An Eye for an Eye

Chapter 03: Drinks.

The last time Ferguson had seen Daniel Reina at Lust was also the last time he himself had been to the club. He had stepped into the bathroom; something he tried to avoid except in emergencies. He remembered pushing the door open with the tip of his fingers and washing his hands even before using the urinals. Lust was a good club, but every good club had disgustingly filthy bathrooms. It was just how things worked. He had turned to leave just as Daniel had walked in, followed by two laughing boys. And just before the door had closed behind him, he saw the three of them lock themselves into one of the stalls. He’d felt a bit jealous, before remembering that they were all crammed up inside a smelly cubicle which barely held one person. He firmly decided to stop thinking about it when he pictured one of the boys landing inside a toilet filled with some kind of mysterious substance.

It was almost impossible to believe that that Daniel and the awkward looking thing in front of him was the same person.

This Daniel was polite and kind mannered but, really, Ferguson wasn’t impressed. It turned out this Daniel had a rather inelegant taste when it came to bars. He had taken him to some dark, beer-reeking joint downtown. There was a TV set hanging from the wall next to the bar. A football game was on. Well, at least he had the decency to look ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” he had said, “I’m kind of short in cash, but this is a good place. I promise your drink will be okay.”

They were sitting at the back, in a corner. Daniel kept looking around, nervous. Ferguson was starting to believe he was sharing the table with a dangerous fugitive. Not that that would make him back away, not now. He rested his chin on his palm, his elbow on his knee. He was not touching that table.

“Are we waiting for someone else?” he asked, trying to sound politely curious. Daniel gave him a half smile and ran a hand from the top of his head to his face, rubbing his eyes in the process. Ferguson only felt a tiny, tiny bit guilty. He knew the guy had been drinking until late the night before. And he knew that Daniel had been working late tonight too, he had seen it for himself.

“No, sorry. I’m a bit distracted.” He smiled again. “Do you…what do you want to drink? I’ll get it for us.”

‘We have to get our own drinks?’ Ferguson wanted to ask. What kind of service was this? But he settled on eyeing the counter and the collection of bottles on the glass shelves with fake interest.

“What are you having?” he asked the other man.

“Oh, I’ll just drink a soda or something.” His head was still throbbing; it wasn’t a good idea to have any more alcohol, not until his next meeting with Mae. Ferguson rolled his eyes.

“You can’t let me drink alone. How would that look?” His dramatic nature was hard to suppress sometimes, he had to admit, but Daniel only looked amused and distinctly less fidgety.

“I really shouldn’t drink tonight.” He laughed.

“Oh, come on! You just spent your night pouring other people’s glasses and you’re telling me you wouldn’t like a sip of…beer?” Daniel had been drinking beer the night before, drowning glass after glass while Mae talked continuously. That is, until she had decided to stick her tongue in his was willing to surrender his taste buds to the bitter taste and have one too, just to help the guy loosen up.

But Daniel wouldn’t give in.

“I have to go to school tomorrow morning, I really shouldn’t drink.” Ferguson raised an eyebrow as he leaned in, still not touching the table.

“I hope you don’t mean high school,” he said with a smile, a bit excited at the prospect of Mae sleeping with an under aged boy and being able to prove it; until he remembered the night before, when Daniel had flashed his ID to Peter at the bar. Damn it.

“No, don’t worry.”

“Okay then, let’s both have a drink.”

“Ferguson, please.” Ferguson felt oddly pleased when Daniel begged like that. Especially when he used that tone, the one that told him that, even though the other boy was terribly uncomfortable, he was only a little push away from giving in. He also liked that he called him by his name. Earlier, when it had been time for introductions, Ferguson had been a little hesitant about giving him his real name, but so far, there were no regrets.

