by Danni Fall
Simon swears as he puts his foot down and works through the gears. The engine roars as he speeds up.
Mark sinks back into his seat with an approving noise. "Oh, that's lovely, that's much better than the fucking Bongo."
"A milk float would be better than the Bongo."
"Bet this is what it's like when girls sit on top of washing machines."
Simon darts a look at him. "What're you on about?"
"You know, when girls sit on washing machines? The vibrations get them off, it's like that."
"Are you getting hard in my new car?"
"In your nearly new car," Mark corrects. "Calm down, I'm enjoying myself but I'm not about to spunk everywhere."
"Fucking hell," Simon mutters, pointedly ignoring how his own cock stiffens.
"Besides, you've just spent, what? Ten K on a car?"
"Eight," he lies.
"You didn't spend that kinda money to buy a little runner that'll get you from A to B, did you?"
"No, but I wasn't planning on buying some massive dildo on wheels either."
"I don't see what the issue is. Girls'll like it, trust me," Mark leers.
"Are you saying the suspension's crap? Because I checked it with my dad, it's fine."
"Fucking hell fire Sharp, just take the pissing compliment on your cock on wheels."
"It's not a cock on wheels."
"I don't know why you're trying to argue it, it's getting you stiff 'n' all."
Simon takes one hand off the wheel and drapes it across his lap. "Why're you looking at my crotch?"
"So you admit it?"
"I'm admitting nothing. I'm never taking you for another drive if you keep saying this kinda shit."
"Calm it down, diva," Mark says. "I'm sorry, it's an average car that'll do nothing for no-one. It's practically a Nissan Micra."
"You're a twat."
They fall into silence with grudging smirks until Simon slows down and joins the traffic on the A13.
"Whereabouts in London were you thinking of filming?" Mark asks. "Buckingham Palace? Leicester Square? Madame Tussauds?"
"The Sex Den," Simon deadpans. Mark looks stunned. "I'm joking. I dunno, that's why I wanted to drive around, see if we see anywhere cool."
"As good a waste of petrol as any."
"How's it a waste? It's only a waste of petrol if I don't write a better song than you."
"There's a fine line between confidence and delusion, isn't there?"
"You should know," Simon mutters. "Where's Chris live?"
Mark visibly bristles. "How would I know?"
"I thought you were friends. You never been to his flat?"
"I've been once or twice. It's in Bermondsey, not cool enough for your music video."
Simon chews his lip briefly. "You know I'm not stupid, yeah?" He knows he's set Mark up perfectly so carries on in a rush. "I know you and Chris are like you and Alex were."
"We're not even slightly like me and Alex. Alex got on my tits, I actually like Chris."
"Why'd you lie about it?"
"Why d'you care?"
"We're supposed to be honest these days, remember? The contract says so."
"I assumed you wouldn't wanna hear the gory details."
"I don't," Simon says.
"It doesn't matter a toss then. It doesn't affect the music or the record deals or anything."
"I disagree."
"Alright, then where's your dick been?" Mark asks and Simon pulls a face. "What? Fair's fair. Where's it been? Anywhere nice? Keeping things clap free, I hope."
"If you're asking whether I'm dating anyone-"
"I'm not."
"-the answer's no. I'm not interested in dating."
"How come? Nice lad like you, girls'll be lining up to be your girlfriend," Mark says sarcastically.
"I'm twenty two, I don't need to be dating anyone. I've got plenty of time to date, I'm just having fun."
"How many girls you got up the duff?"
"None. I use condoms now, plus I do it up the arse."
Mark drags his hand down his face. "You're summat else."
"Thanks, I know."
"And that summat is a cunt."
"Are you being a dick because your song's sounding shit?" Simon asks.
"How's yours sounding?"
"I asked first."
"It's going swimmingly," Mark says. "Thanks for asking. And yours?"
"It's going great. It sounds brilliant."
They fall into an uncomfortable silence as they drive further into London. Simon thinks about turning on the radio but Mark seems on the verge of speaking.
"What?" Simon prompts.
"Are you free on Wednesday?"
