The Haunted Pub

by Melanie Tushmore

  As the movie unfolded, and Ash pointed things out, making passing comments, Fizz found himself smiling, and even laughing in places. He was intrigued by the seemingly random phrases of English peppered throughout the dialogue.

  "They say some English words?" he asked.

  "Yeah, that's normal. Especially in modern Bollywood. There's a lot of British used in the everyday language."

  "Have you been to India?"

  "Only a couple of times," Ash said. "Most of Dad's family wouldn't talk to us because of Mum. Then she got ill and... Well, we haven't been over there in years."

  Fizz bit his lip. He felt awful for unwittingly bringing up the subject of Ash's mother. "I'm sorry."

  "It's okay." Ash looked at him, but Fizz couldn't meet his eyes.

  "I don't mean to keep... I'm so sorry."

  "I know, Fizz." Ash's hand found his on the floor and squeezed. It was only a brief moment of touching, yet it sent a burning flush through Fizz's body. Ash moved his hand away, but Fizz was still thinking about that touch long after it had happened.

  The movie was over before he realised. Fizz only tuned back in when, true to his word, Ash fast forwarded through the final fight scene, and the thief's dramatic-yet-untimely demise. Fizz was grateful for not having to sit through it, yet it was so over-the-top that he didn't mind too much. Ash promised that Dhoom 2 had a much happier ending, if Fizz wanted to watch it. He looked so hopeful that Fizz didn't want to say no. It was only half past nine, anyway. Ginger and the others would be occupied until at least one in the morning.

  As the sequel started, Ash pointed out the new lead male. "That's Hrithik Roshan," he said. "I was about fifteen when this first came out, and he was my first male crush."

  Fizz felt that same burning sensation under his skin, and in the pit of his stomach. He tried to ignore it and concentrate on the movie. The lead male was indeed very handsome. In the opening scene, he was dancing and singing—in English—with a backing cast of men and women. It didn't make a whole lot of sense, Fizz thought, but it looked fun.

  "What's the chorus bit?" he asked, wondering at the only Indian words being used.

  "Dhoom Machale."

  "What's it mean?"

  Ash chuckled. "Like, pump it up, or have fun."

  Fizz watched the dancers thrust their hips suggestively. "Oh, right."

  "This film has a lot more English in it," Ash said easily. "Especially the songs. I prefer them in Hindi, but I guess they want to appeal to the Western market these days."

  Fizz nodded absently, still entranced by the dancing. "You know, this series is pretty popular. Dhoom 3 is coming out soon."

  "You going to see it?"

  "Yeah, for sure!" Ash laughed. "I'll be dancing in the aisles."

  Fizz smiled at the image that put in his head. "You like dancing?"

  "Who doesn't?"

  Me, Fizz thought. Although, after watching the actors dance in these films, he had to admit it looked fun. He was sure he'd never be able to do it.

  Ash cleared away the remaining sweets and set their plates to one side. He stretched his legs out on the floor. Fizz watched the action, thinking to himself how long Ash's legs were. Then he realised what he was staring, and quickly tore his eyes away.

  Fizz shifted his position, hugging his knees to himself. He didn't usually fidget so much, but tonight, he shuffled and fidgeted more than ever. Ash put him on edge. He worried—hoped—that, at some point, Ash would touch him again. He was even more worried that Ash wouldn't want to touch him.

  This so isn't a good idea, he told himself.

  The panicked thoughts rose and fell in his mind, washing in and out. Fizz had never felt so torn in two. He almost expected the voice to start speaking to him, urge him to stay calm, except he didn't hear it.

  Fizz realised that he hadn't heard the voice the entire time he'd been in Ryan's room, nor felt the icy tingle on his neck. Maybe that was a good thing, he decided. Another reason to stay where he was.

  Halfway through the movie, the door burst open, making them both jump in surprise. Ginger stuck his head in and fixed them with a look.

  "Do you guys need a drink or something?" His tone, and the frown he directed at Ash, clearly stated: I'm watching you.

  Ash smiled at him, like butter wouldn't melt. "No, I think we're good, thanks. How was the mithai?"

  "Yeah, fine," Ginger mumbled. "Fizz, do you need anything?"

