Losing You

Daniel Fury was spending Saturday afternoon as he often did, sitting alone at the bar, nursing a pint of bitter and reading his book. There was something almost magical about reading a good book over a nice pint of beer, in a cosy pub. The pub was one of his regular haunts, and the barman knew his face and would start pulling his beer as he walked in the door. Daniel did have a small circle of friends and some close family, but he enjoyed spending time in his own company. When one of his friends would insist on accompanying him to the cinema, Daniel would insist they didn’t talk all the way through the film.  

He was a few drinks and a few chapters in, when a group of men entered the pub. They were older than Daniel, whereas he had just turned twenty-one, these guys looked to be in their late-twenties and early thirties, and while Daniel was in his faded rock band t-shirt, they were dressed in their Saturday evening finery, all fancy shirts, and gold chains and watches. 

Daniel took a swig of beer to get rid of the taste of their aftershave that was filling the small room. The lads talked loudly and moved with such easy confidence. Daniel tried not to stare and returned to the next chapter of his paperback book. 

The group of lads approached the bar. They ordered pints of lager and talked about the afternoon’s football game. The guy nearest Daniel was insisting that the referee had got it wrong, that it was never a penalty. His friends disagreed, a stone-wall penalty, all day long.

No chance, the guy said. As he waved his arms to emphasise his point, he knocked Daniel’s glass over. Daniel shifted as the beer spilled across the bar. The guy swore and turned to Daniel.

‘Mate, I’m so sorry. Let me get you another.’ The guy said.

‘No, it’s fine.’ Daniel said. 

‘I’ll get you a drink. What are you having?’ 

‘A pint of best bitter, if you’re sure?’ Daniel replied. 

‘Bitter? You don’t want that old man’s drink. I’ll get you a pint of lager.’ The guy said.

The guy called out to the barman, waving his credit card between his fingers.

‘A pint of lager for my mate here.’ 

As the guy handed the pint of fizzy beer in a tall glass that looked more like a vase, he spoke.

‘There you go, mate. What’s your name?’ 

‘Daniel.’

‘Nice to meet you, Danny. I’m Ronnie.’

They shook hands. Like the rest of the group, Ronnie had slicked, gelled hair and gold jewellery. He had a warmth and charm that reminded Daniel of the salesman who’d sold him a car a couple of years ago. Ronnie joined his friends to continue the football debate.

After one round of drinks, Ronnie and his friends left the pub. Daniel presumed they were heading for a bar that had loud music and cocktails and maybe sports on TV. As they here leaving, Ronnie waved a hand at Daniel, See you, mate. Daniel managed a polite smile. 

The following week, Daniel was at his usual spot at the bar. New paperback book, and a pint of bitter. Ronnie and his friends entered the pub. Ronnie took a swig of his pint and sauntered over to Daniel’s spot at the end of the bar. 

‘Danny, how you doing, mate? Haven’t you finished that book yet?’ Ronnie said, patting him on the back.

Daniel was tempted to explain that it was a different book than last week but simply shook his head. 

‘We’re off to that new bar on Deansgate after these drinks. You fancy coming?’ Ronnie asked.

‘Nah, I’m good, thanks. I’m gonna stay here and-’ 

‘And what? Read your book? Are you really turning down a night on the tiles with Yours Truly for a pint of craft beer and a book?’

‘No offence.’ Daniel said with grin.

‘Danny, I am offended, I’m wounded. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the guys.’ Ronnie said.

Despite rather staying at the bar with his beer and paperback, he found himself following Ronnie to the table by the fireplace where his friends were sitting. They were all immaculately dressed as usual, all button-down shirts, shiny slip-on shoes and huge gold watches. The group turned as Ronnie approached, with a stranger. 

‘Who’s this?’ one lad asked.

‘I’m Daniel Fury.’ He said.

‘Fury? You look like the least furious person I’ve ever met.’

‘I think it’s the paperback book that does it.’ Someone else added.

As the group laughed, Ronnie threw a protective arm around Daniel’s shoulder.

‘This is Danny, and he’s sound. He’s a good lad.’ Ronnie said.

The lads nodded, fair enough.

Ronnie took the paperback book from under Daniel’s arm and tossed it into the fireplace. 

‘You won’t be needing that, now you’ve got friends like us.’ He said.

‘That’s a library book.’ Daniel said.

‘I’ll pay the fines, okay?’ Ronnie laughed.

Daniel would have put up more of a fight, but he found he rather liked the idea of being friends with the lads. Ronnie had called him a friend. Maybe he needed new friends, friends like these, to bring him out of himself a bit more. His mother always said he should get himself out there more but never went as far as telling him exactly where that was. 