Daniel hadn’t given him any clue to suggest he knew who he was. He talked to Ferguson the same way Ferguson had seen him talk to costumers at the restaurant. Polite, his voice steady and clear, and there was always a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“You know you want to,” Ferguson teased, and that was when the first half of the game ended. Both men turned at the sound of at least ten chairs screeching against the floor as the people surrounding the TV got up, cheering and joking. Two young guys walked past them on the way to the bathroom (yes, their table was next to the bathrooms), pushing and slapping each other’s backs playfully. One of them was wearing the type of jeans that no one had worn since the early nineties, tight where they’re supposed to be, and Ferguson stared. For a second he felt like kicking something and when he turned to Daniel, he thought maybe it would be more satisfying to take out his frustrations on the table separating them because, fuck, he could jump the man that very moment and not care about the consequences. His expression was sullen and he was staring at something on the floor a few feet to his right as though he wanted to ensure it came to a very violent end. He was trying not to stare so obviously (or pretend he hadn’t noticed Ferguson staring) that it was painful.

Ferguson was dancing on the inside.

When Daniel looked up he gave Ferguson a pathetic, strained barely-there twitch of the mouth and got up, “I’ll get us a couple of beers. Be right back.”

-

Danny was waiting for the bartender to stop yelling at the TV so he could get his change, when his phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and sat on one of the stools as he flipped it open.

“Hello?” he said just as the man in front of him, who was supposed to be handing him three dollars and fifty cents, threw a washcloth on the floor and howled: “What?! You blind fucker!”

“Danny? Where the hell are you?” Vicky asked from the other end of the line, sounding more angry than worried.

“Hey. I’m at the bar around the corner.”

“And, not to sound like your mother or anything, but what are you doing at the bar around the corner? You didn’t have a date today.” The bartender shoved the money in front of him, muttering under his breath. “That I know of. Are you alone?”

Danny perked up, “Guess what? This guy came to work today and he gave me back the paycheck! He found it at that other bar yesterday and saw my name on it.” Vicky was quiet. “I…asked to buy him a drink, to thank him, you know. I’m here with him now.”

“Oh. Okay then.” She sounded pleased, Danny could hear the smile in her voice but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the newfound money or the fact that he was out with a guy. “Have fun!” And she hung up.

-

Ferguson watched Daniel walk back to their table, hands full with four small beer bottles. All he had to do now was get the man drunk enough and-

And what? Ferguson wasn’t sure yet. Though he seriously doubted that Daniel would agree to go to bed with him at this stage, he didn’t think that was exactly what he wanted anyway. The whole point of the farce was to humiliate Mae, not sleep with Daniel for the sake of it. At least not yet. At this stage, Ferguson simply saw Danny as the instrument necessary to take down his cheating girlfriend. He definitely didn’t see him as a poor guy who didn’t know what he had gotten himself into with Mae.

Daniel handed him two of the bottles and heavily sat down. Two seconds later and Ferguson heard a beeping sound coming from Daniel’s pocket. Rather, from the saddest looking cell phone he had ever seen. It was scratched at the corners and though it was supposed to be black, the back was starting to fade to grey, on which someone had stuck a yellow smiley facesticker. Not to mention the fact that it would’ve been old two years ago and was big enough to be as battered as it was and still working. Which was big.

Ferguson redirected his horrified stare to Daniel’s smiling face, undoubtedly someone had texted him and he found what they had said amusing, because he certainly couldn’t think that that piece of ugly plastic was something to smile about.

Eventually Daniel put the phone down and apologized and Ferguson, doing his best to take the image of the phone out of his head, asked him who he was texting.

“My roommate,” Daniel answered and took a sip of his beer. “She’ll probably be at it all night.”

Daniel’s tone was apologetic, so Ferguson shrugged, “That’s okay.”

They fell into silence while he took the courage to lift the bottle to his lips and Daniel threw a few more glances over his shoulder.

“Do you have to be back early or something?” Ferguson asked, a bit offended.

“No, I- Sorry, I’ll stop.”

