Future Queens of England (45 page)

Tony lay on his bed totally ignoring him.

“I mean all he does is mooch about in here reading,” he complained.  “I bet before he came here he’d never even read a book and now that’s all he does.” 

“And that’s a bad thing is it?  Leave the poor sod alone,” Gareth replied, and went back to polishing his shoes.

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, but that’s the only thing he seems to do these days.  He either reads or sleeps.  We’re supposed to be practising for the bleeding final, it’s next week you know,” Keenan growled, pacing up and down the room.  “I didn’t train this hard to get this far just to throw it all away.” 

“Calm down,” Gareth said.  “You’re getting yourself all worked up.”  He put down his tin of polish and his little brush.  “I normally find it quite therapeutic polishing my shoes, but your hissy fit is killing my mood.”

Keenan huffed and stormed over to Tony’s bed.  He yanked the book from Tony’s hands, “What’s he so engrossed in?”  He slammed the book shut and looked at its cover.  “The life and death of Alan Turing?  Jesus Christ, this is a cheery bleeder isn’t it?”  He threw the book on the floor.

Tony watched as it skidded under Hugh’s bed.  It thumped as it hit the skirting board and came to rest.  He took a long deep breath, his chest inflated slowly and he cracked his knuckles together.  His lip curled and the sadness in his eyes was replaced with a cold, steely look.  He rose from his bed and twisted his neck left and then right, the joints in his neck cracked audibly to all in the room.

Gareth looked up from the end of his bed, “Don’t do anything rash now, Tony.  Keenan was only letting off some steam.”  His eyes darted between Tony and Keenan as he tried to gauge the situation.

“Hey, keep your nose out, Gareth.  This is between me and him,” Keenan said, turning to face Tony, as he puffed up his chest and sneered.  “Let’s see what you’ve got, Tony, you miserable bastard!”  He beckoned Tony over with his right hand.

Tony lunged forward and threw a punch at Keenan’s head.

Keenan swung his body back and dodged it.  “Ah, is that the best you can do?  My ma’s got a better hook than that,” he taunted. 

Tony gritted his teeth and swung again for Keenan’s head.  Keenan raised his hand and blocked him.  “That’s more like it.  What else have you got?” he said with a grin.

“What about this?”  Tony snarled as his fist thumped hard into Keenan’s stomach. 

Keenan coughed and bent double.  “Yeah, that’s more like it!” he wheezed, before whipping his elbow round into Tony’s back. 

Tony winced in pain and tried to catch his breath.  He put Keenan in a headlock and dragged him to the floor.

Gareth tutted and got to his feet, “Will you two idiots just calm down?”  He removed his shirt and folded it carefully, then laid it on the bed, “I’ve just bought this, I can’t afford to get any blood on it.”  He looked at his jeans and thought about them for a moment, he sighed and removed them.  “I don’t want these getting damaged either.  Do you know how much these cost?” he called over to the two of them as they exchanged punches, but they weren’t listening.  “Oh for Christ’s sake, you’d better not hit my face, I’ve got a date this weekend.”  He waded into the fight and tried to grab an appendage.  Almost immediately Tony’s forearm glanced off Gareth’s cheek as he aimed another punch at Keenan.  “Oh, you wanker!” Gareth cried out in anger, as he felt his cheek with his hand.  “No one messes with this bone structure,” he shrieked before landing a punch onto the side of Tony’s face.

Tony kicked back at Gareth.  “You want some, do you?”  His foot found its target and Gareth groaned in agony.  “You want some more?” Tony said, turning his attention back to Keenan, and his fisted collided with Keenan’s sternum.

“Come on, Tony, is that all you’ve got?”  Keenan yelled as he brought home a solid blow to the underside of Tony’s chin.

The door of their boudoir burst open and Hugh, Bruce, Giles and Uwe burst in. 

“What the hell’s going on in here?” Hugh shrieked in alarm at the turmoil before him, “and why is Gareth only wearing his pants and socks?”  

