When Love Comes to Town (7 page)

“How’s it going?”

“Hi.”

God, what a fairy voice. Go on, say something else, you started the conversation.

“Good crowd here, isn’t there?”

“Wait’ll you see it at ten o’clock.”

“Get packed, does it?”

“Yeah.”

Smile and walk on. He’s not interested in you. Anyway, imagine walking down the street with him. Spare me. Where to now? Around the corner. Stop smiling, you don’t want to attract undue attention. There’s a ledge. Put the pint down and light up. Dying for a smoke. What now? Oh fuck, why didn’t you just stay in Hollies? This is awful. Can’t even smoke, hands shaking so much. Armpits are a mess as well. River of sweat. Oh no, need to take a leak. No way, not here. Oh Jesus, make a deal. Promise you’ll start going to Mass again if you can just disappear. You’ll even help with the collections.

“Haven’t seen you here before.”

Fuck, he’s talking to you.

“Jack’s the name.”

Just smile and shake his hand.

“So, don’t you have a name?”

“What? Oh yeah, I do, it’s…eh, Gary.”

Nice one, Neil, nice one.

“It’s all right, Gary, relax. I’m not going to bite your head off.”

Return his friendly smile. This is a laugh, he’s the same age as the old fellow and he’s chatting you up. Now you know how Jackie felt that night in Leeson Street.

“First night here, is it?”

“Yeah.”

Shit, what d’you admit that for? Dickhead.

“I could tell…Suppose you have to start sometime.”

“Suppose.”

“You can blame it on the full moon.”

Just smile at him. Always humor a weirdo, that’s what they told you at school.

“What’s that?”

What the fuck’s he pointing at?

“Your drink?”

“Oh, eh, a Budweiser.”

“Smithwicks and a Bud when you’re ready there, Gary.”

Hope he doesn’t expect one in return. What’s he doing now, tapping my shoulder?

“Forgot to ask you, will you have a pint?”

Just grin and let him think he’s hilarious.

“So what part of Dublin d’you come from?”

“Eh…out toward Bray.”

“Thought so, you can tell by your accent.”

Oh, can you now, Mister Accent Expert? Suppose you’re waiting for me to ask you where you come from? Well, you can wait, pal.

“I’m from Clontarf myself.”

Oh, are you now? How interesting. Jesus, what am I doing here? Mum, I want you now. I want to be ten years old again, sitting at home watching television with you and Dad.

“Relax, Gary, it’s not as bad as it seems.”

Easy for you to say, you probably live in the fucking place. Oh Jesus, I’ve never felt so weird. Let me die now, it’ll be better for all concerned. Think of the coroner’s report. He died in a gay bar. Can you just imagine them all whispering at your funeral. Gary’s mum, Mrs. Meehan, Mrs. Burke, every tongue in the neighborhood, waiting outside the church. “Did you hear where it happened?” “Oooh, I did, isn’t it awful.” “Desperate.” Heads wagging in feigned concern. “His poor mother, she’ll never recover.” “He was always a bit strange though. Hmm, there was something peculiar about him, you know, you could tell
…
” Another flurry of concerned nods. “I always had my doubts
…
And he was with an older man, I believe. Old as his poor father, I heard. Terrible, isn’t it? Desperate. What’s the world coming to!” Sighs all around. “Ssssh, here’s the family. Adjust the faces. Forlorn looks now. Sorry for your trouble, Catherine. He was a lovely fellow, your Neil, one of the best. An absolute credit to you. It’s God’s way, Catherine.”

“It’s not God’s way,” you’d shout from the coffin, and all the neighborhood tongues would stiffen with fright. “It’s not God’s way that anyone should feel the way I do!”

“I never told my parents myself, but you youngsters these days are a different lot.”

What’s he talking about now? Just smile and pretend you’re listening to him.

“Things were different then, but attitudes have changed since, thank God.”

“Yeah, they have.” Neil nodded vacantly.

A new video came on and Neil smiled when he saw Bono and B.B. King appear on the numerous screens. If only they knew the type of pubs they were frequenting.

The gutsy vocals, ripping guitars, and pounding drums filled the pub, much to the delight of the three young dancers. It was obviously a pub favorite.

When love comes to town, I’m gonna jump that train

When love comes to town, I’m gonna catch that flame

The barman gave Neil a friendly wink as he left the two pints down on the counter. Sugar Daddy took his bulging wallet from his tweed jacket, peeled a tenner from a bundle of notes, and paid the barman.