  Fizz was currently dying from embarrassment, yet again. "Um, no, thank you."

  After a prolonged silence, Ginger left.

  Ash snickered into his hand. Fizz was instantly relieved, then starting worrying about the fact that he wanted to be alone with Ash. Looking over at their finished plates and the decimated puddings, Fizz wondered if this was their second date. Ash had already cooked him dinner once, and now they were watching movies. This was a date, right? What were they doing, exactly?

  And, more importantly, why hadn't Ash made a move on him yet?

  Fizz spent the second half of the movie sitting ramrod straight, too afraid to budge, or move a muscle. He couldn't even glance at Ash now, hyperaware of everything he did, worrying it would be taken the wrong way. Panic raced through his mind. What if Ash tried to kiss him? What should he do? Fizz really wanted Ash to kiss him, even though he knew it was a bad idea.

  God, this was such a mess already. He wondered if he should go back to his room. That thought wasn't tempting, though. He didn't like his room much, anyway.

  Here, in Ryan's room, it was warm and welcoming. And Ash was here.

  When the movie ended, Fizz had just about fretted himself into a tense jumble of nerves. He was quietly doing his breathing exercises in order to stay calm. This is it, he thought, bracing himself.

  However, Ash didn't try anything. He checked his watch, said he had a curfew of midnight, then hurried to get his things together. Fizz watched him, completely shocked. A heavy, sad feeling stilled his panic. He realised it was disappointment.

  "Um, thank you for tonight," he told Ash. He wanted to add how grateful he was simply for the company, but he worried that would sound too lame.

  Ash smiled, just a little, but the way his eyes shone showed how happy he was. "Hey, you know what?" he said. "When it's a nice day, we should totally go on the pier."

  "Um..." What? No way.

  "Go on."

  "Ash, I—I don't know."

  "I think you'll like it."

  "Um... okay?" Fizz agreed. Oh, crap.

  "Great." Ash flashed him another smile. "Look, I've got a shit-load of coursework to finish up this week, but I'll see you around soon."

  "Okay."

  "Can I ask you something, though?"

  Fizz's heart started hammering. "Um, what?"

  "Why Fizz?"

  "Huh?"

  "Your name."

  "Oh." Fizz's cheeks burned. "Fitzherbert. That's my surname."

  "What's your first name?"

  "Jamie," he mumbled, staring at the floor.

  "Cool."

  Fizz honestly thought he was about to have a panic attack, but then Ash said a quick goodbye and, with a final smile, he darted off. Left on his own, Fizz's heart slowed, and his breathing evened out. He didn't know how he would keep up with these feelings if he saw Ash again.

  Chapter 11

  Two weeks later

  Ryan knew when Ginger was annoyed. The tell-tale signs were written all over him: from the visible tension in his shoulders, to the faint frown and slightly-pursed lips. All subtly pointing to the fact that Ginger was going to snap at someone, and soon.

  Ryan hoped it wouldn't be him.

  The day hadn't started off well. In fact, the week hadn't started off well. Aside from a messed-up order which left them with double the amount of wine but half the amount of beer they needed, one of the pumps had broken. The brewery couldn't get anyone out to them until next week, which was ridiculous. Ginger had been down in the cellar most of the morning trying to fix it himself,
but to no avail.

  Usually Ginger was good at fixing things, but he'd definitely lost his D.I.Y. mojo this week. He was annoyed he hadn't been able to fix the staff toilet upstairs too, but what had annoyed Ginger the most was having to chase the management company to determine who was responsible for the plumbing. One of the toilets still worked, but no one could be sure for how long. Every time someone flushed it, or turned on the taps in the bathroom, the pipes started rattling and blowing a foghorn.

  Ryan had commented earlier that the noise sounded rather like the horn of Helm Hammerhand from Lord of the Rings. The fact that Ginger hadn't found his joke amusing had been Ryan's first indicator he was in a bad mood.

  One of those days, Ryan thought. He was currently on shift with Rachel in the bar, which was dead. Great start to Saturday. The rain was beating down heavily outside, and they barely had any customers to speak of. It didn't bode well for the Solstice celebrations on the beach that night. The bar would probably receive its share of rain-soaked partygoers later on, which Ryan wasn't particularly looking forward to.

