Return of the Sun - 8. Chapter 8

He picked at the shirt: Ben Sherman; apparently it was what all the well-dressed guys were wearing. To him it kinda looked like... well a normal shirt with a label. But Serena had insisted on buying it for him, pairing it with a beautiful pair of black slacks and his well-polished shoes; he actually felt stylish.

Though the argument to tuck or leave un-tucked still raged. He thought it looked better in, she thought it looked better out. Dickie, leaning forward from the back on the seats in front, agreed with Scott.

"In, definitely; looks sharper," he commented, turning his head as they passed over a roundabout. Scott held onto the dashboard as the small Metro bounced into the air and landed solidly. Serena always did that; instead of going around the white painted circles she generally drove right over them. If she had her way she would do the same with the gigantic ones lined with crash barriers...

"Steady on!" Dickie called, jostled around the back seat.

"Do you want to drive?" she asked, continuing their course along the A-27 to Brighton.

"Well, in the interests of actually making it there alive..." Dickie began... but changed his mind as she shot him a dirty look in the rearview mirror.

"Watch out for that..." Scott began, seeing the red stoplight zoom past them. He had come to accept the fact that Serena was the stereotypical woman driver, about as bad as they got; well, she was just worse. And she loved it. He was sure the glove compartment was filled with unpaid speeding tickets.

"Alright," Dickie said, deciding to focus on the adventure at hand, "What's our mission tonight?"

"To find Scott a bloke, so he can prove he's gay," Serena said firmly, overtaking a Morris Minor.

Scott watched the startled face of the other driver as this Metro cut him off, "I'm not a slut; I'm not just going to kiss the first guy I see."

"So," Dickie said nodding his head, "why exactly am I being dragged along on this man safari?"

"You owe him," Serena said with a grin as the Metro swung around one of those giant roundabouts, coming dangerously close to clipping the curb, "and it's a chance to get away from Hailsham for a night."

Dickie heaved a sigh, "Nice one," he conceded. "Alright then, Scott, mate, the sooner you kiss a bloke the sooner we get to go home."

"Well I doubt it will be that easy," Scott said as the Metro began to enter Brighton city limits; they were passing the illustrious Brighton University on the long road that would lead them to the very heart of the gay capital of Europe.

Brighton was synonymous with homosexuality, famous for it. More gay bars per capita than anywhere else in Europe, it didn't shy away from the stigma normal places associated with being gay. It was one big gay village. And from the way Serena had described it, it was a Mecca to gay people everywhere, especially on a Friday night.

They were naturally stuck in traffic.

Scott drummed his fingers on the dashboard and Dickie sat smugly in the back glancing out of the window every time a beautiful woman passed by, doing his damndest to keep all of them entertained. Serena just fumed, occasionally bellowing out insults to the other drivers as the car inched forward at an impossibly slow rate.

Scott chuckled, "Tell you what; we'll hop out and walk, the car will still be here when we're done..."

"Oh give over," Serena said looking at him, "we're nearly there and it's still early."

Dickie leaned forward again, "So, where are we going first? Serena's right, it's still early; maybe we want to catch a drink before hitting a club or something?" He waggled his eyebrows, "Nice pub, cold pint would really hit the spot."

"What about the pier?" Serena asked, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. "They have a big arcade on it, and the amusement park at the end."

Dickie rolled his eyes, "So much for a cold pint."

"We can split it," Scott said. "Let's go to the Pier and then find a pub to get sufficiently inebriated..."

"Sloshed, my old boy," Dickie said affecting a proper upper-class English accent, "I say, what, sounds like a spiffing idea to me."

Serena gave him a look, as she suddenly cut the car into a parking spot that someone had just vacated. "This looks like as close as we're going to get." She switched off the engine, "Unless you lads don't want to walk?"

Scott got out of the car and flipped the seat forward to let Dickie out who uncoiled his long legs and stretched; contrary to popular belief there was not that much room in the back of an Austin Metro. It felt good to just breathe in the fresh salt air of Brighton which was built on the seashore and had one of the best seasides in the country. So much so that Queen Victoria had kept the Brighton Pavilion there. The white palace always reminded Scott of the Taj Mahal, domes and columns, it was now used for theatre performances and as a historical tourist attraction.

Brighton was a lively place; cars, people and bristling with life. It was a little older than other cities he had been in, but the narrow tall houses and shops virtually built right on top of each other went back centuries. There was even a section of the city called 'the lanes' that predated cars. Narrow shopping streets that instantly transported you back hundreds of years to a simpler time.

He immediately fell in love with the city all over again. He used to come with his father when he was small to watch the dolphins and stare at the aquarium that was right next to the Pier, but that attraction was gone now, considered too cruel on the dolphins. But it was one of his fondest memories of spending time with his father, sitting in the front row having dolphins sing happy birthday to him.

They walked along the street, under a laser sign that cast light down upon the pavement rotating the word 'revenge' in bright white light onto the paving stones. Scott pointed to it curiously.

"What's that?" he asked, looking up at an unremarkable door.

