Future Queens of England

by Ryan Matthews

  Although it obviously pained him, Tony extended his hand and shook Bruce’s. “Deal!” he said.

  The following day Tony’s screams rang out from the showers in the changing rooms as the muddied team stood nervously outside at a safe distance. They exchanged worried glances, not really sure of what to do.

  Finally, Ben broke the silence. “Do you think he’s alright in there?”

  They each looked at one another hoping that someone would answer Ben.

  Eventually, Keenan spoke up, “I’m sure he’s fine, Ben,” he said unconvincingly.

  “Well, he doesn’t sound fine to me,” Ben replied. “Shouldn’t someone go in there and check on him?”

  “Seriously, Ben, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Keenan said quickly. “I think we need to give him some space.”

  “Ten-nil,” howled Tony from the showers. “Ten-bloody-nil!” He thumped the white tiled walls with his clenched fists and the thud reverberated throughout the changing rooms.

  “He really doesn’t sound happy,” Ben reiterated to the team.

  “Of course he’s not happy,” Uwe growled, “none of us are. We lost the game. We didn’t score a single goal, we were absolutely humiliated and now we have to stand here in our muddy, sweaty clothes waiting for Tony to calm down.”

  “This is your fault!” Hugh said pointing at Bruce.

  Bruce’s face became serious. “My fault?” he said waving his hands. “Why the bloody hell is this my fault?”

  “Well, you made that stupid bet with him yesterday, didn’t you?” Hugh responded.

  “We wouldn’t even be in this situation if you weren’t so shit, Hugh. You let in every goal,” replied Bruce angrily. “So, I say that it is your bloody fault.”

  The team suddenly started to argue amongst themselves as they searched for a scapegoat.

  “Hey, Hey! Calm down,” shouted Ben over the noise. “Everyone just needs to settle down. It was our first game, what did you expect?” he reasoned.

  “Sorry, Bruce,” Hugh said quietly.

  “No, I’m sorry Hugh,” Bruce replied, reciprocating the apology.

  Suddenly everyone froze as they heard the showers being turned off.

  “Shit! He’s coming out,” Keenan cried.

  Tony emerged from the showers with his towel held firmly around his waist. “What the bloody hell are you lot staring at?” Tony roared aggressively at the team. Their eyes darted away from Tony’s pugnacious stare as they tried to make themselves look busy.

  “Yeah, I thought so,” he muttered through gritted teeth, “you bunch of friggin’ benders.”

  Ben took a step towards Tony, but Keenan reached out and pulled Ben’s arm back.

  “Don’t,” Keenan said with a whisper.

  “But, we can’t allow homophobic outbursts like that,” Ben whispered back. “It’s my duty as a lecturer here to give him a warning.”

  Keenan tightened his grip on Ben’s arm, “I understand that, Ben, but no one’s complaining here. We’ve all been called a lot worse than that, we’re pretty thick-skinned.”

  Ben thought about this for a moment and then nodded at Keenan. “You’re right,” he said, “I suppose I can turn a blind eye on this occasion, due to the extenuating circumstances.”

  Tony walked back to the bench where his clothes lay, swearing and banging his fist against the wall. Most of his team-mates scurried away towards the showers stripping off their clothes. Without saying a word they all knew that this was the safest place to be. There wasn’t a chance that Tony would go into the showers with a herd of naked homosexuals, no matter how angry he was.

  Keenan silently watched Tony dry and dress himself. Tony threw his dirty kit into his bag and stormed out of the changing rooms, kicking the door open with his muddy trainers.

  Keenan started to undress himself, whilst Ben changed out of his tracksuit and back into his normal day wear.

  “Is it safe to come out yet?” shouted Hugh tentatively from the showers.

  Back in the Larry Grayson Boudoir Tony knelt by the side of his bed and picked up the clothes that he’d worn over the past week and bunged them into his sports bag alongside his dirty hockey kit.

