‘Mate,’ Daniel said, swilling the last dregs of his beer at the bottom of the glass. ‘I don’t have words for the extent to which I am not interested in tonight. Really and truly – I’m pretty sure you don’t need me.’
Lorenzo raised his eyebrows and shook his head. ‘I need you, dude.’ He finished his drink and signalled to the barman for two more.
‘No,’ Daniel said, firmly. ‘I’ve got to pace myself.’ He waved Lorenzo’s hand away and held up one finger to the barman. The barman nodded, message received.
‘It’s not as if I’m asking you to set your hair on fire and put it out with the back of a shovel just for a laugh. This is a group of hot girls! You could even get laid if you wanted!’
‘But that’s the point, isn’t it?’ said Daniel. ‘I don’t want to.’
Lorenzo, as predicted, hadn’t been hugely sympathetic about Daniel’s failed date and lost romance as he’d relayed it all as they’d eaten toast and jam in the kitchen together that morning.
‘Bollocks to her, mate,’ was how he’d summarized it. ‘Come out with me tonight. You could get any of the girls from the RAINFOREST party on their knees for you, and they’ll all be there. Becky said so.’ Becky was the girl Lorenzo had brought home after the work event the other week.
In lieu of any sort of emotional intelligence, Lorenzo got weirdly sexual, but Daniel knew he meant well. It was just, well … Lorenzo’s version of ‘meaning well’ was exhausting.
The barman put down another pint in front of Lorenzo, and he picked it up, emptying half of it in two huge gulps.
‘It’s Saturday night! Come on! We’re young, we’re single, we’re a pair of good-looking dudes. What’s wrong with letting our hair down?’
Daniel raised his eyebrows at him, and regretted ever being dragged out in the first place. He’d had a rush of understanding that he couldn’t just stay in front of the TV all Saturday night, and that a few drinks with Lorenzo wouldn’t be the end of the world, but now he was out and the bar was busy and Lorenzo was being particularly loud and louty, he regretted it. He wasn’t in the mood to manage Lorenzo’s outgoingness.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ Lorenzo continued, noting Daniel’s sour expression. ‘Just … at least pretend to have a good time? Becky wanted to go out with her mates, and I wanted to see Becky – I mean, she’s super fit, so duh – and I can’t be some weird guy in a group of girls waiting for them to stop talking so he can get his dick sucked, so … this is you doing me a favour. Although how my invitation for peeling you away from the sofa is somehow you helping me out I’ll never know. Anyway,’ he paused as he finished off his pint in another two long gulps, ‘I said eight and it’s eight, so let’s go.’
The guys walked quickly under the arches of Hoxton station and rounded the corner to see four women standing in a tight circle, all on their phones. Daniel recognized the woman who’d tried to kiss him, as well as Becky, whose face lit up at Lorenzo’s. Daniel thought the other two women must have been at the party too, but he didn’t recognize them. They kind of all looked the same, with honey-coloured hair just below their shoulders, all of them in high-waisted jeans and leather sandals, with lots of gold jewellery layered around their necks and wrists.
‘Ladies,’ said Lorenzo, shouting as they approached. ‘What a sight for sore eyes!’
Becky said something Daniel couldn’t hear to the group as they all looked up, making everyone giggle. He felt self-conscious, but he didn’t know why. The girl who had hit on him at the party made eye contact and smiled sweetly.
‘We meet again,’ she said, as the two men made their way around the group, kissing the cheeks of each woman.
‘We do,’ said Daniel. ‘You look nice. I like your –’ he struggled to identify something that stood out from the rest of the group ‘– nail varnish.’
The girl laughed. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I just got a manicure this morning. Self-care Saturday and all that.’
Daniel smiled and nodded politely, not knowing what self-care Saturday was, but not feeling invested enough in polite conversation to follow up. At least he was out, breathing fresh air and wearing cologne. He’d moped enough last night, ordering in truffle Mac ’n’ Cheese from halfway across London, and throwing in a cheesecake to boot. When he’d woken up this morning he’d put a wash on and changed his sheets, gone for a run, had breakfast with Lorenzo and then headed out to the Wellcome Collection for a bit of culture. It was a slow, quiet day, but void of much human interaction, and so here he was, engaging with people.
‘Shall we go then?’ Lorenzo asked the group, rounding everyone up. ‘I saved us a table at Lilo and Brookes. No big deal, but yeah, I know a guy.’
