Cans on the train

Necking rosé out of mum’s fridge but not too much like she’d notice, waiting for Riz. He’s always fucking late. Anticipation, heart beating, adrenalin, wiping hands again, fidgeting. Eventually he’s here. 

“Alright you ginger fucking monkey, you ready then? The big fucking taaaaaaaarn!” He smiles, sneers, through browned teeth. Why does he never clean them? 

He’s wearing a hat and a new shirt he’s obviously been saving, sort of untucked, his jeans tighter than mine, big belt buckle, unclean shoes he’s probably been wearing all day. Now he’s here I feel better, because he’s done it before, all the way to London. Shoreditch. Dalston. Whatever. 

So plan is go over there, drink somewhere/thing cheap, get into a club and see what we can score for pills, stay there until its light, then only about an hour to kill for the first train back. Or better, of course, get a girl. A student or something - hopefully one who has a friend – and stay there, back tomorrow, whenever. Could stay all weekend, nothing here in Southend. Riz said it was easy last time. Nobody we know was with him of course, so he could be saying anything and probably is. 

“Come on and we can make the eight forty,’ he excitedly bleats as I fumble with my laces. We have to run for the bus but make it with plenty of time for us to go in the Co-Op and get four tins each and a RedBull, none of that cheap energy drink shit tonight. Riz picks up one of those small cans of vodka and lemonade as well and starts nudging me. 

“Yeah, yeah -I get it,” I tell him, I can tell he’s overexcited cos he’s jabbing me so hard. The cow in there looks at us as dirtily as ever and insists on seeing ID even thought she knows we’re both 20 and serves us pretty much every time we go in. Still Riz gives her a cheeky wink and a grin.

Carriage is near empty apart from an old fucker and some loud teenage girls at one end. We crack a can each and start to down em, and soon as we’re past Westcliff Riz is straight down the other end trying to talk the schoolgirls into having the vodka lemonade. They shout and whine poking fun at him, but they’re having fun really. I sit where I am. 

The fucking slow train. It fills up, lots of people piling on to go big in town tonight and the whole carriage is banging. Some of them are townies, wides, with their immaculate designer clothes, all stinking of perfume, boys too. Some of the girls are tasty though, you can see all sorts bulging up front of em. 

“Oi, quit staring, you wanker,” says Riz, elbowing again and motioning to three girls who have sat a couple of seats down. He goes to get up, but I don’t follow – he’ll give me the nod if it’s happening, I’ll look after the seats.

Fuck knows what he says but within two minutes he’s handed the now lukewarm vodka to one of them! I get over there sharpish, as we’re about at Barking so time’s running out. 

I talk to Sarah, who works in a petrol station and has big eyes with severe liner around them and a ring in her nose but after about five minutes she tells me she has a two-year-old back home. I start trying to make eyes at the spare one, who has really curly hair and looks a bit shit from here, but Sarah won’t shut up. Ah well, it was just a warm up. Fuck knows what Riz is saying but the girl he’s talking to is laughing plenty. 

We get off at Fenchurch Street, and I realise I’m a bit pissed after all the cans. Riz brushes off that bird, turns out she also has a boyfriend, so she was cock teasing as well. He’s a bit lairy now, more boisterous than before and keeps making eye contact with people on the streets and as we go into the tube station and shouting “nob” really loud at them. 

We get on the underground, which is cramped and all of a sudden stiflingly hot, but just for one stop up on the red line.

“This, is Bethnal Green,” announces Riz like he’s been here thousands of times before. Looks like a shithole, and the first pub we go in - The Salmon and something - is. The next was alright, and we started talking to this pair of birds, but then two lads walked in who they knew and they just seemed more bothered about them.. I’m not doing a lot of talking now, cos I’m quite pissed, but I’m putting effort in. It’s all going a bit skewiff, and I can see Riz isn’t walking straight when we get back on the street. It’s started spitting with rain, and I notice all the gum on the pavement all of a sudden. The slabs seem dirtier than in Southend somehow, and there’s fucking people everywhere. I want to go to Brick Lane, but Riz is adamant it’s a load of shite and he knows a decent pub but it’s up some ridiculous shortcut through some dodgy housing estate. 