Bruce’s eyes lit up, “I don’t know, but it looks kinda sexy.”  He ran towards the melee and jumped onto the pile up of Tony, Keenan and the semi-naked body of Gareth, as they writhed together on the floor.  “Room for one on top?” Bruce squealed in delight as he thrust himself upon them.   

On feeling Bruce entering the fight Tony sent out a jab to Bruce’s ear. 

“Oh, so you like the rough stuff, do you, Tony?” Bruce said and slapped Tony hard across the face with the palm of his hand.

“Come on you bastards, I’ll take you all on!” Tony screamed as he sent punches flying in all directions.  He gnashed his teeth as the perspiration dripped off him and onto the deep shag carpet.  The kicks and punches became a blur and the shouts and groans became incomprehensible.

Hugh looked at Uwe and Giles, “Come on.  We need to break this up.  It’s getting out of hand.”  He walked over to them and nervously reached out trying to grab a leg or an arm.  Panic stricken he called over to Uwe and Giles again for some assistance, “Come on, I can’t do this by myself.”

Uwe tutted and walked over next to Hugh.  “We simply need to stop the element responsible for this and my money is on Tony being the issue.”  He stood over them and studied the brawl for a moment, before throwing himself into the maelstrom and gripping Tony’s arms.

“Get off me, you sauerkraut eating fucker!” Tony bawled, and he tried to release himself from Uwe’s pincer like grip. 

“Would someone get his legs?” Uwe’s said coolly tightening his grip on Tony’s arms.

Hugh grabbed one of Tony’s legs and pinned it to the ground.  The other leg whipped round and booted Hugh sideways across the room.  Giles quickly leapt onto the leg that had dispatched Hugh and hung on for dear life.  Gareth, with Bruce on his back, rolled onto Tony’s free leg before it had the chance to strike out at Giles.  Keenan slid himself free and leant himself up against Uwe’s bed as he tried to control his breathing.

“Will you get the hell off of me, Bruce?” Gareth screeched, as he restrained Tony’s right leg.

“Oh, yes.  Sorry, Gareth,” Bruce said, laying face down on top of Gareth’s back.  He reluctantly let go of Gareth’s chest and pulled his arms out from under him.  “I think I got a bit carried away.”

Tony screamed out as he used every ounce of strength to free himself from their clutches.  He swung his head back and forth wildly trying to make contact with something or someone.

“Grab his head Hugh before he hurts himself,” Uwe ordered, straining to keep Tony’s arms from being freed.

Hugh, nursing his side, reached nervously for Tony’s head and tried to hold it still.

“Ah, Tony, it’s good to see you’ve got a bit of life in you,” Keenan said wiping the blood from his lip.

The sweat poured from Tony’s body, his clothes were soaked right through.  He bucked forward and back trying to escape their grip, but it was useless.  After several minutes he began to tire and flailed about weakly under them.

“I was beginning to think all the fight in you was gone,” he wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked Tony in the eye and gave him a smile. 

Tony looked up at Keenan.  “What are you talking about?” he panted, his mouth completely dry.

“Drastic times call for drastic measures.  Someone had to wake you up, didn’t they?  And I figured that someone might as well be me.”  He stood up and cricked his back, “Let him go guys, I reckon we’ve got our Tony back.”

Slowly and unsurely they loosened their grip on Tony making sure he didn’t start up again, but Tony’s energy was spent.  His head slumped back onto the floor and he made no effort to start up again.  He closed his eyes and a rumble came from his chest.  Hugh looked nervously at Keenan.  The noise came again from Tony’s chest, before he erupted with laughter. 

“Oh, you crafty fucker, Keenan, that was just what the doctor ordered.”  He pulled himself up onto his elbows and winced in pain.  “I’ve not felt this alive in weeks.”  Tony sucked on his lip and felt the swelling, he smiled to himself again.

Gareth looked at Keenan in disbelief, “You planned this?”

