A Night Out
The noise in the pub had reached a near-deafening level, a mixture of music, voices, and clinking glasses that had to be shouted over in order to be heard, which meant the evening had reached its pinnacle. Colin was a little more than tipsy, at the stage where everything looked pretty and every idea seemed a good one.
Darkey Kellys was a lively place on any night, but it was Friday and packed to capacity. Colin had advised they get there early since seats were limited, and judging by the mass of people around them it had been a good idea. Almost everyone in the bar knew him and had come over to talk to him at some point. Colin, Jared, Eamon, Claudine, and Catherine had a table up front near the stage. Colin's mother had left early before things got too rowdy, as she usually did.
“All right Jared,” Colin had a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, wobbling slightly on his feet. “Here we are.”
He sat the tall glass down in front of Jared, hard enough to dislodge some of the foam, which he licked off his fingers. Jared eyed the glass warily, lowering his head to peer into it.
“Guinness!” Colin said, giving a dramatic wave of his hand. Eamon snickered. He was sprawled in the chair next to Jared, his arm on the back of Jared's chair. Colin didn't care, because when Eamon was drunk he loved everyone.
“Guinness,” Jared repeated, giving it a sniff. Claudine was watching him with a grin.
“The national drink of our fair country,” Colin tried to find his cigarette, reaching for the wrong side of his mouth. “You can't come to Ireland and not have a pint of it. Am I right?” Colin pounded his fist on the table, dislodging more foam.
Claudine and Eamon banged on the table in agreement. Catherine chuckled. She wasn't in a very good mood tonight, and Colin figured she was having problems with his brother-in-law again.
“It looks like motor oil,” Jared looked up at Colin skeptically.
Eamon started laughing and poured a shot. He had a bottle of whisky in front of him, which he and the girls were sharing. Colin attempted to look offended at Jared's remark, but only after finding his cigarette and plucking it out of his mouth. “Watch what you say in an Irish pub Jared, I don't want to be scraping your arse off the street.”
“You just worry about your own arse,” Jared picked up the glass and studied it for a moment.
Colin leaned over, grinning at him. It put them eye-to-eye and Jared quirked an eyebrow.
“Now see, here's the thing,” Colin put his cigarette back in his mouth and talked around it, the tip bobbing dangerously. “Guinness leaves a residue on the glass, so when you drink it down you get a ring each time you stop.” Colin tapped the glass, and Jared looked at it. “So the more rings you have, the bigger a pussy you are.”
“Oh Christ,” Jared shook his head and everyone else laughed. “And the more rings, the more times you have to pick your ass up off the street, right?”
Colin grinned, plucking his cigarette out. “C'mon then, I know you can do it.” Because he was tipsy and there was no block between brain and mouth, he leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Drink it down with three rings or less and I'll suck your cock in the backseat tonight.”
Jared laughed, and Eamon raised an inquisitive eyebrow. The girls were grinning and watching.
“All right,” Jared took a deep breath. “If I get sick, I'm doing it on your shoes.”
“Fair enough.”
Jared took an initial drink to get the taste, and the look on his face was a cross between horror and surprise. “Well that's an…interesting flavor.” He coughed and winced.
“You Americans,” Eamon teased him, pouring another shot. “Your tongues are ruined by all that sugar and shite you eat.”
Jared waggled his tongue at him. “You don't know what my tongue has been ruined by, so shut up.”
Colin saw Claudine give her sister a knowing smirk. Colin thought about accidentally spilling his beer on her.
“That's one ring,” Colin said, nodding at the glass. Jared shot him a look.
“You don't taste much when you chug,” he informed Colin, and began to drink.
He got it down with exactly three rings, and Colin was duly impressed, as was everyone at the table. They all clapped and whistled while Jared sat there wobbling, eyes wide. Colin put his foot up on the table.
“There you go, give ‘em a good splatter,” Colin grinned.
