A big thanks To Tulip who let me borrow Egan for a little while...

 

 

 

"...So when you say 'ring', Trask, you talking about engagement ring or 'get out of trouble' bauble?" Cullen asked as he zipped into a parking spot labelled 'wheelchair users'. A parking attendant stepped forward to protest at the young man who vaulted easily out of the high performance sports car. But Cullen was ready for him.

"Forgot my permit, mate, but I'm legally blind. Y'seen my left eye?" Cullen swept past him with his usually rolling gait and the man stared after him in confusion.

Egan followed behind. "How can you drive if you're legally blind?"

"How can you breathe if you're legally brain dead? But you seem to manage it okay..." Cullen grinned back.

Egan grunted. "I didn't actually mean I thought you were legally blind. I meant how come he believed you?"

Cullen gave him a smug look. "Power of my personality. You've got to get in quick, say anything fast, act like it's true and then bugger off before he has time to think about it..."

"You'll get a ticket..."Egan warned.

"So? You're paying for it. This is your fucking idea not mine..." Cullen retorted. Egan rolled his eyes and said nothing, loping after Murphy who almost bounded onto the escalator.

"God, I love shopping!" he announced, rubbing his hands together. "'Course, everything looks good on me..."

"Including a black eye?" Trask muttered, referring to the traces of their recent fight still clearly evident on Murphy's face. Egan, of course, hated shopping. Actually that was not quite true. He didn't really have an opinion about shopping for the simple reason that he didn't do it. On the odd occasion he bought anything it was usually more of a grab and pay action than shopping as such. Or he got someone else to do it for him. He had found in the past that women were quite useful for that.

An upscale shopping mall was about as much home territory to Egan Trask as the Caribbean would be to a penguin. He looked around and immediately felt light headed and dizzy. For a moment he wondered if he was about to faint. Which thought he did not cherish very much. Trask was a proud man and not one who enjoyed losing face in front of Cullen Murphy and the half of the western world who appeared to be thronging the damn shopping centre. He managed to hold on.

They made their way down to the main concourse, Egan dragging Murphy out of various boutiques, nudging him when he stopped to window shop or make eyes at pretty girls, generally keeping him moving.

"Keep your mind on the bloody job...."Egan muttered as he grabbed Murphy by the scruff of his neck and threw him out of the main entrance. He had started chatting up a girl collecting for charity and was trying to encourage her to give him a kiss instead of the sticker for his contribution.

Out on the street, it was even worse. They were on one of those high end big city shopping boulevards - obviously Cullen home ground. Shrugging off Egan's grip, he managed to escape into Paul Smith where Egan found himself sitting on a bench while his new friend tried on what appeared to be every pair of trousers in the place. Then he started on shirts.

"Would there be anything you'd like to try, sir?" Egan's eyelids had been drooping as he rested his head back on the wall. He hadn't been sleeping too well of late, almost an unknown situation for him. Not to sleep? He just closed his eyes and went off usually. But since he'd lost Tulip he found himself lying in the dark staring up at the ceiling night after night, the empty space beside him in the lonely bed almost too much to bear.

"What?" He jerked awake. The young man with the absurdly styled hair glossed with a stiff gel and odd black lines on his cheek and chin that Egan eventually realised were intricately fashioned beard lines, leant closer, placing a hand on Egan's knee.

"I wondered if you were interested in a style consult?" He gave Egan's shapeless jeans, baggy necked pullover and age-old waxed jacket a disapproving glance. Egan said nothing, merely raising his eyes to the younger man's and then dropping them menacingly to the hand on his leg. The guy got the hint.

"Your boyfriend's nearly done. He has a great eye for what's 'now', doesn't he?"

Egan gave another impassive stare. Boyfriend?  How'd the pansy bastard get that idea?

Meanwhile in the changing room... "His name's Egan. He's the strong silent type. I always go for manly men, don't you?" Cullen was in full flow in the changing room where Gaston was helping him out. "How did he get the bruises, you ask? I hit him. He was being a bit frisky...He can be rough, you know...? Gives me the collywobbles when he's in that mood...I love it really..." Cullen added archly.

Outside...Egan's impatience was hitting the critical phase. He lurched up, knocking over a delicate arrangement of silk ties and strode over to the changing room, ripping open the curtain, losing a few hooks into the bargain. "Oi...Murphy! Hurry the fuck up, will ya? Jesus, how long's it take to work out you look like a sad bastard? I'll be outside..."

Cullen zipped up his custom-distressed Diesel jeans with a flourish and threw on his jacket. "...and I'll take the hat..." he said, handing a jumble of clothes to Gaston and plonking the trilby at a jaunty angle on his own head.

