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Authors: Doug Johnstone
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recent history. Bit awkward if she did.
She turned. Someone was in her seat. He stood up, grinning.
‘Just keeping it warm for you,’ he said.
He was six feet tall and had hair like Evan Dando. Grey eyes. Cute, but a hint of darkness to them. He wore a Senseless Things long-sleeved top, one of the cartoon ones, drawn by the guy who did Tank Girl .
‘It’s crazy tonight, eh?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Bet you’re glad you’re not working.’
‘Do I know you?’
‘I’ve seen you behind the bar before.’
‘Did I serve you?’
He shook his head and drank from his pint.
She drank too. ‘Didn’t think so, I always remember a pretty face.’
He smiled. ‘I’m Ian.’
‘Elaine.’
They clinked glasses.
She never took her seat back.
They spent the next hour talking, cocooned by the crowd noise. No sign of Kurt. Ian was studying journalism at Edinburgh Uni and did subbing shifts down at the Evening Standard , covering weekends and holidays. He was flirting plenty. She flirted back. The attention was flattering. He was a sharp guy, not one of the Southern’s regulars who talked to her as if she was a silly little girl. Creeps.
The Joyriders’ singer got up on stage. ‘I’m sorry, but it doesn’t look as if our special guests are going to make it.’
Elaine looked at the clock behind the bar. Back of midnight.
The crowd groaned and booed as the singer jumped off stage and disappeared towards the bar. The place almost emptied in five minutes. A lot of the punters were young enough to have school in the morning, Elaine guessed. A guy with a big chunky boombox left, no bootleg for him.
Ian went to the bar and she watched him go, checking out his arse. Couldn’t make out much in his oversized jeans, but he was skinny, the way she liked. It felt good to run your fingers up and down a boy’s ribcage.
A rise in punter noise made her turn. Kurt and Dave Grohl had just walked in, Kurt flicking hair out his face, Dave patting someone on the back in greeting. The guy from the Joyriders was over and talking, shaking hands. Rumour was he knew Kurt from supporting Nirvana years back in some post-punk outfit.
Everyone in the pub was looking at Kurt. Elaine wondered what it must be like, all that attention, never able to relax. He didn’t look comfortable, fidgeting with his hair and pulling a thread on his tattered jumper.
Ian came back with her pint, nodding at Kurt and Dave. ‘How about that?’
Elaine looked round the pub. Couldn’t be more than forty people in the place now.
Ian and Elaine talked about music. Turned out they’d been to a lot of the same shows and clubs in the last few months. Elaine wondered why she hadn’t noticed him before, and felt a growing sense of serendipity.
Kurt and Dave got on stage and picked up acoustic guitars. They didn’t announce themselves, just started playing. The first tune was a Shonen Knife cover. Then ‘Polly’. She loved ‘Polly’, so messed up.
They played seven songs, despite the crowd going mental for more. They ended with ‘Come as You Are’ and left the stage, Kurt signing a few things then sloping off to the toilets, Dave heading for the bar and getting a round in for anyone close by.
‘That’s one to tell the grandkids.’ Elaine regretted it as soon as it was out her mouth, what a stupid thing to say.
Ian laughed. ‘Yeah.’
She finished her pint to give herself something to do for a moment. She looked behind the bar. It was past closing time already, but Big Al hadn’t rung the bell, which meant a lock-in. Could be a long one.
‘Want another?’
Ian looked at his watch. ‘I better not, they’re giving me a trial run as a trainee reporter on the crime desk tomorrow.’
Elaine looked at him. She’d been giving him pretty clear signals that she was interested, and he was going home. Playing hard to get, really? She was falling for it, though, falling for him.
‘I’d like to see you again,’ she said.
‘Me too.’
‘What
She turned. Someone was in her seat. He stood up, grinning.
‘Just keeping it warm for you,’ he said.
He was six feet tall and had hair like Evan Dando. Grey eyes. Cute, but a hint of darkness to them. He wore a Senseless Things long-sleeved top, one of the cartoon ones, drawn by the guy who did Tank Girl .
‘It’s crazy tonight, eh?’ he said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Bet you’re glad you’re not working.’
‘Do I know you?’
‘I’ve seen you behind the bar before.’
‘Did I serve you?’
He shook his head and drank from his pint.
She drank too. ‘Didn’t think so, I always remember a pretty face.’
He smiled. ‘I’m Ian.’
‘Elaine.’
They clinked glasses.
She never took her seat back.
They spent the next hour talking, cocooned by the crowd noise. No sign of Kurt. Ian was studying journalism at Edinburgh Uni and did subbing shifts down at the Evening Standard , covering weekends and holidays. He was flirting plenty. She flirted back. The attention was flattering. He was a sharp guy, not one of the Southern’s regulars who talked to her as if she was a silly little girl. Creeps.
The Joyriders’ singer got up on stage. ‘I’m sorry, but it doesn’t look as if our special guests are going to make it.’
Elaine looked at the clock behind the bar. Back of midnight.
The crowd groaned and booed as the singer jumped off stage and disappeared towards the bar. The place almost emptied in five minutes. A lot of the punters were young enough to have school in the morning, Elaine guessed. A guy with a big chunky boombox left, no bootleg for him.
Ian went to the bar and she watched him go, checking out his arse. Couldn’t make out much in his oversized jeans, but he was skinny, the way she liked. It felt good to run your fingers up and down a boy’s ribcage.
A rise in punter noise made her turn. Kurt and Dave Grohl had just walked in, Kurt flicking hair out his face, Dave patting someone on the back in greeting. The guy from the Joyriders was over and talking, shaking hands. Rumour was he knew Kurt from supporting Nirvana years back in some post-punk outfit.
Everyone in the pub was looking at Kurt. Elaine wondered what it must be like, all that attention, never able to relax. He didn’t look comfortable, fidgeting with his hair and pulling a thread on his tattered jumper.
Ian came back with her pint, nodding at Kurt and Dave. ‘How about that?’
Elaine looked round the pub. Couldn’t be more than forty people in the place now.
Ian and Elaine talked about music. Turned out they’d been to a lot of the same shows and clubs in the last few months. Elaine wondered why she hadn’t noticed him before, and felt a growing sense of serendipity.
Kurt and Dave got on stage and picked up acoustic guitars. They didn’t announce themselves, just started playing. The first tune was a Shonen Knife cover. Then ‘Polly’. She loved ‘Polly’, so messed up.
They played seven songs, despite the crowd going mental for more. They ended with ‘Come as You Are’ and left the stage, Kurt signing a few things then sloping off to the toilets, Dave heading for the bar and getting a round in for anyone close by.
‘That’s one to tell the grandkids.’ Elaine regretted it as soon as it was out her mouth, what a stupid thing to say.
Ian laughed. ‘Yeah.’
She finished her pint to give herself something to do for a moment. She looked behind the bar. It was past closing time already, but Big Al hadn’t rung the bell, which meant a lock-in. Could be a long one.
‘Want another?’
Ian looked at his watch. ‘I better not, they’re giving me a trial run as a trainee reporter on the crime desk tomorrow.’
Elaine looked at him. She’d been giving him pretty clear signals that she was interested, and he was going home. Playing hard to get, really? She was falling for it, though, falling for him.
‘I’d like to see you again,’ she said.
‘Me too.’
‘What
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