‘I don’t want to go to some crappy gig! We’ve got a job to do here, remember!?’ declared Cube, indignantly. ‘...And why did you pick up three tickets?’
Alex explained to Cube that if a Welsh band was in town, and The Odin Brinkley Announcement were about as Welsh as they came, then where else but at the gig would Dai be found? And if not, then the extra ticket could be a useful way of ingratiating themselves on Dai, assuming they ever located him.
‘What if we can’t find him, and what if he’s not at the gig?’ demanded Cube.
‘Then I guess it’s game over,’ replied Alex.
‘Yeah, game over for Geoff!’
Alex gazed blankly at the morally-superior Cube, who always got like this when he was pissed. Alex also knew that Cube was right, but what else could they do if Dai never showed up?’
But there was still over an hour to go, and if Dai was planning on going to the gig then the chances were that he’d be in a pub nearby. The only one they hadn’t yet checked was The Ship.
Alex sent Cube in while he waited outside and smoked a cigarette...
‘He’s not there,’ replied Cube, when he rejoined Alex outside.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, I’m sure!’
Cube’s phone bleeped.
‘Is that a tweet?’ Alex asked. He’d heard the sound a few times this evening but the feedback thus far had merely consisted of questions, lame jokes and puns, and a few obvious tips about checking the most popular pubs. Cube nodded and examined his phone...
‘Ah, finally: a reply from Vikram...’
‘And!?’
Cube shrugged, ‘Well, I don’t know how he did it but he says Dai’s in The Leek and Centipede... Where is that?’
‘Rough place, other side of Fishergate,’ declared Alex. ‘Come on! If we run we can be there in ten minutes!
First contact!
It was approaching eight-thirty and the bar area bulged with hard-nut locals jostling each other as they tried to get served. Near the corner of the bar, next to a pillar, sat three men. Dai and his two drinking buddies exuded a loud drunken bonhomie.
‘Get the drinks in, Cube,’ instructed Alex, gravely. He then sidled over to Dai as Cube fought his way to the bar.
‘Hey, Dai, you off to see The Odin Brinkley Announcement tonight?’
Dai looked up sharply. ‘Are they in town!? Well, yeah, sure I am, you know me, always the first to support the boyos!’
‘I think it’s close to sold-out, but one of my crew’s just bailed so I’ve got a spare ticket! You want it?’
‘Cool, man. What do I owe you?’ asked Dai, grabbing the ticket and inspecting it: ‘Ah, The Shed! Should be a good gig!’
‘Round of drinks?’ suggested Alex.
‘Ha! You got it!’
‘What about me and Lee?’ asked one of Dai’s rough and unfriendly accomplices.
‘Student union pass required,’ replied Dai, brandishing the ticket in his face.
Alex surveyed the man, and the other geezer, Lee, who looked as though he’d been fashioned from granite and designed for fighting. What were the chances these two would be into drugs? Quite high, probably... ‘I reckon we can get you fellas in as guests. Anyway, we’ll find a way to get you past the door. Leave it with me. You up for it?’
‘Yeah, count me in!’ said Lee. ‘What about it, Karl?’
‘Sure,’ replied Karl, displaying not one jot of gratitude towards Alex. This guy probably hated students on principle; Dai would have special dispensation by virtue of him being an inveterate drunk.
‘Awesome,’ replied Alex. He turned to face the busy bar counter: ‘Where’s Cube got to with those drinks?’ he muttered to himself.
Dai spluttered, mid gulp. ‘Who, or what, is “Cube”!?’ His associate drinkers suddenly let rip with riotous guffaws. Alex laughed heartily with them.
‘You know Cube!’ Alex replied, as Cube arrived with two pints of Guinness. Dai had met Cube before, many times, but it was quite likely that Cube and his name had never fully registered. Dai tended to talk at people rather than with them; the people he drank with were mere ciphers. Alex couldn’t recall Dai ever calling anyone by their name.
Alex observed his Guinness. ‘What’s this shi–?’ He stopped himself when he noticed that Dai and the gang were all drinking stout. Well spotted, Cube!
‘I see you’re a Guinness man,’ said Dai, with approval.
‘Yeah,’ said Alex, avoiding a grimace as he sampled the foul liquid, ‘I’m part Irish.’
‘I hate the bog trotters.’
‘I’m also part Welsh.’
‘Ahh! Now you’re talking!’
‘Cube’s Welsh an’all.’
At this, everyone, including Alex, roared with laughter. Cube, meanwhile, took his first sip of Guinness, a look of puzzlement creasing his fresh student face.
‘You seen this Brinkley lot before?’ Alex asked Dai.
‘Yeah, in Swansea, last year: awesome, man! They’re boyo speed freaks.’
‘We’ll need some speed for this gig,’ suggested a badly-timed Cube.
The three men fell about laughing; again, Alex felt obliged to join them.
‘What’s the joke?’ asked Cube.
‘You are,’ replied Alex.
When order was finally restored, Dai turned to Cube: ‘A speeding Cube – you must be in good “shape”, my friend.’
More baying, shrieking yelps of drunken hilarity. Cube tried to join in but it did not look convincing, he was clearly beginning to fume. Dai had no business mocking him like this, he was the drunken wanker responsible for Geoff ending up in hospital. Anyway, Dai would be paying for his bad karma before the night was out. That was guaranteed.
