It seemed to Roger Lewis that the evening was going to be every bit as dull and boring as the evening before – and the many evening before that. Earlier, he and all his friends had downed a few beers and had a good laugh but now the bar was beginning to thin out. He smiled and waved as the last of his teenaged mates left the Kings Head and he was finally left alone with the dregs of his last beer standing in front of him. Roger sighed and was about to drain his glass when he glanced over and saw his uncle sitting at a table near the back.
Uncle Pete was, as usual, surrounded by the men that he worked with on the construction site. Still in their work clothes the men looked dishevelled and grubby. But they were hard men; large muscled and drinking heavily. The noise from their table was raucous; deep bellowed laughs interspersed with colourful expletives. Uncle Pete had seen him, Roger noticed, and was waving him over.
“Get your skinny ass over her, Rog! Come and have a drink with the boys!”
For a moment, Roger thought about turning down the offer and taking a slow, meandering walk back to his tiny apartment. But nothing waited for him there; no girlfriend tucked up in bed and anticipating his return, nothing. Roger thought he could use another beer anyway and his uncle and the boys looked like they were having a good time. It might be fun, he thought.
“How ya doing, boy?” Pete hollered at him with a thumping back slap as Roger sat down at the table.
The bar table was awash with spilled beer and the ashtray was filled to overflowing. A cloying aroma of sweat, cigarette smoke and stale beer assaulted Roger’s senses.
“Good thanks, Pete. Hey guys.”
The three other men around the table mumbled their greetings in varying different stages of inebriation.
“Fucking bitch!” Frank Davis mumbled inexplicably.
Roger looked up at his uncle for some kind of justification for Frank’s sudden outburst.
“We were just talking about Frank’s wife, Carla.” Pete explained. “Seems like Frank here has a bit of a problem with her.”
Roger could see the twinkle in his uncle’s eyes and the broad grin that split is rugged face.
“She’s a fucking bitch!” Frank repeated. “Fucks everyone. I’ve lost track of the number of my mates that have got between her fucking legs. I don’t think I know anyone now that HASN’T fucked her. Bitch!”
“I haven’t.” Roger said before he had a chance not to.
The table was suddenly quiet. All eyes were on Roger and he inwardly cursed himself for letting on that he had not slept with Carla Davis. He was aware of her, of course, everyone was. She had a reputation as an insatiable woman and it was common knowledge that, as Frank was completely incapable of satisfying her, she looked elsewhere for her entertainment – and she looked a lot!
“You’re kidding?” Pete exploded.
Roger bit his lip and regretted again speaking without thinking first. These guys may not have been the sharpest knives in the drawer but they would pick up on something like that immediately and could make his life hell for weeks.
“Never seen the point.” Roger said coolly. “But Frank, if you need a guy to help you out, I’m there, buddy.”
The laughs and cheers that went up around the table told Roger that he had successfully averted a potentially embarrassing situation. The only man that was still quiet was Frank.
“Okay.” Frank said softly, “maybe it is about time you popped Carla. What do you think guys?”
The cheering and back slapping continued as a worried and rather excited Roger was led from the bar.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Carla’s language could compete with any of the hard, grizzled men on the construction site.
“We brought home a little surprise for you, my faithful little wife!” Frank slurred as the three men pushed Roger into the centre of the lounge.
