Chapter 4

Leaving the bathroom i allowed the door to swing closed with an extra push on its way, hoping to either trap who I’d hurriedly left behind, or failing that, crossing my fingers that the door would hit him with such force and impact that he’d either be knocked out, giving me a moments peace, or, just like on TV, the sudden blow to his head would make him forget who he was and he could be convinced that we don’t know each other – giving me more than a moments peace. The sound of approaching feet, getting closer and faster, and not changing directions as my glance to the heavens hoped, coupled with a self assured, yet badly out of tune and escaping all pitch, singing of some other teen bop classic, told me that my reprieve had been the shortest possible. Steven was once again next to me. Hurriedly trying to make my way back to the others, so as to put more bodies between Steven’s delusions and myself, I only succeeded in almost mowing down an approaching waitress. Before I could utter a word of apology and hope that this brief stop in stride hadn’t brought Steven even closer, the waitress said sorry, excused herself, and walked off. I have no idea why I was surprised by what happened next. Sidling up to me with the expertise of a Cold War spy, or more likely a stalker, Steven was suddenly looking over my shoulder with an unusually, even for him, smug air of arrogance painted across his face.

“Did you see that?” He whispered uncomfortably close to my ear.

“See what?” I replied, continuing my journey back to the others that now seemed almost an epic tale of lonely hopelessness. Actually being in an epic tale of lonely hopelessness does seem more appealing right now.

“What that waitress just did.”

 “Yeah, that was nice of her, although to be fair we should have been the ones stepping aside.”

 “You don’t get it.” He whispered in an exasperated tone of one who seems to be seldom on the same plane as others.

“Get what? Manners? I think I’ve got the just of it.”

 “No, one of those waitresses wants me, and they’re all in on it, it’s so obvious.”

He was right. I didn’t get it. What was obvious though was that he truly believed this to be the case. This day may not end up being a total loss. Steven could still end up making a fool of himself and getting a slap for his troubles. Although none of my other prayers had been answered. There was still hope though, and hope I would cling to, its all i had going right now. Caught up in my own dreams of violence and embarrassment being meted out to my self assured “friend” I failed to notice the smile that had crept up on my face as I approached the table in dreamland. Sitting down I was brought back to reality by the hollowed whistling of the teen pop master again. God I hope he wasn’t peeing again.

 “Ahh, Hotel California!” Said Guy, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head, obviously taken back to a moment when that song meant something to him.

“Baby Hit Me One More Time.” Corrected Steven, a little bemused as to why no one could recognise his tune.

“A classic!” Replied Guy, obviously wanting to turn this into a conversation.

“Not without the video.” Chimed in Murphy, granting Guy his wish.

“Oh, Ooops I did it again! Now there’s a hot video.”

 They were all involved. This was now a conversation born out of off tune whistling that could have been anything but turned out to be a Britney Spears “classic” that a group of guys in their mid 20’s were now using as a bases of a conversation. A group of well educated, and seemingly intelligent guys I may add, and Steven of course.

 “Oh yeah, the red jump suit, wow!”

 “Okay, can you guys spell statutory rape?” I added, not wanting to be left totally out of the stream of dialogue, but at the sane time trying to distance myself from it.

“S-A-T” Spelled Steven.

Like i said, a group of well educated guys – and Steven.

 “Shut up, and you were spelling “satutory” rape.” I said, faining frustration but secretly enjoying the fact that he had taken me literally and still failed.

 “Yeah that’s a entirely different thing”

“It’s when everything starts leaking and…”

It seems that Guy and Murphy where starting to enjoy themselves. They’ll talk about anything, and its not that they like the sound of their own voices, or each others I suspect, but rather the plain simple truth that they are bored. Very bored. Plus I think they both have a thing for Britney Spears or Christina Aguilera and will use any excuse to talk about them, especially if it involves picturing them. The fact that this was brought up by Steven is just gravy for them. Also they don’t seem bothered that this has turned away from the objects of their lust to a silly game play about the made up word “satutary.” The mere fact that the conversation was started with Britney in mind is enough to flame this one all night. It’s pretty easy to drift off whenever these guys get going. It’s kind of like your day time soaps, you can watch them everyday, then go on holiday for a while, and when you return for your afternoon TV the story may have moved on but in many ways it’s the same, and pretty easy to pick up on. Somewhat comforting in a way. That’s what conversations were like here, you can drift in and out, go over your shopping list, anything you’d rather be doing at that moment, wondering if you still remember the starting line up of the first Cup Final you ever watched, and drift back into the conversation, easily picking up on whats being talked about without necessarily having participated in the last few minutes. Comforting. The scenario is comforting, not the topic in this particular discussion. I’ll briefly attempt to surmise the just of their hotly participated in conversation. Guy kicked off this particular subject by wondering why men in general, when asked by a girl if they think the likes of Britney or Christina are hot, they tend to say no. The idea here being that men seem to feel that the best approach here is to appease the girls by telling them what they feel the girl in question wants to hear. Leaving the real answers to the locker room and Foosball tables. Murphy went on to substantiate that it was the whole “lesbian thing.” His words not mine. The idea here, in supporting the whole argument, is that men think the idea of lesbians, so long as they look like Britney and Christina and not Brian and Chris, are a turn on. But when asked by girls the usual answer is “no, yuck” when in reality they are thinking “where, how much.” I know this conversation has you on the edge of your seat, hanging on to every word of this engrossing, topically relevant conversation, especially in this time of war, famine and George Bush. This is where the discussion takes a Steven turn, and this is best described in his words, as simple as they are they fully justify all that is Steven and why he is so lightly tolerated.

 “I once had a threesome with these totally hot lesbians.” said Steven, staring off into the distance, as one does when seeming to not care if anyone is listening, but hoping that they all are, stunned and in awe.

“No you didn’t.” Replied Murphy, in a tired, almost frustrated tone of someone, like the rest of us, who’d heard it all before and was very nearly on the verge of violence, in any small form.

“Okay, but I almost did. I turned them down.”

“No, you did’t.”

 “I did, seriously, I did!”

 “When?”

“last week, in a club.”

“WHEN?”

“Last week, in a club!”

 “That club was a strip club, and you asked the strippers to kiss, and they slapped you.”

“Oh, you were there.”

 And that’s Steven, In his own words. You couldn’t make this stuff up. I sometimes wish I could, because then he may not be as Steven as I make him out to be. Unfortunately he is.