The wait at the tills was interminable while the clothes were folded, wrapped in tissue, packed neatly in elegant black and silver boxes, the lids secured carefully with little round adhesive tags bearing the designer's logo, then loaded into a stylish designer carrier bag. The credit card bill had to be signed in triplicate, placed in a silver envelope, sealed with another sticker - and then Cullen spent ten minutes giving his details for the company mailing list.

Egan had long since left the shop, pacing up and down on the pavement trying to restrain himself before he laid one on the little Irish runt. "If I hit him, Tulip will never take me back again..." he kept muttering like a mantra to stem his rising anger.

"You ready?" Cullen shouted back as he dashed across the street. "I just couldn't resist those pants...while I was out and about...Okay, let's see...you ever been to Tiffany's, Mr. Golightly? Stop dragging your feet...it's called shopping...won't fucking kill you... I take it you think she's worth it..."

 

"...Did we ascertain what kind of ring you were thinking of buying?" Cullen returned to the topic as he pushed open the imposing portal to Tiffany's. Egan gave him a bewildered look.

"How many kinds of rings are there?" he asked vacuously, looking about him helplessly while a few sales personnel hovered discreetly. And then his face changed and he added smugly. "And don't start being clever about cock rings, you dick...I meant the kind you put on a finger..."

Cullen returned with a withering gaze of his own. "...so not one through her nose or maybe to shackle her ankles to the cooker, then?"

"Funny..." Egan rasped back.

"Actually I'm not sure I was entirely joking," Cullen muttered. "Look, mate, there are many kinds of rings, nobhead. Dress, friendship, engagement, wedding, eternity..."

"Oh..."

"Oh? What's that supposed to mean? I need an answer. Are you offering to marry the girl or just to keep her quiet? Because, mate, a ring is a dangerous symbol to trifle with. Get it wrong and you are seriously fucked either way. Even worse than you are now..."

"Why? I thought women loved rings..."Egan ventured with the blithe innocence of the male as he stumbled blindfold through the minefield of love.

At that Cullen dragged him out of the shop again and they stood on the pavement. "We need to talk. Come on...time for a beer..."

Shortly afterwards they were ensconced in a glass and chrome hip bar drinking over-priced designer beer in bottles wedged with lime slices  Egan pulled a face at his  redundant piece of citrus and threw it on the table in scarce concealed disgust for such an affectation. Cullen launched into his advice session. "Women love jewellery. There is no denying it. But jewellery is loaded with meanings to them of which we are, for the most part, totally ignorant of. For a start, they all seem to be born with some sixth sense which apparently imbues each stone with various qualities. Fucked if I know what they are but women have them memorised. Flowers are the same. If you don't know the general code then it's often best to avoid either. Next comes the price issue. This can be tricky and is a good indicator of the total lunacy of female brains. Spend too little and you are fucked. 'You don't love me enough, you bloody cheapskate!' she will cry.  Spend too much and you are 'trying to buy her affections.' Exactly what constitutes the right amount is an unknown quantity never explained in a simple mathematical formula taking into account relative affection in ratio to need to get laid or something. Maybe we should get Nash to work on one? Now there's an idea worthy of a Nobel Prize...although it's probably insoluble...seeing as we are including irrational factors such as woman's logic...you with me so far?"

Egan stared morosely at the beer bottle in his hand. "No."

"That's hopeful..." Cullen retorted. "Okay...next problem - and this is the real landmine of love territory. Of all pieces of jewellery, rings are the most significant, as they imply marriage..."

"...marriage? Who said anything about marriage?" Egan pronounced the word as if it was entirely new to him, rolling it on his tongue, testing it out.

"Yeah...scary thought, I know, but some fuckers actually do ask women to marry them voluntarily. Some even do it because they want to. Take Biebe for example... Maximus even...second go round for both....and Curry as well. He was always heading in that direction...they are what you call 'the marrying kind'. Not sure how Steve found himself in that bunch but he's tapped anyway so he probably doesn't count. Call him the exception that proves the rule..."

"...well, they might just like it..." Egan offered lamely.

"Like it?" That was obviously a new concept for Cullen that he quickly shrugged away. "Anyway, if you give a ring, you are likely to imply one of the following messages. One: you want to ask her to marry you and be the mother of your children. She might say yes because this was what she was always after- and thus you are finished. On the other hand, she might say no and you could have your heartbroken and lose her for good which you obviously don't want or you wouldn't be here in the first place. Thirdly she could accuse you of using marriage like a bribe, playing on her frailty to manipulate her and keep her where you want her - and if she goes for that one, your nuts will be ripped out by talons of solid bronze...Meanwhile, all you are probably trying to say is, 'Here's a pressie. Now can we stop arsing about and have a shag?' But just remember, a woman will probably be hearing: 'I love you and want to spend the rest of my life and every penny I ever earn in future on you...'"

