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God this night was dull, which was a good sign that it had gone horribly.
At points like this, Chas couldn’t help but wonder how many shitty, cheap cocktails and spirits it would take to physically drown himself in. Although, he did feel as if any meaning behind such an act had passed a long time ago. He wasn’t some misunderstood, young artist that would go out in a blaze of beauty and tragedy. He certainly wasn’t young enough for that title now. Instead he was an ex-"star," PA’ing a third-rate, crappy bar with a name he couldn't be bothered to remember most of the time. Chas couldn't even call himself a “has-been”; to be a “has-been,” he actually needed to have been something.
He was also vaguely aware that slouching over the bar in his free moments and getting himself plastered off of said cheap spirits and cocktails throughout could transform this PA from being horrendously dull to an utter shitshow. Wasn’t exactly stopping him though.
Clink
His empty cocktail was gently hit by another, more full glass. Frankly, that little noise was enough to temporarily knock Chas out of his current drunk, self-pitying musings.
“For the man two seconds away from falling out of his seat?”
Before Chas could move to look towards this mystery donor, he felt a sudden hand against his chest, pushing him back onto the seat properly. Apparently the stranger wasn’t lying about him being moments away from collapsing off his barstool - or, more realistically, tumbling and slamming his face a bit against the shoddy bar. The hand soon retreated itself back to its owner, which finally gave him the opportunity to look upon said owner.
“Sorry about that. I could see you were about to get hurt.” His voice wasn't exactly soft, but it was noticeably quite calm and composed.
The first thing Chas spotted about the stranger was that he definitely didn’t look like his natural environment was a shabby bar of any name in reference to bright colours or clothing. Granted, he wasn’t exactly wearing much more than some button-up and slacks, which would only inherently be a bit out of place in an environment of crappy booze and noise, but he also seemed just generally way too put together for all this.
That distinctiveness wasn’t helped by the fact that, no offence to the guy, he seemed quite a bit too old for this place. These kinds of places had music loud enough to turn you half deaf before you hit thirty after all. Although, Chas couldn’t talk too much in this situation; he wasn’t exactly some kind of fresh fledgling of a man at that point. The gentleman in front of him seemed to be on that older side, thinning hair and wrinkles that were noticeable but also notably in all the right places.
All of this pronounced difference only helped to keep his attention on the composed stranger. Maybe it was the numerous crappy drinks in his system talking, but Chas couldn’t help but find this bizarre man who manhandled him out of nowhere quite charming before he had even introduced himself - and before Chas had the opportunity to see what drink he had even gotten him.
The stranger’s eyebrows creased in a somewhat bemused manner, and that was the clue that Chas had been staring.
“Oh shit! Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Chas spluttered, a slight slurring to his already unorganised speech “... Look.”
A forced half-hearted chuckle followed in an attempt to reduce the awkwardness he may have culminated. Fortunately, the man seemed to take it on the chin and Chas immediately clocked how his eyes seemed to crinkle when he smiled. Witnessing that, he only hoped the lights here were intense enough that his slight flusteredness was hidden. His attention then shifted to the mystery drink in front of him.
Rationally, Chas should have known not to just accept a random drink from any old random person. However, he was already quite inebriated and, even without the drink, was a bit of a fool - and that thought only really occurred as he was mid-knocking it back.
He then took a pause and finally processed what the hell he was actually drinking before he could finish.
“What is this?” He asks slowly, still slurring his words a tad bit, as he suddenly feels a wave of nervousness hit him, as the taste was a bit unfamiliar. The man replied casually, that calm demeanour not shifting in the slightest.
“It’s just a bit of cranberry juice.”
What.
“Fuckin’ cranberry juice! Why?” Chas almost cackles honestly, that tension quickly disappearing.
This was despite being a bit miffed at the audacity that this man - in a crowded bar - brought him literal juice. Fortunately, it wasn’t some dodgy shit, but it was definitely odd in its own right. The stranger lightly sighs at Chas’ immediate confused reaction and leans lightly against the bar.
“You seemed like a bit of a Debbie Downer right now is all.”
Chas cocked an eyebrow and lightly scoffed. He was probably right. Although, it still didn't really answer his question. Obviously the guy had noticed Chas' baffled reaction and elaborated, his composure only slightly shifting to incorporate an element of playfulness to his tone.
“You're PA’ing tonight, am I right?”