  He glanced through the entryway, into the back bar. Ginger was still there, chasing up their rep from the management company, using the bar's phone to make his calls.

  Footsteps pattered down the stairs, and Sammy flounced his way into the bar. He was huffing and rolling his eyes already and, as soon as he saw Ryan and Rachel, complained that his mobile phone was missing. In a roundabout way, it sounded like he blamed Matt.

  Ginger interrupted Sammy mid-flow. "I'm sure it's here somewhere, Sammy. Why don't you look for it?"

  Ryan could hear the strain in Ginger's voice, and he wished Sammy would pipe down. Sammy went on to complain about the bathroom door upstairs, and how it wouldn't lock properly. Rachel rolled her eyes and wandered away. Unfazed, Sammy recounted the tale to Ryan and Ginger of how the bathroom door had swung open that morning, whilst he was in the bath, and Matt had been on the other side. Apparently, Matt hadn't known where to look, Sammy told them.

  Ryan was surprised at the story. He remembered a similar incident in that bathroom, when Ginger had almost seen him naked, straight out of the shower. Oh, God. Just the thought of it now had a flush heating his neck. Ryan hoped it wouldn't reach his face, or Sammy would definitely pick up on it.

  Luckily, Ash appeared through the door. Sopping wet, too. He was a merciful distraction, yet also another problem; Ryan knew he was here to see Fizz. How would he get past Sammy?

  Oh, dear.

  Ryan leapt into action, greeting Ash, and tried to get him upstairs without an overeager Sammy shadowing their steps. It had been two weeks since Ash and Fizz had watched their movies together. Since then, they'd been alone on two more occasions, and Ryan was dying to know how it was going. He ushered Ash upstairs, while simultaneously banning Sammy from following him.

  Sammy stayed in the bar. He huffed and grumbled, clearly offended that Ash hadn't stayed.

  In fact, he complained about it solidly for a good five minutes.

  Ryan noticed Ginger set down the phone in the back bar, then pick it up again and dialled. He misdialled a few times, and glanced at Sammy with a frown. The distraction was clearly getting to him.

  Sammy then made the mistake of saying, "Well, if Ash prefers My Little Emo, then that's his poor choice."

  Ginger slammed the phone down, glaring at him. "What did you say?"

  Sammy was instantly quiet. The look on his face said it all: he knew he'd gone too far.

  "N-nothing," he mumbled.

  "If you're not on shift, Sammy, can you get out of the bar? Some of us have work to do."

  Sammy didn't hang around. He flew out of the door and raced up the stairs. Ryan bit his lip, trying not to smile. Ginger went to pick up the phone again, then slammed it back down, muttering to himself. Ryan watched him closely, noting the tension in his shoulders had increased tenfold.

  It wasn't difficult to notice, as his shoulders were usually on display. Ginger's hair was swept to one side, and he wore one of his classic T-shirt choices: an old band tee, with the sleeves and collar lopped off. As always, one bit of material had slipped down Ginger's arm, revealing the tattoo on his right shoulder—a blue line sketch of a mermaid with a spear, sitting upon a red heart.

  Breathing in, Ryan grabbed a clean glass from the shelf. He held it under the bottle of Jack Daniel's, pressing it to the plunger. One shot, then he picked up the mixer tap and pressed C, for cola. He filled the glass.

  JD and Coke, in a tall glass with no ice, because he liked to taste the whiskey. Ryan knew it off by heart. He braved the three steps into the back bar, where Ginger was still glowering down at the phone. Ryan reached out with his free hand and gently touched Ginger's arm.

  "Hey."

  Ginger looked at the drink, then at Ryan. "You read my mind." He smiled briefly, accepting the drink. Ryan watched him demolish half the drink in one swift gulp.

  "Um... are you okay?"

  Ginger set the glass down. When he didn't answer, Ryan moved in closer. He put his hand over the note pad with the angry-looking scribbles Ginger had jotted down. "Why don't you take a break? Let me chase those idiots about the plumbing."

  "It's not that."

  "So what's up?"

  "There's just... everything feels..." He didn't finish. The glare in his eyes intensified as he scowled at the telephone.

  "What?" Ryan urged gently.

