Better Than Burroughs

The Next Day: Muriel’s Party
Marina

The party is such a typical Halloween party. Muriel’s house is decorated with skeletons, goblins, witches, and the rest of the ‘spooky’ gang. She even put a life-sized Frankenstein’s monster by the front door. He greets you when you come within five feet. Rather impressive. It actually scared the crap out of me. I didn’t see it until it grumbled out a faded roar. I was really glad that no one was there to see me jump.

The music is a constant loop of the usual Halloween music; I never need to hear Monster Mash again. I’m having fun though. I love meeting all of her friends. Some even brought their grandson’s and I’m pretty sure that they’re trying to purchase me. Or sell the grandson’s. Either way. When Callum left this morning, he told me to try and get out of here by eight. I have no idea what time it is but I’m fairly certain it is past eight.

“There you are! I want you to meet Phil, my brother in law,” Muriel says, practically knocking me over with her hand on my back. I smile and look at the man next to her. This is her husband’s twin brother, I recognize him from the photos. Or rather, I recognize the face of her husband from the photos. This must be strange for her, or maybe she’s over it. He’s a complete different person. Still, I can’t imagine having a constant reminder of what is no longer.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand. He starts into telling me about his garden, saying that Muriel told him that I liked hers. I nod my head and listen carefully. Not exactly the most thrilling of subjects but he seems to really enjoy it. I’m glad that my outfit is fairly conservative. I would feel strange walking around while barely wearing anything.

“Hey Phil, Katherine’s looking for you out by the pool. Something about Chi-Chi,” Morgan says, walking up with two cups of punch in hand.

“Yes, of course. Excuse me,” Phil says, patting my arm and making his exit.

“Thought you looked a little bored,” Morgan smiles, handing a cup over to me.

“Not at all,” I shake my head and take a cautious sip, expecting it to be spiked.

He laughs and watches me, “I swear that nothing’s in it, just whatever fruit thing my grandmother made.”

He sets his hand on my lower back and leads me through the people to the front patio. When we get outside I step away from his hand, it feeling strange. It’s amazing how different a hand can feel from another. The fact that he freely touched me like that, on such a touchy area, annoys me but I let it go.

I love the front patio. It’s more of a sunroom. Or a little aviary minus the birds. It’s between the main house and the very front door. I sit down at the glass table and cross my legs.

“Have you settled in well?” I ask, making conversation the best I can.

“Yeah, I have. All moved in. I’ve never been here so much in my life.”

“You didn’t visit a lot when you were a kid?”

“Not too much. When I was over, it wasn’t for longer than a night.”

“It must be nice getting to know your grandmother,” I say, watching him walk around the patio touching plants.

He makes a squeamish face and than immediately backpedals from the expression. “Yeah, it is. It is nice.”

“But…?”

“But,” he laughs, sitting across from me and smiling broadly. “She’s very…personable. I wake up every morning and she has a breakfast tray ready for me. I’m not very friendly in the morning and she…well she always is.”

“Yeah, I guess that can be hard getting used to,” I say, although I think it’s incredibly sweet. I can see Muriel doing that. Maybe he should do it for her before she can do it for him. I doubt people do that sort of stuff for her.

“My ex-wife wasn’t a morning person either so I’m used to not having to talk at all before eight.”

Callum and I get along great in the morning. I wouldn’t know how to live with someone who couldn’t speak before coffee. Not that he drinks coffee. He’s more of a tea guy. I’ve never been a huge tea fan. It’s flavored water. I know that’s obvious but whenever I try some, that’s really all it tastes like; water with a fuzzy flavor. I have Star Star stuck in my head. Star, star, teach me how to shine, shine. Teach me so I know what’s going on in your mind, cause I don’t understand these people. I want to see them live.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask. Are you just an average maid or what?” Morgan leans forward, pointing at my getup and interrupting my internal singing.

I smile and tuck a strand of arrant hair behind my ear, “I’m Polly from Fawlty Towers.”

“Is that a movie?”

“A show,” I say, shaking my head.

“Haven’t seen it. If you recommend it, I guess I’ll have to.”

“Yes, everyone should,” I say with a definitive nod. He’s not going to check it out and I sort of don’t want him to. I like it when I have different taste from others.

