Ride On

by Stephen J. Martin

  Jimmy gazed at Susan’s melting eyes and that perfect smile. He felt a small thump in his stomach.

  Aesop blew a quiet whistle at the blonde chick coming out of the sea in the background, off to the side. He hadn’t noticed her before.

  And Norman stared at the picture of Amanda, frowning and biting at his thumbnail. He wanted to remember that face.

  *

  After dinner, the lads headed to Kavanaghs. Helen had called and said there was an open mike session and it’d be a good laugh. Jimmy wasn’t sure it was a brilliant idea. For starters, what were the chances that he’d be able to just sit there and enjoy his pint? Fuck all probably. He’d be cajoled onto the stage at some point in the evening. And anyway, he wasn’t really in the mood for the pub. At the end of the phone call earlier to Susan, he’d spent five minutes just shushing her and telling her it’d be okay – whatever that meant – and then she said she had to go. He could see her sniffling back to her desk, eyes and nose red, make-up running down her face and every fucker looking at her. Well, okay, she’d probably go to the jacks first to sort herself out, but still. He was after doing that to her. He – Mr fucking Nice Guy Jimmy – had rung off and left a girl he was crazy about to sort out her own shit without saying anything to make it right, or even knowing what right was.

  ‘Jesus, it’s jammers,’ said Aesop, looking around the pub when they pushed open the door.

  ‘They must like their sessions down here,’ said Jimmy.

  Helen and Jessie were sitting at a table with a few other girls and Jessie waved over, gesturing to a few spare seats.

  The lads waved back and Norman and Aesop made their way over to the girls, as Jimmy prepared to push his way to the bar to get a round in.

  ‘Anyway, you’re some cunt,’ said Aesop.

  ‘It was only a curry, Aesop,’ said Norman.

  ‘I’m afraid to fart.’

  ‘You didn’t have to eat it.’

  ‘I did!’

  ‘Well then you’re a gobshite.’

  ‘Fuck sake, I had to put a roll of toilet paper in the fridge for later …’

  As their conversation faded out, Jimmy found that he didn’t actually have to do much pushing to get to the bar. The crowd parted before him like he was carrying a staff and wearing a long flowing cloak. By the time he actually pulled up in front of the taps he was puce. Everyone was staring at him and the pub was nearly silent. Bollocks anyway.

  The barman grinned at him.

  ‘Now, yes please,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll have, eh, three pints of Murphys and …’

  He looked over to the table. Aesop was standing and holding up the various drinks and giving him the count with his fingers.

  ‘ … eh, one white wine … eh … is that Becks? … eh …’

  ‘Is it for the girls?’

  ‘Yeah. Just over there.’

  ‘No problem. I know the round.’

  ‘Good man. Thanks.’

  Jimmy started poking around in his pocket for his wallet and got a tap on the shoulder. He turned around.

  ‘You’re Jimmy Collins.’

  The guy was about twenty and looked like he’d been in the pub since lunchtime.

  ‘Yeah. Howsit goin’?’

  ‘Grand. You look like yourself, so you do.’

  ‘Do I? Yeah …’

  ‘I play the guitar as well.’

  ‘Oh right.’

  The guy just grinned at him, swaying a little bit, what looked like a JD and Coke making small circles in the air in front of Jimmy.

  ‘And … eh … what kind of music do you play?’ said Jimmy. He hated these ones the worst. Someone makes a point of coming up to talk to you and then has fuck all to say.

  ‘Ah … y’know.’

  ‘Right, yeah. Nice pub, isn’t it?’

  ‘That black girl in the video …’

  ‘The Strut video?’

  ‘Where’s she from?’

  ‘Eh, Longford I think.’

  ‘Yeah? Fuck off! What’s her name?’

  The bloke wasn’t making any great effort to keep his spittle in his mouth and Jimmy was trying to lean back without knocking the setting pints off the counter behind him.

  ‘I can’t remember. We weren’t really talking.’

  ‘She was all over you, sure!’

  ‘Ah, they were just dancers.’

  ‘Lucky bastard.’