Egan looked pained. It was hard to tell if he was unhappy, shocked or had indigestion. Naturally he said nothing.

"Well...do you want to propose or not? The shop shuts in three hours. We haven't got all day..."

Egan gave it some thought and then opened his mouth in a way that suggested his brain was actually operating. "Don't they do rings that are... half way?"

Cullen ran his hands down his face in frustration. "Half way? Half way between what exactly? Marriage and freedom? A 'hedging your bets' ring? You really are not getting this, are you? Half way? I do not think so, mate. Do you even know what you want, Trask? Indecision at this point is going to lose you everything. She will sniff it out in seconds. It rolls off men like you like body odour..."

To this weighty question, Egan gave a few minutes of deep contemplation while Cullen smoked a cigarette and finished his beer. "I want Tulip back. I want things to be like they were..."

Cullen drew in a sharp intake of breath. "Can't happen. Not now. Once hostilities are declared then the entire status quo shifts. Early days, a bloke holds all the aces. Then they dance around giving us what we want to keep us sweet. We must be lulled into submission at all costs. But once you cross that invisible no-man's land in relationships where co-habitation and futures are beginning to loom, then the power falls completely into her grip. She has you by the balls here on in and all you can do is negotiate to claim a foothold. Returning to alpha male land is not an option. So sod that for a lark, sunshine..."

"...So what do you do? Never seen you caught..." Egan asked, sucking on his bottle of beer like a pacifier.

Cullen laughed. "I never even get into the game, mate. I am there for act one scene one when she is working her little butt off to win my interest. I am there for the hot sex, unlimited access to all known depravities, accompanied by a cooked breakfast in the morning: a woman who gets up at the crack of dawn to shower, put on her makeup and brush her teeth before waking me up with her lips, will always let me choose what we do and where we go - and laughs fetchingly at everything I say. As soon as she pulls a face or opens the door in a pair of specs and her housecoat or asks me to fix the plumbing or empty the trash...I am off..."

With startling acuity, which if he had applied to himself might actually have got him somewhere, Egan replied: "What about Esme?"

"Esme?" Cullen noticeably blanched at the mention of her name. "What's Esme got to do with anything?"

"I dunno. You tell me. She gave you a black eye. You've been hanging round the bar moping all week. And I've seen you emptying her trash..."

"Once...I did it once...that was allowed..." Cullen defended himself but seemed uneasy at the topic, quickly changing it. "We are talking you and Tulip. I'm in a different league...don't even begin to draw parallels..."

"You've still lost your girl. And you have nothing better to do on a Saturday afternoon but hang about the shops with me. That doesn't sound too clever...'

"Piss off and leave my love life out of this! I don't have one and I don't want one. I prefer a sex life; it suits me fine..."

"When's the last time you got laid...?"

"Fuck off..."

Egan began to laugh, standing up to buy another round. Cullen sat morosely shaking the dregs of the beer in his bottle. He hadn't spoken to her in three weeks. She wouldn't take a call or open the door. He had written several mails a day and even contemplated a real letter but he doubted she would reply. Esme was very stubborn if crossed. She did not suffer fools gladly. And he was a fool. But fool or not, he still had enough sense to see what he was. Jeff had now taken off, no one knew where, and Esme would be even more angry with him.  He hadn't actually caused the break up between the two lover boys - but that didn't matter. Esme was a woman and would apply her own peculiar logic to the issue. She had washed her hands of Cullen Murphy and there was to be no going back. The quicker he accepted that, the sooner his life would return to normal. Even if normal felt pretty bleak from now on.

"...Let's get back and buy this feckin' ring then..."Cullen suddenly surged forward towards the door leaving Egan clutching two beers which he slammed down to catch up with his companion. Back on the street, he jogged up to Cullen who led him back to the jeweller's...

 

 

"...Can I help you, gentlemen?"

Egan gave the sales assistant a long inscrutable stare before replying: "Rings."

"Would that be for a special occasion, sir?" he twittered on. Cullen drew him aside.

"He proposed. What can I say? It's a dream come true..." The other man raised his eyebrows archly; his gaydar had not worked where these two had been concerned. How queer was that?

"I understand. Something understated but elegant?" Cullen smiled sweetly and left him removing trays of baubles set artfully in their velvet beds. 

Egan glanced over them without showing much emotion. "These come with a price tag?" he asked abruptly. A few prices were quoted. His eyes almost popped out.