Scratching at my neck, I wonder how long I have to sit here for before someone comes outside. Not that I don’t like Morgan’s company, he’s really nice, I just never know what to really say to people I don’t know. But he’s trying so hard so I guess I can try right back. It never hurts to make friends. I just don’t feel the need to make any more. I’m oddly content with the amount of people in my life. It’s hard juggling a large number of them. There’s not enough days in the week to fit them all in. Someone is always more neglected and feelings tend to get hurt. I’m happy with my social circle mainly consisting of Callum and Emma. I know other people but no one I make a point of really keeping track of. I love going out with groups but I don’t want to have to keep that up every day.

“What are you?” I ask, taking in his casual attire.

He makes a dramatic sweep of the room before slowly unbuttoning the first three buttons. I watch him, leery of why he’s disrobing. I smile when he peels his shirt open and the Superman symbol is prominent.

“Clark Kent,” I laugh. “Very nice. I prefer Batman.” I remember talking to Callum about my preference for Batman.

“Really? Why?”

Talking about this stuff, I’m good. I feel comfortable and I know how to handle people. I lean forward, my elbows on the glass, “Batman had no superpowers. He’s far superior. He could kick ass without X-Ray vision.”

“He had a utility belt, that was his super power.”

“No it wasn’t. That’s just a belt. I have belts and I still can’t fight crime,” I insist.

“I like Batman fine,” he says, backing off. “Superman was my favorite as a kid. I read all the comics.”

“I never read them. Never got into comics. I’ve read some graphic novels but that’s it.”

“So you like Batman because…he had no powers? Shouldn’t super powers be the reason to like a super hero?”

“Not for me. Batman’s a normal guy who’s a bit…morose. He’s got some revenge issues. He’s emotionally unstable. A normal person. His story is more character driven.”

“Does that mean you like emotionally unstable men?” Morgan asks teasingly.

I think of Callum and I guess I must. Morgan doesn’t need to know that about Callum though and I slowly shake my head, “I think I just like men who never bore me.”

Vincent’s Party
Callum

I haven’ had this much fun in America since…well since I fucked last. Which was…last night. No matter. Vincent’s lovely abode isn’t so much decked out in Halloween style as it is in English style. The theme of the night? England. Excellent bloody theme. Especially for me. It means that I didn’ have ta do much in order fit. Yesterday while I was over here, Vincent showed me all that would be showing at the party on the screens and a large majority of it was Monty Python, considering that the Python catalogue is rather large. I wear a suit, change my hair up a tad, wear a hat, and I’m magically John Cleese. Fuckin’ wonderful.

The entertainment for the night really is the best form. Comedy sketches, films, and stand-up. All brilliant. It’s been nice seeing some Fry and Laurie and some Young Ones. Haven’t seen those in a bit. Big Train has been missed as well.

I’m rather knackered. Just a bit of the rather. I ‘aven’t seen Marin’s lovely arse since I groped her this morning. I made my leave while she was in the shower. I left a note on the counter, lettin’ her know where I had gone. I went off ta have some before-party fun with the pricks. I had some before-party alcohol and got a tad before-party pissed. I’m actually coming down now, drinking lots of water between the real drinks.

It’s ten and she’s not here yet. Granted, the house is fairly packed but I’m convinced that I’ll know when she arrives. Maybe the hairs on the back of my neck will stand. I’m expecting nothing less. She should be here by now. Her thing started at six for fuck’s sake! What in the bloody hell is she doin’? Playin’ bridge? Canasta?

I could stand to be a tad bit more social but I’m happy where I am for the time being. I’m standing in front of the main pull-down screen on the living room wall, watching a Flying Circus sketch. I don’ need the sound, I remember the argument clinic well enough. The music playing is scattered. Not strictly English music. Vincent is a major fuckin’ Sex Pistols junkie and currently God Save the Queen is blaring over the surround sound.

“Let’s ‘ave a chat, Sunny Jim!” Deaglan shouts in my ear, scaring the fuck outta me, slapping my shoulder blade with the cricket bat he’s been swingin’ about all day.

“Fuck off with that thing before ya bludgeon yourself.”

