This rockstar life

2.8 We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet

Content: See Introduction for general content notes. Drinking and drunkenness in this one.

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Every foray Steve makes to the bar takes about half an hour. It's really crowded in here tonight, and it seems that everyone knows him and wants to stop him for a chat. The unwritten rules of being the resident rockstar then require him to buy the interlocutor a drink, and one for everyone else at the bar. Also, by her count, for every drink that he actually brings back, he has drunk one at the bar and another en route. Eventually he wends his way to the corner where Alice is lurking, hands over her drink, and wraps his free arm around her waist. Alice eyes her glass with a degree of suspicion.

"What is it?"

"Vodka, like you said. Double."

"Why's there a cherry in it?"

"'s festive innit."

"Ah. Lovely."

Steve had been invited to a few showbizzy parties, but with the hassle of getting dressed up and trying to find cabs and the traditional crowds filling the centre of the city, he'd decided, much to Alice's relief, on just the pub around the corner. A few of the faces are familiar from previous visits, and everyone has been perfectly nice and welcoming, but without paying any particular attention to her, so Alice has been left to people-watch in peace and is feeling surprisingly chilled considering. The vodka is also helping!

"Mate!"

A tall man, somewhat red in the face and with a Christmas tree bauble hanging over one ear, throws his arm around Steve's neck and clinks his glass enthusiastically against Steve's, slopping a measure of its contents onto the floor. Alice, with the quick reflexes honed by a summer job as a barmaid, jerks her foot back in time to save her velvet shoes from an unscheduled beer bath.

"Cheers! So where you bin mate? Ain't seen ya round here much? 'Merica again is it?"

"Um, yeah, a bit. Recording mostly."

"Great, great. New album?"

"Yeah."

He removes the arm from Steve's shoulders in order to perform an air guitar solo, spilling more beer in the process. Happily, Steve's boots are waterproof.

"Rockin'." says Steve with a polite smile.

The man gives a devil horns salute and lurches off in the direction of the bar.

"Who was that?"

"Not a fucking clue. But if the band ever wanna replace me, he's got the moves!"

Steve drains his glass (looks like brandy, no cherry), "'Nother drink?"

"No, don't go, you're gone for hours every time." Alice pouts.

"'S a long way to the bar."

"Mm hm, ten whole yards."

The winsome expression clearly works as Steve stays, lighting two cigarettes and passing one to Alice. He looks round for an ashtray, filching one from a nearby table, whose occupants are too busy snogging to notice, and balancing it on the windowsill.

Leaning in close, Alice whispers conspiratorially, "Don't look, but I'm pretty sure that is not the girl he came in with."

Steve, immediately swivelling his head to look at the canoodling couple, snickers, "Hehe, that is Glenn, and that is definitely not Glenn's missus. It's gonna get messy."

Alice finishes her drink and holds up the glass. "D'you want my cherry?" 

Steve grins, "That deed has been done, love."