“Over music?”
“Yeah, over music.”
Tom sighed. “Fine. Let’s just agree to disagree.”
“Right.”
Tom sat back on the sofa and crossed his legs in that feminine way they all teased him about. Perhaps he did it to annoy Sean, but under his breath, he started singing. Slowly, the volume of his voice increased until he was singing the main chorus of ‘Bitter Sweet Symphony’ at the top of his lungs.
“Motherfucker!” Sean lunged across the room, vodka bottle raised above his head.
“Shit!” Ryan leapt off the sofa and tackled Sean before he managed to brain their friend. Aaron leapt aside as the half-full bottle bounced off the two-seater sofa and tumbled to the floor, where it quickly vomited its contents. “What the hell are you doing, Sean?”
“He’s a sodding nutcase!” Brett was furious, only his swollen ankle keeping him seated. He leaned forward, a furious scowl on his face. “Does he have to ruin everything?”
Sean battled with Ryan on the floor, hurling curse words one after another. Ryan didn’t want to hurt him, but Sean’s wiry frame made it hard to keep him under control. He kept placing his palms against the floorboards and trying to push himself up, but Ryan did everything he could to keep him pinned.
“Calm the fuck down, Sean.”
“He’s taking the piss. I’m gonna do him. Posh twat.”
Ryan grunted, struggling to keep Sean’s arms pinned at his sides. “What are you talking about? It’s just banter.”
“Yeah,” Brett shouted. “The hell is wrong with you? You take the piss more than anyone.”
“Get the hell off me, Ryan!”
“Calm down and I will.”
Sean struggled a little more, then finally went still. “All right, all right, I’m calm. Just get the hell off me before I proper lose it.”
Ryan eased up slowly, pausing several times to make sure Sean wasn’t faking compliance. Thankfully, he remained calm and didn’t fight. Once Ryan was standing, Sean turned onto his side and got up slowly. He was laughing.
“It isn’t funny,” said Brett. “It’s ridiculous. You’re a goddamn coke-head.”
“It’s a sodding stag do. I came to have fun. What is with you lot?”
Brett lifted himself out of the armchair, doing his best to keep the weight off his sprained ankle. Gingerly, he took a step towards Sean, pointing a finger right in his face. “Nobody is doing drugs except for you. The rest of us want to have a good time without acting like maniacs, but instead we’re all having to tiptoe around in case you kick off.”
“May I also add,” said Tom, “that this is the second time you’ve tried to attack me, Sean. It’s getting rather tiresome.”
Sean glared at Tom but refrained from doing anything else. He turned to Ryan like a naughty child begging forgiveness. “I’m sorry, our kid. You know me, I’m just having a laugh, ain’t I?”
Ryan wanted to let it go. He wanted to go back to drinking and singing and having a good time, but he saw the look on his friend’s faces every time Sean got lairy. No one could relax. No one could have a good time. And no way could this go on all weekend.
“We’ve had enough, Sean. No more coke, okay? You’re crazy enough without it, but it’s a level of crazy we can cope with. No. More. Coke.”
Sean put his hands up, his palms still stained a dark green. “Okay, okay, no more powder, I swear.”
“Apologise to Tom.”
“What?”
“Apologise to Tom.”
“He was trying to wind me up. He should apologise to me.”
Tom tutted. “You’d sooner see Hell freeze over.”
“You see? He’s got it in for me, the posh twat. I never liked him. Him and that poncey private school. How did he ever end up with us?”
Ryan shook his head, truly disappointed. The five of them had been friends since secondary school. Sure, Tom had gone to a different school than the rest of them, but they had become friends anyway. It helped that Tom’s uncle had run a chain of pubs, which meant Tom could get them beer at sixteen – so long as they drank it in the function room out of sight. Tom’s uncle made no secret of his dislike for Ryan and the others, but he seemed to realise he was buying friends for his awkward and shy nephew. Truth was, with his posh accent and middle-class manners, none of them would have given Tom a chance otherwise.
But he’s one of us. Always has been. What the hell is Sean’s problem?
Ryan realised he was grinding his teeth, so he spoke to release the pressure. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing, Sean. Tom’s a good bloke. You’re the one who’s out of order.”
Sitting on the sofa, Tom had tears in his eyes and was shaking his head in disbelief. “You used to stay at my house, you prick. How many times have you and I gone out drinking together? Now you’re saying you never even liked me?”
Sean continued grinning. His pupils were rolling all over the place. Ryan felt like slapping him unconscious. Why was he doing this? Why was he wrecking everything?
He’s high as a sodding kite. Even for him, this is extreme.
Ryan studied his friend, taking in the dry skin around his nose and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Sean, do you have a problem? Do you need help?”
“Give over, I’m fine. It’s you lot what has the problem.”
Ryan sighed. “Sean, I think… I think maybe we should give you a ride into the village tomorrow so you can catch a train home. We can talk when I get back.”
Sean flinched. “Don’t be like that, man. I’ll stop the blow, all right? Tom, I’m sorry, mate. Of course I like you. We’ve been mates for donkeys, ain’t we? I’m just…” He shook his head and seemed utterly lost for a moment. “Yeah, maybe I am a bit of a mess right now.”
“Okay, Sean. I’m glad you can admit that you—”
“I used a different dealer. Reckon he sold me crap. I won’t touch any more, right?”
Ryan sighed.