“I’m touched that ye care ‘bout me,” he coos, kissing my cheek. He leans against me, using my body to support himself. He’s barely drunk, he’s just doin’ it for a laugh. I let him. Scanning the room, I spot Emma, looking like Austin Powers’ newest fluffer; talking to some bloke I’ve never met. If she’s here, why isn’t Marin? This annoys me greatly.

The house is pretty filled. Who knew Vincent had so many mates here? And a lot that I happen to know. I don’ know who did the invites, but there are a lot of ponces walkin’ about. I enjoy themed parties. Women have so many options and instead, they just opt for the easy way out and dress like whores. I love a scantily clad lady just as much as the dirty slut leaning on me, but try a little. I have no bloody idea what Marin will be wearin’. I told her the theme this mornin’, not exactly a lot of time but she’s a resourceful lady. I’m sure she figured somethin’ out. It’s rather broad.

I step away from Deck, keeping my distance from the cricket bat. His costume of choice was originally going to be the leader of the Knights who say NI! Thankfully, he opted against it because another bloke in here decided to also be the character and I’m constantly hearing NI! shouted over the music. He must be pissed already. It’s gettin’ rather trying.

I had thought about actually dressing in clothes I wouldn’t already own, but it was too much trouble so sod it. Deaglan tried a little harder and dressed up as Simon Pegg from Shaun of the Dead. He wanted to do somethin’ Pegg related and this is the most recognizable. Tim Bisley won’t exactly turn many heads. Mike Watt possibly, but being that we’re in America and Spaced hasn’t made it this far, I doubt the number would be high. However, the majority of the people in this house aren’t American so I actually have no idea why he didn’t go with Bisley. Less blood. His commitment to his look is impressive. He’s got all the blood workin’ for him, which had made for an interesting hour. Right after that, we dyed Vince’s hair a shocking blue. He said he needed to spice things up for when he grew tired of his outfit’s wig.

Bidding him farewell for the time being, I wander through the house a bit. However, I just end up back in the main living area and I spot Marin through the crowd. I can’t contain the smile. When she sees me, she pushes past people to get to me, a giant smile on her gorgeous face.

“You look amazing!” Marin shouts, coming at me quicker than I expect. She throws her arms around me and it jolts me back. I clutch her waist tightly and breathe in deeply. She smells like fruit punch and cinnamon.

Pulling back, she smiles up at me and I’m speechless at the pleased look on her face. She spreads her arms out to the sides in a look at me manner, “Who am I?’

I take a step back, pursing my lips and studying her. Her dress reminds me of someone but I can’t quite connect who. It’s not a maid, not with that big bow. I look up at her hair and it comes to me. It’s pinned up perfectly and I wonder if she went to a professional with a photo. I doubt I would have caught it if it weren’t for the fact that Fawlty Towers has been on the screens. I won’t tell her that though.

“My lovely Polly,” I say. “You look gorgeous.”

She laughs and claps her hands excitedly. I lean in to kiss her and she kisses me back with such intent. My hands clutch her waist and I bring her in as tightly as I can, enjoying the taste of her tongue. I’m mad for it.

“You’re in a good mood,” I say, pulling away and holding her out so I can look her up and down again. She looks bloody amazing. The dress is tight, completely tempting, and it looks pretty damned short. Shorter than the real Polly’s dress. What a little tart.

Marin

Before I can ask Callum who he’s dressed as, a very loud English accent shouts, “Oi! Sir, this your bird!?”

Callum groans a little and I smile. I turn around and am met with a very amusing sight. The man is a little taller than me with bright blue hair sticking out all over the place in a very careless way. It’s way too long to really work with this look. It just makes him look that much funnier. He’s wearing a very tight dress, tighter than mine, and a tray looped around his neck with a giant Albatross resting in the middle. I laugh outright at the fact that I had thought about dressing as that.

“She’s laughin’ at me. Only those who know me are allowed ta laugh at me, love,” he scolds.

“I’m not laughing at you, it’s just that I was going to dress as that,” I say.

“Ye ‘ave got ta be bloody well jokin’!” he grins, staring at my costume. “Impressive choice. My naughty bits like.”

“You tell her ta say this jus’ ta win me heart?” he asks Callum sternly.

