Better Than Burroughs

Marina

I try to keep the fact that I’m constantly scanning the crowd for Callum a secret. Morgan’s been glued to my side since Callum took off and I’m glad for the distraction. He’s keeping me from searching for my arrogant love interest. However, his comments are getting on my nerves. He doesn’t know most of what’s on the TVs and he keeps commenting when he doesn’t find something funny. It’s British comedy; he’s a nut for not getting it. And not the charming sort of nut.

Spotting Emma, I smile at her as she weaves her way through the crowd, a glass in each hand. When she reaches us, she hands one to me with a piteous smile, “I think you may need this.”

“Yes,” I nod, sipping the margarita in gratitude. I’m so glad she knows what I like.

Emma glances at Morgan, lowering her voice, “No, not that. Felix is here.”

“What?” I can’t scrape up anything else to say. I’m in complete shock. I haven’t thought about seeing him again. The idea hasn’t occurred to me.

“I just saw him and I beat him here but I think he’s headed in your direction,” she says, pointing out somewhere behind me.

“Does Callum know?” I ask. In his mood, I wouldn’t put it past him to start a fight. Not what I need. I’d just rather him not know that Felix is wandering around.

“How should I know?” she asks. “Since they’re not making a scene, I’m assuming he doesn’t.”

“Who’s Felix?” Morgan asks, reminding me that he’s standing next to us.

Em jumps in, “Her ex.” She puts her hand on my arm gently before asking, “You want to go hide?”

Shaking my head, that’s ridiculous. Sure, the last time we spoke it didn’t go so well but I have no interest in running from him. Although the idea is very tempting.

Callum

“Get the fuck down you wanker!” Deaglan yells. I smirk and kick at the balls. Pathetic. But I do as he says and lower myself from the pool table. I ruined the game. The game is shite anyway.

“God damn cunt,” Vince says, punching my side when I’m on the ground. I laugh through the sharp pain.

“Where’s my drink?”

Deck raises my bottle, “Right here, Spud.”

“Why the hell you hidin’ from your lady friend?” Vincent asks, rearranging the pool balls. His dress has gone the way of…something that disappears. His choice of knickers for the evening? A lovely frilly pink pair with hearts on the bum. It barely contains his bits.

“I’m not.”

“If ya weren’t, she’d be up here dancin’ on the table instead of you.”

“You’re absolutely right, Vince. That’s exactly what she would be doin’.”

Yawning, I sit down on the ground because the couch is too far away. I lay back and stretch out on the floor, groaning when my back flattens against the hard surface. Turning my head towards the boys, I ask, “What sort of party sticks downstairs?”

“The sort that’s been threatened,” Vince says, bouncing the end of his big stick on the toe of his very weathered boot. “I don’ want those bastards up here pissin’ in the corners.”

“You’re gettin’ old,” Deck says.

“Fuck off. I enjoy pissin’ in corners just as much as Gareth does but not in my own bloody house.”

“Do I know Gareth?” I ask, staring up at the light fixture on the ceiling. I’m not answered and not entirely sure I even asked that out loud. I wonder what Marin’s doing. If she’s talked to Felix yet. I’ve drunk enough to admit to myself that now I’m just too scared to go down there. It would be admitting defeat. She has to seek me out. Fuck if I’m approaching her. She ruined the night by bringing that ponce, Wilbur. That’s not right…Wilbur wants to kill himself. Wilbur’s a piglet with a spider. Wilbur is too extraordinary for this guy. He’s got his panties in a bunch for my Marin and I do not like it.

Lifting my pelvis in the air, I grope at my lower back and pull at my shirt. I can feel the lines of the book and I messily untuck my shirt to get at it. I don’t remember what I put in my waistband. Smiling when I pull it out from under me, I look at it and frown. Why the hell did I bring Keats?

Marina

Felix found me ten minutes ago while The Beatles were playing. The conversation was awkward and stilted at first. Thankfully, we’ve both calmed enough to be able to have an enjoyable conversation. He seems to have…adjusted since the last time I saw him. He hasn’t once asked to get back together. I was terrified that was going to be his mission when he first walked up to me. Instead, he asked how I was and we ended up talking about his job for a while. Safe territory. Any minute now I’m expecting him to mention the weather.

“I’m glad you’re doing so well,” I smile.

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“Who are you supposed to be?” I ask, looking at his clothes. He doesn’t seem to be in costume at all, dressed in jeans and a blank t-shirt.

“I wasn’t told this had a theme,” he says sheepishly.

Laughing, I say, “It’s okay. Just tell people you’re…David Bowie on laundry day.”

“I miss that,” he says with a soft smile. “You were never boring.”

“Thanks. I try not to be.”

“I ran into Cal earlier…” he says slowly, fishing for some reaction out of me. I don’t know what he’s looking for so I stay quiet until he finishes. “You’re still staying with him?”

“Yep,” I say with a definitive nod. “Somehow it worked out.”

“Hope he’s being nice to you. If not, I’ll have to kick his ass,” Felix grins and I laugh. I imagine a real fight between the two of them will end in a hospital visit for them both.

“No need, I can always smack him around myself if need be.”

“You could actually get away with it better than I. I’ve only known him to hit one girl and that was a while ago.” He says that hitting comment so conversationally that it makes me wonder why Callum hit a girl. I can’t see him doing that. Felix looks to be expecting me to ask but I don’t. I’ll ask Callum about it if I remember to do so. I don’t want to accidentally get into some sort of ‘Callum’s bad actions’ discussion.