Things were going slow, Daniel was barely drinking, Ferguson could barely stand the taste of his beer, and no one was being groped by anyone. This wasn’t working.

“So…” Ferguson began, taping his fingers against his chin, “Do you have a girlfriend…boyfriend?”

And that’s when he discovered how to make Daniel drink his weight in alcohol.

-

What Ferguson thought was just Daniel drowning his sorrows was actually his way to avoid answering the questions that seemed to be pouring from his mouth. It went something like this:

So, a girlfriend? Drink. Boyfriend? Skulls half a bottle. You don’t want to answer? Awkward silence. Drinks some more.

And, probably because Ferguson was a little tipsy himself after a bottle and a half that he hadn’t realized he’d had, he would start over with the questions again and again, not only making Daniel incredibly uncomfortable, but getting him positively drunk in the process.

It wasn’t that Daniel was trying to hide the existence of his girlfriend, but he figured, he was already lying to the girl, he didn’t want to start lying to every person he met. To him, having a girlfriend or boyfriend meant caring for them and loving them, or knowing that you could eventually love them. And that wasn’t going to happen with Mae. He didn’t think of Mae as his girlfriend; she was just a poor girl being tricked by an asshole.

Daniel went to get more beer.

By the time three o’clock rolled around, Daniel couldn’t see straight and Ferguson had become his new best friend. Well, Ferguson would hold the position until the alcohol left his system at least. They left the bar side by side, Daniel with an arm draped around the other man’s shoulders.

“My car’s that way.” Ferguson started going to their right, only to be chocked by the arm that was now around his neck.

“You can’t drive!” Daniel was appalled, horrified, not to mention dizzy enough to have to lean against the wall, dragging Ferguson with him. “We can…we can go to my place.”

“Really?” He didn’t sound that excited, but then, he had his face buried in Daniel’s armpit and any emotion in his voice would probably have been muffled by his thick jacket. In his head he tried to debate the pros and cons of going to Daniel’s place, but for some reason all he could see was a bed (a big, fat pro) and he didn’t particularly care if Daniel was in it or not. That kind of tipped him off that he probably was drunker than he thought.

“Yeah.” Daniel answered, a few seconds too late.

“Where….” Ferguson was starting to have trouble breathing, with his nose squashed like it was. He turned his head and was hit with a strong rush of cold air. Daniel’s arm had loosened and he was standing up straight, with his back against the wall. The guy had fallen asleep standing like that? His eyes were closed; his glasses were slipping off his nose. Ferguson nudged him with his shoulder.

“Mmh?”

“Where do you live?” Daniel opened his eyes and stared at him for a while, like he was trying to remember who he was and what the hell was going on. Eventually he snapped out of it and pointed to their left.

“Around the corner.” Ferguson looked and saw darkness. Darkness and murderers and rapists and drug dealers and darkness.

“No. No way.” He shook his head. “I’m not going there.” Daniel frowned and looked over. He saw his street, looking as it always did, a little dark but that was to be expected since it was three AM, he reasoned.

“Why?”

“We’re gonna get mugged! Or worse. Come on, I’ll-” He tripped on Daniel’s foot. “I’ll drive us to my place.”

Danny was having none of it, he may have been drunk, but he wasn’t going to let Ferguson drive like that. And he was not going to get into that car. He reached out and gripped Ferguson’s arm, his head clear for a moment.

“It’s just around the corner. You’re not gonna get mugged. Or worse.” Ferguson looked skeptical.

“How do you know? Maybe you’ll mug me or worse.” Though that thought didn’t sound too bad. Ferguson giggled.

“I won’t. Come on.” They walked around the corner; Ferguson clutching Daniel like he was a lifesaver until they entered the shabby building. Ferguson was sober enough to notice the shabbiness. The trip up the stairs, only one floor, took probably twice the time it normally took, since they were tripping and chuckling all the way through it. Once upstairs and in front of a closed door, Daniel began patting his jean pockets, which Ferguson thought was quite suggestive, so with a dramatic sigh, he said, just as the door swung open, “Fine, you can worse me.”