Holding his hands out, Callum says, “I can honestly say, Vincent, that I had no idea and it is all an extremely joyful happenstance.”

Moving to stand at my side, Callum lays his hand flat on my lower back, “Marin, may I introduce the git responsible for this get together. He’s off his tits.”

Vincent looks ready to protest but than shrugs, “I am. Lovely ta meet such a tasty morsel.”

“Nice to meet you too. This house is impressive. I love how you’ve set it up for the party.”

“Full of flattery, this one is. I like it,” Vincent tells Callum.

Callum laughs, “Savor it. It won’ last once she gets ta know ya.”

Vincent puts on a rather indignant look that makes Callum smirk. “What ‘appened ta your wig?” Callum asks.

“It was fuckin’ itchy,” Vincent frowns. “Those poor skinned kids.” He takes my hand and kisses it, offering a lopsided grin, “I must admit, ye wouldla looked better in this dress than I.”

Laughing, I thank him and pat the stuffed bird’s head, “Any luck on selling it?”

“No one’s interested,” he mutters. There’s a three second silence before he says suddenly, flashing a smile, “I mus’ tend to some ladies, enjoy yourself.” I nod and watch him take off into the crowd, shouting, “ALBATROSS!”

Turning to Callum, I say, “He seems nice.”

“That he isn’t. How’d Muriel’s party go?”

“It went well. I had more fun than I thought. Some of Muriel’s friends brought their grandson’s, Muriel must have told them about me. I felt like I was getting set up all over the place. Muriel felt so bad. She hadn’t realized that was their purpose.”

Callum’s nodding throughout my little speech but he’s staring at my dress the entire time, “You wore this?”

“Yes. So who are you?” I ask, ignoring his searing gaze, stepping into him and running my hands up his chest. He’s incredibly attractive. He shaved and his face is incredibly smooth, making him look like a teenager. Always being unshaven and scraggly allowed him to give himself some impressive sideburns. I can’t see his hair because of the black bowler hat on his head, but I imagine that it’s just as put together. He fills out his suit wonderfully, wearing a black suit jacket over a white dress shirt with a light grey tie. His pants are a charcoal grey with black shoes that are amazingly shiny. I’m slightly thrown by how put-together he looks.

Clearing his throat, he steps away from me and gives a slight bow, taking his hat off, “Minister of Silly Walks.”

I start laughing, covering my mouth with the back of my hand. He straightens up and sets his hat on my head with a smile. His hair is parted on the left and combed to the right side, looking perfectly in place despite the fact that he was wearing a hat. I can definitely see his outfit now.

“Will you do it for me?” I ask hopefully, pulling the hat further on my head, not caring about my hair getting messed up, which I’m sure is happening.

Leaning into me, his mouth at my ear, he whispers, “Maybe later tonight.”

His deep voice sends shivers through my body and I can’t help but shudder. He notices, his hand sliding up my bare arm. He mutters a compliment about my dress, his words vulgar and I’m suddenly very aware that we’re in the middle of a crowded room. I had thought this dress was conservative and he’s making me feel as if I’m wearing next to nothing. He follows his vulgarity with a string of something in Gaelic. Whatever he’s saying, I like it. He could be saying that my ass looks huge in this dress and I would still giggle like a lovesick thirteen year old.

“There you are,” Morgan says, sounding very relieved from behind me. Callum lifts his head, looking over my shoulder. Before turning, I catch Callum’s look and maybe it wasn’t such a good idea letting Morgan come along. I’m just not very good at saying no to people. I felt bad. Callum does not look happy.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” I say, turning around to face Morgan. I sort of left Morgan to fend for himself the second we walked in. I just wanted to find Callum. I didn’t really think about abandoning Morgan in a house of strangers.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Morgan says with a wave of his hand.

“Glad you could make it,” Callum says stiffly with an undercurrent of sarcasm, holding his hand out to shake Morgan’s. Morgan looks a little surprised but he takes the offer. I hope he’s not planning on sticking to my side all night. I don’t want to be mean, but I really don’t want to be waiting for Callum to get fed up and punch Morgan in the face. His coming with me saved me from calling a cab though, being that I didn’t drive myself to Muriel’s house. I made the decision that I wanted to drink tonight so I took a cab. He offered to drive, which I heartily agreed too.