"Why? What's happening Wednesday?"
"Are you seriously planning to drive around Soho? Just park up and we can walk."
"What if someone nicks or scratches my car?"
"Shoulda thought about that before buying an eight K car, shouldn't you? Park, it'll take forever, trying to drive around Soho."
"What's happening on Wednesday?" Simon insists.
"Park up by the Sex Den, there's usually space down there. Drive to the end of this street, then turn right."
"What's happening on Wednesday?"
"D'you need rebooting?" Mark scowls.
"Answer me then."
"If you're busy, it's fine."
"I don't know if I'm busy until you say what's happening."
"So whether you're busy depends on what I've got planned? Classy, that."
"Is it some late birthday thing?" Simon guesses.
"Yeah. Dinner in Soho."
"I thought you weren't bothered doing anything for your birthday."
"I changed my mind," Mark says.
"You want us to get dinner in Soho? You and me?"
They climb out and Simon laboriously locks up, checking the doors repeatedly before walking away.
"Of course not dinner with you, y'daft twat. Dinner with everyone," Mark says. Simon laughs quietly. "What's funny about that?"
"The idea of you, sitting down to dinner, paying for dinner."
"Got a weird sense of humour, haven't you?"
"This is Chris's idea, isn't it?" Mark doesn't answer but Simon knows he's right. "You gonna wear a suit? Have a shower?"
"Keep this up and I'll have you in that music video wearing a frilly little dress."
"That'd be a threat if your song stood a chance of beating mine."
They both walk a little stiffly as they wander around Soho's endless alleyways.
"I'm still waiting for an answer," Mark says. "Do you want to spend an evening with me, all clean and nicely dressed, plus the Oes, Chris and his fabulous mates?"
Simon can't think of a worse way to spend time but Mark's attempts to put him off make him want to be contrary.
"I'll be there with bells on," he says.
"You fucker."
"It'll be nice. Gimme a chance to talk to our artist, yeah? Bet you've told him loads about me."
"Don't think I've mentioned you, actually," Mark sneers.
"When you lie, your face seizes up. It's a dead giveaway."
Mark steps closer to him and Simon balls his hands to keep himself from taking a step backwards.
"Don't push it, Simon," Mark murmurs. "Stay in your lane, with your nice cars and your pretty girls, yeah?"
"You want a lift back or are you gonna hang out in the Sex Den? Bet it's getting dusty now you're spending all your time in Bermondsey."
"I'll make my own way back to HQ, cheers," Mark says with an angry smile. "I might explode with happiness if I spend any more time with you."
"Toodle loo then," Simon grins as he swaggers away. "Text me the time and place for dinner, yeah? Can't wait."
Chapter 5
Mark
The rest of Deff are still hiding in the toilets by the time Mark finishes his latest bottle of red wine. He pretends to read the dessert menu while checking his phone. No new messages. Chris's frie
nds keep watching him expectantly so he offers them a plastered smile.
"Sorry, bit parched," he slurs. "What were we talking about? Holidays? Pets? Party drugs?"
"I asked if you were from Manchester like Chris," Andy says. "And all you said was no."
"Well, there's your answer."
"You weren't planning to elaborate?"
"You're talking to the guitarist of a famous band and that's what you want to know?"
"Is it top secret information?"
"I'm from t'North," Mark offers. "No secret, just far from the most interesting thing about me and my chart topping band."
"Chart topping?" Paul says dubiously. "Your single reached number one?"
"Not quite."
"What number did it get to?" Andy asks.
"Ninety," Mark says, grabbing Simon's abandoned glass. "We were just warming up. The next one'll do way better, watch this space."
"Did you play it at Comptons, this next single?" Andy asks.
"No, it's brand new."
"Give us a preview then."
"Can't, it's top secret. We're releasing it in a couple weeks, you'll be sick to death of hearing it, soon enough."
"Can hardly wait," Andy says drily.
Mark looks at his phone, sees no new messages and tries coaxing more wine out of Simon's empty glass.
"Are your friends coming back or are they dodging the bill?" Other Mark asks.