Daniel turned to the nameless girl beside him.
‘What have you been up to today?’ he said, forcing himself to be friendly and sociable, and struggling to listen to her answer.
At the bar, the group assembled and in a fit of generosity Daniel said, ‘Right then – what’s everyone having? First round is on me.’
He handed over his credit card to pay, having realized at Wetherspoons the night before that he’d left his debit card at the bar when he was supposed to meet Nadia. He couldn’t face going back for it, so he’d cancelled it and ordered another to be delivered in the post. In the meantime, the £115 total for six drinks – six drinks! Over one hundred pounds! – went on his Amex. Daniel delivered the tray to the table and thought about what Romeo would say about the cost. They should have all gone to Wetherspoons.
A few hours into the evening, Daniel suddenly stepped out of himself to acknowledge that actually, it was almost as if he was having fun. The woman who’d hit on him at the party last time had made friends with a guy from another group, and so that guy’s friends had joined their table and they’d held court, telling stories and laughing with the other girls and him. It took the pressure off the ‘performance’ – he just got to chat and not worry about flirting or being flirted with. Daniel ended up talking about Arsenal with one of the guys, passionately defending their starting line-up in the Premier League final match – still a sore point for many a fan. The guy had said some clever and funny things, and then, out of nowhere, said, ‘I’m going to the bathroom, mate. Do you want any?’ He put a finger against one nostril and snorted up through the other. Daniel looked around the group. Ah. They were all high.
‘Nah mate, I’m all right for a minute,’ Daniel said, hating knowing he was the only one not disappearing to the loo for cocaine. It wouldn’t be long before everyone got shouty and self-obsessed and sweaty and horny too. Lorenzo and Becky had made out occasionally all night, but Daniel noticed now that the spaces between their kisses had lessened and lessened, and just like that Daniel stopped having fun and made his excuses to leave.
‘Daniel!’ he heard from behind, as he checked his phone to see that his Uber was only two minutes away. ‘Daniel!’
It was Lorenzo, with a very out-of-it Becky on his arm. She staggered and swayed, and had the fixed, airless smile of a woman who had no idea where she was. She didn’t look high – she looked very, very drunk.
‘Give us a ride, buddy,’ Lorenzo said cheerily.
‘Two minutes,’ said Daniel, glancing at his phone. ‘Oh. One.’
Becky could hardly support her own head. She mumbled something and pushed her hair from her face. ‘You okay, Becky?’ Daniel asked.
‘Nkdhrhf-drunk, isall,’ she said, which Daniel took to mean ‘I’m drunk’.
‘Can I get you something? Where are the others?’
Lorenzo looked annoyed at the question. ‘Chill out. She’s with me. She’s okay.’
Daniel stepped towards him and lowered his voice. ‘I don’t think she really knows where she is, mate,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t take her home like this. Let’s get her back to the girls.’
Lorenzo looked up, meeting Daniel’s eye, puffing out his chest. ‘Mind your own business, mate.’ He said ‘mate’ as if it meant exactly the opposite, aggressive and mean.
‘No, dude, I didn’t mean … just. Look at her! She should go home.’
A black Prius pulled up alongside the kerb.
‘Daniel?’ the driver said through the open window.
‘All right mate, just a minute,’ Daniel said. Turning back to Lorenzo he continued, ‘Come on, she’s in no fit state. Let me cancel the cab and we’ll find the others and they can make sure she gets back okay. I think she lives with one of them.’
‘Mate,’ Lorenzo said, almost in air quotes. ‘She’s fine. The cab’s here now. Let’s just go.’
Daniel hesitated. He thought he was going home alone and now Lorenzo was there with a woman who should not, on any terms, be going anywhere except her own bed. But what was the worst that could happen? Surely Lorenzo would pass out as soon as she did anyway. And it’s not like he thought Lorenzo would do anything stupid, but … well … Daniel resented having to bear witness to it. He stepped aside and let his friend open the car door. This wasn’t his call to make, he reasoned.
‘She’s not gonna be sick, is she?’ the cabbie asked, and Lorenzo told him she was fine.
Daniel climbed into the front seat.
‘Evening,’ he said to the driver.
‘Evening.’