“You finally made it,” Emma squeals, coming out of nowhere and jabbing me with her elbow. “And looking pretty sexy,” she adds, smirking at Callum. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, thank you very much. You do too, very nice,” I return, meaning it completely. Her dress is a mini and the print is insanely bright swirls. Her hair is full from hairspray and she’s wearing white knee high boots. She’s got the legs to pull it off.

I quickly make introductions between Em and Morgan, silently trying to send signals to Em that it would be nice if she could distract him. She must pick up on them because she engages him in a conversation, allowing me to slowly pull Callum away to the side.

“Are you okay with this?” I ask, keeping my voice low enough so Morgan won’t hear and loud enough to beat the music.

“No but I’ll try an’ preten’ ta be,” he says flatly.

“Thank you very much.” He’s slightly sulking and it’s so incredibly adorable. I kiss his cheek lightly and he smells so good.

“Want your hat back?” I ask, reaching up to touch it.

Shaking his head, he says, “Not at all. It looks absolutely unbelievable on you. I couldn’t contend.”

“You must never look in the mirror,” I say sarcastically.

“Not if I can help it,” he quips. “Why exactly is he here?”

“He asked to come, Muriel was standing there, I felt bad and I said yes. Too much pressure,” I babble. He smiles softly and kisses my forehead.

“We ‘ave ta work on gettin’ you a spine.”

“I have a spine!” I protest, pushing him away. “You just wait. I’ll have a spine later tonight when you try and take advantage of me.”

“Really?” his voice is doubtful and I try to stay serious. I try really hard because I know that I’m full of it and so does he.

“Okay, fine, I probably won’t. But I could if I wanted to.”

“I have no doubt that if you wanted to, ye’d be able ta crush my advances,” he nods his head and comes back in to wrap his arms around me. I relax and rest my head on his shoulder. I love feeling him, his arms around me, I feel like nothing could ever get to me.

“So why Cleese?” I ask after a few minutes of silence.

“He’s the most difficult of the Python’s. He wasn’t the easiest ta get along with, never wanted ta be liked. He could do anythin’ because of that. Besides, he’s an absolute comic genius and has his own bloody lemur.”

“Are your legs long enough to even attempt the silly walk?” I ask, doubting that Callum can pull it off. I’ve seen that sketch, I don’t even know how many times, and every time it’s just funnier. His dead expression and the way he held his upper body so still while his legs were…silly. Perfect. It should top every list of funniest comedy sketches.

“I wasn’ 6’4” at age thirteen but I can make a solid shambles of it.”

“He wasn’t that tall at thirteen,” I say with a shake of my head. No way in hell can that be true.

“Yes he bloody well was,” Callum insists, his voice very serious.

“Wow,” I say, thinking about how he must have looked, towering over his teachers at such a young age. They probably didn’t like that too much.

“Don’t you find it interesting that you dressed up as Cleese and I’m Polly?” I ask. I personally find it very strange that it would happen that way. I knew he was a fan of Monty Python, who isn’t, but it’s just bizarre that we would dress up as two people who used to be married. Well, Connie Booth was married to him. Of course, being that Polly is a fictional character.

He shrugs, not thinking about it at all. Taking the opportunity to actually look at the house, I’m impressed. There are huge screens set up on the walls, each screen playing a different clip of different movies and shows. You can’t hear what’s being said because they opted to play music instead of the sound to the scenes, but it’s pretty damn cool.

Callum takes my hand and begins to lead me through the crowd. I let him drag me through the bodies and we end up at the bar. The bartender looks at me expectantly and I quickly order a strawberry margarita. Callum goes for a whiskey.

“Just so you know, I’m going to drink tonight and I’m going to enjoy it,” I inform him once I get my margarita. These are my weak spots. They shouldn’t taste so damn good.

“Is that a warning? Should I be frightened?” he teases.

“Yes. Guard your loins.”

“You’ve got talent,” he laughs. “I’m hard already.”