Keenan nodded.

“It was a bit of a bleeding risk, wasn’t it?”  Gareth said.  “I mean, starting a punch-up.  It’s madness!”

“As I said, desperate times call for desperate measures.  Talking wasn’t helping, giving him time wasn’t helping.  We needed something to put that fire back in his belly,” Keenan explained, as he examined his ripped t-shirt.

“He’s right, guys,” Tony said.  “I needed to pick myself up and try and forget Louise … and you know what that means don’t you?”

Bruce gritted his teeth and punched to the air, “Yes, Sir!  We’re going to the gay bar!”

Later that night they found themselves at the club.  The music blared out and the lights shone brightly, the place was heaving and pulsating to the beat.  The six of them stood together looking a little worse for wear.

“Have you seen what you’ve done to me, Tony?” Hugh complained.  He lifted up his shirt to reveal a large blue bruise on his side.

“Wow!” Tony exclaimed, “I’m proud of that.  That’s massive!”  He reached down and poked it, Hugh winced in pain and took a step back.

“Don’t take too much pride.  I suspect he simply bruises easily, don’t you Hugh,” Uwe scoffed, before sipping at his wine.

“Oh, piss off, Uwe,” Hugh muttered, and let his shirt drop back down.

Gareth looked at Tony’s face, “I don’t fancy your chances tonight.  Your face is a bit of a mess.”

Tony chuckled, “You’re joking aren’t you?  The birds love a battle scar, I just need to think up a decent story behind it.”  He lifted his glass to his mouth as he considered this and after a moment of quiet contemplation proclaimed, “Got it!”

“Got it?” Hugh repeated with a confused look, “Got what?”

“No time to explain, I must strike while the iron is hot,” he said pushing past Hugh, in search of his prey.

“Right, I’ll get us some drinks,” Keenan said, rubbing his hands together.  “Now, hopefully tomorrow morning, Tony will be back to his normal self and that business with Louise will be behind him.”

“Absolutely!  We should also do our bit and try to limit his interaction with Louise or the cycle may start again?” Gareth commented. 

“Almost all of our sorrows spring from out of our relations with other people,” Uwe said philosophically.  “This is why I am destined to be alone.”  He swilled the wine around in his glass in an anti-clockwise circular movement and stared deeply into it.  “To live alone is the fate of all great souls.”

“Well said, Uwe,” Gareth affirmed.  “Let’s have a night without the complications of romance.”  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. 

“Who are you calling?”

“Our fag hags,” he replied.  “We’ve not been giving them the attention that they so richly deserve, so let’s invite them down tonight for an uncomplicated evening of dancing, drinking and nattering.”  He went through his contact list on his phone and sent a series of text messages.  “There, that should do it.  Now let’s sit down and have a relaxing evening.”  He walked to the nearest seats and sat down; he placed his phone carefully on the table in front of him and waited.

Minutes later, Keenan returned to where they were previously standing and looked around for them.

“Over here,” Hugh shouted.  After failing to be heard over the music Hugh stood and waved to gain Keenan’s attention.  Eventually, he was successful and Keenan nodded and brought the tray of drinks over to them.  He handed out the drinks and sat down, they each took them and thanked him, but then sat in silence staring at Gareth’s phone.

“What are you doing?” Keenan inquired.  “Are we expecting a call?”

“Gareth’s invited the fag hags to join us tonight,” Hugh explained.  “We’re waiting for a call back.”

“Hugh, do you have a fag hag yet?”

He shook his head, “I don’t need one, I don’t see the use.”  He took a swig of his wine and hoped they wouldn’t probe him further.

“Suit yourself,” Gareth said, “but they ain’t half handy to have.  I wouldn’t be without mine.” 

Suddenly, Gareth’s phone lit up like a Christmas tree and began to vibrate on the table.

“Ohh,” Bruce cooed.  “Who is it?”

Gareth picked up the phone and read the text, “It’s Uwe’s.”