Chris pulls a face. "Mark."
"I'm asking so I know how much I'm paying."
"Maybe they've got IBS," Andy says.
"We did order a lot of wine," Paul points out.
"Maybe, but Mike's drunk it all, haven't you Mike?"
Mark gives Andy a dead-eyed smile.
"They have been a while," Chris says in Mark's ear. "Perhaps check they're alright?"
"They won't have done a runner," Mark says, half-confidently. "They're making room for dessert."
Chris flicks his friends a look but they keep talking amongst themselves. "They don't mean anything by what they say, they're just joking."
Mark expects Zoe to sense Chris's piss poor excuse and storm in to scold him.
"I'll go check on them," he says. "Don't wanna keep you lot from your disco dancing, now do we?"
Chris's friends give him a mystified look.
"Don't fall in as well, Mike," Paul says.
"I'll do my best. Send a search party if I'm not back in ten."
He squeezes past tables to the far door. The corridor beyond is empty but there's muttering inside one toilet that stops when he approaches.
"It's me," he says. "Y'decent?"
The toilet door opens and Zoe looks out with a scowl.
"Finished yet?" she asks.
"Not quite, waiting for my tirameewhatsit," he says.
"How are you upright after all that wine?"
"Years of practice." He peers inside and sees Joe perched on the toilet seat. "Where's Laddo? In the cistern?"
"He went outside," Zoe says, jabbing at the back door.
"Wish he'd tripped the fire alarm while he was at it," Mark says. He sticks his head outside but can't see Simon in the alleyway. "Not out there. He's not done a runner, has he?"
"God, I hope not," Zoe says. "Text him, he's meant to be giving me a lift home since Joe's staying out with uni friends."
Mark fires off a Where are you? to Simon.
in my car on soho square Simon rapidly replies.
What about dessert?
im fine. see u tomorow
"Is he conscious?" Zoe prompts.
"Yeah, he's waiting it out in his car, the little coward. Let's head back in, that lot think they've offended you."
"Slow on the uptake, aren't they?"
"You're honestly upset cause some bloke you don't know said vaginas smell of fish and he's glad you're willing to eat pussy so he don't have to? You wishing you were both straight so you could shag such an eligible bachelor?"
"I don't care about that," Zoe says. "The other Mark kept cracking jokes about Joe's weight."
"We joke about Joe's weight," Mark says. "Joe jokes about Joe's weight."
"Yes, but we're friends," Zoe snaps. "It's different."
"Fucking hell, warn me next time you call us that." Mark looks at Joe. "So you're offended on Welly's behalf about vaginas, are you?"
"I'm not a violent man," Joe says quietly.
Mark blows out his breath. "Fair dues. Look, our best bet is going out there and eating our desserts as fast as we can. This is the home stretch. We can make it, we're not lily-livered like Sharp."
"We'll go back out on the understanding that we're never doing this again," Zoe says.
"Maybe we could if future meals are limited to two courses," Joe concedes.
"Deal," Mark says. "Next year we'll do paintballing and you can shoot them all in the bollocks, sound good?"
The Oes mull it over.
"Come on, don't leave me out there with those puffs." They give him a warning look. "Those people. Our tirameewhatsits will be getting cold."
"Getting warm," Joe corrects.
"Don't make me beg, you know I enjoy that."
"Fine," Zoe says, the word barely making it through her grit teeth.
Mark beams. "I owe you both."
"For this and many other things," Joe murmurs as they walk back into the restaurant.
"Two out of three isn't bad," Andy jokes as they retake their seats. "Where's the pretty one?"
"I'm right here," Mark says, giving his pillowy dessert a prod with his spoon.
"I meant your singer."
"He's re-parking his car," Mark invents. "His ticket was about to run out. He said to say goodbye and feel free to eat his dessert."
Joe takes Simon's ice cream with a subtly daring look at the other Mark.
"Don't you like it?" Paul asks when Mark grimaces around his mouthful.
"S'a bit weird. Very boozy."
"But you've had tiramisu before."