The group downed the last of their pints of beer and got to their feet. Daniel was carried along, as they headed out the door and into the night.

Daniel’s ears rang as they entered the bar. The electronic dance music was blaring out, the chatter and laughter was loud, as revellers tried to make themselves heard above the thumping music. The lights flashed and flickered in purple, pink and green, in time with the excruciatingly loud music. This was usually the type of place Daniel avoided, and yet his new would-be friends, seemed to love the club-like atmosphere of the bar. 

At the bar, Ronnie snapped his fingers, to attract the attention of the barmaid. 

‘I’ll have a real ale.’ Daniel said.

‘They don’t do any of that rubbish in here, Danny. This is a decent establishment.’

Ronnie ordered two pints of unpronounceable Scandinavian lager.

As they sipped their drinks, Ronnie spoke, leaning in close to be heard.

‘You’ve got a lot of potential, young Danny. You remind of myself when I left university.’

‘Really?’

‘Absolutely. Stick with me, Danny, and you’ll go far.’ Ronnie grinned.  

As they were heading to meet their taxi cabs home, Ronnie gave him a nudge.

‘We’re going to the pub tomorrow night to watch the United game. D’you fancy it?’

‘I’m not really a football fan.’ Daniel said.

‘You don’t have to be. We meet up, have a laugh and a few beers, and watch the game.’

‘Go on then.’ Daniel said. 

The group split up heading in different directions, making their way home. As they were parting, they shook hands. Daniel was surprised by to be included in the warm farewells. Ronnie’s friends shook his hands, patted him on the back and said they hoped to see him soon.

Huddled around the tall table in the pub with the rest of the lads, Ronnie explained the game to Daniel. He detailed how this referee was useless, how the away team fans were scumbags, and how the match would go to extra-time and penalties if there wasn’t a winner after ninety minutes.

Daniel nodded, trying to take it all in. 

‘I don’t know much about football.’ He admitted. 

‘Here’s the secret, nobody does. You just have to sound like you know what you’re talking about. Even if you’re wrong, if you speak with conviction, then people will believe what you’re saying.’

Daniel took a long swig of his lager and studied the match on the big screen.

Over the next few weeks Daniel saw a lot of Ronnie and the gang. There was big Saturday nights out in swanky city centre bars, midweek meals in Indian restaurants, quiz nights in packed pubs. He even joined them for Sunday mornings on the golf course. He would borrow a set of Ronnie’s old clubs. The group really warmed to him and treat him like a mascot, a younger sibling. 

One evening, in a city bar, as Danny was washing his hands in the gents’ restrooms, Ronnie poked his head around the door. 

‘Me and the lads have been talking. We have to do something about your hair.’

‘You think I need a haircut?’ Danny asked, looking at his mop of hair in the mirror.

‘It’s not the cut, it’s what you do with it, mate.’

Ronnie reached into his jacket and produced a tube of hair gel. Like a father teaching his teenage son before his first date, Ronnie showed Danny how to style his hair. Danny did as instructed, slicking his hair back, just-so. 

He gasped when he saw his reflection. He looked so different, much older, more mature. Danny’s studenty, mop of unruly curls was no longer hanging over his eyes, but slicked back like a 1950s crooner.  

‘Perfect, mate.’ Ronnie nodded in approval. ‘Just perfect.’

When they rejoined the group, the lads cheered, saying he looked like Al Pacino in the Godfather Part Two.  

‘We just need to sort your wardrobe out, Danny Boy.’

Danny looked down at his attire. 

‘What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?’

‘It may be your favourite Beatles t-shirt, Danny, but it’s not really Saturday night out clobber, is it?’ 

The following weekend Ronnie took Daniel round a few of his favourite clothes shops. Daniel felt like he was being kitted out for a family wedding or something. With Ronnie’s help, he picked out Ben Sherman button-down shirts, smart trousers with turn-ups and slip on shoes. As they were heading back down the high street towards the car park, Ronnie reached into his coat pocket.

‘And my mate Tony has sorted you out with this.’ He handed Daniel a small box.

Daniel opened the box and gasped. The gold Rolex watch glinted in the afternoon sunlight. 

‘I can’t afford this, mate. These things are worth thousands.’

‘That there costs £150. A bargain, I’m sure you’ll agree.’

‘Yeah, definitely. I’ll transfer you the money.’ Daniel said. 

He slipped the heavy gold watch on his wrist and studied it admiringly, unsure if it was stolen or fake, or both. 

