Lads

It was 9am. The lads had fallen asleep the night before huddled together between two bins behind Burger King after staggering out of a club, drunk and under the influence of several class A drugs. They had woken up in each other’s arms. Aldo looked into Daryl’s crusty eyes as he opened them slowly, his pupils constricted to pinholes compared to the giant dinner plates they had been just hours before.

“Wit the fuck, mate?” said Daryl as Aldo’s face came into focus.

“We just feel asleep, man. I’ve been watching ye. Making sure yer awrite and that.” Aldo said, feeling a bit hurt by the tone of Daryl’s voice. Daryl pushed Aldo off him and got to his feet.

“Think anycunt seen us?” asked Daryl.

“Naw, man. We’re awrite, I think.” Said Aldo.

“Thank fuck, we’re lying here like a couple a benders.”

“Aye awrite, Aldo. Calm doon.”

“Nae wunner.”

The two of them trudged down the Ayia Napa strip back to their hotel in silence. Last night was the lads’ first night out since they arrived and they had overindulged big time. In between snorting coke and swallowing ecstasy pills, which they had procured from a jittery Cypriot man moments after stepping foot on the strip, they had downed shot after shot of sambuca and, as well as being hungover, they were coming down hard and fast.

“We need to calm it doon a bit, mate. We’ve got four days left here, we’re gonnae end up spending aw the money,” said Aldo. “Or end up deid, I feel like am dying after last night.”

“Fuck up,” said Daryl. “We’re here for a mad wan. It’s the whole point of coming here. Don’t pussy out now ya gimp.”

“I’m no pussying out, mate. I’m just saying maybe we should ease off oan the gear an the eccies an that. I’m no used to takin hunners ae stuff.”

“Well ye looked like ye were enjoying yersel last night so we’ll dae the same again tonight.”

Back at the hotel the lads collapsed onto their respective single beds. The soft hum of the air conditioning soon lulled Daryl to sleep while Aldo lay on the bed feeling as if his body temperature was plummeting as the drugs wore off. Even under the covers with his clothes on, Aldo could not get a heat into his body. He thought about turning off the air conditioning but that would cause Daryl to fly into one of his notorious temper tantrums. Aldo was shivering like a neurotic Chihuahua as his body fought to restore some internal order.

“Daryl,” Aldo whispered through chittering teeth. “Daryl, mate, I’m freezing, I’m gonnae turn aff the air con.”

No reply.

“Daryl,” he tried a wee bit louder.

Daryl’s light snoring continued, undisturbed by Aldo’s attempts to rouse him from his slumber.

He probably won’t even notice if I turn the air con off, Aldo thought. He got up out of bed, the chill of the cold air circulating around the room felt as if it was seeping right into his bones. The air conditioning switch was next to Daryl’s bed. Aldo tip-toed around his sleeping pal, desperately hoping he wouldn’t wake up. He moved the switch down to off as quietly as he could. Aldo could feel the warmth radiating out from under Daryl’s duvet. The lure of it was too much to resist. Enough alcohol remained in Aldo’s system for him to think that this was a good idea. He slid a hand under the covers and let out a gasp at the heat within. He climbed in beside the catatonic Daryl. Instantly, Aldo felt his temperature start to return to normal. Aldo put one arm around Daryl and brought his knees up to fit into the back of his friend’s legs, spooning him. Clutching Daryl like a human hot water bottle, Aldo closed his eyes and drifted off with a smile on his face.

Not for long though. Daryl woke up after Aldo began snoring directly into his ear.

“GET FUCKING AFF ME!” Daryl screamed as he realised his mate had crawled into bed with him and was cradling him in his arms like a baby. Aldo woke up in a panic as Daryl hurled a size eleven flip flop at him.

“Mate, I was cold. Am sorry,” said Aldo, deflecting the partner of the flip flop away before it made contact with his sunburnt forehead.

“WIT YE PLAYIN AT? GETTING INTAE BED WI ME?” Daryl shouted, the veins in his neck bulging, signalling that he was in full-on tantrum mode. “THAT’S TWICE IN A COUPLE A OORS I’VE WOKE UP TAE YOU FUCKING CUDDLING ME. YE FANCY ME OR SOMETHING? IS THAT IT?”

“I didnae mean it, man. I was freezing, I was fucking shivering, I had nae choice.”

“GET FUCKING OOT YA FREAK!” Daryl grabbed Aldo by the collar of his ‘Ayia, Ayia, Ayia fuckin Napa’ t-shirt and flung him out into the hall, slamming the door shut in Aldo’s face.