  Leaving his room silently, he made his way downstairs to the laundry room, throwing his bag onto the floor as soon as he entered the room. He stomped over to the vending machine on the wall and bought some washing powder. He tore the lid from the cardboard pack and poured all of the white powder into the drawer. Cursing to himself, he pushed a coin into the dull slot and emptied his bag directly into the machine. Tony turned the dial to a point that felt right, punched the start button and the washing machine burst into life. He sat himself down in a chair opposite and stared absentmindedly into the heart of the washing machine, as it turned his clothes over and over. Then stretching his legs out, he reached into his pocket and removed a packet of cigarettes and lit up. He inhaled deeply and after a moment his shoulders relaxed, but Tony’s solitude was interrupted when the door burst open and Hugh wandered in.

  “Oh, Tony, I didn’t know you were in here,” Hugh uttered apologetically.

  “Why would you?” Tony said without emotion, his eyes still trained on the machine.

  “Can I come in to do my washing?” Hugh asked him hesitantly.

  “It’s a free country.”

  Nervously, Hugh stepped forward and went through the motions of getting his washing powder from the vending machine, loading his washing machine and turning it on. Eventually he took a seat next to Tony. They both sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the whir of the two machines.

  Unable to endure the silence any longer, Hugh spoke. “Tough game today, wasn’t it?”

  Tony grunted in acknowledgement and took another drag of his cigarette.

  “You do know that you’re not supposed to smoke in here, don’t you?” Hugh said.

  “Are you going to stop me?” Tony hissed.

  “Err … well, no,” Hugh said, “I mean, you have had a bad day haven’t you? You deserve a cigarette. It’s just that the smoke will get into the clothes and it’ll mask the smell of the detergent.”

  Tony ignored Hugh and exhaled releasing yet more smoke into the room.

  Hugh fell silent as he searched awkwardly for something else to say. “At least you’ll be able to let off some steam tonight at the club.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Tony muttered. “I don’t see why I should go after the performance on the pitch today.”

  “Come on, Tony, it’ll probably do you some good, and a bet’s a bet. You can’t lose face on this one. What will everyone think?” said Hugh.

  “Like I give a shit,” Tony muttered with venom.

  “And on the up side, Marc said that they serve beer at the club,” Hugh reported.

  Tony shifted his eyes from the machine to Hugh and raised his eyebrows, “Is that right?”

  He nodded. “I’ve not been myself, but Marc said they do. Does that mean you’ll still come?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “But they’d better have some decent beer there!” Hugh gulped in fear and hoped that Tony didn’t hear this over the noise of the washing machines. His eyes moved around the room tracing the cracks in the ceiling and the walls. He followed one of the cracks down from the ceiling, across the wall and into a small space between two washing machines.

  “Look, Tony,” cried Hugh, pointing to the gap between the machines, “look!”

  Tony turned his head to see what Hugh was pointing at. “Well, bugger me backwards!” he exclaimed.

  They both stood up and walked towards the area to examine it more closely. There it was again, a ghostly figure drawn in marker pen on the wall.

  “The phantom!” whispered Hugh in awe.

  “This thing’s like dog shit, it’s everywhere I go!”

  “Do you think it means something, Tony?” Hugh said, his voice quivering.

  “Yeah, it means that some wanker needs to get
a life,” he said, before returning to his chair.

  “I think someone should report it, don’t you?”

  “Report it? “ Tony replied scornfully, “you bloody little do-gooder.” He tipped his head back and took another puff of his cigarette.

  Hugh ignored him, “Yes, I had better tell Louise.”

  Tony’s eyebrows raised and he choked on his cigarette as he tried to speak.

  “Are you okay, Tony?” Hugh asked with concern as he walked back over to him.

  Tony coughed several times and thumped his chest. “I’ll report it to Louise,” he said wheezing.

  Hugh looked confused, “But you said …”

  “It doesn’t matter what I said,” Tony snapped cutting Hugh off. “I’ll report it.”

  “Oh, okay Tony, whatever you say.”

  Later that night the taxi pulled up outside the strip club and the group alighted.

  “Tony, are you getting out?” Bruce asked from the pavement as Tony sat firmly in the back of the taxi.

  “Come on, Tony, it’s a bit parky,” Hugh said, hopping from one foot to the other. “Let’s get inside.”

