Chelsea Dawn

That night, the foursome was standing in line at a local movie theater when there was a scuffle. "Go back North, you dirty Communist", taunted a young man with a lightning bolt badge on his shirt.

"I'm as English as you are, you feckin fascist bastard", yelled another man as they began to tussle.

Fernando and Juan looked dubiously at each other as the line inched forward. "He's BUF, crazy bastards. They like that Hitler bloke in Germany", said the old man in front of them.

Fernando was disgusted and he saw red when the fascist pounded on the other man who was significantly smaller than him. He strode over and grabbed the fascist by the collar, looking him right in the eye. "Elija a alguien de tu tamaño, chupapolla", he snarled.

"Let me go, you foreign bastard. Fucking foreigners", he snarled before Fernando punched him in the gut.

"Good show, lad", said the old man approvingly.

Juan helped the other man to his feet. "Esta bien, senor?", he asked.

The man looked at him oddly. "Are you all right?", he asked.

"Yeah, thank you. Are you Spanish, mate?", asked the man with a Yorkshire accent.

"Si, senor. I am Juan Mata and this Fernando Torres, this is my wife Christine and Fernando's wife Violette", he said as they all shook hands.

"Glad to meet you blokes and your ladies. I'm Sean Brennan, my people were from Ireland but I am as English as the king", he said proudly.

"Glad to meet you, Sean", said Juan.

"I'm from Leeds but I live here out in the West End, tonight's me night off. Me sister saw 42nd Street and liked it so I'm gonna see it", said Sean.

"What do you do?", asked Violette.

"I work the security at the Bridge and the door at the Blue Lion, I make sure no shady blokes don't get in. And you chaps look familiar", said Sean.

"We play for Chelsea", replied Fernadno.

"Now I got you, the blokes were talking about the new Spanish chaps the team got. Mr. Watson got us all tickets for matches at Stamford Bridge, bloody good boss he is", said Sean cheerfully. He was short and wiry with curly dark blond hair and bright blue eyes, dressed in gray slacks and a white short-sleeved shirt with a tweed flat cap on his head.

"You support Chelsea or a Yorkshire team?", asked Juan.

"Both, since me boss owns Chelsea I have to support the Blues but I also support Leeds United. I wanna get white rose tattoo, I'm a proud Yorkshireman", laughed Sean.

"Y nosotros no puedemos hacer eso", muttered Fernando.

"I really ought to buy you fellows a pint", said Sean as they bought tickets.

"Make that gin and tonics for us", quipped Christina as Violette nodded in agreement.

"All right ladies. I could go for a big pint of bitter meself and a shot of Jameson", said Sean.

The group found their seats as the other patrons trickled in, the pianist in the orchestra pit playing ragtime. This cinema looked nothing like a modern one, the chandeliers, velvet curtain and overstuffed chairs much fancier than a modern mall cinema. The lights dimmed and the curtains parted to reveal the screen as the numbers counted down, the clicking of film being fed into the projector echoing in the room. There was a commercial for a local furniture store, another for a car dealership and another for the Daily Mail before a Tom and Jerry cartoon. Fernando and Juan watched in disbelief as the last time they had seen the cartoons was when they were children, followed by a Hopalong Cassidy serial. The movie finally started much to their relief, amazed at having sat what they thought of as children's programming, the flamboyant Busby Berkeley musical with its showy choreography and catchy songs so very different from modern films. By the time of the big finale with Sawyer going onstage everyone in the theater was in a good mood, giving the movie a standing ovation as the curtains drew closed and the lights were turned back on.

"We're in the money, we're in the money. We got a lot of what it takes to get along", Sean sang in his handsome tenor.

"You sing really good, Sean. I'm not into musicals but I liked it", said Juan.

"Thanks mate. It's the Irish in me, me mum says all the Irish can sing good', replied Sean with a laugh.

Sean led them to the Blue Lion as the subsitute doorman let them in. "Drinks on the house for you blokes, boss's orders", said the bartender.

"Three pints of Carling and two gin and tonics with Beefeater for the ladies", said Sean as they all sat down at the bar.

The bartender set down three pints of beer and two gin and tonics for the women. Violette and Christina looked at the glasses which seemed to be three quarters gin and a splash of tonic with fat lemon peels floating on top, taking small sips. "This is strong", said Christina.

"It's Beefeater and a splash of tonic, I'm sorry if it's too stsrong Mrs. Mata", said Sean apologetically, chasing a shot of Jameson's with the beer.

"Perdon, if I am going to live in England, I will have to drink like an English lady", said Violette with a chuckle.

"Hopefully I'll see you blokes at the next game, lucky I don't work until late", said Sean with a laugh as he led them towards the building.

"Hasta luego, Sean", said Juan.

"Good night, fellas", he replied as he went to his flat.