Pathetic attempt to impress
, Neil thought as he thanked him. The guy in the tartan jeans was right, the pub was beginning to fill up. All arriving under cover of darkness. Neil told his elderly suitor that he was twenty and had just finished his second year of science at Trinity. Another two pints followed, and when Neil made a feeble attempt to pay, good old Sugar Daddy wouldn’t hear of it.

“I was a student myself once upon a time,” he said, patting Neil’s arm, signaling to him to put his money back in his pocket.

Just as well, Neil thought, he didn’t have enough to buy a round.

He was more relaxed now, he knew that Sugar Daddy was trying to get him drunk, and he was succeeding, but he didn’t feel threatened. The drink had lessened Sugar’s inhibitions, and every so often he would drape his arm around Neil’s shoulder, or touch his bare arm, and once when Neil said something witty, he leaned over, kissed his cheek, and told him he was great company.

The bristle of stubble reminded Neil of the bedtime kisses his dad used to give him as a kid. “Night now, Neiley Nook,” he would say, leaning across his bed and tucking him in. But what would his dad say if he saw him now? What would Gary and the others say? What would Mal and Tony say? Or Father Donno and the other priests in Rock? And Gary’s mum and the rest of the tongues on the road? There was such a thin line between respectability and disgrace, he reflected. But what the hell, he didn’t care now, he was enjoying himself, and Sugar Daddy wasn’t such a bad type.

The pub was definitely one of the most exciting and different places he had ever been in. It gave him a sense of freedom, a feeling that he could behave as he wanted to at last. Still, a part of him didn’t want to be there. What was he doing with this crowd of strangers? he asked himself. Bad and all as the rhyming couplets were, at least they were his friends. They were the people he had grown up with. Like it or not, they were his life. Maybe he should just get off with Yvonne Lawlor and forget about being gay. They could go to the movies together, he could bring her around to the house on Sunday afternoons, and then they could go to the beach with all the others. But not for the first time, his gaze was caught by one of the numerous photographs of scantily clad guys hanging on the pub walls, and he knew that Yvonne Lawlor would have to take a backseat for the time being.

When he looked around, Sugar Daddy was chatting to one of the many friends he had in the bar, all of whom had lingered in conversation long enough to get a good look at Neil.
This is how girls feel when guys ogle them
, Neil thought, meeting all the lecherous looks with his best glare of disdain. But his thoughts were interrupted when Sinead O’Connor came on the video screens, singing “Nothing Compares 2 U.”

“You obviously like this song, Gary,” Sugar Daddy said, smiling as Neil sang along quietly with the words.

Neil started to sing louder, much to Sugar Daddy’s amusement. When the song finished, he wished he had the nerve to put the video on again. But there was a crowd around the jukebox, and drunk as he was, he still felt shy in these new surroundings.

“Will you have one for the road?” Sugar Daddy asked, and Neil swayed, steadied himself, then shook his head, aware that his indifference was upsetting his admirer. It was stupid, he knew, but he felt guilty chatting to Sugar Daddy, as though he was being unfaithful to Ian. To lessen his guilt, he switched his glass into his left hand. He would be left-handed for the rest of the night, he decided and, like Jackie and Liam’s bangles, this would be the symbol of his unspoken love. If people knew, they would more than likely consider him a sad case, but they didn’t know the warmth he felt inside from this simple little gesture. He wondered what Ian would say if he knew.

The spell was broken at precisely half past eleven when glaring bright lights were switched on to clear the pub. The anonymity of the dim lights was shattered and people shielded their eyes as they fled for the door.

“D’you want to go clubbing?” Sugar Daddy asked.

Neil hesitated, then he shook his head, deciding that he had taken enough chances for one night. “Nah, I better head home…Listen, thanks a lot for the drinks and all that,” he said, slightly taken aback by the plethora of wrinkles that lined the older man’s face. The harsh light did him no favors.

Sugar Daddy waved his thanks away. “I’ll run you home, my wheels are just outside,” he said, jangling his car keys on his index finger.

“Ah no, you’re going to Clontarf. I’ll get a taxi,” Neil lied, conscious of the slight slur in his speech.

“It’s no problem.”

Neil thought quickly. “I’ll tell you what, could you drop me to my cousin’s house in Blackrock?”