A few moments of “silence” (as silent as you can get in a packed bar) pass before Chas realises he was awaiting a response. He non-committedly shrugs, not really wanting to remind himself of his current line of work. The man seems to take this response as a “yes” and continues.
“Getting yourself drunk in this state is only going to make it more likely to go wrong and you’ll end up feeling worse. I don't particularly want that, so I thought I could help sober you up a bit”
The older man proceeded to lightly pat Chas on the shoulder at that final part, and he doesn't want to admit to himself how much he enjoyed that. Nowadays, potential men weren't exactly queuing up for him. There wasn't even a line to think of for a very long time. And good God, he was embarrassed at how hungry he was for even that mild touch and affection.
“It is shit though.” Chas all too quickly bitterly retorted.
The stranger seemed to muse and reflect on that, looking towards the bar as he seemed to be in careful thought.
“Well this isn't exactly my kind of place or area of experience, so I can't be sure.”
His gaze returned to Chas. It was firm but oddly not discomforting.
“But I do know that if you have too much and mess up on that stage and make it worse, you'll be even more down in the dumps than you are now.”
The taller man leant forward and pushed the glass closer to Chas.
“Drink.”
That certainly wasn't what Chas had predicted. In fact he thought it may be better than anything Chas had expected. He was too used to more wishy-washy bullshit.
Often the kinds of men that did used to have any interest in him would have given some kind of overly positive “No, no believe in yourself! It's so good” sort of encouragement - often just straight up lying. Most of the time it was to either butter him up for the night or in an effort to get to him to shut the fuck up with whatever he was whining about. This random guy had actually listened to him and considered his own opinion. It felt truthful or, at the very least, thoughtful - which was the kind of response that actually was cheering him up a bit.
“Thanks.” Chas raised his glass of cranberry “Cheers.”
Somehow the cheap juice tasted a bit better now.
He had just finished downing the drink as he became aware that the song he had put on was coming to an end. Chas haphazardly leaped out of his stool to rush to the stage.
“Wait!” the man suddenly exclaimed.
Almost instinctively, Chas stopped and turned to this stranger's beck and call from the bar, awaiting some kind of reply.
“It’s Joe, by the way” he smiled softly, the kind of smile that not only clearly met his eyes but caused them to crinkle and crease in kind. Chas couldn't help but return it in kind. Now he had a name for the gentle face.
The moment of peace was broken as Chas attempted to shout his own name back but was seemingly muffled by the rousing crowd. Especially now that the sound of the current crappy pop song was ending.
Chas sighed as he had to break this ma- Joe's gaze to return to the stage. Although, admittedly, there was a little bit more hope within him as he rushed up than before.
~
In spite of his heightened mood, no one really paid the PA’ing any attention, and the experience remained frankly just as dull as before. Tragic.
And yet Chas couldn't say he felt that same sense of doom and despair as before. Joe was right, after all, imagine the nightmare that would have happened if he was even more drunk than he still was. He probably wouldn't be hired there again, but if he fucked it up like he imagined he would've, he'd never be hired again, period. He could have been straight out of a job if that strangely put-together gentleman had not intervened.
He especially couldn't feel that bad as that aforementioned gentleman didn't leave that bar for the rest of the night - almost like he was waiting to see him again. Chas has been back and forth for the rest of the night, so he hadn't gotten the same opportunity to properly talk to Joe since. Usually he would’ve thought of behaviour to be quite odd, especially under the circumstances, but (once again) Chas couldn't help but feel a bit charmed by it all.
Technically speaking, he was still working but, by the point that most of the crowd had drunkenly dissipated away into the night, Chas felt pretty comfortable with departing from the stage for longer periods: the only “crowd” left were drunk off their asses enough to no longer sense how late it is, so he doubted they would care much as he sauntered back to the bar.
And Joe was still there. He already was quite distinct in comparison to the rest of The Purple Sock’s customers, but with the numbers having drastically dwindled, it would have been impossible to miss him.
Damn, he must be patient.
“It was still shit.” Chas half-smiled as he plunged himself back onto the same flimsy bar stool he had pathetically slouched onto prior.
Chas didn’t consider himself that observant, but it didn’t take a fucking genius to notice the egregiously intense coloured blue cocktail Joe had perched by his side. The more he stared at it, the more he wondered if it was practically glowing in the dark. Joe, on the other hand, seemed more keen to look anywhere else but towards his own drink and lightly fiddled with the lemon resting on the side of the glass. Once Chas had fully taken his seat, that attention seemed to shift.