The next morning Danny woke. He showered and padded across the landing, towel knotted around his waist. He stared at his new clothes laid out on the bed. He sensed that today would be a special day, that things were changing for him. Things were looking up. He slipped into his new shirt and styled his hair with gel, just as Ronnie had shown him. 

When he was finished dressing, he checked himself out in the mirror. He looked good, like a better version of himself. For the first time in his life, he felt good about himself. He had new friends, a social life that didn’t revolve around the library late night opening, and a new wardrobe. 

Danny found his parents downstairs in the kitchen. He stood still, arms wide, like a bride trying on a dress for her family. His parents looked up from their mugs of tea, shocked expressions. 

‘Very dapper, son.’ His father said.

‘Look at you! You look so handsome, like a young Andy Williams.’ His mother enthused.

Danny nodded, unsure if Andy Williams was someone his mother used to work with or an old friend of hers.

That evening when he joined the lads in the pub, they applauded and cheered at the transformation. New and improved, Danny Boy. Ronnie said, nodding in approval. 

Danny felt the change deep inside. He felt like a different person. There was a confidence there that he hadn’t felt before. He was more sure of himself. The following week at work, during an important meeting, Danny interjected and made points. Where once he would sit quietly in work meetings, he now raised his hand and made suggestions. The management would nod in agreement, great idea.

A few weeks later, Danny was drinking in a busy city-centre bar with a few of his new friends. Ronnie entered the bar with the air of a movie star arriving at a film premier. He had a woman with him, his arm around her. The group greeted the couple.

‘Danny, this is my girlfriend, Lorraine.’ Ronnie said.

‘Hello, you. Ron has been telling me all about his young protégé. Lovely to meet you.’ Lorraine leaned in, kissing him on the cheek.

Ronnie and Lorraine seemed like a lovely couple. They had the grace, style and glamour of a footballer and his wife. Lorraine even laughed at Danny’s awful jokes. 

‘You should come out with this lot all the time, love. You’re hilarious.’ Lorraine said, placing a hand on his arm. 

A few nights later, Danny came back from the bar to find Ronnie dancing with a woman. Their hands were all over each other. Ronnie kissed the woman’s neck as she giggled. Danny was stunned. When they headed outside for a smoke, Danny pulled him to one side.

‘What about Lorraine?’

‘What about her? She’s my girlfriend, but who says I can’t have a bit of fun?’ Ronnie said.

‘Does Lorraine know about all that?’ Danny asked.

‘You need to chill-out, Danny.’ Ronnie said.

Danny was in a bar one evening waiting for the lads to meet him. He noticed a woman perched on a stool at the bar. She was alone and scrolling on her mobile phone, while sipping her glass of white wine. Until recently the only women Danny approached in pubs worked behind the bar, and the conversation never went beyond ordering a drink. Not today, he decided, and approached the woman.

‘Are your friends running late too? Why are we always the ones who turn up early?’ Danny asked. 

‘Exactly, that! My friend has just text to say she’s just getting in the shower. I’ve been here ten minutes already.’

‘Can I buy you a drink while we’re waiting? From one early bird to another.’ Danny said.

She nodded, my name is Carla. 

By the time their friends turned up twenty-five minutes later, Danny and Carla had swapped phone numbers and agreed to meet up for a meal at weekend, both promising to be punctual. Danny had a good feeling about things with Carla. 

True to her word, when Danny arrived at the Italian restaurant on the Saturday evening, Carla was already there waiting for him. 

‘What time do you call this?’ Carla asked, with a grin.

‘I’m ten minutes early.’ Danny insisted.

‘I’m only teasing.’ Carla said, pecking him on the cheek.

The conversation flowed so easily between them. Danny felt like he’d known her for ages, despite it being only their first date. They had a lot in common, she loved the same books as Danny. Not that Danny had much time for reading these days, with his busy social life with the lads. And he’d never have discussed books and literature with the boys. He’d have been mocked endlessly. They prided themselves on having not read a book since leaving high school. 

As the weeks went by, and the dates continued, Danny grew closer and closer to Carla. While he enjoyed spending time with the guys, the highlight of the past few months was meeting his new girlfriend. 

In a club one night, Ronnie came back from the bar with a round of drinks but also with two women in tow.

‘Come on, ladies, sit yourself down. Danny, this is Tina, and this is Lucy.’ Ronnie said, almost shouting to be heard above the music. 

While Lucy sat down next to Ronnie, Tina took the seat next to Danny, squeezing in close. As new as he was to the game of flirting, he knew when he was being flirted with. Ronnie and Lucy were sitting so close, she was almost in his lap.

When the women headed to the bathroom, Danny leaned across the table to his friend.