“I’ll drop you home, Gary. It’ll be my pleasure, believe me.”

“No, I’m a bit too buzzed to go home, I better stay with my cousin.”

Sugar Daddy laughed. “Whatever you like.”

True to form, Sugar Daddy drove a brand new BMW, and his tape rack was full of classical tapes, just like Neil’s dad’s collection. Despite strong temptation, Neil turned down the offer of a cup of coffee in Clontarf. But all the way home he kept thinking of the lure of that comfy little bachelor pad. Sugar obviously wasn’t a psycho, and he certainly wasn’t going to make unwanted demands. As the powerful car purred its way through the city, Neil had to struggle on several occasions to restrain himself from grabbing Sugar Daddy’s arm and telling him to go to Clontarf. Repulsive, maybe, but sex was sex. What harm was there in lying back on the bed, closing his eyes, and enjoying a slow, sensuous massage, all the time imagining that it was Ian’s fingers touching him. Sugar was silent, pretending to concentrate on the road in front of him, but Neil knew that he was just waiting for the horny command to do a U-turn.

However, Becky’s words of warning were still ringing in his ears. “Whatever you do, Neil, for God’s sake be careful. Promise me that,” she had pleaded, looking deep into his eyes. And nice and all as Uncle Sugar was, he was certainly no novice. Twice around the block at least, Neil guessed, sneaking a quick look at the aging profile. Sparse graying hair, sagging chin and jowls, leathery complexion, shiny black hairs sprouting from the bulbous nostrils, a little tuft of chest hair peeping out over the collar of his casual shirt, thin spindly legs lost inside his trendy, baggy trousers. Neil couldn’t help smiling to himself; for all the talks about AIDS at school, situations like this were never mentioned. After all what would a nice little Rock boy be doing with a man as old as his dad?

It dawned on him how much power he had over this middle-aged man; the poor fellow would have done anything for him. Ever willing to please, he wore his heart on his sleeve, awaiting the slightest whim from his new obsession. And Neil knew that he, of all people, should have been more sympathetic, but he also knew that any displays of sympathy were bound to be misconstrued by his lovelorn suitor. Instead he played the role he was well used to. The innocent that he had played so often with so many would-be girlfriends over the years. The trick was never to let the conversation stray from the banal, keep cracking silly jokes, and never ever show even the slightest flicker of understanding as to what was really going on. It was flirtatious and cruel, he knew, but what else could he do?

“Here’s my number anyway.” Sugar did his best to sound casual as he handed Neil his business card. “If you ever feel like having a chat or anything.” They were parked on the quietest part of Cross Avenue, half a mile from Neil’s house.

Neil noticed that the poor fellow’s hands were trembling. “Yeah, definitely, I’ll give you a shout,” he tried to sound enthusiastic as he slipped the card into the pocket of his jacket.

“Which house is your cousin’s?”

“Ehh, it’s just over there.” Neil pointed vaguely toward a cluster of new houses.

“Lovely place to live.”

“Yeah…” Neil clicked the doorlock open. “I suppose I better go in before they all go to bed.”

“D’you want me to wait till you check?” Sugar’s eyes flickered with faint hope.

“No, no, it’s all right. They’re still up, the light’s on.” Neil hoped that his voice didn’t sound too panicky. “Thanks again for—” Neil flinched when he saw the older man leaning across to kiss his cheek. “Jesus, not here,” he said in an urgent whisper. Alarm bells clanged in Neil’s head. Sugar was looking deep into his eyes.

“You’re beautiful, Gary, d’you know that?” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation.

Neil grimaced. He had seen this coming.

“I mean that…and I really enjoyed meeting you,” Sugar added, his voice now pained with the hopelessness of the heartbroken.

Neil met his stare and thought that he could be honest with this guy. This wasn’t Yvonne or one of the girls in Hollies; this was a guy who knew about him. But what could he say? Sorry, I like you and all that, but unfortunately you remind me of my old man. There was no easy way, he decided; he had to keep up the innocent act.

“I enjoyed meeting you too.”

“Do call me.”

“I will,” Neil promised, climbing out of the car.

“I’ve got some good videos you might be interested in seeing.”

Neil grinned and gave one last Yvonne-style, wriggly finger wave before he closed the door. He stood on the pavement and waited for Sugar to drive off before he crossed the road and started his trek home.