26 March 2005
”Christopher Eccleston, he seems all right. I’ll wait until tomorrow to
decide for sure, of course. But yeah, I think he’ll be okay.” Vince bit into the
cap of his pen, chewing thoughtfully as he stared down at the inventory list he
was meant to be updating. “And Russell T. Davies, he’s supposed to be
brilliant.”
“Who?” Stuart asked, working on his laptop.
“Russell T. Davies,” Vince repeated. “The executive producer.”
Stuart snorted and glanced at him. “You’re so sad.”
“What, because I know who the executive producer is? That’s a big deal, right?
The wrong bloke could ruin the whole thing. Imagine if they got some big
Hollywood type doing it. Change the TARDIS from a police box to a Hummer or
something equally mad.” Vince tucked the inventory list into the folder and
leaned back. He wasn’t getting anything done anyway. “Let’s go out. It’s Friday,
so…Dante’s?”
“I don’t know,” Stuart said, shutting his laptop. “Are you finally done
wittering on about fucking Doctor Who?”
Vince rolled his eyes and pushed himself off of Stuart’s couch. “Shut your face.
You know I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. You coming by tomorrow to
watch it with me?”
Stuart peeled his red jumper up and over his head, tossing it into his room. He
put his hands on his cocked hips, and Vince let himself enjoy the view a moment
before looking into Stuart’s amused face.
“Yeah, Vince, because what else could I possibly want to do on a Saturday night
than sit in your flat and watch telly?”
“No need to get cheeky,” Vince said defensively.
*
“And Billie Piper, she’s playing Rose Tyler – Tyler, isn’t that a laugh? Anyway,
I read an interview with her in the paper. She sounds dead excited about the
whole thing.”
“Of course she’s excited, Vince,” Stuart said. “She’s getting paid for
it. What’s your excuse?”
Vince ignored Stuart, who’d been having a go at him all night, and focused on
Hazel.
“D’you want to come over tomorrow and watch it with me?”
Hazel gave him an affectionate smile a stood up, her empty glass in hand.
“Vince, you’re my only son, and I love you more than my own life, but if you try
to make me watch one more episode of that show, I’ll kill you myself. I paid my
dues when you were a kid. It’s someone else’s turn now.”
“Some mother you are,” Vince answered good-naturedly.
“Want another one of those?” Hazel said, gesturing to Vince’s half-full g&t.
“Might as well, yeah,” Vince said.
“See, that’s a good mother,” Stuart commented. “Get me another one, would
you, Hazel?”
“For a tenner,” she replied, wagging a finger at him. “Trying to butter me up,
Stuart Jones. Don’t think I forgot who bought the last round.”
Stuart fished twenty out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. “You’re
robbing me blind, woman.”
“I’m like Robin Hood,” Hazel said. “Taking from the rich.” She picked the money
off the table. “And giving to the poor.” She tucked it neatly between her
breasts. “Back in a tick.”
Vince watched Hazel maneuver her way past the men standing around the bar and
then turned back to Stuart, who was staring at him.
“What?”
“Even your mum, Vince,” he answered with a grin.
“I’m dancing,” Vince said, abruptly pushing out of his chair and making his way
into the crowd.
*
“My brother’s watching it tonight,” Rosalie said.
“What about you?” Vince asked as they priced a new shipment of canned corn. “I
know it’s not Coronation Street, but it might be fun to watch it
together.”
Rosalie stopped pricing and stared at him. “Vince Tyler, are you asking me out
on a date?”
Vince froze. “I…uh…”
She laughed and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’m taking the piss, you daft
sod.”
“Right,” Vince said, resisting the urge to press a hand to his chest. “Very
funny.”
“I’m over you, Vince. Have been for years.”
“Well, then,” he said, trying not to seem too desperate, “what do you say?”
Rosalie shook her head sadly. “Sorry, but I’ve never been too into the Doctor.
I’ve only ever seen the movie. You know, the one with Paul McGann?”
Vince sighed. “Paul McGann doesn’t…forget it. It’s okay, I’ll watch by myself.
Me and the Doctor – it’ll be just like when I was a teenager. Brilliant.” He
smiled reassuringly at the cans of carrots and continued pricing.
“Just like last week, you mean.”
Vince’s head jerked at the sound of Stuart’s voice.
“Fuck off,” he said and then checked his watch. “Wow, it’s late. Rosalie, can
you finish this up?”
“Sure,” she said. “Go on home. Have fun watching your show.”
*
Vince checked his cabinets one more time. He couldn’t be out of popcorn, could
he?
Giving up, Vince opened his refrigerator and settled for a bottle of water and a
bag full of baby carrots. He grabbed the phone with his free hand and dumped the
lot on his coffee table.
Nesting into one corner of the couch, Vince used the remote to switch on the
telly. He tested his tape by recording a few seconds of commercials and then
playing it back. Stuart laughed at him for insisting on using tapes, but Vince
didn’t trust DVD burners or Sky Plus or anything else to record properly. It was
so high-tech, but what if it broke down. Then where would he be?
Five minutes before seven, there was a knock at the door.
“Bloody hell,” Vince said, sprinting to open it.
Stuart leaned against the doorjamb, looking put out.
“What’s this?” Vince asked, biting back a smile. “What about your big Saturday
night plans?”
“Stopped by Via Fossa. It was pathetic. Every bloke there was at least twice my
age. Made even YOU seem good looking,” Stuart answered, stepping around Vince
and entering the flat.
“Oh, thanks very much,” Vince said as seriously as he could. “Don’t think I’m
entertaining you.”
“You never entertain me, Vince,” Stuart said before tossing something at him.
Vince caught it out of reflex. A box of popcorn. He grinned.