"You'll see," Dickie said, firmly resting a hand on Scott's shoulder and propelling him past the doors towards the intersection and the magnificent Palace Pier.

"How come it says Brighton Pier?" Scott asked, staring up at the glowing sign, "I'm not crazy, right?"

Serena shrugged, "Some prats bought the pier a few years ago and renamed it; I guess they thought they were being bright." She led the way through the circle of take-out places and onto the wooden slats of the pier.

It extended a good 1700 feet out to sea; a great construct of steel and lights, it had been Brighton's crown jewel for over a century. It boasted everything a person could need; three bars, an amusement park, an arcade, dining. All on a massive man-made construct. It was like taking a trip to Vegas. The lights, the slot machines and one armed bandits, the bells ringing and the video games squawking musical notes at different levels. It was chaotic and the noise was thrilling.

Scott's eyes had to be as wide as a little kid's, staring at everything at once, remembering the last time he had been there, how happy he had been, before being torn away from everything he ever loved. It was all a little overwhelming and he just stood there with a stunned expression on his face.

"Are you ok?" Dickie rested a hand on his arm looking concerned as Serena was off getting change.

Scott nodded snapping out of his trip down memory lane, "I... it's odd to be back here, I guess," he said staring in wonder again, "it's changed a bit."

"Time'll do that," Dickie agreed, affixing him with that x-ray vision of his, seeing deep inside him, "feeling a bit out of place still?"

"A bit," Scott confessed, smiling at his friend. "I'll figure it out, it's still new, that's all." He grinned as Serena returned holding up a small bucket full of change and tokens.

"It's getting right expensive in here," she exclaimed, looking around her. "I suppose you lads want something violent with guns blood and guts, right?"

Dickie gave a friendly shrug, "House of the Living Dead?"

Scott suddenly brightened, they had that game at the local arcade back in Brooklyn, "You're on!"

He enjoyed the game where two heroes have to rescue a girl from a house possessed by demon creatures. It was one of the classic arcade shooters, complete with handheld guns. Suddenly, growing up in Brooklyn had a decided advantage over Hailsham's finest.

After a few minutes Dickie was shaking his head, "Wow, we're getting far; where'd you learn to shoot?"

Scott didn't take his eyes of the screen, the gun braced in two hands sweeping to and fro picking off vampire bats that rushed at him, occasionally clicking for a reload before returning to shooting the creatures. "Didn't," he said, keeping his breaths short, squeezing the trigger only when he exhaled because breathing-in caused the gun to drift upwards. "Dad used to take me hunting in Michigan; he always used to... bugger..." he lost a life and chuckling he bent down to reload tokens into the machine, "It's not perfect but, hey, whatever works."

Dickie shifted his grip to match Scott's, mimicking his motions and his aim steadied considerably. "Hey it works," he sounded surprised as he shot an axe-wielding psychopath.

Scott grinned, "One of the few useful things I learned from my Dad, how about you?"

Dickie stared intensely at the screen, swinging his gun to and fro, "My dad was a drunk; the only useful thing he ever did was fuck off." He swung the gun back and pulled the trigger again, "Right after my mom was in her accident..."

"The reason's she's..." Scott was suddenly uncomfortable delving too deeply into some one else's life.

"Yeah, she's paraplegic; Dad couldn't hack it and so he walked out and never looked back." Dickie was angry, but the game was working his frustration as he bit out his words, "I'm glad he's gone, frankly."

Scott nodded again, giving Dickie the occasional covering fire, but Dickie had suddenly become the one doing most of the work, and his score was starting to reflect it. "So how does your mom know my gran?"

Dickie glanced at him, wondering why Scott didn't know, "After Dad...left, your gran started showing up at the house, at first just to talk to Mom, then she started to help Mom, and it went from there. Don't take this the wrong way, but Rita's like a gran to my brothers and I."

Scott shrugged, "I figured as much; Gran's a determined woman who likes to fuss over people." Scott blinked as a larger creature charged him; two shots from Dickie soon ended its virtual existence, "Thanks," he added.

"So I heard you went to university; what did you study?" Dickie said, changing the subject as they continued on through the house.

"Nothing," Scott replied honestly, "took a few philosophy courses, nothing really interesting, how come you didn't go?"

"I did," Dickie reloaded by pointing the gun away from the screen and clicking the trigger. "Two years into my theology degree; I wanted to be a priest."

"Wow," Scott was shocked.

"Yeah," Dickie replied, "But after Fleur got pregnant..."

"Fleur's pregnant?" another shock.

Dickie nodded, "It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did... watch out for the..."

Scott emptied his clip into the un-dead zombie. "Sorry," he said. "Wasn't paying attention."

"I noticed," Dickie said as he reloaded again, "I was saying that Fleur and I were having some problems and next thing I know she's pregnant, and try explaining that to your mom." He shook his head, "So that was the end of my theology degree, anyway; I'll go back after Fleur has the baby, for now I just have some time on my hands."

On the screen they burst through a door, into a hoard of spiders that swarmed towards them. Scott went down first. He got back up and moved a bit faster but the creatures were swarming them too fast and they were both overwhelmed. Laughing and cursing the cheating game they left it to rejoin Serena who was happily playing a fruit machine.

