Into the Silence

Tony Lockley's eyes narrowed and, watching from the corner, Ben inwardly groaned. Their quiet drink was going to be totally ruined and it was going to be Drew's fault. Why couldn't he just let things alone? Why did he always have to take the bait?

'What do you mean?'

Drew tutted. 'All that alcohol isn't good for the vocal cords, you know that.' He sighed. 'You wouldn't catch us girls drinking ourselves stupid with so few days to go before the finals.' He turned on his heel, strolling over to join Ben at last. 'But then I suppose,' he sent the parting shot without looking back, 'if you've got no chance of winning then it doesn't really matter. Cheers!'

Ben glared at Drew as he sat down, his ample rear spilling over the sides of the bar stool.

'What?'

'You know what.' Ben kept his voice low. 'Why do you have to antagonise them like that? Couldn't you have ignored them just for once?'

Drew shrugged, his eyes wide and innocent. 'Backing down's not in my nature, that's all.'

'Well, sometimes I wish you'd just take into account what's in my nature. I just wanted a quiet drink and now you've ruined that.' Ben could feel the hot, angry glares they were drawing from the other singers and knew that the argument wasn't over yet.

Drew's brow furrowed, never happy to be told off. 'They started it.'

'But you didn't have to join in.' Ben's dark eyes glowing with irritation at the parent-child nature of their conversation, he wondered why he was bothering. It was a pointless argument. Drew was incapable of walking away from the likes of Lockley and Parker. Especially those two. They'd been niggling at each other for the past three years of the competition. If only Drew could see that the fact that every year they beat the other two was enough to put them in their place. He didn't need to get into slanging matches with them. But once again it was too late.

Drew took a sip of his wine and leaned forward, his back bristling slightly. 'Are they looking at us?' he asked. 'I can feel them staring.'

'Of course they're looking at us. What did you expect? Now please, just ignore them.' Ben took a long sip of the perfectly chilled Pinot Grigio, but couldn't take any enjoyment from it. He just wanted to finish his drink and get them both out of there before it got nasty. It wouldn't turn into a physical fight, that didn't worry him, but after thirteen years with Drew he knew that the man could stay up all night festering over a well-delivered barbed comment that wasn't his own, and Drew wasn't one to fester quietly.

'Us younger men can handle it,' Lockley called over. 'I suppose at your age you've got to take more care.' He paused. 'Especially carrying all that weight.'

Ben watched Drew prickle, his jaw clenching and fingers tightening on his wine glass until parts of his pink skin turned white on his knuckles. If there was a way to goad Drew, it was to mention his weight. He'd piled on the pounds over the past three years since turning thirty, there was no denying that. He always claimed it was a thyroid problem, but Ben knew it was just a mixture of contentment, a fondness for cream cakes and an aversion to the gym. Ben didn't mind, and he figured that if it really bothered Drew that much he'd do something about it.

'Yeah,' Angus Parker joined in. 'Good job the only way Ben has to carry you is in your singing. He'd never manage you over a threshold.'

This brought hoots of mirth from the other singing pair's small audience, which consisted of a man in his forties who was none too slim himself, a scrawny blonde who obviously had a crush on the handsome Angus, a brunette who Ben thought didn't look old enough to be in a pub in the first place — and her acne, however well she thought she'd hidden it beneath a thick layer of too dark make-up, was not persuading him otherwise — and an older man Ben recognised as Angus Parker's uncle, who worked as a kind of roadie for them. It made Ben smile. Angus and Tony wanted to be treated like pop stars but sang classical music. He'd never known two men less comfortable in themselves, but they wouldn't want to hear that from a 35-year-old, happily homosexual man.

The final jibe mocking his weight and his voice was too much for Drew to bear. He turned slowly on the stool until he was facing his antagonist.

'And where are you planning on coming this year? In the top five?' He snorted derisively. 'Let me just remind you that Pritchard and Powell came second last year and, if you must know, several bookies have us odds-on favourites to win the final. Some of us are actually in the competition. We're not just playing at it.' He paused dramatically. 'Who knows, after this we may even go professional. Whereas I doubt you two can even spell professional.'

Across the room, the laughing stopped and Ben could see the anger flaring up in the flush of both young men's faces. Drew could sound damned patronising at times, and this was one of those times.

'We're working-class men and proud of it,' Angus Parker's uncle growled from over the lip of his pint glass. Ben had never stood close enough to the man to find out, but he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd had 'love' and 'hate' in homemade tattoos on his knuckles. He looked like a man who'd had an interesting life.

'I'm sorry,' Ben cut in. 'He doesn't mean anything by it.'

Drew turned, his neck long and chin tilted upwards, and scowled. His displeasure was obvious.

'I'd rather be a proper bloke and working class than some middle-class poofter,' Angus sneered.

Without speaking to Ben, Drew returned his attention to the small crowd in the other room. A smirk twisted on his full mouth. 'A middle-class poofter that can sing you off the stage.' The smile turned into a grin. 'And I think, sweetheart,' he purred, 'it takes more than being common to make someone a proper bloke.' He winked. 'And from what I've heard, you've not got much in that department.'

Draining almost half his glass in one mouthful, Ben's mood darkened, as if a gauze veil had slipped down between him and the rest of the people in the pub. Tension tightened in his throat and his jaw clenched. What he needed was to relax. His singing would be awful otherwise. And as much as this argument might be over for Drew by morning, his own resentment would linger. He couldn't just let these things go like Drew did. Drew would be screaming at you one minute and crying with laughter the next, his dark moods coming and going as swiftly as a brief summer's downpour. Ben was different. Things stayed with him. And if he couldn't shake them, then his lungs and diaphragm seized up and lost power. And if that happened this year then Drew really would have something to be upset about. Even after all their years together, Drew didn't really get how Ben was different to him. Drew thought that, underneath everything, all people were just like he was, with the exception perhaps of Angus Parker and Tony Lockley.

Lockley nudged Parker. 'Did you see on the news about those singers that got murdered?' His voice was loud. 'Maybe we should try and point whoever did it in Fat Boy's direction.' His laugh was like a pig's snort: animal and unpleasant. 'Get him out of all our hair.'

'I bet the whole bloody competition would chip in to pay for that.' Blonde girl's words slurred slightly. 'I've only had to listen to him for five minutes and he's doing my head in.'

Both Parker and Lockley laughed aloud at that, and Ben wearily wondered which one of the two she would have the pleasure of shagging that night, and whether she'd even remember it in the morning. Suddenly, the whole place turned sour and seedy in his mind's eye. He finished the rest of his wine.

'Are you going to let them speak to me like that?' Drew stared at him, his chin wobbling slightly.

'They're drunk. Forget it.' Ben stood up. 'I'm going.'

'What do you mean you're going? I haven't finished my drink yet.'

'Well, I have.' He paused, keeping his simmering anger locked in the tightened muscles of his jaw. 'I don't need this, Drew. You knock yourself out with these wastes of space, and I hope it makes you feel better. Me? I'm going to get some fresh air.'

Without waiting for a reply, Ben strode over to the alcove and up the stairs to the main bar, ignoring the catcalls of 'Get her!' that followed him. He wasn't angry with Parker and Lockley. They were what they were. He was angry with Drew for always needing to win.

He didn't have to turn round to know that Drew was coming after him, but it was only when he'd left the pub and was striding along the narrow cobbled street in no particular direction other than away that Drew finally called after him.

He turned and stared at the chubby man standing helplessly in the pub doorway.

'What?'

The few metres between them seemed too vast for either to cross, and Drew must have sensed it because he hesitated where he was rather than coming forwards.