  Tony grunted but didn’t show any signs of moving.

  “Oi, mate,” barked the taxi driver, “are you getting out or what?”

  “The meter’s still running, so what are you bitching about shithead?” Tony growled.

  From the pavement Uwe laughed. “I knew he wouldn’t have the balls to go inside.” He stepped forward, slammed the door of the taxi and waved through the window at Tony.

  Tony scowled at him as Uwe taunted him by banging loudly on the window of the cab.

  “See you in the morning, Tony. You go home now and get an early night, you spineless coward.” He gave a final wave and blew Tony a parting kiss. “Come on, I’m going in,” he said as he turned and walked into the entrance.

  Tony reached angrily for the door and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “You’re not going anywhere until you pay the fare, matey boy,” the taxi driver said firmly.

  “You what? You fucking what!” Tony bellowed as he kicked the partition in the cab.

  On hearing the commotion Gareth ran back to the taxi. He came around the front of the cab and approached the driver’s window. He pulled out a series of notes bundled together with a silver clip. “How much do we owe you?” he said apologetically.

  “Twenty quid.”

  “Here’s thirty,” Gareth said as he passed the driver three crisp ten pound notes through the window.

  “Well, I can see who’s the monkey and who’s the organ grinder here,” the driver said sarcastically as he took the money from Gareth and pressed a button that unlocked the rear passenger’s door.

  Gareth nodded, “I must admit, I’ve certainly ground my fair share of organs.”

  The driver looked a little taken aback, “That’s more information than I cared to hear,” he said as he flipped his indicator on. “Bleedin’ poofs,” he muttered under his breath. He craned his neck to face Tony, who was still writhing in the back seat. “The door’s unlocked, princess. Now get out and join your boyfriend!”

  Tony thumped the glass partition with his fists. “Who are you calling a queer?” he screamed as he beat the glass.

  The cabbie scowled at Tony, “Go on, bugger off before I call the cops.”

  Tony flung the door open and in his rage fell out onto the pavement. Gareth walked towards him as the taxi pulled away and spoke calmly but firmly to Tony.

  “Take a few deep breaths Tony. You need to keep your temper in check.” Tony clambered to his feet and dusted himself down. “Look, let’s go inside I’ll buy you a beer and you can try and relax. Don’t do anything stupid,” Gareth added calmly.

  “That fucking cabbie thought I was like you,” Tony raged.

  Gareth’s face remained calm and expressionless, “What … stylish?”

  “No,” replied Tony.

  “Charming?” Gareth said butting in quickly.

  “No! A bloody puff,” growled Tony in frustration.

  “Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about what other people think, Tony,” Gareth said, trying to console him. “But maybe you should pay some attention to what you’re feeling now. It’s not nice to be judged, is it?”

  “Don’t lecture me, Gareth,” Tony replied. “This isn’t a daytime chat show.”

  “Alright, alright,” he said giving up. “But you can’t blame the guy. He has just dropped you off outside a gay strip club in a cab with six homosexuals.” He rolled his eyes. “Seriously, what was he supposed to think?” He turned and walked towards the entrance of the club, “Who are you even angry at anyway? The cabbie or Uwe? You seem to be angry at the world, Tony, I can barely keep track.”

  “It’s Uwe who got me in this state. One of these days I’ll have that German twat,” Tony threatened.

  “Sure you will Tony, but not tonight,” Gareth said as they walked up to the door.

  Inside the club the music pounded, Tony and Gareth caught up with the others.

  Uwe looked at Tony and smirked, “Fancy seeing you here, Tony,” he mocked derisively.

  Gareth shot Uwe a look. “Leave it, Uwe.”

  Uwe’s smirk disintegrated as he fired a look back at Gareth before turning away and walking across to the bar. The rest of the group followed Uwe to get some drinks and Tony’s heartbeat quickened as he left his comfort zone. His eyes scanned the room and he began to sweat.

  Hugh also looked nervously around the room. “It’s the first time that I’ve actually been to one of these clubs, Tony,” he confessed. “What about you?”