Jared smirked and pushed it away, shaking his head. “I can hold my liquor, thank you!”
Chugging a pint of Guinness, however, put Jared over the line from merely tipsy to completely drunk. He kept trying to light a cigarette, and Colin eventually had to help him, which was like the blind leading the blind. Eamon had to step in with his Zippo to assist.
“That's pretty,” Jared said, taking it from him after he lit them up. It was silver monochrome and he held it up to the light above their table, staring at it in wonder.
“And you are so drunk,” Eamon shook his head and took a pull off his own cigarette. “It's just a lighter.”
Jared drew it in closer and peered at it. “What's that say? There's words engraved on it.”
Colin and Eamon said in perfect unison, “May your neighbors respect you, trouble neglect you, the angels protect you, and heaven accept you.”
Jared looked from one to the other with a confused frown. Eamon chuckled and snagged the lighter back. “It's an Irish blessing. Colin got it for me, just before he left home for the first time to make a movie.”
Colin sighed dramatically. “All those years ago.” He nudged Jared in the ribs. “You should have seen the great nelly crying when I got on that plane.”
“Oh yes,” Eamon plunked his glass on the table. “Let's not forget you calling me up that night crying over how homesick you were.”
“You guys oughta get married,” Jared slurred, reaching for Eamon's bottle. “Is that legal in this country?”
Jared had a few shots with Eamon, Colin trying to keep his own drunk at a nice comfortable level so he wouldn't regret it in the morning. His eyes kept straying to Jared, who was wearing a rather tight pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair loose on his shoulders. Colin had gone casual with jeans and a t-shirt as well, but somehow Jared made it look striking.
Catherine eventually got to her feet, not having had more than a shot. “I think I'm gonna go,” she said. “It was great seeing you again, Jared.”
Everyone said goodbye and she disappeared into the crowd. Colin shook his head. “What was up her arse tonight?”
“I don't know,” Eamon was refilling Jared's shot glass. “Maybe the painters are over.”
Colin snickered and Claudine gave him a withering look. Jared, holding his glass unsteadily and gazing down at it as if trying to figure out which side to drink from, asked, “Oh, is she having her house painted?”
Everyone laughed, even Claudine. Jared frowned and looked around at them.
“It's a saying,” Colin slipped his hand onto the back of Jared's chair, pushing Eamon's off. “It means…I think you guys say ‘on the rag.'”
Jared gave a surprised snort, which sent droplets of his whisky showering over the table. “Watch it!” Claudine protested.
The night went on in a bright haze, a cacophony of voices and music and the sweet flow of alcohol lulling Colin into a blissful place. He gave up on moderation. Another beer in him and a couple of shots, and Colin felt an overwhelming urge, which often came over him when he was in the middle of a rowdy pub and his blood was at least fifty percent alcohol.
“I gotta sing!” He pushed himself to his feet. “Eamon, we gotta sing!”
“We do!” Eamon lurched to his feet as well.
“What?” Jared laughed.
“Oh Christ,” Claudine rubbed her forehead.
Colin and Eamon commandeered the stage, which was easy enough since the pub owners knew them, and as soon as they got up there people turned their attention to them and started to cheer. Colin grinned and waved to the crowd. Eamon handed him a microphone and was given one for himself.
“All right folks,” Colin said into the microphone, which squealed feedback at him in protest. Someone came over and adjusted it, then he spoke again. “How about some requests?”
Various songs were thrown at them, from classics to traditional songs to downright silly ones. Jared was grinning at them, Claudine occasionally shaking her head and smiling.
In the end they decided to sing ‘Satisfaction' by the Rolling Stones, which was well received and got everyone quite loud and rowdy. Jared was laughing the entire time, alternately clapping and hiding his eyes in disbelief. Colin knew he wasn't the best of singers, but he didn't care. He and Eamon jumped around the stage and sang their hearts out. Toward the end, Colin started beckoning to Jared to come up and join them.