The bartender grins and I feel the familiar flush. Stupid Callum. I elbow him in the side and he just continues to smirk at me. I can’t help myself from sliding my free hand around his neck and pulling his head down to kiss that smirk. He holds the glass of whiskey against my upper arm and it’s freezing cold. He must know cause he just holds it against me tighter when I lean away from it.

“You two make me sick!” Deaglan says, pushing past us to get to the counter. He orders a rum and coke, “Light on the Coke”, tapping his fingers on the glass surface impatiently.

“You’re next,” Callum reassures, nodding at Deaglan.

“I better be.” Getting his drink, he smiles at me, “Lovely ta see you again.”

“You too, how’ve you been?” I ask.

“Still breathin’ and rather solid meself,” he says with a smirk, patting his stomach. Someone shouts his name, to which he just makes a dismissive wave over his head.

“Are you the only Shaun here?” I ask, making conversation, eyeing his bloody shirt. He really does look good. The short sleeved shirt is a white button-down and he has blood sprayed all over it. There are a few, what looks like, smeared hand prints along his waist, as if he were grabbed at. His pants are jet black and it makes the red on white stand out that much more. He has a tie tied around his forehead, the correct thick slanted red stripes decorating it. There’s a gash on his left brow, fake blood trailing down the side of his face and soaking the collar of his shirt.

He hesitates for a moment before answering, “Shockingly enough, I think so.”

Callum slowly nods his head, “I ‘aven’t seen any others. A bit sad really.”

“I’m assuming that’s not real blood,” I laugh, his cricket bat being splattered with red.

His face is expressionless when he says, “What else would it be?”

I pause for a moment but he starts laughing. “No, no. This stuff’s fake,” he concedes, flicking the wood with his fingers.

“And that isn’t?” I grin, point at his eyebrow.

“O’ course it isn’.”

I don’t know if I can trust him so I look to Callum, who only nods his head solemnly, “It’s real.”

“Callum has a decent right hook but Vince delivered the real beauty. Callum couldn’ bear ta hurt me,” he says, patting Callum on the back gently.

“I fancy my arse too much,” Callum shrugs.

“I fancy your arse too,” Deaglan says lovingly.

“Not here, babe,” Callum says, shushing him and I laugh at their way of showing affection.

“Not in front of my Polly,” he adds, grabbing my waist and pulling me in close.

“Towers?” Deaglan asks.

Callum nods and I’m surprised at how quickly Deaglan got it. It’s strange being around more than one person at a time that catches on to random things like that. But he’s Callum’s best friend so I should just expect it from now on.

For the next half hour, I mill around with Callum and Deaglan, being introduced to people and just generally relaxing. A few people came down with Deaglan and Vincent and they are all interesting in their own ways.

Leaning against Callum’s chest, I watch a comedy sketch end and Rik Mayall appears onscreen. I smile instantly. Drop Dead Fred was my absolute favorite as a kid. I thought he was the sexiest man ever. I’ve never seen him do anything else.

“I want to hear what he’s saying, they should turn the music off,” I tell Callum. Mayall looks so annoyed and angry, I love it.

“Hold on,” Callum says, leaving me by myself. I watch Rik read something off a paper and suddenly the music stops and his voice resounds through the room. The crowd collectively boos but soon gets over it when Mayall shouts, “SHUT UP!” at the audience onscreen.

Callum appears again and hugs me from the back, “Happy?”

“Very,” I smile, laughing at Mayall’s poem. Whenever I see the tulips, the tulips, the tulips; I think of your two lips, your two lips, your two lips, except that they are not yellow, but at least they are two lips and not three. I had genius taste as a kid.

“You like him?” Callum asks when it ends.

Nodding, I turn around and kiss him.

“Good. We can have a night of Mayall later.”

“Can’t wait,” I say, hanging dramatically off his neck and laughing. The sound lasts through one more sketch, something I don’t recognize at all but is very funny, and afterwards the music takes its place. A singer I don’t know of.

When I spot Morgan out of the corner of my eye, walking towards us, I feel terrible. I completely forgot he was here. Again. I stand up straight and smile when he walks up to us and ask him if he’s having a good time.

“I am actually. Your friend, Emma, is really great,” he says, drink in hand.

“Magnificent,” Callum says dryly and I frown at him. There is no need to be rude. Honestly. I take a step away from him, disengaging myself from his arm, as a way to yell at him without having too.

