterness in his words but there wasn't, just a tender affection that I resented hearing.
"So err… what brings you here?" Craig said, the words 'back here' lingering in the air between us, unspoken.
"The band," I replied simply. "I work for a record label… here to see if they're any good…"
"Really!" Helena enthused, "Oh let me introduce you to Tony… he's the drummer… good friend of mine… I think you'd like him!"
"No!" I snapped, more harshly that I intended, "Sorry it's just… it's better not to meet the band before I hear them play… helps stop me having any preconceptions of them…"
"Oh I see… that makes sense I suppose… later maybe."
"Maybe… where are my manners… I haven't introduced you to my friend," gesturing to Nathan I smiled.
"Hi I'm Nathan," Nathan said, offering his hand to Helena and somehow managing to smoothly walk her away while never ceasing to talk, leaving me facing Craig and uncertain of what to say to him.
"So," I said after an uncomfortable pause, "Your wife knows all about me eh?"
"Well you know," Craig said with a shrug.
"No I don't… why don't you tell me?"
"John Paul… please… don't…" Craig's eyes were wide and deep and I could feel myself falling into them but now, more than ever, I couldn't risk that fall. I couldn't love him. It would hurt too much.
"No go on," I goaded, "Tell me… what does she know about me… about us? Not as much as she thinks obviously… so what did you tell her?"
"That we were mates… best mates…"
"Is that all?"
"It's the truth?"
"No Craig it isn't…" Leaning forward I whispered hotly into Craig's ear, the closeness of him making my heart pound hard and fast. "We were lovers Craig… you don't fuck your mates… unless you…"
"You know it was never like that… it was just you John Paul… you know it was just you."
I shouldn't have found such pleasure in those words, but I did. Somehow knowing that another man, any other man, had touched him the way I had would have lessened what we had. He was mine, at least for a while, and what we had was unique, is was us. It was just us.
Before I could speak again the sound of the band starting up filled the bar.
"I should…" I mouthed, pointing towards the corner where RodeoTraffik were already beginning their first number.
"Yeah," Craig mouthed back before turning away and leaving me to do what I had gone there for.
I woke up with a banging head. The night might have started with orange juice but it certainly hadn't ended that way.
RodeoTraffik had proved to be far above my expectations and had insisted on my joining them in celebrating their possible signing to Ne-O-Phonics.
I couldn't remember much past midnight, but the stale taste of whiskey in my mouth and the smell if it on my clothes told me that the celebrating had gone on for some time.
A groan from the living room made me sit up, an action which in itself was not an easy feat. Every inch of my body wanted to crawl under the duvet and stay there, possibly forever.
"Nathan?" I called in a voice that croaked and spoke of a late night and too much drink.
"Leave me alone, I'm dying…" Nathan croaked back from my sofa.
"Did we have a good night?"
"I don't see how we can have…"
"Why?"
"I ended up coming home with you!"
I groaned loudly at the ringing of my mobile, the tune was that of our most recent signing and seemed to vibrate painfully in my head.
"Yes?" I snapped into the mouthpiece as I answered.
"John Paul?"
"Craig?"
"I erm…"
"What?" I could hear a voice in the background, a woman's voice obviously instructing Craig what to say.
"Helena was wondering… err we were wondering… if you fancied coming out for a meal tomorrow night… you know to catch up?"
I couldn't think of anything I would want less, an evening with Craig and his wife, it sounded like pure torture and the tone of Craig's voice told me that he felt the same.
"Oh please say yes," Helena's bright voice chirped suddenly on the line. "It'd be great for you and Craig to catch up… and I could invite Tony… it'd be like a double date… please John Paul… say you'll come."
My drink impaired brain struggled for a get out, something, anything to say why I couldn't go but, when I opened my mouth the only words that tumbled from it were, "Great, I'd love to."
Ending the call I fell back onto my bed and groaned even louder.
Fuck!