At first he shook his head wildly and held his hands up.
Colin took a break from singing to shout at the crowd. “How many of you want to hear my good friend Jared Leto sing a few lines for us?”
Everyone cheered enthusiastically, though probably only a handful even knew who he was. With much encouraging, Jared finally made his way to the stage, laughing. “Come on!” Colin urged him, reaching down to give him a hand up. “Jared Leto of 30 Seconds to Mars, everybody!” Again, everyone shouted, just to shout.
Despite his initial reluctance, Jared took quickly to the microphone when it was handed to him. What followed was the breathiest, most slinky version of ‘Satisfaction' that Colin had ever heard. Judging by the shrieks and squeals, all the women in the pub orgasmed, and some of the men.
Colin and Eamon stood back and encouraged him, Claudine bringing Colin his beer so he could wet his throat. Jared kept glancing over at Colin with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he sang. Colin and Eamon occasionally joined in for back-up vocals.
When Jared finished, the applause and screaming nearly brought the place down. Jared laughed and bowed repeatedly, his hair sweeping in front of him. Colin and Eamon took a bow as well. As they came down off the stage, a woman in a short skirt and a low-cut top pushed a piece of paper into Eamon's hand with a salacious smirk.
“Thanks honey,” Eamon passed it to Colin. “Does your brother have a number?”
After their performance, Claudine went out to get some air, and their table was mobbed by people who wanted to buy them drinks. Most of them were female, and they were practically punching each other to get the open chairs. Normally Colin would have picked out a few of the cuter ones and taken turns, but it was amazing how much he had changed since the last time he'd been in a Dublin pub.
Eamon was being hit on as well, which was always amusing. Colin could hear him over there proclaiming that he was just off to join the priesthood in the morning, or that he'd taken a vow of celibacy, getting the girls riled up before finally telling them the truth. A pretty blond girl leaned over between Colin and Jared and whispered something in Jared's ear. Her perfume had a tantalizing floral scent to it and her breast, which was practically falling out of her top, was resting on Colin's shoulder. Colin peeked over it. Red lace bra.
Jared listened closely to whatever she was saying, then nodded. “That sounds great,” he said loudly to be heard over all the chatter at the table. He smiled politely at her. “I'm involved with someone though, I'm sorry.”
The girl frowned, then leaned over again, whispering something else. Colin smiled to himself.
“No,” Jared shook his head, still smiling, though a bit forced now. “They'll find out, trust me.”
She went off, disappointed. Colin gave him a knowing smile. He wasn't quite so drunk after the performance, but he still felt a warmth spreading through him.
Claudine came back a few minutes later, her coat and shirt dotted with water spots. “There's somebody outside who wants to talk to you,” she said, close to Colin's ear.
“Me?” Colin looked up at her questioningly. “Who?”
“I don't know,” she stood up straight. “I don't know who he is. Wear your coat out though, it's raining.”
There was only one reason a man wanted to ‘talk' to you outside a pub in Dublin. Colin caught Eamon's eye and gave him a certain signal. Eamon nodded and got to his feet, as did Colin.
“Where are you going?” Jared asked.
“We'll be back,” Colin patted his arm. “Sit tight.”
Colin and Eamon pushed their way through the crowd to the door, then Eamon hung back just inside it while Colin went out.
It was bitterly cold outside, and indeed raining, the lights gleaming on the shiny pavement. There was an awning outside the door and Colin kept under it, huddling down in his coat and looking around. There weren't many people outside with the rain falling, and he found who was looking for him quickly. He came over to Colin, wrapped in a long tan coat, and Colin gaped in shock.
“Francisco!” Colin stared at him in disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
Even in the dim light from the pub windows, he looked so much better than he had the last time Colin had seen him. He'd been leaving the hotel with several people that might have been members of his family, and Colin hadn't got to talk to him. He was pale and stooped then, hunched over as if he were trying to draw into himself. Now he was standing straight, and despite having shadows under his eyes, he looked much better.