  The smile on Jimmy’s dial was under pressure. He did remember her name. It was Shamari and she danced when she wasn’t studying at the Royal College of Surgeons. She was from Somalia. But this muppet didn’t need to know any of that.

  Another salvo of silvery flecks were launched at him from the USS Arsehole. Christ. Where was the bloody barman with the rest of the drinks?

  ‘I’d say you rode the arse off her, boy, didn’t you?’

  He started cackling now, like he was after coming out with a classic. Jimmy smiled as best he could.

  ‘Sorry pal, I just need to get these drinks. I’ll seeya later.’

  He started to turn around.

  ‘You will indeed. Up there,’ said the other bloke, pointing back at the stage. ‘Sure we’ll be seeing you as well, won’t we?’

  ‘Well, I’m only really out for a pint with me mates, so …’

  He followed the guy’s thumb and stopped talking. There was a big sign on the wall behind the piano.

  Tuesday Night

  Open Mike Night!

  9pm - Late

  Featuring Special Guest Performance by …

  !! The Grove !!

  ‘Oh bollocks,’ said Jimmy, quietly. How the fuck had that happened?

  His new pal was gone now, knocking elbows and apologising his way back to his mates. Jimmy paid the barman and picked up the tray of drinks. The throng parted for him again and then he was sitting down and Aesop was introducing him to all the girls at the table.

  ‘Aesop?’ he said, leaning in, once he had his pint in his hand.

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Did you see that sign up on the stage?’

  ‘What sign?

  ‘The one that says we’re doing a gig tonight in here.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That’s what it says.’

  Aesop half stood up and looked up at the stage.

  ‘But there’s no drums. We need drums.’

  ‘We need a fucking bass player too, Aesop, remember?’

  ‘Well why did you say we’d play?’

  ‘I didn’t say anything! I don’t know where …’

  ‘Guys …’

  It was Helen. She was sitting opposite Aesop and leaned forward.

  ‘Listen, I’m really sorry. I think I know what happened. I said to Mam that you’d be here tonight and … well, she must have gotten straight on the phone. Packie Kavanagh owns this place and Nuala his wife is in the choir with Mam.’

  ‘Is the pub usually like this for the Open Mike?’ said Jimmy, looking around.

  Helen gave a little grimace.

  ‘Sorry. No. This is like a Saturday night, sure.’

  ‘So they’re here to see us?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Lads, I’m sorry. Really. I can go up and talk to Packie if you like?’

  ‘Nah. It’s all right.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’ll talk to him. Which one is he?’

  ‘The red tie.’

  ‘Okay.’

  He took a big pull on his pint.

  ‘Back in a minute.’

  Aesop watched Jimmy go up to the bar. Jessie was between him and Norman, so the coast was relatively clear. He turned to Helen.

  ‘So are you singing tonight Helen?’

  ‘Ah yeah. One or two, maybe.’

  ‘You were really … great the other night.’

  ‘Would you stop.’

  ‘Really, Helen. I don’t usually go for trad sessions and all, but you were brilliant. And you looked deadly up there too. But I told you all that alread
y, didn’t I? You were made for the stage, I’m telling you.’

  ‘God. What’s all this? You must be trying to seduce me now, are you?’

  ‘Me? Jesus, no. What gave you that idea?’

  She laughed.

  ‘Aesop, do you not read the stuff they write about you in the papers?’

  ‘Eh, well, some of it I do. I don’t go looking for stuff though. Why? What are they saying?’

  ‘Let’s just say you have a bit of a reputation.’

  ‘Right. A sterling one, like? Fine upstanding young gentleman? That kind of reputation?’

  ‘Depends on your point of view. And everyone around here now has got one. Since the two of you arrived, it’s all anyone’s talking about.’

  ‘What about your point of view? How’s my reputation there?’

  She gave a little shrug.

  ‘Well … I like to make up my own mind about things.’

  ‘And, so what do you … eh …’

  She laughed and put a hand on his knee. Christ she was fucking smashing. He wanted to gobble her up.

  ‘Someone’s getting the evil eye,’ she whispered. ‘Look.’

  Aesop turned around. Norman was leaning over so he could see past Jessie.

  ‘All right there Aesop?’