“Yeah, she really is,” I say in agreement about Em.

Callum looks down and smiles at me tauntingly before addressing Morgan again, “Thank you for drivin’ Marin here. Now we both can get properly smashed and I can get up that skirt in the back of the taxi.”

“Callum!” I smack his arm and take another step away. That was completely uncalled for and completely embarrassing. The worst part is that he really could get under my skirt in the back of the taxi. I do not need everyone knowing how our sex life works. I don’t find that attractive in the slightest. Especially not Morgan. I barely know the man! He’s Muriel’s grandson! In front of his friends or Em is one thing, in front of the son of a friend is not smiled upon.

“That’s not…” Morgan says. “Something I needed to know.”

“I’m sorry,” I apologize for Callum because he, apparently, is not going to.

Callum smirks and takes a long sip of his drink. He looks contemplative for a second, staring hard at Morgan, before commenting, “You have somethin’ in your teeth.” With that, he promptly leaves. I watch him walk away through the crowds and I am not happy. I am not having sex with him tonight.

Looking back to Morgan, he’s self-consciously running his tongue over his teeth and I feel terrible for him. “There’s nothing there, don’t worry,” I tell him gently. “I promise.”

He nods and smiles, not showing his teeth.

Callum

I knock against some poor sod while on my way to the bar. I get a refill and turn to head upstairs. I make it four steps before a hand grabs my elbow and spins me around. I half expect it ta be Marin. If that Morgan cunt had any dignity, it would be him, his knee prepped to crush my bits.

However, it is no one that I ever fuckin’ expected. I jerk my arm slightly, just enough to get out of Felix’s grasp. He’s smiling and I have no idea what the fuck to expect. I’m completely thrown off. God is a right prick to be doin’ this to me right now. First Morgan and now it’s an old mate who’s fucked Marin whilst fuckin’ her over.

“Didn’ know you were here, how’ve ya been?” I ask warily, wondering if he’s going to hit me.

“Much better, what about you? You looked pissed off a minute ago.”

He does look happy, I must admit. Drink in hand, genuine smile on his face. He looks like he did when he was with Marin. He must be in a relationship of some sort.

“That was nothin’, jus’ the general bits of public annoyance,” I say with a shake of my head. He laughs knowingly and it’s familiar. “How have you been?”

“Really, really good,” he says, his head bobbing like something you would find on the dash of Chong’s VW bus. He doesn’t ask how I am and I’m glad for it. Neither one of us cares.

“I saw Emma somewhere in here, is Marina around? I wanted to talk to her.”

“Did you talk to Emma?” If she knows he’s here, she had to have told Marin.

“No, she was talking to someone, I didn’t want to interrupt. Besides, you know how girls are, she probably hates me cause of what happened with Mare.”

“Yeah, well, friend’s can be like that. Marin’s talkin’ ta some fucking prick back thataway,” I say but manage to keep a certain level of amusement in my voice.

“Do you two still talk?” he asks.

“It would be hard to live with her if we didn’t.”

“She still lives with you?” his voice is slightly raised and he probably thought I would have kicked her out by now. His surprise annoys me, it’s hinting at plenty of things he’s not sayin’ and I keep my mouth shut about those things.

“That she is.” I don’t offer up anything more. As far as I know, he has no idea she’s warmin’ my bed.

“Oh. That’s good. I’m glad you’re still looking out for her.”

As if it’s all because of him and his actions. I’m distracted momentarily by a Big Train sketch about wanking on a screen behind the bar. The music is so loud that I don’ catch what Felix says next.

“I sort of feel bad. I’m gonna go find her,” he says before turning and leaving.

I watch him and I don’t feel the urge to run after him. The idea of him speaking with her makes me nervous but I can’ rile up the energy it would take to follow after. And besides, do I need to look like an even bigger git than I already have? I’ve cocked up enough. I doubt she’ll speak to me after that Morgan thing; I don’t need her to strangle me too. I don’t care enough to not trust her.

“Right, whole bottle it is,” I mutter. Turning back to the bar, I lean over it and grab the first bottle I see, ignoring the tender. My palms tingle against the cool glass. This party is absolute shite.