“What are you doing here?” Colin reiterated. He quickly pulled his hands out of his pockets and embraced him. After a moment he drew back, hands still on his shoulders, looking into his eyes worriedly.
“I found out where your mother lives,” Francisco's teeth were chattering, his breath curling around his face. “I went to ask her where you lived, and she told me you were here. I wanted to talk to you.”
“You came all the way to Ireland to talk to me?” Colin gave a wondering laugh. “I have a phone, you could have saved yourself some money.”
“I need to talk to you face to face,” Francisco gave him a meaningful look, and Colin understood. “I couldn't wait until you came back, it would have eaten me up inside. I know it seems crazy, but I had to come.”
Colin nodded, and slid his hands off his shoulders, only because they were cold. He tucked them back in his pockets. “All right.”
Francisco was silent, looking down at the pavement, flexing his gloved fingers. Then he looked up again. “I'm sorry, Colin. For what I did. For how it affected you, how it affected everybody.”
“I know,” Colin said softly. “I know you are. I'm not angry at you.”
“It's part of my therapy,” Francisco looked down again. “I have to talk to my friends and family, ask their forgiveness.”
“You don't have to ask mine,” Colin said, his voice still soft. He didn't feel at all drunk anymore. “I never blamed you.”
“It helps, though.” He looked up, his eyes so very dark and intense, locked with Colin's. “I've…well, frankly I've seen Hell, and it's been a cold walk back from it. Every little thing helps.”
“You didn't have to come all the way to Dublin to do this, Francisco.”
“But I did,” he look steadily into Colin's eyes. “I did. And it couldn't wait.”
Colin nodded. After a moment of silence, listening to the cars pass by on the rainy street, Colin spoke again. “Since you're here, will you just tell me one thing?”
Francisco nodded, and by the look in his eyes he knew what was coming. “Yes.”
“Why did you do it?” Colin furrowed his brow, glancing up the street, unable to meet his eyes for a moment. “What was so bad? That you thought you had to die to get away from it?” He looked back at him.
Francisco drew a deep sigh, his breath obscuring his face as he blew it out. “It's a very long story, but the short version is that I've screwed up every chance at happiness I've ever had.”
“How so? You're a dancer. You're successful, beautiful. Smart. Talented.”
Francisco shook his head, looking down the street. After a moment's thought he spoke, looking back at Colin. “Yes, there's all those things. But every relationship I've ever had I've messed up. Not committing myself, running away, cheating on them. I hurt Jonathan, I hurt him really bad. And he loved me, too. He loved the real me, not the pretty dancer.” He drew another shaky sigh. “I just couldn't stand the guilt anymore. I need something more than success and looks in my life, but I keep sabotaging it.”
“Why did you call him?” Colin said softly. “If you wanted to die? Why did you call him?”
Francisco snorted, looking down. “I guess I got scared.”
Colin nodded, looking down too. He glanced toward the door. “So what does he say now? Have you spoken to him?”
“No,” Francisco said tightly. “No, I don't think we'll be speaking again. I'm going to spare him that, at least.”
Colin was sad to hear it. He remembered Jonathan's face when he told him. Colin had his own guilt eating away at him.
“I told him,” Colin said, not wanting it to be a secret. “About us.”
Francisco nodded calmly. “Good. He deserved to know.”
Colin sighed and looked toward the door again. It came open a little and Eamon peeked out. Colin motioned to him.
Eamon slid out the door, looking curiously at Francisco, who was under the shadow of the awning and probably not visible to him. As he drew closer though, his mouth fell open.
“Francisco!” He gasped. “How did you get here?”
“He walked,” Colin smirked. “What do you think?”
“I mean what is he doing here.” Eamon gave Colin a scowl as he stopped beside him, then he looked at Francisco. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to talk to Colin,” Francisco gave him a little smile. “It was important.”
