Door Matt

“Matt!” commanded a vaguely familiar voice.

 “Sorry?” squeaked Matt in surprise, turning to look around the pub.

“You little bugger, you!” shouted a stout, tall, bearded man, across the floor.

“Oh… Hi,” hesitated Matt, aware he can’t get away and noticing the barman watching.

“Well? Come on then!” demanded the bearded man, “Richard said he’d see you at the game.”

“Yeah,” replied Matt, having only heard the words ‘the game,’ as he’d rushed over.

“Was it good?” the bearded man asked, briefly looking away to a woman at the end of the bar.

“Oh, the game?” asked Matt, standing close enough now to act aa bit more comfortable.

“No, your lobotomy?” the bearded man joked, nodding to someone who’d just entered the pub.

“Oh, yeah, funny,” Matt concluded, “Yes, we lost!” Matt passively concluded.

“No interest in football myself,” confided the bearded man, “Just boring to me, to be honest.”

“Not a problem, I get it,” Matt agreed, nervously taking a swig, “each to their own, Bill.

“Mine’s Rugby league. There’s a real man’s game,” assured Bill, noticing Matt’s empty glass.

“Oh, absolutely, rugby league is proper rugby, a real man’s game, as you…”

“…Fancy another then?” asked Bill, nodding at Matt’s empty glass.

“… Oh, let me,” Matt offered, almost interrupting.

“Good on ya Matt, a generous lad, mine’s a pint,” declared Bill, forcefully slapping Matt on the back.

“I’ll go and get the…” started Matt, noticing an attractive woman had arrived to talk to Bill.

“Sure,” waved Bill, turning to the arrival, “Sandy, long time,” he grinned, reaching out to hold her.

“Bill,” purred Sandy, before they slowly kissed.

As Matt reaches the bar, the barman asks, “One for Bill as well?”

“Yeah,” agreed Matt, now aware the barman was still watching.

“She’s a cracker aye?” nods the barman.

“Oh, who?”

“Ha ha,” laughed the barman in disbelief, “the one you ran from,” he smirked.

“No, I just,” hesitated Matt in half-hatred defence.

“A real cracker,” smiled the barman, handing over the drinks.

“I suppose she is quite…”

“Twelve pound eighty, mate,” interrupted the barman.

“Oh, of course,” stuttered Matt, almost spilling his own drink to get to his wallet.

“You should talk to one of the girls in here,” muttered the barman.

“Oh, I will,” started Matt, handing a £10 note.

“I doubt it,” smirked the barman,” snatching the note from Matt.

“Cheers mate!” came the burley voice of Bill, slapping Matt on the back.

“Oh, hi mate,” Matt offered, turning round and trying not to spill too much of his drink.

“Hi,” briefly offered Sandy in obligation, wiping her peroxide hair aside.

“Hi!” Matt returned in an uncomfortably shrill tone.

“Don’t think you two have met,” sniggered Bill, enjoying the awkwardness of his benefactor.

“No, I… I… don’t,” started Matt, looking down when catching Sandy’s disinterested gaze.

“Come on then!” concluded Bill, slamming his quickly finished glass on the counter.

“Back to mine then?” asked sandy, falling in to Bill’s embrace.

“See you later Mark,” offered Bill, slapping Matt on the back one last time and smiling at the barman.

“Yeah,” added Sandy, not looking back as they left.

“Yeah… See you later Bill,” offered Matt to the departing pair.

“And your name’s not Mark,” sniggered the barman.

“Oh, it can often be confused with…”

“…Oh, that’s a good one,” laughed the barmen, contemptuously, now wiping the bar with a cloth.

“No, you don’t understand, we’re friends as well,” added Matt, now visibly irritated.

“You’re in here most Fridays, standing there like a spare prick at a wedding,” joked the barman.

“Excuse me!” started Matt, putting his half-finished pint on the bar and stepping back.

“I’m just saying,” smiled the barman, leaning in the bar to look more friendly.

“What’s it got to do with…?” started Matt, but he choked at the end of the sentence.

The barman took his chance, “…And I never see you chat to a woman.”

“It’s got nothing…” started Matt.

“… Sure, nothing to do with me, but I’m just saying,” concluded the barman.

“No, that’s fair enough, I suppose,” capitulated Matt, clasping his drink with shaking hands.

“What will it be?” asked the barman, now engaging a couple just arrived at the bar.

Matt watched the barman briefly, unsure if he should continue to engage in some conversation, or wait for the barman to complete the sale, or walk away. In the meantime, Matt stood still, and against his better judgement, waited for the barman to finish his now engaging conversation. The barman was laughing and so were the couple, as he took the money form their hands. When the barman went to the till, the couple looked over at Matt and the woman laughed. Something about her laugh made Matt sure she was laughing at him.