  ‘Couldn’t be better, man. How’s trix with you?’

  ‘Grand, grand. Are you going up to the bar?’

  ‘Jimmy’s up there.’

  ‘I think he needs a hand.’

  ‘He’s grand.’

  ‘He’s not.’

  ‘He is, look.’

  ‘I think I heard him calling you.’

  ‘Ah … all right, all right. Fuck sake …’

  ‘Hey Aesop,’ said Helen, when he stood up, pulling at his jeans.

  He sat down again.

  ‘Tell me something. While we’re on the subject of your escapades. Did you really spend a whole weekend in bed with two of the dancers in that video?’

  Aesop swallowed. He wasn’t expecting that. Technically, he could say no without lying. Obviously, they’d had to get out of the bed to eat and use the bathroom and all. Grand. He’d just say no.

  ‘Eh …’

  She gave him a good slap on the wrist.

  ‘I’m a schoolteacher Aesop. Don’t lie to me now.’

  ‘Eh … Christ, Helen … I mean …’

  ‘Yeah? I’m waiting …’

  ‘Well, y’see, sometimes in the papers … they …’

  She laughed.

  ‘That’s okay Aesop. Off you go and help Jimmy. I was just seeing if I could make a rockstar go red.’

  He put a hand to his face.

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘Maybe a little bit pink, just.’

  ‘Ah, that’s just the curry Norman made earlier. Me tongue was like a balloon after it.’

  At the bar Jimmy was waiting for drinks.

  ‘How’s it going?’ he said to Aesop.

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Ah, I’ve been talking to Helen … well, I mean I’ve been trying to talk to her. I swear Jimmy, I don’t know what’s going on. I’m like a fuckin’ eejit. I sound like Norman trying to get laid.’

  ‘She’s not falling for your lines, is she?’

  ‘What lines? Jimmy, it’s not like talking to a bird at all with her. It’s like talking to a real person or something, y’know? I couldn’t even tell her a lie a minute ago about the marathon I ran with that “Strut” pair. Christ, normally at this stage I’d be getting the keys to the car off you.’

  ‘Maybe you’re losing your touch.’

  ‘It’s not fuckin’ funny, man. It’s like she’s actually not that bothered about me riding her. Last week she’s singing me dirty songs in Irish and now she’s over there playing hard to get, or some fucking thing … ah … I don’t know what the fuck …’

  ‘Dirty songs in Irish?’

  ‘Yeah. Real carpet-muncher stuff, y’know?’

  ‘Carpet-mun … in Irish? But … oh, fuckin’ whatever. Aesop, I thought you liked this girl.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Do you just want to shag her?’

  ‘Well … I don’t not want to shag her.’

  ‘Yeah, I can see how all this is new for you. Why don’t you try this, okay? Talk to her. Have a laugh. Get to know her. See what happens.’

  ‘Sounds complicated. That’s all that bollocks you do go on with.’

  ‘Me and the rest of the humans, yeah.’

  ‘It’s kind of a load of me arse, though, isn’t it? I don’t think …’

  ‘So you’re right and the other six billion of us are wrong.’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time, Jimmy.’

  ‘Yeah, well why don’t you give it a go? Anyway, your biggest complication isn’t in your head. It’s sitting next to Jessie with fists like breeze blocks.’

  ‘Don’t remind me. He’s like a wart on me arse. Every time I turn around he’s there.’

  ‘He’s meant to be there. He’s your bodyguard, Aesop.’

  ‘Yeah, but it’s not my body he’s worried about, is it? Jesus, just talking to her is like trying to cheat in the Leaving without getting caught. And I’m telling you, his curry isn’t helping the situation either. I’m trying to be cool and charming and all, but I’m sitting there with a hole on me like a stab wound.’

  The round of drinks arrived and Aesop reached into his pocket.

  ‘It’s grand Aesop.’

  ‘You got the last one Jimmy.’

  ‘These are on the house. I had a chat with Packie. He’s all apologies. Says his missus must have gotten it wrong. Me bollix. Anyway, the gargle’s free.’