“It must be, to come all the way here!” Eamon looked him over, then said softly, “You look so much better.”
Francisco gave a dry laugh. “Yet strangely, I don't feel much better.”
“It'll take time,” Colin said gently. “But you'll get there.”
“He's right,” Eamon gazed at him for a moment, then he moved forward and hugged him. “How have you been?” He held him for a moment, then drew back, looking at him with concern.
“I'm here,” Francisco gave a little shrug.
“You almost weren't,” Eamon said. “Are you taking care of yourself?”
“I'm trying to.”
Colin looked back toward the pub. The rain had lessened, but it was still drizzling down in dreary streams, running off the edge of the awning. “Listen,” Colin looked back at Francisco, teeth chattering. “Why don't you come inside? Have a drink with us, get warmed up.”
Francisco looked at the pub, then shook his head. “No, no…I have a room, I'm just going to go back there,” he motioned to a car sitting against the curb nearby. It looked like a rental. “I'll call your cell phone in the morning. Maybe we can go somewhere and talk.”
“Are you sure?” Colin looked hopefully at him. “Just one drink?”
“No,” he tucked his hands into his pockets. “I don't think I'm ready to be around a bunch of people just yet.”
Colin nodded, and looked at Eamon. He looked as worried as Colin felt.
“So,” Francisco flicked his gaze from one to the other. “I guess I'll see you tomorrow.”
Colin thought this was the part where he should say they could leave there, go somewhere quiet, maybe for a coffee. But Francisco turned and started toward the car.
“Wait!” Eamon whipped off his coat and rushed after him. “It's pouring rain!”
It wasn't exactly ‘pouring,' but Eamon held his coat over Francisco's head as he walked to the car, which seemed to take Francisco aback, but he went along. Colin smiled and turned to go back in the pub.
“What's going on?” Jared asked as Colin sat back down at the table. “I'm practically being raped here!”
“I just had a very interesting visitor,” Colin said. “You're not going to believe it.”
*****
Jared came out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel. He stopped in Colin's bedroom doorway and Colin gazed at him, from where he was lying on the bed smoking a cigarette.
“I can't believe he came all the way here to see you,” Jared said, lowering the towel. His hair was a wild, damp tangle around his face. “It must have been killing him.” He winced. “Bad choice of words.”
Colin reached over to the bedside table and ground his cigarette out in the ashtray there. “I'm going to go see him tomorrow, talk to him. I think he needs to know I don't hate him.”
Jared came over to the bed, another towel wrapped around his waist. Colin's eyes traced the edge of it where it clung to his hip. “I wonder if Eamon left with him?” Jared said.
Eamon hadn't returned to them, and when they left the pub roughly an hour later, Colin found him sitting in the front seat of Francisco's car, the two of them talking. Colin had knocked on the window and Eamon put it down.
“I'll get a cab home,” he told Colin. “We're just talking.”
Colin had looked across the seat at Francisco, and he gave Colin a little wave and a smile.
“All right,” Colin had said. “Call me in the morning. Both of you.”
Jared sat down on the edge of the bed now. Colin sighed. “I don't know,” he said. “I kind of hope so, though. I hate to think of him being alone.”
Jared was silent for a minute, staring off across the room, then he looked at Colin. “You know,” he said, “with all this excitement, you didn't uphold your part of the bargain.”
Colin smirked. “You mean the Guinness ring bargain?”
“I'll meet you out in the car.” Jared got to his feet. Colin chuckled, but Jared actually started getting dressed.
“It's cold out there!” Colin protested, watching him in disbelief.
“I'll warm the car up.” Jared slipped his shoes on and headed out of the room. “Come on!” He called back. “Or you'll be picking your arse up off the street!”
Colin got up with a sigh. The words “I can't get no satisfaction…” traveled back to him in dulcet tones, and Colin grinned.
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