To be fair to him, the place is pretty good, one of those old East End jobs that’s still got quite a lot of the fittings but has been hipsterised. All the people in there look scruffy, but purposefully so, and half the cunts got moustaches. But they’re alright, and the girls look cheap in a good way. 

We’re sick of pints, so we have a tequila each and buy a bottle of rosé, and that starts going down too easy. 

There’s a band on which we go to check out, but they want five quid each for it, so fuck em. 

Back upstairs, I realise we’re having a fucking great time - this is brilliant. London, we’re on it! Riz tries to chirpse some birds, there’s one with a pink top, bright red lipstick and tattoos on both her arms, but she’s well out his league, I find it laughable, but I admire his front. He’s such a nob, so obvious the way he goes in on girls, but I guess it works for him. Well, he says it does. 

We stick around and have another bottle of Rosé and its starts thinning out a bit after 11 as people start to go to the clubs. We’ve got these two chairs next to each other and are just wondering where to go next when Riz spots this girl who’s sat down opposite. Kinda small, blonde, watery eyes, cheap fake leopard skin fur coat. Do-able, definitely. 

He’s over there instantly laying it on, the dirty rotter, what a fucker! Then I notice this lad coming back with a pint and a girl’s drink, uh oh! Riz is fucking killer though, and diffuses the whole thing, no hassles. Starts talking to the fella like he’s a mate. He cocks a look at me, and I can tell he’s planning something. The guy’s older in some denim shirt, but doesn’t look like too much of anything. Skinny, no aggro. 

I go over for support and we’re all talking. Riz goes off and gets everybody a shot. I realise I’m actually really pissed at this point, and shooting tequila doesn’t help. He’s talking to the girl about music, squabbling about some indie bands, and the guy starts asking me stuff, which is a bit of a fucking pain, as I’m finding it hard to remember and talk properly. I start to tell him about the bakery and what an arse it is starting so early and I think its making sense and then… well, then it goes fucking south. 

Out the corner of my eye I see something, but don’t quite register what, then I clearly hear Riz shouting “you dirty,” something. It doesn’t all quite come out though, before the fucking guy next to me has somehow bolted out of his chair and socked him one right in the fucking face. WHACK. 

My guts have me up on my feet as he’s landing another couple – fuck knows what Riz must have done to that girl, but he’s not looking so clever – and I gotta get in. I jump up to grab the lad but as my hand goes for his shoulder, he turns around n thrashes for me. He doesn’t get very far though, as the bouncer gets him. He just grabs my shirt, which only goes and fucking rips right down. No time to think about that either, as there’s a yank and all of a sudden some huge fucking bruiser has grabbed ME and is roughhousing us out of there, as I struggle and scream. 

Unceremoniously, I find myself on the wet fucking pavement outside of that shitheap fucking pub. I can’t really see for a second, but my vision starts fading in. Sickly, sick as a dog, so I crawl a few steps and start to puke everywhere. Fucking hell, fucking rosé. 

Uhhh, then I turn over and sit. Obviously, I don’t realise I’m half sat in my own puke at the time, but I’m sitting, head spinning and nobody around. Must be at the back. I stumble around to the streetlights, down a little alley, which is completely empty, and I can see Riz on the street. He’s sitting on the curb, head in his hands. 

“Fucking what happened?” I ask. 

“I don’t fucking know,” he replies

“You hurt?” I say

“Yeah, well my eye’s bled all over me new fucking shirt, and I can’t really see for shit,” he says, pissed off.

I look and wish I hadn’t. Was that guy wearing a ring? There’s a nasty cut and his eye is rapidly swelling, fucking purple and the normally golden skin around it now blue. 

“Fuck. You look like shite too,” he says. 