“I know tonight may not have gone the way you would have liked, even after sobering up a bit,” Joe started, his tone seemingly building up to some planned reveal - like he had practised it to himself beforehand. “so I thought I’d buy you a proper drink to cap tonight off with.”
Joe carefully slid the luminescent glass over Chas. Despite how ridiculous the cocktail looked, Chas was pretty distracted more by the collected manner Joe seemed to take with movements like these. He clearly never had been to a place like this, and yet every movement felt planned and enacted with such care and thought.
Chas scoffed a little at the glass in front of him. “Alright, so what the fuck is this then?”
He had no clue what he was meant to be looking at right now. The only real connection being the idea that, based on appearance alone, the contents could probably be misunderstood as some kind of pool water. He was straight up about to drink chlorine.
“I asked. Apparently it’s called a “Corpse Reviver… Number Blue.” he slowly pondered, glancing behind the bar as he recalled the name.
“It was between that or something like A Guy Likes To Smoke?”
“Was that “Guy” a Grant?”
“Yep.” Joe sighed.
Okay, so the other man didn't have a clue in hell either, which was actually reassuring. Most of the “special” drinks at the Purple Sock felt relatively incomprehensible, and at relatively low points he had sampled most of them. Chas remembered The Magical Toad being particularly low. However, it also provided more proof that Joe really was a fish out of water here, which reignited that curiosity.
“Go on.” Joe encouraged, lightly tapping the glass to make a slight ringing sound.
Why was he doing all of this in the first place?
“What the hell are you doing here?” Chas blurted out. In truth, it sounded a lot harsher and meaner than he intended: a common problem Chas had never fully grasped. He felt a strong pang of guilt hit him as he noticed Joe recoil, his eyebrows creasing, and his previously kind smile forming a sour line.
Fortunately, that slight crack in his demeanour was only for a moment, but Chas definitely did not like it. Joe blinked, sighed lightly and suddenly he was back to his collected self.
“I thought I told you.” There was a twinge of defensiveness in that reply, and Chas couldn't resist doubting himself.
“Have a try at least. You might like it.” Joe switched the subject back to encouraging that bloody cocktail again.
Was Chas just drilling down into nothing? Why can't he just accept that this stranger seemed to want to be nice to him? Nevertheless, he persisted.
“I mean, why are you here? You got lost heading to a bloody dinner party?” He snapped. Before Joe had the opportunity to respond, Chas sneered and continued, already having forgotten about the drink in his hand.
“I mean, why did you even get me that fuckin’ cranberry juice in the first place? What did it matter to you that I may or may not have felt like shit.” His tone gradually gained a sort of exhaustion to it. He had a bad feeling that all his needling and insecurity would only drive any interest in him away.
The man sighed and actually took the seat next to Chas. He noticed it was in worse condition than his own bar stool and considered offering his over to the other man.
“I'm in a new place in my life where I'm looking for something…. Or someone.” Joe answered slowly, clearly taking the time to think through his response “And I think you're exactly the kind of person I'm looking for”
Well, that sounded promising so far. After a few moments of silence, Chas motioned for him to continue.
“So yes, whilst I was trying to cheer your sorry self up for the sake of it, it happened to also couple as a way to get your attention.” A light chuckle followed and, maybe it was the recent bout of loneliness, but Chas suspects he hadn't felt so flattered in a long while.
Joe clinked his glass against Chas’ bright chlorine water of a cocktail.
“Now please just drink, Chas. Relax.” he pushed him a bit further. Chas can't recall giving the man his name. Although, he quickly rationalised to himself that he probably overheard it throughout the night.
As sickly as it looked, Chas gave in and practically downed the glass. A similar bemused chuckle from Joe suggested that he drank more than even expected. Despite his prior judgements, the cocktail wasn't that bad. Although it held a bit of that sickly sweet aftertaste that he expected. After he recovered a bit, Chas - with the gradual confidence that this man was actually interested in him - decided to escalate things a bit.
“So what did you mean by looking for someone” Chas relaxed a little on his stool and rested his chin against his hand, eyeing Joe “or some…thing like me?” he grinned wryly.
He shrugged and leant over, his eyes not meeting Chas and yet still focused on him. “Something new,” Extending a hand, Joe wiped a bit of the cocktail from the corners of his mouth and finished, now back to looking him in the eyes.
“Something proper.”