  Tony shook his head in despair. “Well, what do you think, you prick? Of course it’s the first time I’ve ever been to a gay strip club. What a stupid bloody thing to say.”

  “Oh, yes, sorry,” Hugh said, quickly realising his mistake, “It’s all a bit intimidating, isn’t it?”

  Tony heard Hugh’s words but was now so distracted that he didn’t respond with anything other than a grunt. As they continued to walk forward Hugh sidled up next to Tony and took his arm.

  Tony recoiled in horror. “Urgh! Get off me. What are you doing?” he screeched.

  “Sorry, Tony,” Hugh spluttered. “It’s just very overwhelming in here.”

  “Never, ever touch me again! Do you hear?” Tony bellowed as he wiped his arm. Gareth saw what was going on and called out.

  “Hugh, come over here and order your drink.” Hugh walked across and placed his order. Tony stood by himself like a deer caught in the headlights as the coloured beams from the disco ball flashed into his eyes.

  “Tony,” Gareth shouted, but he received no response. “Tony!” he repeated loudly. Tony continued to stare around the room in quiet bewilderment. His eyes rested on a muscular man wearing only leather shorts gyrating on a podium, Tony shivered and he quickly looked away. Gareth decided that any physical contact with Tony at this point wouldn’t be a wise decision so instead he held up a pint of beer and placed it in Tony’s line of sight. Tony’s gaze rapidly adjusted and focused on the beer.

  He snatched the pint from Gareth’s hand spilling it slightly. “Thanks, Gareth,” he said gratefully. He quickly put the pint up to his lips and guzzled a quarter of the contents. “Ah!” he said, with a satisfied gulp, “just what the doctor ordered.”

  “Shall we go and take a seat?” Bruce suggested eagerly to the group.

  “Sure,” replied Hugh. “Lead on, MacPuff, and we’ll follow you.”

  They all took their drinks from the bar, “Whose are all those?” Giles asked, pointing at the remaining glasses.

  “They’re mine,” Marc replied, as he attempted to pick them all up at once. Finding himself unable to lift them all at the same time he promptly drank several of the glasses of clear fluid before picking up the remaining ones.”

  The group made their way across to the seated area with Tony and Hugh hugging their drinks like a security blanket. They each took their seats, lea
ving Tony on the edge.

  “I feel a little exposed here,” Tony admitted in an unusual display of vulnerability from his seat which backed onto the room. “I’d feel much safer with my back against the wall.” He stood up quickly and pushed his way past their assembled knees, spilling more of his beer in the process. The group shifted over to make room for Tony. Hugh looked on enviously but stayed in his seat.

  “Right,” Bruce said clapping his hands together. “Shall we have our first dance then?” he said with delight.

  “Oh, no,” Hugh replied quickly. “We’ve only just arrived. Let’s have a little chat before we get started.”

  “Oh, okay,” Bruce said with obvious disappointment.

  “Actually, I’m going to get some more drinks,” Marc said. “Does anyone else want anything?”

  “Shit! You’ve drunk all of those shots already?” exclaimed Keenan in disbelief. “You really ought to slow down.”

  “Who are you? My mother?” Marc growled defensively. “We’re here to have a good time aren’t we?”

  “I don’t know about that exactly, but I’ll have another beer,” Tony said to Marc. “And perhaps you could grab a bottle of Rioja, if they do it?” he added sheepishly.

  Gareth smirked at Tony.

  “What?”

  “Nothing, nothing, ignore me,” Gareth replied.

  Marc wandered back to the bar to get the drinks, swaying slightly.

  “So,” Hugh said, brimming with excitement. “There are some auditions starting soon for a TV reality show and I am going to enter.”

  “What sort of show is it?” Keenan asked with interest.

  “It’s the replacement for Big Brother, I think,” Hugh said. “You know, where they film a group of people living together in a house.”

  “When does it start?” Keenan said politely, with slightly less interest.

  “Oh, it’ll start next summer, so I’ll have graduated by then and my talents should be completely honed and perfected,” Hugh said sitting up straight and proud.

  “And why would you want to go on a show like that, eh?” enquired Keenan.