  Ginger blinked, then glanced at him, confused, like he'd only just realised Ryan was there. He seemed mildly surprised at how close Ryan was, and took a step back. The gesture was minute, maybe not even a conscious effort, but Ryan was hurt all the same.

  "What's bugging you?" he asked, more direct than he meant to be.

  Ginger's blond eyebrows drew together. He didn't look at Ryan as he said, "I don't like things I can't fix."

  "Like what?"

  "People, I guess."

  "People?"

  Ryan was surprised. His heart started beating expectantly. He was about to ask another question, when Ginger said, "I don't think Fizz should be spending so much time with Ash."

  Oh, Ryan thought. His hopes sank, but he asked anyway, "Why not?"

  "Look, I know Ash is your friend, but what's going to happen when he gets bored? I don't think Fizz can handle that kind of setback."

  Ryan felt irritation flare through him. "Dan, isn't that a bit pessimistic? You're writing them off before they've even started."

  Ginger smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Don't get me wrong, Ash is a good kid. He's also very charming, and I haven't seen him settle with anyone."

  "Point taken," Ryan said. "But I know Ash better than you, and I think, this time, he has good intentions."

  Ginger shrugged again, slipping his t-shirt back into place as he did so. "I just—" He huffed out a breath. "It's not that I mind Fizz being here, I want him to have some sort of life. God knows he needs it, after living with his parents... but I never know if I'm doing the right thing for him, you know? I haven't got the patience for this sort of stuff."

  Ryan so badly wanted to make Ginger feel better. His natural instinct was to wrap both his arms around him, and squeeze him tight. But he couldn't do that. He knew could only get away with hugging if they were both really, really drunk.

  Ryan tried to focus. "It's a tricky situation," he said carefully. "I think you're dealing with it just fine. You're bound to worry. It's great that you do. Fizz is really lucky to have you."

  Ginger snorted. "Yeah, lucky him. I feel like a bully just asking him to eat, or interact with people. I don't know if any of it's even helping him."

  "I'm sure it is," Ryan said. "He's getting on so well, and it's only been just over a month. If you compare him to how he was when he first arrived. And have you seen him with Ash? Seen them talking, I mean?"

  "Yep," Ginger said tightly.

  "Well, he seems to like spending time with Ash. And I've never seen Ash act like this before, so maybe it's good for both of them. Ash sh
ould be a good listener, after all. You know what he studies at uni?"

  "I thought it was drama?"

  "It's drama therapy. His little niece is slightly autistic. She's the one who made Ash want to study drama therapy, because he wants to be a counsellor."

  "Drama for counselling?" Ginger frowned in confusion. "You've lost me."

  "There's lots of different types of therapy," Ryan said. "You'll have to ask Ash about it; he only told me the basics. They've realised now that there's different methods of getting through to people who can't communicate in normal ways. They do it through physical movement, and interaction, rather than the old method of, like, lie on a couch and tell me your problems."

  "Physical movement?"

  "Yeah."

  "Like, what?"

  "Dancing, I guess. Drama, singing. I dunno, Ash can explain it better. It makes more sense when he does."

  "So, what? They do a little sing-song, and everything's all right?"

  Ryan smirked. "You know, you're quite witty when you're cranky, Dan."

  That finally earned him a smile.

  "Maybe Ash could tell you more about it?" Ryan suggested.

  "Sounds to me like he's using Fizz like some kind of experiment."

  "Daniel, you know that's not true."

  "Do I?" Ginger looked at him.

  Ryan held his gaze, feeling slightly annoyed on Ash's behalf. "How could you even think that?"

  "I don't know what to think," Ginger said, then downed the rest of his drink. "All I know is that Ash is a bit of a player. Sorry, I know he's your friend, but it's true. And Fizz is vulnerable."

  "What, and people can't change? Ash hasn't done anything wrong. All they're doing is hanging out, enjoying each other's company."

  "Hn." Ginger snorted, fiddling with his empty glass.

  "That's all they're doing," Ryan repeated. "Two adults enjoying each other's company."

  "All right, so say they get on..."

  "Which they are."

  "Yeah, all right," Ginger muttered. "So, what happens when it all falls apart? What then? Fizz won't know what to do with himself."

  "I think you're underestimating them. And why worry about something before it happens?"