Lizzie. She hurtles into my thoughts again. Why? Because she has been the only exception to the rule, the only one I’ve ever gone back for more with. I was the ultimate man whore until that storm-eyed right royal pain in the arse walked into my life. She shook my world like the tornado her eyes reflect, and left the same destruction.
“Are you going to stand there all day in your own little world or do you want a drink, Noah?” Suzie’s voice brings me back to the here and now.
“Pint of Stella, please.” She pushes her tits in my direction as she pours my pint. I’m a bloke, so it’s in my nature to stare. That’s obviously what she wants me to do, so I willingly oblige. She hands me my pint and I pass her a twenty, and as she turns to the till my eyes drift south and appraise her tight arse. She turns with a knowing smile on her face, obviously catching me in the act of ogling, and hands me my change.
“Anything else I can help you with?” She purrs seductively. I fight the urge to say ‘yes,’ to take her hand and drag her down into the beer cellar and pound into that sweet spot until she’s screaming my name, and I can’t remember hers. Again, my hand comes to rub over my face, and I’m beginning to think I have a nervous tic.
“Not right now, Suz.”
“Maybe later then?”
I don’t want to give the girl false hope, but I actually like her and don’t want to hurt her feelings with the normal brush-off I’d give. Plus, she might spit in my beer, so I respond with, “Yeah, maybe later, love,” but I don’t mean it. Later I plan on being completely and utterly wasted to the point where Noah Junior doesn’t stand a chance of rearing that head of his.
I down my pint in one long guzzle. Then I hand Suzie my credit card. “Set a tab up for me, love?” She shakes her head lightly, but takes the card, and a minute later another pint appears in front of me. Just as I take a few swigs of it, I feel a presence next to me. I don’t need to look to know who it is; few men have the presence of Bear.
“Starting without me, mate?”
“Yeah,” I answer simply.
“You want to talk about whatever it is that has you here this early?”
“No.” I know my one-word answers will piss him off but I can’t help myself.
“So what the hell am I doing here then?”
“Keeping your best fucking friend company while he gets shit-faced,” I mutter.
Bear holds out his hand, and without another word being spoken I feel around in my pockets, then hand over the key to my bike. An old routine now. He puts it in his pocket, looks at me, and sighs.
“This is going to be one hell of a long night,” he murmurs under his breath.
He’s right. It’s only lunchtime and I plan on staying here a very long time. He turns his attention to the bar. “Pint please, Suzie, and get this shithead another.”
Best bloody friend ever.
“So, what are we going to talk about then?”
I shrug my shoulders at him. I’m on my third pint in less than half an hour and the alcohol is starting to absorb nicely into my bloodstream. Each muscle loosens, and a wonky grin works its way onto my face.
Bear tries to start a conversation with me again. “So, did you not get laid last night or what? Because I haven’t seen this type of shit from you since the last time you wouldn’t, or should I say couldn’t, get your leg over.”
Lizzie. There she is again, another reminder of the woman who took my soul. The wonky grin slips off my face. “I don’t want to talk about that either.”
Bear looks at me. I mean really looks at me. Something in my tone must have given me away. I can see his inquisitive green eyes piecing together stuff in his head. I can almost hear the cogs whir away as all the pots of gold spin round and slowly one by one slot into place. Jackpot.
“Fuck.” He spits out the word.
It’s one word, but that’s when I know he’s pieced something together. It’s definitely something. He’s still watching me. I think he’s waiting for me to speak up, but he’ll wait a long fucking time. Battling with something in his mind, his mouth opens and closes slightly. He turns away from me and takes a long swig from his pint.
“Lizzie’s back, isn’t she?” He turns to look at me, and his eyes have turned from inquisitive to stone-cold dead. He was there when my whole world combusted, he saw the aftermath.
“Nah, mate, she’s not back.” I’m now looking at my almost empty pint like it’s the most fascinating thing in the whole world.
“But…” he urges. I should’ve known better than to call Bear if I didn’t want to explain myself.
“Layla called by the workshop today. She said Lizzie has gone off the radar.” I signal to Suzie for another round, because the buzz I was getting is beginning to fade rapidly, and I need that feeling back, and more. I need oblivion, lots and lots of dark nothingness to soothe my black and burned soul.
She lands two more frothy-headed pints down in front of us, and I nod in thanks.
“What the hell does that mean, and who the fuck is Layla?” I can hear the irritation in his voice. He pulls his phone from his pocket, stares at the screen, and then taps an angry text. But I know he’s listening to me.
“Layla is Boo, Lizzie’s best friend, and I don’t know, mate. I cut and ran after she said she needed my help, called you, and here I am.”
“Come on, Noah, there’s more to this than what you’re telling me.”
“Not really.” I huff, and down my pint in one continuous gulp.
“Mate, you’ve got to give me something to work with here. If you think I’m going to leave this shit alone now, you’re sadly mistaken.”
I give up the fight, and draw in a deep breath. I relay the conversation word for word back to him, in the hope he can fathom what’s going on.
“Are you worried?” Concern laces through his voice.
“Hell no.” I glance over at my best friend and he raises his eyebrows at me. “Shit, man, of course I’m fucking worried. To disappear on me, that’s one thing. To do it to Layla? She wouldn’t.” I return my stare to the empty bottom of my glass.
“So, do you think Layla knows about you, us?” he asks in a hushed tone.
I whip my head back to him. “You make it sound like I’m fucking you.” A grin finally appears back on my face. “You know I love you, mate, but you’re not my type.”
He punches me, hard, giving me a dead arm. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” He grins at me. But there’s seriousness in his tone and eyes.
“No.” I shake my head, resolute. “I never told Lizzie; she didn’t have a clue.” The familiar nag in my conscious rings in my head. She never would’ve been with me if she’d known.
On any day of the week I can turn her into an evil hell bitch. But the truth is she was my salvation. She soothed me in a way not one thing on this planet, living or dead, could do. Her presence made my waste of a life worth living. She did make me want to a better person, she was my better half, and all that other soft shit I hear spouted around by lovesick tossers.
I’m one sad, sorry son of a bitch because now every woman is Lizzie. Every kiss I give, I’m giving it to her. Every touch, every thrust of my hips, every groan which escapes my lips is hers. Every. Fucking. Thing. But they’re not her, and the actions are hollow, so they have no heart. Like me.
I realise I’ve been lost in my own mind but Bear hasn’t interrupted my train of thought. Instead, he’s grabbed Suzie’s attention, had the pints refilled, and added shots to the equation. I look towards him and he gives me a half-hearted smirk.
“Tonight we get wasted; we can talk to Layla tomorrow.” With that, we both knock back our shots.