Daniel hadn’t heard and Ferguson wouldn’t even remember what that meant the next morning, but Vicky was standing in front of them, wearing a big smile and a big ugly t-shirt that was probably what she slept in. She was staring at Ferguson like the big star he was, only for different reasons. He felt uneasy for a second but he couldn’t figure out why.

“Had fun?” Vicky asked as they went inside and Daniel threw a tired “yeah” over his shoulder as he disappeared inside one of the rooms. Vicky invited Ferguson to sit on the couch and he gladly did. Well, if you count sprawling all over the couch as ‘sitting’. “Danny’s probably passed out on his bed by now. You can crash here if you want…. You can join him too, you know.” But Ferguson was halfway into dreamland. He turned to face the back of the couch and his cell phone fell out of his pocket and landed on the carpet with a soft thud. Vicky picked it up, it was small and thin and silver, and put it on the coffee table. Unlike the rest of the people in her home, she went to sleep smiling.

-

Ferguson woke up when he heard a door slam. He had no idea where he was, his neck was sore and the taste in his mouth was awful. Not to mention that his head felt like it was cracking open. Okay. Last thing he remembered was drinking at the shitty bar. The logical thing to think was that he was at Daniel’s place. And since he was sleeping on a couch, it seemed as though nothing had happened the night before. He sat up, slowly, and looked around for a clock. He found one hanging above a dresser just in front of him.

Eight thirty.

-

Danny had shampoo in his eyes when the bathroom door flew open and banged against the toilet. He slipped and nearly broke his nose against the tiled wall while he was trying to stick his head out of the curtain. He still couldn’t see with it closed.

“Hello?” He called; maybe Vicky had left something behind when she left for work.

“Let me borrow your toothbrush.” A male voice answered and Daniel was scared for moment. Then he remembered Ferguson, bringing back his paycheck, having a drink with him. Or a hundred. He couldn’t remember bringing him home.

He rubbed his eyes with water, opened them and sure enough, there was Ferguson, brushing his teeth with Vicky’s toothbrush. He felt himself blush and didn’t know what to say because, what do you say to someone you don’t know that just woke up at your house when you don’t remember inviting them and is standing right next to you while you’re wet and naked? Danny had no idea. But Ferguson wasn’t paying attention to him; he was busy trying to fix his hair with water.

“I have to go,” he said. “I’m late for work.” That came out as a whine. Daniel felt bad for not waking him up earlier, but he was late too and hadn’t known Ferguson was there. Still, he apologized and ducked back behind the curtain when Ferguson looked up. He looked good all tousled up like that.

“It’s not your fault.” Ferguson snorted before he could stop himself; he was supposed to be being nice to the guy. “Uhm, I have to go. Talk to you later.”

Daniel sighed as he heard the front door slam. He wanted boy friends, boyfriends, anything that included boys, but he was sure he wasn’t going to see Ferguson again. What he didn’t know was that Ferguson had left his cell phone behind, which was innocently sitting on the coffee table. And that even though it had been an accident, Ferguson would tell himself it had all been part of the plan.

Oh my, is this an update? And only, let’s see, seven months later?! I obviously win at life.

Anyway, thanks for all the reviews! I hope you still remember what this is about…. And thanks Kasee Lara for editing (I have serious flow issues). :)

Oh, Kasee Lara mentioned that a lot of nice bars make you go and get your own drinks, the kind of bar I was thinking Ferguson is used to is the ones where you have the option. Where I live in, in those kinds of bars if you are sitting at a table, you wait for a waiter/waitress. And if you go to the bar to ask for a drink they usually tell you to sit at your table and they bring it to you. Not every bar, just…the kind I was thinking. XD

Hope it wasn’t horrible!