Page 3 of Tribute Act
“It’s not that long since you’ve been clubbing. We went to Rainbow City at New Year’s.”
“Yeah, with Carrie. But do you realise it’s been almost six years since I went to a club actually trying to meet someone? I don’t know how to do stuff like that anymore!” He shook his head at himself.
“It’s like riding a bike,” I said, as though I didn’t have exactly the same fears. “Besides, it’s got to beat another night in watching TV.”
Gav looked grim. “I suppose.”
I bumped his shoulder with mine. “That’s the spirit. You’re not going to meet someone if you never go out.”
He glanced at me, his expression disbelieving. “You’re one to talk.”
I sighed. “I know. It’s been a while. The last time I hooked up was that night out at Rainbow City, and that’s, what, eight months ago? God, I seriously need to fuck tonight.”
Gav screwed up his nose. “Ugh. It’s too weird hearing you talking about hooking up—you never used to do that.”
“I never had the chance,” I protested. “Five boyfriends over a decade with no time off for good behaviour. Then fuck all for nearly two years.” I kicked at a stone with my foot, sending it skittering into the gutter.
“Yeah.” Gav’s sigh was sympathetic. “It’s only been four months since Carrie moved out and I still feel like I’ve had an arm cut off. We were together for almost six years. I hardly stepped foot in a gay club in all that time, and even when I did, she was with me, so it wasn’t like I was looking. Well, I was looking—we both were obviously—but we weren’t flirting.” He glared at the pavement. “And now I don’t feel like I can do it anymore.”
“If you’re hinting that you’d prefer to go to a straight club, the answer is no way, my friend. I need to get some cock tonight.”
He laughed weakly. “No, don’t worry. It’s not as if I’d find a straight club any easier. I can’t remember how to flirt with guys or girls, Nath. I’m fucking bi-awkward.”
I stretched out a hand and ruffled his pale hair. “It’ll get easier,” I said gently. “You just need to make the effort to come out—force yourself to meet new people. Practice.”
“Aaand once again with the pot, kettle, black.” He grinned at me and I laughed.
“I know, I know.”
We turned the next corner, and there it was: Club Indigo. A couple of bouncers stood at the entrance, lording it over a thankfully modest queue. When they opened the door to let a few people in, a fat house beat leaked teasingly out.
Twenty minutes later, we finally got inside, paid a tenner to the cute twink at the desk, and headed for the bar.
“We need a drink,” I told Gav, grabbing his hand and towing him after me. We were bloody freezing by now, Gav having insisted we leave our jackets at the flat, but we’d soon warm up, given how mobbed the place was.
Snaking through the dense crowd, we reached the bar and promptly ordered two Coronas and two tequila slammers. We did the shots, drained the beers, then ordered another round, snagging a little table with a couple of high stools when two other guys vacated it.
The drinks soon did their work on us, though in different ways. It had been another long, tiring week for me and, although I had a little bit of a buzz going from the tequila, the last thing I felt like was dancing. This was the first time I’d relaxed in ages, and I just wanted to kick back for a while and let the music wash over me.
Gav, of course, wanted to dance. He’d loved clubbing before he’d settled into coupledom with Carrie, and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the mass of bodies writhing to the music. He tried to persuade me to join him, but I waved him off, knowing he’d soon find someone to dance with. I watched him disappear into the throng, white T-shirt glowing like a beacon under the UV lights, his shaggy blond surfer hair and pretty-boy face causing more than one head to turn.
After a couple of songs—and another beer for me—Gav reappeared, this time with a tall, built guy in tow. He had to be, what, six three? Four? Other than the height, he was an ordinary-looking guy: light-brown hair, nice enough face. Not quite in Gav’s league though—not many people were.
“Introduce yourselves,” Gav ordered. “I’ll get the beers in.” He scooted off.
The guy stared after Gav for a few moments before he finally turned to me. He seemed a little dazed. “Sorry.” He held out his hand. “I’m Adam.”
We shook. “Nathan,” I told him, though I doubted he heard me. Already he was sneaking a glance in the direction Gav had gone.
“So,” I said. “You just met Gav.”
Adam was forced to give me his attention again. “Um—actually, no. We work in the same building—different companies but we sometimes end up in the same bar for Friday night beers.”
God, Friday night beers. The office workers’ weekly freedom call. I felt a stab of nostalgia for that TGIF feeling I used to get at the end of the week. It wasn’t a feeling you ever got when you were running your own business.
“I didn’t know Gav was bi,” Adam added. “It was a surprise seeing him here.”
“A good one?” I teased, lifting an eyebrow. Like I didn’t know.