Eventually, the laughter subsided.
‘I’m sorry, mate,’ said Dai, holding Cube’s arm. ‘I didn’t mean to take the piss, especially seeing as you’re Welsh, it’s just that ‘Jones’ here said you were called “Cube”!’
Cube nodded and laughed. ‘Yes, it’s not my real name, tho–’
That set them off again. Poor old Cube; from now on everything he uttered would be greeted with unrestrained hilarity.
‘Okay, fellas, knock it off,’ said Alex, still pretending to be amused. Surprisingly Dai and his mates made a deliberate effort to calm down.
‘Sure thing, no harm meant.’ There followed a brief lull in proceedings as everyone refuelled with stout. With all glasses drained, Dai stood up to get the next round ‘Same again?’ Everyone nodded or grunted.
As Dai pushed clumsily towards the bar, Alex turned to Cube and muttered in his ear: ‘They’ll be gunning for you all night, best say as little as possible.’
Cube nodded and burped.
Alex turned to the other men: ‘Talking of speed, do either of you guys want some for the gig?’
Karl shrugged and nodded noncommittally.
‘Yeah, you can count me in,’ agreed Lee. ‘This should be a sick night!’ Despite appearances Lee was definitely the more affable of the two.
‘And Dai?’
‘And Dai what?’ said Karl.
‘Never mind.’
Alex continued chatting but maintained a watchful eye on Dai to make sure he didn’t suddenly do one of his vanishing tricks, always a risk when it was his round.
A couple of minutes later Dai commenced his return. He barged through an ensemble of drinkers, oblivious to their dagger stares; they were of no concern, all that mattered were the five pints of stout held precariously in his grip. He somehow managed to direct this huge mass of liquid and glass through the tiniest of gaps without ever spilling a drop. The quantum boozer appeared to be utilizing the weird effect known as quantum tunnelling. He made it back to the table and disbursed the drinks.
Lee grabbed his pint from Dai. ‘Our friend here wants to know if you want some speed for the gig.’
Dai thought about it. ‘Nah, I’ll stick to the booze.’
‘Agh, come on, man!’ insisted
Lee, ‘you piss it away too much anyway, you need to find an alternative or you’ll be dead by the time you’re twenty-five!’
‘Bollocks. That’s–’
Alex glanced at Cube as the two men embarked on an incoherent drugs disputation. Karl got involved and a fight looked imminent.
‘Hey, calm down, you lot ... hey! cooool it.’ Alex turned to Dai. ‘Look, Dai, what’s the harm in just trying it?’
‘He’s right, Dai, just try it – speed’s perfect for an Odin gig,’ advised Lee.
Dai suddenly seemed to slump. ‘Alright, alright, you lot are determined to turn me into a junky, I’ll try some speed – where is it?’
Alex reached into his pocket but stopped when Karl suddenly became animated: ‘Whoa, not yet – at the gig!’ Alex removed his hand from the pocket.
‘Okay, whateveryousay, you’re the expert,’ said Dai.
Alex indicated to Cube that he should down his pint – and fast. Then turning to the others: ‘Right, guys, we’ll see you later, at The Shed.’
Dai nodded and laughed, but the explosive power of his mirth had been dampened down by a new rumbling anxiety: drugs.
Alex and Cube departed from The Leek and Centipede.
‘Amazing,’ said Cube, ‘we let his buddies do the persuading for us! I hope Dai chokes on that dye-a-cat-green.’
‘Yep, so do I.’ Alex was pensive.
‘What’s up?’ asked Cube.
‘What time is it?’
‘Just gone nine.’
‘Come on, we’ve got to get some speed!’
‘What, you mean you haven’t–? ...where do we get speed from at th–?’
‘We’ll try Geoff’s – move it, soldier!’
Alex and Cube stood outside Geoff’s flat and regarded the awning that was slightly ajar.
‘Go on, Cube, get in there,’ Alex ordered, pointing up to the window.
Cube protested, and with good cause, he was certainly no cat burglar, ‘I can’t get through there!’ he pleaded.
‘Then I’ll break the window,’ said Alex.
‘No!’ Despite himself, Cube attempted entry, but he became stuck halfway through, his feet kicking out in desperation.
‘Cube, hurry up,’ whispered Alex, noticing the neighbour’s illuminated lounge.
Cube struggled, and with rhino-stealth ultimately made it through. He landed inside with a bang, and Alex made ready to hide. But the next sound he heard was that of a bad-tempered Cube opening the door:
‘Never again–!’
‘Shut it, Cube, for Christ’s sake!’
Geoff’s flat was musty and empty; his flatmate, a chemical engineer, had long since departed for industrial placement.
‘I didn’t realize Geoff was into speed,’ remarked Cube, ‘Christ, if anyone doesn’t need it, it’s Geoff!’
‘That’s what I’m banking on. Hammer sold him an eighth of gear last term and included some speed as a sort of introductory bonus. I remember Geoff refusing, but, you know Hammer, he insisted.’
‘Maybe Geoff threw it away.’
‘More likely, he’s stashed it. We’ve got half an hour to find it – get looking.’
Cube began to investigate some drawers.
‘By the way,’ said Alex.
‘What?’
‘I didn’t realize “Cube” wasn’t your real name.’
‘Fuck off, Stanton.’
21