One thing about Frank was that he needed a wingman. Alongside his almost constant smoking, other thing that Frank enjoyed most was screwing. Not for him the slow, patient subtleties of online dating or newspaper lonely hearts. Nope it was out for the night, line one up, bang, gone in the morning.
Naturally, the people Frank saw the most of were his co-workers. But they nearly all had taken it in their heads to have stable, steady relationships which was ludicrous in Frank's eyes. That only left the singleton Ryan as a dependable and regular wingman for Frank's needs and he usually had to be. If he had put his mind to it, Frank could probably have cajoled his way into Fort Knox. It didn't matter if at all if Ryan enjoyed himself as long as Frank got laid. On the occasions Frank didn't it was a troubled, black-tempered walk home laced with expletives and poisonous, hateful rants against all womankind. That was motivation enough for Ryan to do what he could for Frank on the nights out, not that he would be out in the first place if he could help it.
Sometimes, very occasionally, Ryan left Frank yammering away at his door and did not answer. But usually he followed his natural reflex and answered without thinking. Big mistake. Tonight was no exception.
'Ryan! You coming out tonight?'
Too late.
'Aw, not tonight, Frank. I've got to be up early tomorrow.'
'What the fuck you on about? It's the day off tomorrow!'
Actually Ryan had forgotten about that. And he and Frank knew he had no other reason to be up early.
'Well, yeah, but...'
'Well yeah but bollocks! Come out for a few jars!'
Frank always dressed up 'The Hunt' as a couple of mates just heading out for some pints.
'Frank, I'm terrible tired!'
'So what? You'll sleep tomorrow no probs!'
The conversation progressed, but it was hopeless. Within half an hour Ryan found himself standing outside City Hall.
They went to the nearest pub for two to three of what Frank called 'looseners'. And the talk was all from Frank and was all about women and the many ways he liked to have intercourse with them.
Ryan just wasn't 'into' it. Not that he wasn't attracted to women and not that he'd never had sex; he'd just once had a one night stand to see what the experience was like but, that aside, sex and women were just too far removed from his life as he never thought about them. Frank could think about little else, apart from nicotine.
With Frank suitably loosened and Ryan feeling a bit dizzy and sick, they stumbled through another couple of pubs before heading to the nearest nightclub. That was a ramshackle place with about four floors, narrow wooden staircases and stale seats beneath flickering, coloured lights.
Each floor had its own theme and style of music. They'd ended up at the top where hardcore drum 'n' bass was played. Frank was soon jigging about on the dance floor, scoping out the women about him. Ryan sat in the corner with one hand over his ear and the other lifting the latest in as succession of flat lagers in plastic cups.
He was exhausted, so Frank had made him down a double vodka/Red Bull. That woke him up but now he was just miserable and very drunk. He made his way uneasily over to Frank to say something about needing to go home. Frank, totally preoccupied with a couple of women, just nodded. Ryan somehow headed down the stairs.
But he didn't get to the front door. He somehow was on the next floor where he somehow got talking to a girl which somehow led to them kissing.
Next he somehow was in a taxi with the girl and her mates which was going to Lisburn. Frank was somehow in the cab with them, eyeing up a pretty blonde. Soon they were in the house owned by the girl Ryan had met.
Her name was Karen, she was a redhead about Ryan's age and seemed quite taken with him. She worked in the health service. These would be the entire details that Ryan would remember.
It came back to somehow, as Ryan somehow ended up upstairs with Karen and they went to her bed. They somehow didn't have sex...but they didn't not have any fun either. The next morning Ryan got up to go to the bathroom. He heard loud snoring coming from the spare room and looked in to see Frank stretched out on the bed, alone and fully clothed, passed out.
Gingerly and with a head full of stimulant and feeling sick, Ryan got dressed and told Karen he had to go but he would get her number from her phone. She smiled and went back to sleep.
Two hours later Ryan and Frank got back into Belfast on the bus, broke and both on the verge of puking.
But Ryan didn't have Karen's number. To his knowledge he never saw her again.
His head was back to his main preoccupations in life and within a few weeks he would give them his total attention. Excluding everything else.