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘Yeah, but we have to stay sober now.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because all these people are here to see us. If we’re going to get up there, we can’t be shite. We’ve an album coming out, y’know?’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Aesop, we’re professional musicians. We don’t go to work pissed. And we’re working tonight.’

  ‘But it’s only an amateur night. It’s not like …’

  ‘Listen man, there’s no such thing as an amateur night for us any more. I told him we’d do five acoustic songs and I want to make sure we sound good. I’m worried about the sound system as well. I’ve no idea what the mikes are like or anything. So the last thing we need is the two of us wobbling up there shitfaced on top of things, okay?’

  ‘Yeah. All right.’

  ‘Five or six pints and that’s it. Right?’

  ‘Okay okay.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Aesop looked at him.

  ‘Have you got the shits now because we’re playing?’ he said.

  ‘What? No. Well, a little bit I s’pose. And I was talking to Susan earlier after Dónal told me about London.’

  ‘Oh. Right. How did it go?’

  ‘Not great. There was a thing in one of the English newspapers about us and she was all upset.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Ah, it doesn’t matter. Anyway, I don’t think I’ll be seeing her in London this weekend.’

  ‘So she doesn’t love you any more?’

  Jimmy grabbed half the drinks and turned away from the bar.

  ‘Something like that.’

  *

  Two hours later the pub was even more wedged. A dozen or so people had already been up there, either accompanied by a few core players or doing the job themselves on the guitar. Most of them were doing classic covers rather than trad, but a few ballads came out as well. The lads that made up the ‘band’ were brilliant, swapping instruments around and lashing out a few tunes or songs if the next punter needed an extra pint before getting up in front of everyone. The bloke on the uilleann pipes especially was incredible when he got into it. Jimmy was watching him closely. He’d never really paid attention before, but the pipes were one mad bastard of an instrument, the drones shifting under the
melody and sliding, bending notes being coaxed from the chanter. The guy was very impressive on the runs, but when he played a slow air, to the respectful hush, the pipes seemed to throw up layered, mournful voices that twisted around each other, hanging back or stepping forward as though waiting in turn to offer condolence. Hmm. Jimmy put down his pint. He’d probably had enough for the moment.

  ‘What?’ he said. Aesop had said something into his ear.

  ‘I want to sing,’ said Aesop. ‘And play.’

  ‘Here? Tonight?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Aesop, remember what I said about not being shite tonight?’

  ‘I won’t be shite.’

  ‘What do you want to sing? The only one you can do properly like that for a crowd is … oh no. Don’t tell me …’

  Aesop shrugged.

  ‘It’s worth a go.’

  ‘C’mon Aesop, she’s not fucking sixteen.’

  ‘But I’m out of ideas, man! She keeps saying stuff to me in that Cork accent. I’m going mad. Jimmy, it’s the magic song. We must have scored dozens of chicks singing it.’

  ‘When we were kids, yeah. Aesop, she’s a grown woman. She’s not stupid. And anyway, Norman will beat the piss into you before you get to the chorus.’

  ‘He won’t. In a pub full of people?’

  Jimmy sighed.

  ‘How many pints have you had?’

  ‘Four. And a half. I’m grand.’

  ‘Can you still play it?’

  ‘Yeah. Jesus, I’ll never forget that song. All that gee …’

  ‘Christ. Okay. But I’m singing seconds, right? And take it easy on the falsettos. Are you sure you don’t want me to play the guitar, Aesop?’

  ‘No man. I’m giving it the whole shebang.’

  ‘Well … for fuck sake, don’t try the run at the outro.’

  ‘I won’t. Thanks Jimmy.’

  ‘God … he’ll fucking kill me too, probably.’

  ‘He won’t. I’ll just say I sprung it on you on the sly when we got to the stage.’

  ‘Yeah. Christ, the sooner this poor girl tells you to fuck off with yourself the better. I think I prefered it when you were a trollop.’

  ‘I haven’t had a bounce in ages, Jimmy. I’m going spare. Fuck sake, I keep finding teethmarks on the headboard when I wake up and everything.’

  ‘But … Aesop, you either really like this girl or you just want to fuck her. Which is it?’

  ‘Both. What’s wrong with that?’