Chas snorted, “Something proper? Too good for an under-the-table hand job? Unless that's deemed “proper” enough for you, of course.”
Joe paused for a moment, as if he was reeling a bit from Chas' little proposal. “Something meaningful, something worth doing.”
He stopped again. Paused for longer than Chas had expected. He really had little idea what was going on in his head. With a slight smile he continued. “Nine years should be good in my mind.”
Wow.
Without another thought, Chas let out a breathless cackle at the sheer audacity of such a pick-up line, “Nine years? What are you going to do on the tenth? “Thanks for the ride, babes, but bye!” “
Joe pursed his lips, “At LEAST nine years.”
After a few more moments of hyena cackles and slamming his manicured fist against the bar, Chas calmed down a bit, “Well you get points for originality at least. Thanks!”
“Well, I think it's what you deserve.”
“Alright, flattery will get you everywhere.” Chas wiped some stray laughter-induced tears from his eyes. The kind of gloomy, harmful contemplations that had brought him to this bar far forgotten for now.
The crowd was embarrassingly small at this point and those that were still there seemed seconds from passing out on the dance floor, which was a good sign Chas' work was done for the night. Joe seemed to notice too and finished up his beer.
“I would say “I'll see you around here again, but I'm not sure I'd really like to come back.”“
He knew Joe wasn't finished but that moment did make his chest tighten a bit, as he considered maybe Joe wasn't that into him as he had thought. Maybe he had come on too strong.
“So maybe we could go somewhere less… loud?” He proposed.
Chas broke into a Cheshire Grin at the set-up “Shame. Well I'm afraid I can't do quiet that well. I am quite the screame-”
“I meant!” Joe quickly interjected.
“I meant somewhere a little more personal. There's this Greek place a few blocks down that I’ve always been meaning to try.”
Chas knew what he was talking about. In days far too long past, the band used to rally there. It used to be just to be a pretty regular tradition but, when their chances of stardom dwindled, when Atlantic Five were being booted by the record label, and when they were forced to continue on with their own lives, they started meeting there less and less. He hadn’t even been in contact with some of those guys since those old get-togethers. Similarly, Chas hadn’t given the place much thought since he left some rant about some annoying customer or something like that on his old MySpace page.
“Well, it’s better than this shithole. Haven’t been for years though…” Chas contemplated, significantly more subdued than before.
“Well then, how about we go?” Joe waved his wallet “My treat.”
Usually, Chas wouldn’t dare think to reject a guy paying for him, but at this point it just felt kind of weird to accept.
“Come on! You brought me two drinks already.” He protested.
“They weren’t expensive and one of them was just lukewarm cranberry juice!” he argued and swiftly slipped his wallet away again. “Let me. It’s closed now so you’d have a bit to change your mind...”
Well, he had been defeated. Chas let out a purposefully extravagant sigh and leant in towards the stranger.
“You’re bloody determined, aren’tcha?” he asked with an amused huff, but ultimately won over.
Joe leant back, a triumphant smile that reached his eyes plastered across his features.
“I try.”
~
God, he was going to vomit.
He had spent less than an hour total charming that shitstain and already had to hold himself back from forcing more of that bright, fruity cocktail down his fruity fucking throat. How on Earth was he going to manage a whole relationship? He assumed the worst parts of this would be fucking the man or having to actually pay attention to what the prick said. Apparently the most painful part would just be existing in the same space as Chazz with two Z’s. The same space as the “man” who obliviously destroyed his life.
Not too long before Olivia had been rendered comatose, Joe had briefly found himself more and more into those shitty little slot machines you’d find in arcades or pubs. It was low-level gambling at the end of the day and something he found quick to lose himself. However, the more time he dedicated to it, the less he felt willing to let it go until he won. He almost regretted letting it go after his daughter and marriage were torn away from him. Maybe that’s what he needed right now.
Joe brought up his palm to his face in an attempt to steady himself against the freezing brick wall. The cold brick wall on the building of Chas’ flat from when Joe had generously taken him home earlier, forcing a smile while he wondered if the yapper could survive being chucked into oncoming traffic. The dumb, limp-wristed fuck hadn’t even noticed he knew where he lived.
Maybe the longer he invested himself with Chas, the less likely he was to abandon his plan and slam a metal pipe into his thick skull on a whim. Although, the thought of that brought him some relief.
He just needed to stay patient and stay determined. Then Joe would get a reward sweeter than he could even comprehend. One that would make it all worth it.