‘I’m not doing this, Ronnie. It’s not fair on Carla.’ Danny said.

‘Loosen up. You’re not married. It does you good to let your hair down.’

‘I’m not doing this.’ Danny said, getting to his feet.

‘Help me out, mate. If you leave now, they’ll both leave. I need you as my wing-man.’ 

‘I’ll have one more drink. Then you’re on your own.’ 

‘Good man.’ Ronnie grinned, downing the last of his beer.

When Tina and Lucy returned, Ronnie pointed at him.

‘Danny’s about to get the drinks in, girls.’ He said.

When he got back from the bar, Danny took large sips of his beer and tried to avoid the heavy flirting coming his way. Tina flicked her hair, and leaned closer and closer, pressing right against him, before finally draping her arm around him. Locked in her embrace, Danny took another gulp of beer. He would be leaving shortly, he told himself. Once he finished his drink, he would make his excuses and be heading for home.  

At that moment Danny spotted a familiar face across the dancefloor. Carla crossed the room with her friends. When she saw Danny, with Tina cuddling him, her face fell. Danny swore and wriggled out of Tina’s embrace. 

Ronnie turned to follow Danny’s gaze. When he saw the tears running down Carla’s face, he burst out laughing. This is classic, he chuckled.

Danny dashed across the room, following Carla as she stormed to the exit. Danny caught up with her on the steps leading down to the street.

‘Carla, it wasn’t what it looked like.’ Danny insisted. 

‘I thought you were different, that you were special. I didn’t think you were like the rest of them, but you’re just the same.’ Carla said, angry tears burning her cheeks.

‘I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.’ He said.

‘No,’ Carla said, ‘no, you won’t.’ 

There was such sad finality to her tone, Danny knew it was useless trying to talk her round. If he attempted to smooth things over right now, he would make things worse. He watched as she marched down the steps and away into the night. 

Danny headed back into the night club. He needed a strong drink. He slumped at the bar, sipping a double whiskey. The thumping music and the flashing lights was hypnotic. Ronnie was now on the dancefloor. He was dancing closely with Tina and Lucy, his hands caressing both of them. Danny looked at Ronnie, and around the club, taking in the scene as though seeing it for the first time. What had he been thinking? How could he have been so very wrong about everything? His new friends, in their designer clothes, false tans, and fake watches, they were no better than he was, than he had been. He hadn’t improved himself. He had sold out.

When Ronnie headed for more drinks, he spotted Danny drowning his sorrows at the bar.

‘Are you coming back to the girls?’ Ronnie asked. 

Danny simply shook his head. 

‘C’mon, man. I think we’re in there.’

‘Carla’s upset about seeing me with them.’ Danny explained. 

‘If she can’t handle you being you, then you should sack her off. Boys will be boys.’

‘I’ll tell Lorraine that next time I see her, shall I?’ Danny snapped.

Rage flickered in Ronnie’s eyes. He grabbed Danny by the shirt collar and dragged him along the bar. He slammed him hard against a pillar, his hands now tight around his throat.

‘Don’t you threaten me, son. You were nothing until you met me. I made you who you are, and that’s the thanks I get?’ Ronnie snarled, his face close to Danny’s, his grip tightening. 

As quickly as the assault started, Ronnie released his grip. He stared at Danny for a long moment, glaring, menacing, before sauntering back to the dancefloor. Reeling from the events of the evening, Danny headed for the exit. He staggered down the steps on unsteady legs. 

Back home, Danny tried ringing Carla. Each time he dialled her number, there was the harsh beeping of the busy tone. Finally, he sent her a text message, apologising again, and asking her to call him. He knew she wouldn’t be calling him back. He had blown it.

When he woke the next morning, his head hurt from last night’s drinks. The events of the previous evening came flooding back to him. Things had spiralled out of control so quickly. It crushed him to recall how upset Carla had been by his actions. He would never forgive himself for handling things so badly. He should have stood up and walked away the moment Ronnie paraded over with the two women. He should have excused himself, insisting he had a girlfriend. Instead, he had let Ronnie persuade him to stick around. 

Ronnie’s reaction last night still troubled him. As he and Carla were arguing, Ronnie had sneered, laughing at his friend’s distress. That was the way Ronnie and his friends seemed to handle life in general. They approached everything with a smirk and a sarcastic comment. Anything they found beneath them, they simply ignored. 

If one of the lads had a problem, suffered a misfortune, then rather than rally round and support them, the guys would at best ignore the person and their problem, casting them aside. Worse case they would snigger and mock, laughing behind their back, glad that they were not the one with the issue. And if you found that to be in bad taste, you’d be accused of being unable to take a joke. 