"Boys have fun?" she asked as the machine swallowed another pound.

"Game cheated," Dickie responded. "Can we find a pub now?"

Serena eyed him suspiciously, "You only played one game and you already want to go to the pub?"

Dickie didn't seem apologetic, "I'm thirsty," he rationalized.

Scott nodded in agreement, "I could actually use a pint as well if you don't mind."

She looked at both of them and held back on her own protests, "Ok, let's find a pub, close though, ok?"

They all agreed and started off back across the road towards the collection of ragged-looking buildings tucked down narrow alleys. A couple of turns and Scott was lost, though Serena seemed to know exactly where they were going and pulled up short outside a pub that reminded Scott of something straight out of a pirate novel.

'The Queen's Head' was boldly painted on the sign under a picture of...

"Is that Freddy Mercury?" Scott asked incredulously, staring up at the gay icon looking royally pissed on his sign.

"You brought us to a gay pub?" Dickie stated; obviously he had been hoping for a last bastion of heterosexuality before they immersed themselves in Brighton's gay scene.

Serena didn't answer him, she just held the door open and indicated that he should just stop complaining and enter the bar.

It was the first time Scott had ever been into a gay bar anywhere. He was expecting pink...rainbows... guys kissing... instead he was faced with a pretty bulk standard pub. Not exactly how they had been painted on television, in fact he was surprised at the normalcy of the regulars tilting glasses of lager or bitter and chatting amongst themselves.

Something must have registered on his face, because Serena had gently laid a reassuring hand on his arm. And as a group they made their way to the bar, ordering a round of drinks. Conscientiously, Serena ordered lemonade; you never knew when the Sussex police would stop you and make you take a Breathalyzer test.

There was a bustle at the other end of the bar and a man emerged from behind the bar wearing a sequined shirt. Glittering in the lights, he lifted a microphone, "Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to the Queen's Head tonight. To kick things off tonight I want to go around and introduce everyone..."

Scott blinked, ok so that wouldn't happen in a straight pub. The man in the gaudy outfit walked around pressing the microphone up into peoples' faces and asked them their names loudly. He swept down the bar, eventually arriving and pressing it into Scott's nose, "And you are?" he asked in a haughty tone."

"Scott..." He replied.

"Oh and accent, where are you from Scott?"

"Brooklyn, New York," Scott responded, trying to pull back from the microphone that threatened insertion into his nose.

"Oh, a Yank! I love Americans, don't you? Everything's bigger in America." He gave a flirty wink and moved on, "And you, sir?"

"Dickie," Dickie said with about all the enthusiasm he could muster for this game.

"Is that a big Dickie or a little Dickie?" the gaudy man asked lecherously, leaning back to examine Dickie's crotch.

Dickie blushed, "That would be a little Dickie, I'm afraid." he said reluctantly.

"That's ok," the man patted him on the shoulder, "a little Dickie is better than none at all..." he brushed on completing his round of the bar's patrons.

Dickie shook his head into his glass, "I think I should have stayed home."

"No you don't," Serena stated with a broad smile, "you love the attention too much."

* * *

He was drunk; he knew he was drunk because he couldn't stay upright. The world kept tilting to one side and every time he tried to tilt with it, he fell down.

Dickie helped him upright, though he was in no better condition. They were standing on the street outside the nightclub 'Revenge' under the rotating laser sign. Revenge had turned out to be a massive gay bar, two levels of music, drugs and alcohol... and more importantly to Scott, boys.

"Come on, stay with me old chap." Dickie said, keeping Scott from pitching over again.

Scott was giggling, "The drag queen...."

"Yeah, I remember," Dickie said, a note of annoyance entering his voice. 'Lady Vickie'; a voluptuous Drag queen with an overly exaggerated bust had taken a particular liking to Dickie, so much so that the normally unflappable man had been all but chased into the bathroom to hide and await rescue.

Scott and Serena had found it hilarious. Dickie had not been so amused.

"Where'd Serena go?" Scott asked, turning around to see if she was standing behind him; she wasn't and he turned back to Dickie, puzzled.

"She's gone to get the car so we can take you home," Dickie explained patiently; he was also drunk, but held it well.

"Oh," Scott said as if remembering, "But she didn't see me kiss a guy."

"Because you were too scared to talk to any of them," Dickie replied, looking up the road to see if she was coming yet.

"Oh yes," Scott nodded as if the comment made all the sense in the world to him, which it didn't, but he simply didn't care by that point. "What about you?"

"You want to kiss me?" Dickie looked suddenly shocked.

"No... no." Scott shook his head trying to clear the fog, "You can't give me what I want anyway...." Dickie gave him a remarkably sober look, but in his drunken state Scott just ignored it, "Why didn't you kiss anyone..."

"There weren't any girls," Dickie replied, noting that Serena's Metro was drawing up.

"There was always Lady Vickie!" Scott exclaimed, giggling as he fell over again.

Dickie rolled his eyes as he piled the drunken Scott into the back of the car, looking entirely too happy the night was over.