"Nope. Uncultured, me."
"They make it strong here," Chris says.
"You're not kidding. Light a match and this'd go up in flames."
"We can swap if you'd like."
Mark eyes Chris's equally mysterious dessert of solid looking custard. "I'll stick with mine, thanks."
"I thought you'd like it being boozy, Mike," Andy says. "After all the red wine."
"Thanks again for agreeing to pay for me and Chris," Mark smiles. "Very generous birthday pressie."
"I thought Simon also agreed to chip in?" Paul mutters. "Did he leave cash before he took off?"
"I'll pay Simon's part," Zoe says. "Let's just get the bill, shall we?"
While everyone signals for a waiter, Chris turns to Mark. "Did Simon say he'd found a parking space?"
Mark checks his phone. "He's not said owt. I'm sure he's fine. He can always keep circling till Welly's ready to head back."
"Whereabouts is he? Soho Square?" Mark nods reluctantly. "I'll go check he's found somewhere, I know a few places he could try."
"You're not running off as well, are you?" Mark asks.
"I'll be back in a few. Don't go back to mine without saying goodbye." Chris gets up with a wave at his friends. "I'll meet you at The Village, alright?"
"Are you lot coming out?" Andy asks Deff.
"I can't," Zoe says, mock sadly. "I've got to go and stick my face in some putrid smelling genitals that look like a car crash."
"I was joking," Andy smirks. "You're very welcome to join us, though I warn you, most of the girls are fag hags, so unless you're planning to turn them..."
"I'm joking too. It was so funny, I thought I'd bring it up again," Zoe says snidely. "I'll give it a miss, fellas, straight girls are exhausting."
"You all are," Andy mutters. Paul and Other Mark laugh softly while Mark polishes off the rest of the wine on the table.
"How about you, Mike?" Andy asks. "Up for a night out? It's so rare we get to see Chris nowadays, he's always holed up wit
h you."
Mark presses his mouth shut to keep from losing his dessert. When he can trust himself, he shakes his head. "Sorry, need to get back to Bermondsey. Busy, busy."
"Be sure to drink plenty of water or you'll have a fun morning," Andy says as the bill finally arrives.
Everyone cranes to look at the total while Mark staggers to his feet and checks his phone again.
"I'm gonna step out for some air," he says, glancing at the Oes. "See you back at HQ. Ta for my tea everyone."
Zoe pauses her mental arithmetic to give him a dry smile. "You're very welcome, Michael. Can't wait for next year's paintball."
***
Simon
As soon as he's outside, Simon's shoulders slump. He finds the Audi where he left it and considers simply driving off. With a scowl, he remembers his promise to Zoe and settles for sitting in the driver's seat while he smokes with the window wound down. Knuckles rap on the frame.
"Can I borrow your lighter, Simon?"
He starts despite himself. Chris leans down to give him an apologetic smirk and gestures to the lighter in Simon's lap. He gets out and hands it over, eyes trained on the buildings opposite.
"Thanks." Chris passes it back. "They're just getting the bill."
Simon nods his acknowledgement.
"I think they're arguing about how to split it. We hit the wine harder than expected."
Simon stifles a laugh with more drags on his cigarette. Chris watches him but says nothing.
"Maybe I should have tried booking a Supremes tribute act," Chris says after a while. "This didn't go well."
Simon studies the Audi and wonders when Ryan will be free to go to the beach for a laugh and a spliff.
"Or maybe I should have bought Dead Fetus tickets," Chris muses.
Simon taps ash from his cigarette rather than correct him but Chris still watches him pointedly.
"What?" Simon asks.
"Thought you were going to say something."
"No."
"Oh."
They keep smoking, Simon increasingly aware of Chris's silent presence.
"It's Dying Fetus," Simon says.
Chris smiles drily. "Are you both fans?"
"No, I've just read his t-shirt."
"I better learn to read."
Simon bristles at the sarcasm but keeps watching the street.
"You alright?" Chris prompts.
"I've had a shit night," Simon says bluntly.
"Doubt anyone's enjoyed it."