"You got anything cheaper?"

Cullen nudged his arm sharply. "You said no expense spared, sweetie..."

Trask frowned and looked stormy. Cullen went for wide-eyed innocence. For the next half an hour they sifted through ring upon ring, Cullen stopping to try some on and fake ecstasy at the effect. Egan seemed to become more and more morose. Something was clearly bothering him.

"I've changed my mind..." he suddenly announced. "Let's get out of here..."

 

*

 

Cullen caught up with him several streets away, off the main shopping boulevard and down a side street. He was moving fast, hands stuck in his jeans' pockets and his collar turned up to the light rain that was falling.

"Hey, what was all that about?" Murphy grabbed his arm; Trask pulled away roughly.

"Not talking about it on the street..." Egan grunted back.

Ahead was a scruffy pub, a real man's drinking place. Cullen elbowed him inside and they took stools at the bar. The regulars watched them stony faced from behind their own pints. It wasn't exactly the sort of place you went for genial bonhomie and good conversation.

"So what gives?" Cullen opened the dialogue.

Egan shrugged. "I changed my mind."

"Why?"

"None of your business..."Egan retorted.

Murphy laughed. "No? So what the fuck have I been doing with you all afternoon? You made it my fucking business when you asked me to bail your arse on this one. I have not wasted a perfectly good Saturday afternoon listening to your moronic opinions without having some stake in the outcome. So give it up. What gives?"

Another shrug and a deep measured sigh but Egan did at least offer some form of an explanation. Surprisingly, it made sense.

"That's a bloody lot of money to spend on something that you're not sure about..." he observed. "Don't get me wrong. This is not about Tulip. I love that girl. And yeah, I do want to marry her. Unlike you, I believe in marriage. That's what men and women should do. Get married. Have babies. Where I come from, that's just how it is. The thing is, I never reckoned on meeting a woman who would make me want to keep coming back. Thought I was a drifter. A loner. Never needed a woman around permanently. I can do everything for myself. Until I met Tulip. Now there's a girl I could marry. I knew it straight away if I'm honest. Don't think anyone else will ever come close...."

"...Excuse me...but I'm not following...? So what are you not sure about? Another round, darlin', when you're ready..." Cullen shouted to the barmaid and stacked them up, settling back to hear the reasoning.

"I'm not sure I'm right for her. Or that I won't hurt her in the long run. I love her too much to inflict someone like me on her. You know she can do better than me, Murphy...she's a classy woman..."

"...What the fuck's that got to do with it? If guys ended up with the women they deserved there would be a lot of ugly kids out there..." Murphy added cryptically. Egan grinned.

"Tulip and I are still trying to work it out, Murphy. No way are we ready for marriage yet. Getting wed is a serious commitment and you don't do it lightly. If she took me back, I'd be ready to show her that I was the kind of man who could make a husband. But I haven't proved that yet. Not by a long, long way..."

"So what're you gonna do now?" Cullen asked. Egan refilled their glasses and rubbed his beard thoughtfully.

"Dunno. Try talking to her?"

"Depends what you're gonna say..."

"What do you think?"

"Tell her the truth. What you just told me. How you feel about her. Can you explain that?"

He hunched his shoulders. "Not sure. She's very important in my life. Kind of like my...horse or Corey..."

Cullen groaned. "Just stop right there! Do not even think about comparing your feelings for her with your feelings for an animal...Mate, I get it. Men do. It would be like meeting a girl I loved as much as my car. I suppose that is possible...but they would never get it. They can't even stand being compared to another woman never mind a member of the animal kingdom or an inanimate object..."

Egan breathed out slowly. "Okay, no animals. Well then...I love her like I love...my Mum..."

Cullen shook his head. "I think not. You don't shag your Mum...that will just reinforce her belief you want her to keep house and cook for you. Come on, mate...think..."

"I love her more than anything in the world. I don't want to be alone any more. I just want to wake up with her lying by my side, and take care of her. Give her everything I can. See her smile. Know that she only looks like that at me...stupid things like that..."

Cullen smiled softly and slapped his back. "You don't need me. Just tell her that and she'll come running. Any girl would want to hear that from a guy like you..."

Egan glanced up. "A guy like me? What do you mean?"

"You might be a tough son of a bitch but you're a regular guy. Sexy, manly, someone to be trusted. Women go for that, Trask. It's men like me they run a mile from..."

"But I thought...?"

"...Then you thought wrong..."

They carried on drinking in silence for a while, each sunk in their own thoughts. Another few rounds later and they were beginning to get well-oiled. Egan rested his elbow on the bartop and his head on his hand, looking thoughtfully at Murphy. "Why don't you tell Esme how you feel about her then?"