I’m aching at bit, say I’m alright. I didn’t really get hit, just thrown by the bouncer. He stands up and we try and straighten ourselves out. He’s covered in red wine and bits of blood, all of which stand out on what was a pale blue shirt. My own shirt has most of the buttons ripped off the front and my trousers are covered in sick. “Ugh, you stink,” Riz offers, helpfully. 

We do look like shit, which is shortly confirmed by our reflection in a shop window.

“What did you say to her anyway?” I ask.

“Oh, I dunno. She was saying something about women and rights and then about fucking books or some shit. Giving me aggro and I just called her a stupid bint or something, then she just fucking went and chucked her fucking drink all over. I didn’t even see the guy come at me. He was a prick, as well.”

I sighed. This isn’t good. It’s only 11.40. Club time. Looking at us, we’re going to need some sort of miracle to get in anywhere. And it’s starting to rain properly now. 

I’ll spare you our miserable trudge around for the next 40 minutes, refused entry to everywhere, Riz’s eye swelling up more purple by the minute. At least with the rain the smell of sick faded a bit. One bouncer asked Riz about his shiner, another almost laughed us out of the doorway. 

The only place with where we could sit inside was McDonalds. I had two double cheeseburgers, but getting socked seemed to have dampened Riz’s appetite. He wasn’t saying much, his usually ever-present enthusiasm faded. 

“Well, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” came a voice, a girl in the process of sitting her lardy arse down opposite. 

Alright, well she was a little big, but to be fair, not butters. Her face had something about it. Cute, I guess. 

“Ha ha ha. You a comedian then?” Replied Riz, sounding slightly too bitter about it.

“Cheer up, Bruce Lee,” she said. 

She was called Sonia. Was out with her gay mates, they were still in line. She’d come to sit down cos her shoes were hurting her. They were en route to somewhere on Hackney Road I’d never heard of it. She invited us with a little giggle. We were nonplussed, so she explained it was a gay bar. 

I was still eating but Riz started to spin a yarn about his eye, claiming he had stepped in when some bloke was shouting at his missus and looked like he was going to hit her, then his mate had jumped in and we’d had to fight them both off. Sonia looked impressed. He then started giving her all sorts of shit about him working in a bank, making out he was rich, that also seemed to strike with her and she started asking all sorts of questions, flirting noticeably. Her mates had got served but they sat in another part of the restaurant, one of them giggling and looking our way. She winked at me and said she could probably try and fit me up with one of them. I told her to fuck off, I wasn’t in the mood now, just tired and wanting to get home – although, fat chance, another couple of hours for the first train.

Sonia convinced us to walk over to this gay bar with her mates, saying they may be able to sweet talk us our way in, one of them knows a bouncer, all that. I notice Riz and her are already holding hands by this point. He’s such a smooth operator, what a bastard. 

We get there though and there’s a big queue, loads of people, all blokes, and fuck me they’re weird. I’m fidgeting, nervous. What happens if they pinch my arse? Or try and kiss me or something? Fucking weird place to be. I can tell Riz is the same, right out his comfort zone. Then he only goes and plays his fucking joker.

“Tell you what, this aint my scene - but you, babe, are great. How about say you and me jump in a taxi out of here?” To my disbelief she says yeah, why not, as long as we shout the cab. See, easy - like he said! 

“Your house, OK?” he asks, adding: “Course, we’ll have to take gooseberry here with us, can’t leave him here to suck cocks all night,” while giving me another of those jabs in the ribs. 

So we hail a black cab and jump in, me fingering the tenner I have left and wondering if I’m gonna have to give the whole thing up for this ride. I hope this girl lives close. 

“Where to then?” the cabbie asks, already sounding gruff and pulling off up the street, even though he hasn’t got a destination yet. 

“Well, I was going to stay at Ash’s tonight, but we can all go back to mine if you want. It’s a way though,” says Sonia.    

“Yeah. Well. Er. Well, how far exactly?” asks Riz. 

“Southend,” she says. 

“Fuckssake… Pull over mate,” he barks.