The nasty altercation with Ronnie stayed with him. He could almost feel the squeeze of Ronnie’s hands around his neck, and the threat in the glare. Danny had thought for a moment that Ronnie was going to do him a serious injury. While he had him by the throat, Danny had been afraid there was a pint glass coming his way. 

 He was unsure of if he’d see ever Carla again, but he knew one thing, he wouldn’t be hanging out with Ronnie again. That was over. 

Unsure of what his plans were for the day, he threw the duvet aside and dressed. He chose a nice shirt and smart trousers, before slicking his hair, and putting his designer watch on his wrist. He checked himself in the mirror, as he did every morning.

Something occurred to him, the man looking back in the mirror, that wasn’t him. He removed the expensive watch and the gold ring, tossing them carelessly on his bedside cabinet. He unbuttoned the expensive button-down shirt and shrugged into a faded t-shirt showing the Beatles crossing Abbey Road. 

He headed to the bathroom. He washed the gel from his hair, in hot soapy water. He splashed his face and sighed as the water dripped from his chin. His mop of unruly hair hung in his eyes once again. There he was. That was him, rather than the façade. 

That afternoon, as Daniel was reading in his bedroom, his mobile phone rang. He reached for his phone, hoping to see his girlfriend’s name on screen. It was Ronnie.

‘Hello?’ Daniel said.

‘Danny, that was a wild night. I ended up going home with those two. You should have stuck around.’ Ronnie laughed. 

Daniel was shocked at the change in tone. His friend was back to his cheery self, the argument last night either forgotten, or put down to a drunken disagreement. 

‘Looks like Carla and I are done.’ Daniel said.

‘Oh, she’ll come round, and if she doesn’t, there’s plenty more fish in the sea.’ 

‘I’m done too, mate.’

‘Done with what, exactly?’ Ronnie asked.

‘I’m done with you guys, done with the lot of it.’

‘Y’know your problem? You always over-think everything?’ Ronnie said. 

Danny’s mind went to the time he’d spent with the group over the past few months, not only the swanky bars and cocktails, the rounds of golf at exclusive country clubs, the lavish clothes, but the cruel jokes, the infidelity and arguments. The group seemed more bothered about appearance than anything else. One of the lads had recently lost his job. He’d had to cut back on his spending, stopping socialising and cancelling his golf club membership. 

And how had the group reacted to their friend falling on hard times? They had cut him off and moved on without him. Nobody called round for a catch-up and a cup of tea with the guy, nobody phoned to see how he was getting on, how the job search was going. He wasn’t even spoken of. If you couldn’t afford to play-out, then the lads weren’t interested. 

‘None of it means anything. It’s hollow, it’s empty. It’s as fake as that Rolex you sold me.’ Daniel said.

‘Steady on, mate. You want to watch how you’re talking.’ Ronnie said, the menace returning to his tone.

Daniel simply swore, telling his one-time friend where he could shove that Rolex watch.

In the weeks that followed, Daniel tried to put things into perspective. While he was crushed to have lost his girlfriend, he was back to his old self. He felt as though he had found himself again. Maybe dating Carla had been part of the whole whirlwind of hanging out with Ronnie and the others. He had lost Carla but found himself. 

One evening, Daniel stopped off for a pint in a nice little pub. He’d had a lovely afternoon going round the city’s book and record shops. He was at the bar getting another pint of bitter when he heard a familiar voice. 

He turned to see Carla with a couple of her friends. 

‘Hey, how’s things?’ Daniel asked. 

Carla left her friends to find a free table and came over.

‘Danny, I didn’t recognise you.’ Carla said.

‘Yep, this is me.’ He gestured to the pint of bitter and the paperback.

‘You look so different.’

‘Good or bad different?’ Daniel asked.

‘Just different.’ She said.

‘Sorry again about everything that happened. I wasn’t in a good place. That wasn’t me.’ 

Carla said nothing. 

‘Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?’ He asked, raising his pint glass.

‘No, sorry.’ 

‘Sure, I understand.’ 

‘Not tonight. I’m here with my friends, but we could been meet up tomorrow if you like.’

‘That’d be lovely.’ Daniel said. 

She pointed to the dog-eared paperback book he was reading.

‘I’ve read that book. The main character dies in a fire at the end.’ she said. 

‘Woah, spoiler alert!’ Daniel laughed in mock outrage. 

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Danny.’

‘It’s Daniel. My real friends and family call me Daniel.’

‘That’s better.’ She said with a smile. ‘See you tomorrow, Daniel.’

By Chris Platt

From: United Kingdom