No money. No phone. No room key. No reasoning with his raging pal, Aldo walked dejectedly along the strip in the midday sun. He made his way down to the beach. I’ll leave psycho alone for a couple of hours to calm down, he thought. He sat in the sand and stared out into the water. He pulled his t-shirt up over his face and lay back. The soothing sound of the waves, the soft rabble of conversations in a myriad of a languages and the early July heat soon enveloped Aldo and he fell asleep.

A soft kick to the ribs woke Aldo up several hours later. As he pulled his t-shirt down from his face to see what was happening he found occupying his entire field of vision was the chubby, smiling face of a middle-aged Romanian man.

“Hello,” said the man.

“Eh…awrite, mate?” Replied Aldo.

The man produced an enormous bouquet of roses from behind his back.

“You want to buy a rose?” The man asked.

Aldo stood up. The man looked him up and down and smiled. Unnerved by the intense friendliness emanating from the man, Aldo took a step back and sized him up.

“My name is Mehmet. How are you?” said the man.

He was the most beautiful thing Aldo had ever seen. His trepidation towards Mehmet melted away as he drank in the sight of him. The receeding hairline, the dense moustache, the tattered brown leather jacket, the stained, grey joggie bottoms, the Jesus sandals. Mehmet was everything Aldo never realised he was looking for.

“Am Aldo an am a lot better for seeing you, big man,” said Aldo, extending a sweaty hand for Mehmet to shake.

It was love at first sight for them both.

Aldo and Mehmet spent hours drinking together in a quiet open-air cocktail bar. Mehmet’s English wasn’t brilliant, but they managed. Aldo spoke slowly and Mehmet listened intently.

“Excuse me, please. I have to use the bathroom,” said Mehmet.

“Aye, nae bother,” replied Aldo. Aldo sat alone and played with the miniature umbrella in his glass.

“There he is!” Came a jovial voice from across the road. It was Daryl. Shit, thought Aldo. Daryl swaggered in and stood at the table.

“Listen mate, am sorry aboot earlier. Av been lookin fur ye. A shouldnae have shouted at ye like that,” said Daryl. Aldo looked at Daryl’s eyes. His pupils were wide canyons of blackness surrounded by a tiny rim of blue.

“It’s awrite, man,” said Aldo. “Listen, eh, am a bit busy the noo. Al catch up wi ye later.”

“Wit? Moan oot wi us, am no kicking aboot Ayia Napa masel.” His jaw was swinging all over the place. Teeth clenched tight together between sentences.

“It’s just, am, eh, kinda wi somebody the noo.”

Daryl clocked Mehmet’s bouquet of unsold roses. “Aaaah a see. Met a wee burd, eh? Tidy?”

“Something like that,” Aldo looked over his shoulder towards the toilet. No sign of Mehmet. If Daryl saw them together he wouldn’t understand. Or would he? Daryl had clearly taken a pill and seemed to be in a good mood. Fuck it, Aldo thought.

“Mate, I’m, eh, wi a guy. His name’s Mehmet,” Said Aldo.

“HAHA! Fuck Off. Ye oan a date wi this guy then?” Laughed Daryl.

“Well…aye. A suppose I am.”

“Wit? Since when were you gay? In fact, it disnae matter. You’re ma boy. Ma mate. I don’t care if you like guys,” said Daryl. The serotonin flooding his brain suppressing his usual homophobic nature.

“That’s it? You don’t care that am intae guys?” Said Aldo.

“Course no! Who’s the unlucky guy then?”

“Here he comes the noo.”

Mehmet strolled over. His gut peeked out from underneath his washed-out polo shirt, jiggling as he walked. He caressed Aldo’s face as he sat down.

“Who is your friend?” Mehmet asked Aldo.

“Mehmet, this is ma best mate Daryl. Daryl, this is Mehmet.”

Mehmet held out a hand for Daryl to shake. Daryl stood in silence. Rooted to the spot. He looked at Aldo. Then he looked at the sweating beast of a man sitting across from him. He looked at Aldo again and burst into hysterical laughter.

“He is a happy man,” said Mehmet.

“Mate!” Daryl said, doubling over and still howling with laughter. “Mate, this cannae be real. You at the wind up?”

Aldo smiled and looked at Mehmet.

“What’s so funny?” Asked Aldo.

“Look at him!” Said Daryl.

“Wit? He’s stunning,” replied Aldo.

“Mate, that’s an actual auld guy!” After another five minutes of laughing, Daryl calmed down. Not quite sure if what he was seeing was real or just a hallucination caused by one of the superman logo-shaped ecstasy pills he had consumed. “Right anyway am fucking droothing here, wit you two loveburds wanting to drink?”

A glorious night was had by the two Glaswegian teenagers and the middle-aged Romanian rose salesman. They downed lurid coloured shots, drank vodka that clawed their throats to shreds as it slid down and Daryl kept swallowing just enough eccies to keep his anti-gay vitriol submerged under a sea of good vibes. The three of them entered a Scottish-themed karaoke bar.

