‘Good boy, Eric. You get to DJ. You’ll do brilliantly.’ Brendan kissed him again and walked away.
Jack shook his head. ‘You two are worse than me.’
Brendan shrugged. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’ He strode off.
Behind him, Jack’s smile died.
Upstairs had never been much of a bar. Just kind of an overfill that occasionally did for functions or strip shows and Karaoke. But now it was all wood panelling and leather chairs and under-floor lighting.
As Jack walked in, Jon was walking over from the bar with three drinks. He smiled, happy to see the Captain.
‘Do you like what we’ve done?’ he asked.
Jack nodded. People sat on the couches, chatting and smiling. The bar appeared to sell vodka and toast. Somewhere, three bottle-blond kids from Swansea were poking uncertainly at some dim-sum.
Jack sat down at a little table. He could still hear the amazing noise from the club below. But also…
Over the PA, the barman announced, ‘And next on Karaoke is Barry from Barry. And he’ll be doing the Queen of the Night’s song from Die Zauberflöte.’
Brendan giggled. ‘Such a lovely boy. Great voice, but he’ll never make that high G.’
As the Mozart thundered around them Jack blinked. Brendan laughed. ‘Oh, the Opera Karaoke? All Jon’s idea.’
‘Well, life’s not all party favours and Kylie,’ said Jon. ‘And it’s a touch of class. It’s not show tunes.’
‘I’ve never been a fan of musical theatre,’ said Jack.
Over on the Karaoke screen, the ball hopped its way across the words:
‘Der Holle Rache kocht in meinem Herzen; Hell’s vengeance seethes in my heart;
Tod und Verzweiflung flammet unm ich her! The flames of death and despair engulf me…’
Jack tried not to marvel as people put down their drinks and toast and started to join in in a boozy, heartening way.
Jon smiled. ‘I know it’s a bit campy, but we’re very old gods. Anything goes. Well, apart from Harrison Birtwhistle. Would you begrudge us this?’
‘Don’t hurry him.’ Brendan grinned. ‘There’s always a but with Jack. Hold that thought.’
‘What?’ asked Jon.
Brendan pointed. A kid wearing normal clothes and too much wet-look hair gel had wandered in. ‘Underneath those baggy clothes and that home dye job, he’s gorgeous. You can tell it’s his first time out. In two minutes’ time he’s going to be smoking a granny fag outside and wishing he fitted in.’
Jon patted his partner on the arm. ‘Go get him, tiger.’
Brendan gave a mock sigh of exhaustion. ‘No rest for the wicked, you know how it is.’ He winked, grabbed his drink and his cigarettes and, steering the kid by the shoulder, swept him outside.
Jon turned back to Jack. ‘See? Another soul rescued. People will see him with us. We’re so beautiful, some of that rubs off on him. He’ll make friends. He’ll dress like them, someone will cut his hair. He’ll sleep with a few of them, get his heart broken, get tougher, go down the gym, break a few hearts of his own… It’s all good. Community service.’
Jack said nothing.
‘Yeah. We’ve led by example. Oh, it’s been a great few months.’ Brendan laughed and ruffled Jack’s hair. ‘Seriously. We’ve made so many friends, we’ve improved the boys and the music. We’ve even raised house prices by a few per cent. Plus we’ve got laid loads. What’s not to love?’
Jack sipped his drink, thoughtfully.
Jon shrugged. ‘I know what you’re going to say, but really, don’t be a stranger. There’s always a place in our hearts and our bed for you, Jack. You get me – I know what it’s like. You’re fighting Weevils, we’re fighting off bears. But, look around you, sweetheart. Isn’t this better than what there was? Look at how happy we’ve made everybody. Even the kids from Newport.’
Jack looked at him and smiled.
‘Oh, I keep cutting you off, which is so annoying!’ laughed Jon. ‘What is the thing? Have you come for a bit of advice? Cos, if you don’t mind me saying, the military retro thing has kind of gone. We need to get you in something tight and fitting. Some fabrics that’ll breathe, if you know what I mean.’
Brendan came back to the table, smirking.
Jon glanced at him. ‘You dirty slut,’ he sighed.
Brendan puckered his mouth. ‘Yeah, well, I made him happy – he’ll have a great evening.’
Jon tutted. ‘And you come back smelling of cheap fags. Can you not try out menthol?’
Brendan shuddered. ‘It’s like licking a minty road. No thanks. Now, Captain Jackoff – what can we do you with?’ And he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Jon shrugged. ‘He’s not said. Not really got a word in edgewise, have you? Silly me, I’m turning into such a gassy old Mary. It’s the bloody Welsh. So gregarious. I swear they’re rubbing off on me.’
He laughed in a nasal way, and Brendan growled at him.
‘So, Jack, what have you come here to say? Are you going to congratulate us for everything we’ve done?’
Jack’s smile faded. ‘Nope. I’m here to take you in.’
‘What?’ Jon’s cocktail paused mid-sip. Brendan reached nervously for his lighter.
‘You heard. The show’s over. You’ve broken our agreement. I was a fool to trust you. So now it ends.’
‘Oh,’ said Jon, a little sadly. ‘You knew?’
‘I’m only sorry it took me so long to notice!’ exclaimed Jack, furiously angry. ‘Why couldn’t you have come to me earlier? We might have helped you. Instead people have died. And…’ he looked truly regretful. ‘I thought there were two people in Cardiff who really understood me, who I could trust… and now this. Sorry. Party’s so over.’
Brendan let out a long-held breath. ‘Fooo. OK. Wow. Bit sudden, but OK,’ he said. ‘We’ll play by the rules, won’t we, Jonno?’
‘Yup,’ said Jon, moving closer to Jack. ‘Last dance, Captain?’
‘Sure,’ said Jack. ‘Why not?’
And they led him to the dance floor. And a day passed.
THE PERFECTION DANCES IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
‘You were right,’ whispered Jon in his ear. As they moved across the dance floor, people just stepped out of their way. ‘You said Gods were just conmen with good technology.’
‘And you were.’
Brendan pressed up against Jack’s back, laughing. ‘Oh we were good. So good. But the machine made us BETTER.’
‘Oh,’ sighed Jack. Partly cos he was understanding, partly because Brendan was gently kissing the back of his neck.
‘We didn’t need the machine, but we built it anyway. It made our life easier. Just as you don’t need a dishwasher, but once you’ve got one…’ explained Jon.
‘Dishwashers? Jeez,’ sighed Brendan in Jack’s ear. ‘Can you believe him?’
‘What did your machine do?’ asked Jack, trying to concentrate. The music, the lights – the feeling of the Perfection, wrapping themselves around him. The way they were all starting to move together, the way the music was getting louder, and yet further away, was somehow slowing down… were they even moving at all?
‘It’s a belief system. It made it easier for us to give our believers what they wanted. God created Man, and Man created God… you know…’
‘You know,’ repeated Brendan, mockingly in Jack’s ear.
‘It let us answer their prayers. It kept us perfect,’ continued Jon. ‘At the moment, for example, it lets me avoid wrinkles, and it keeps Brendan from losing his hair. Plus those love handles.’
‘Shut up!’ hissed Brendan.
‘Oh, it’s true. Ahhh, I love this bit!’ Jon shouted as the music built up and hit them like a wave.
And, like a wave, suddenly everything for Jack was down, not up, then up, not down, then he gasped for breath. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he asked. ‘What’s happening to me?’ he shouted.