Cullen snorted. "She'd kick my arse from here to next week if I showed up..."

"Maybe. But you want to."

"Want to what?"

"To be with Esme. Everyone knows that. You're in love with Miss Abbott, mate..."

"Fuck off!"

Egan shrugged. "No skin off my nose. But I was just wondering why you can give out advice to me but you can't take it yourself..."

"Jesus Christ!" Cullen muttered, downing his pint. "Don't put me in the same league as you, mate. I told you before, I don't do relationships. I don't want a girlfriend. I am not interested in commitment and forever and happy ever after..."

"Why? Why wouldn't anyone want that with the right person?" Egan's simple questions were clearly disconcerting Cullen. 

"I just don't - right? Now, can you shut the fuck up about it?"

Egan held up his hands as if to say he'd back off. But moments later he added. "She must have got right under your skin...Esme, I mean...."

For an instant it appeared Cullen would retort in his usual fashion but all at once his face seemed to change. He leaned his head in his hand and sighed for a moment before beginning to talk. "Esme...." He seemed to be having difficulty even saying her name. Egan looked at him curiously, sipping on his beer thoughtfully. "Esme...my Ellie... is a very special woman who deserves a decent guy. I am not a decent guy. In many ways, she's is the perfect girl - except for one thing. She likes me. Now, that suggests there's something pretty wrong with her underneath..." He had reverted to the smart answer but there was something niggling below the surface that suggested his comment was more than just a throw away smart arse line.

"What do you mean?" Trask asked, although he sounded like he had a shrewd idea. The question was more about keeping his companion talking. Something interesting was about to be revealed.

Cullen smiled, half to himself. "I have this thing about women.  Something to do with my mother..."

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. My Mammie...!" Cullen repeated in a voice that dared Trask to laugh. "She walked out on me and my Da when I was a kid. Took up with this other fella. Raised his two kids and had a few more of her own. Dad never got over her leaving. Went to the States. I grew up there. I was pretty wild. Too much for him, I guess. He sent me back to Ireland when he couldn't cope. Lived with my mother for awhile but she couldn't stand me. Told him to take me back. I was corrupting her children..." Cullen stopped and closed his eyes a moment. Egan wondered exactly what the whole story was to have touched this apparently amoral and selfish young man so acutely. "Do you know how it feels to be rejected even by your own mother? It feels like shit, Trask. I must be one hell of a shit bag if even my own mother couldn't stand me, hey? I spend my life chasing women and when I catch them...well, what kind of woman wants to be caught by a worthless pile of shit like me? So, I figure anyone who wants to stick around has got to have some big issues going on...needy... clingy...desperate... whatever...."

"...That's a load of crap...Esme? Needy? Desperate? Maybe your mother was just a tart...?"

Cullen swung but Egan was ready this time. He ducked and pulled away. "Fuck off...I was trying to help...!"

"Don't fucking talk about my mother like that..." Cullen grunted.

Egan shrugged. "She left your father. You grew up wild. Sounds to me like both of them were the ones who made the mistakes - not you. You were just the kid caught in the middle. What kind of woman deserts her boy? Mate, you're screwed alright...but it isn't like you think. You ever told Esme about your Mum and Dad?"

Cullen shook his head dismissively.

"'Bout time you did then, mate. She likes you. You like her. So who gives a fuck about whether it makes sense? Like you said to me..."

"It's not the same..."

"It is. You think you're not good enough for the likes of her. But you've had a good time together. What the fuck else matters? If every bloke got the woman he deserved...."

"Alright, Oprah...I get the message. Let's sort you out first before I'm too drunk to see straight and that legally blind comment will be true...you gonna go see Tulip?"

"Yeah."

"You gonna tell her straight?"

"Gonna try to."

"Good man. Let's call it a day. I'm pissed..."

"You gonna see Esme?"

"Maybe..."

"Good man..." Egan grinned and Cullen shot him the bird. They drained their pints and ambled off to collect his car and drive back. Egan jumped out at the Inn and fired up his battered old truck, haring off with barely a muttered word. Cullen sat alone in his vehicle, leaning on the headrest. He could see Esme's bedroom window from where he sat. It was open and the curtain was gently billowing through, blown by the slight breeze. He wondered what she was doing right now up there. He wished he was doing it with her.

Easing out from behind the wheel, he locked the car and strolled over. For a few moments he hesitated, his hands in his pockets, scuffing at the ground with his boot. Then he shook his melancholy away, turned his back on the place he wished to be, pushed open the door of the bar and made a beeline for a group of attractive women who appeared to be alone. "Well, ladies....what can I do you for....?"

 

 

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