The four of them drove in silence, with Daniel vaguely aware of slurpy kissing noises coming from the back seat. He didn’t want to turn around, or worse, get caught staring in the rear-view mirror or the dark glass of the car, but he was increasingly uncomfortable. It didn’t seem right to him that Becky was so drunk she could barely speak, and Lorenzo was obviously taking her home to have sex with her. Did she even know where she was? He regretted having let Lorenzo get her in the car. If that was his sister, or one of his girl mates …
‘Hey, Becky – you okay back there?’ he said eventually, to which he got a mumbled reply that, in his book, meant she couldn’t be far away from either passing out, or throwing up. He stole a glance in the rear-view. Lorenzo was looking out of the far window, sleepily, but his hand was far up Becky’s leg, his long fingers stretched out so that his thumb reached into the crevice between her legs.
They pulled up at home, and the two men had to practically give Becky a fireman’s lift up the stairs to their flat. It was weird. It felt like being a caveman who had clubbed a cavewoman over the head and dragged her back.
‘She can have my room,’ Daniel said, as they opened the front door. ‘And I’ll take the sofa.’
Lorenzo laughed. ‘She’ll come in with me, stupid.’ Becky slumped into the armchair Daniel normally reserved for watching TV.
Daniel looked at her. ‘Listen, Lorenzo.’
‘Don’t “listen, Lorenzo” me.’
‘You can’t … you know. Get consent.’
‘Woah! Who said I was going to fuck her?’
‘Nobody. I didn’t mean—’
‘Fuck you, man. What are you fucking saying?’
Daniel held up his hands, in surrender. ‘I’m saying I’ll get my duvet and sleep in here, and she should go in my room with a pint of water and fully clothed. That’s all.’
Lorenzo’s face flashed purple with rage. ‘I’m not some fucking creep. What do you think I’m going to do?
‘Nothing …’ Daniel tried to sound calm. Emotionless. Non-judgmental. He kept his voice level. ‘Lorenzo, you’re drunk. Just go to bed.’
Lorenzo pushed Daniel’s shoulder. ‘You’re drunk!’ He pushed Daniel’s shoulder again. ‘Fuck you!’
Daniel pushed him back, instinctively. ‘Don’t push me.’
Lorenzo pushed him again. ‘Don’t push me!’
Daniel wasn’t sure how it happened, but one of them lunged at the other – he’d say tomorrow morning that it was Lorenzo who’d forced his hand, but he couldn’t be sure, they were both drunk and angry – and Daniel could only remember a feeling of almighty pain, the sensation of liquid running down his cheek. There was screaming. Oh god, there was screaming.
‘Stop! Ohmygod! Stop!’ It was Becky. She was crying – sobbing. Really, really, sobbing. Daniel adjusted his focus and saw Lorenzo lying on his side, groaning. He touched his hand to his face and then looked at his fingers. Blood. They’d beaten the living daylights out of each other.
Becky continued to cry – a weird, confused cry, but a cry that indicated she’d sobered up. The cushions were pulled off the sofa, the coffee table had dragged the rug underneath it into a ball, and Daniel wasn’t just breathing deeply but panting.
‘Becky,’ he said, sounding as authoritative as he could under the circumstances. ‘I’m going to call you an Uber, okay?’
Becky made eye contact with him and nodded through tears that were now stunned and silent.
‘Come on.’
It hurt Daniel to stand, and looking in the living-room mirror he understood why: there was a bruise shining brightly at the top of his right arm, which he could see because his shirt had popped open and been pulled down, and there was another shiner below his right eye too. He looked sweaty and dirty and bloodied and a mess. ‘Where’s my phone?’ he asked, and Lorenzo silently handed it to him from the floor, his eyes fixed firmly on the ground. He looked almost as bad as Daniel did.
‘Get your bag, Becky. We’ll wait outside.’
Daniel and Becky waited outside, neither of them knowing what to say. The Uber pulled up, and Daniel opened the door for her.
‘Get home safe.’
She nodded.
Inside, Lorenzo had tidied up the mess they’d made. The cushions were back in place and he’d sorted out the rug and coffee table. There was just a single lamp on, and his bedroom door was closed. Daniel thought about knocking on it, but didn’t know what he’d say. He wasn’t sure what had just happened, really. He just knew he was relieved the girl wasn’t behind that closed door with his flatmate. He just … Lorenzo shouldn’t have brought her home, and that was the end of it.
He leaned in close to the mirror, and even in the dim light he could see the bruise, already deeper and brighter. It hurt to touch.
‘Fuck,’ he said quietly, a sentiment he’d continue for the next four days, when the bruising looked worse before it looked better.