“This cunt bothering you two?” asked a man who Aldo assumed was the owner of the establishment. “Cause if he is just let me know and he’ll be oot oan his arse, awrite?”

“Dis it look like he’s bothering us?” Said Aldo, giving Mehmet’s sweaty arse a cheeky squeeze. The owner gave them a disgusted look and returned to his spot behind the bar. Mehmet blushed.

“Know wit,” Aldo said, screwing his face up as he finished the last of his warm, flat pint. “We should aw go up and sing.”

“Am gonnae rap Lose Yersel by Eminem,” said Daryl.

“Bit intense if ye ask me, but batter in,” said Aldo. “I’m gonnae sing a duet wi handsome face here.”

Mehmet smiled vacantly. He was having difficulty tuning in to the lads’ thick accents but was having a great time regardless.

After watching a wild-eyed Daryl rap monotonously about his “Maw’s spaghetti” it was Aldo and Mehmet’s turn to sing.

“…ISLANDS IN THE STREAM, THAT IS WIT WE URRR,” screeched Aldo, one arm around Mehmet. His pungent B.O invaded Aldo’s nostrils but it smelled like freshly-cut roses to Aldo, his senses altered by his love for the moustachioed lothario.

“…SAIL AWAY WI ME, TAE ANOTHER WORLD. AND WE RELY OAN EACH OTHER, AH-HAAA. FROM WAN LOVER TAE ANOTHER AH-HAAA.”

Aldo stared into Mehmet’s eyes as the interlude faded out, his bottom lip quivering. Tears streamed down Mehmet’s face. Aldo leaned in and kissed him. Their first kiss.

The bar went silent as the punters watched the incredible scene unfold before them.

“FUCKIN YES, BOAYS!” Daryl shouted, choked with emotion. No-one else shared Daryl’s enthusiasm however. The owner stormed over, grabbed the two kissing men and shoved them through the crowd and out onto the bustling strip. Daryl had to be restrained by two baldy men, the colour of lobsters, as he tried to land a punch on the proprietor.

“Leave it, mate, it’s awrite,” said Aldo as Daryl was pushed out next to them by the lobster-coloured men.

Emotionally drained after perhaps the most eventful day of their lives, the three lads arrived back at the hotel. Aldo and Daryl had only spent a grand total of six hours in their hotel room since arriving in Ayia Napa but it was already a tip. Even the ever-musky Mehmet was somewhat taken aback by the fetid smell of the room.

“Know wit you two should dae,” slurred Daryl, “go Facebook official. You got Facebook, big man?”

“Facebook? Yes, I have Facebook. Friend me,” Mehmet replied, winking and making a gesture as if he was shooting a gun at Daryl.

“You ready for that, Mehmet?” asked Aldo. “We’ll tell everybody about us?”

“Yes, yes, let’s do it,” he said, rubbing Aldo’s leg.

Aldo pulled out his phone, opened the Facebook app and typed in his new boyfriend’s name. “That you there, Mehmet?” he said, showing Mehmet his phone. On the screen was a picture of Mehmet on a moped. The visor of his helmet pulled down over his eyes and flashing a toothy smile from beneath his lustrous moustache. Aldo added him and set about crafting the status which would announce their relationship to the world:

Came to Ayia Napa to get a buzz wi Daryl Maguire and here I am noo wi the love ae ma life Mehmet Popescu

“In fact, here Daryl. Gonnae take a picture ae us two so I can put that up anaw?” said Aldo. No reply. “Daryl?”

“Wit, wit is it?” said a groggy Daryl, “a fell asleep there sorry boays. Here, come we’ll…” He drifted off again.

“Moan we’ll get a selfie then,” Aldo said to Mehmet. The two of them stood in front of the mirror. Mehmet put a hairy arm around Aldo and planted a kiss on his cheek while Aldo took the picture.

“Very nice,” Mehmet said as Aldo showed him the photo. Aldo uploaded it and posted the status to Facebook.

The two of them climbed into bed. As Aldo turned off the lights, Daryl got out of his own bed and climbed in beside Aldo and Mehmet.

“Am, eh, a bit cauld,” said Daryl.

Aldo lay there in bed with his best pal and his new Romanian boyfriend in his arms. Moonlight danced in from the open window. Daryl on one side, Mehmet on the other. Aldo thought this was probably the most perfect moment of his life. He knew he should enjoy while it lasted. The love and calm and serenity of this moment would soon evaporate into thin air when Daryl eventually woke up. Mehmet scratched his arse and let out a rapturous fart. Aldo thought it smelled like his maw’s favourite Yankee candle.