“I think I’m okay.” Looking out into the crowd, I wonder what happened to Morgan. He drifted off and while I’m glad, I’m sort of worried as well. The party is mostly filled with English and Irish men. Drunk men. I feel like I have to look after Morgan. He seems too soft to be able to deal with rugby players. Especially that group I saw that are actually dressed as rugby players. There’s also a rather intimidating Morrissey wandering around. He looks like the man’s frightening prison-bound stepbrother.

“Look…I’m sorry about everything. I know I apologized the last time we talked but that wasn’t really a good night.”

Looking back to Felix, he really looks like he means it. His face is scrunched in light embarrassment and I smile to ease it. It’s not easy to apologize for things. I really appreciate him doing so. I don’t need it, but it’s nice that he’s said it.

“Thank you.”

“How’s your love life? You can’t be single, just not possible,” he says, lightening the mood on his end. Not on mine cause now I have to tell him I’m dating Callum.

“No, I’m not single. Callum and I are together now,” I say it quickly and get it out of the way. I watch Felix carefully and he does nothing to hide the shock on his face.

“You’re joking?” he spits out, his mouth hanging open.

“No, not at all. Why would I be joking?” I feel the need to protect Callum from Felix’s shock.

“You’re in a relationship with him? With Cal? Like, a real relationship? Callum doesn’t do relationships. You know that,” Felix insists, his hand coming up to hold my arm. I can feel my face furrow in reaction to his remarks. I feel like he’s pitying me.

“You don’t have the right to judge Callum,” I remind him flatly.

There’s a long pause before Felix nods, removing his hand, “You’re right. I’m sorry. You’re happy?”

“I am,” I say, finding that I don’t need to insist. I really am. Even after his ridiculous actions towards Morgan. I’m happy with him and in the long run, that other stuff doesn’t matter. My anger towards him disappears almost completely and now there’s just an amused annoyance. I guess I have Felix to thank for that but I won’t say anything to him. That would be uncalled for.

“Speaking of, excuse me, I should probably find him,” I say, feeling the extreme need to hug him and thank him for not being hurtfully dishonest. I don’t mind his crude behavior so much. I like that he shows who he is instead of hiding his intentions. He has his own bag of secrecy but his secrecy seems to be self-preservation.

“When I left him he was going upstairs. Find me though, before you leave.”

“Of course,” I smile.

Callum

“NOW thou hast loved me one whole day,
To-morrow when thou leavest, what wilt thou say?
Wilt thou then antedate some new-made vow?
Or say that now
We are not just those persons which we were?
Or that oaths made in reverential fear
Of Love, and his wrath, any may forswear?
Or, as true deaths true marriages untie,
So lovers' contracts, images of those,
Bind but till sleep, death's image, them unloose?
Or, your own end to justify,
For having purposed change and falsehood, you
Can have no way but falsehood to be true?
Vain lunatic, against these 'scapes I could
Dispute, and conquer, if I would;
Which I abstain to do,
For by to-morrow I may think so too.”

I open my eyes when I finish my muttered poem and Deck is looming over me, “Didn’ know Cleese was such a fuckin’ sap.”

“Oh, he is,” I insist, sitting up and hauling my arse back so I can lean against the pool table. I arrange my body so my back is against the leg.

“How do ya remember that shite?” Vince asks. I shrug. I don’t know. I just do. Some things stick. The alcohol has turned me weepy. I feel unstable, as if at any moment, I’ll put my first through a wall and have a good cry about it afterwards. I roll my head from side to side but it does nothing for my neck. It feels like I’ve been beaten with a mallet. Not pleasant.

The room is a tad more filled than before. A few girls found their way up, as well as some old mates of Vince’s. Guy’s I’d never met and never desire to meet again. Perhaps I’m bein’ harsh. They just have the look of ignorance about them. Besides, one of them keeps using fag to describe poor fools downstairs. For cigarettes, fine. For men, utterly ridiculous. They also keep quoting some fucking movie that by the sounds of it, is not funny. Violent pricks.

I lean to the side and roll under the table, away from the idle chatter and stare up. The underneath of the pool table is disturbingly clean. I bend my knees and wedge my feet up against the edge, pushing slightly but not enough to lift the thing. My pants are tight on my ass and I wonder what it would take to split the seams. More than this obviously.

One of the guys says something to mock me. I hear some giggles. One girl is talking about how she should have worn a different costume; she waits for whoever is with her to tell her how great she looks. This annoys me about people. I despise people who insult themselves so others will take the opposite view. She’s lucky she’s not talking to me. That ghastly bunched belt thing around her waist gives her some unsightly bulges. To be honest, it wouldn’t matter if she were a fuckin’ genius. Anyone who uses ‘like’ that often should be taken out back and shot. She’s so good at using the word, I’m almost impressed

“’Bout time ya joined us, Marin,” Deck says. His voice is softer than the rest, meaning he’s across the room from me, closer to the door. I hear her sweet voice but I don’t know what she said. I don’t move out from under the table and I don’t make a sound. I barely breathe. What happened to my book? I lift my head and spot it across the room on the floor. I see her feet, the delicate ankles, and her hand picking it up. Fuck. I’m scared to talk to her. I feel like a fuckin’ prat. I hate myself for feeling this way. I hate her for bringing it out of me.

The feet step closer to me and I rest my head back on the ground. She won’t come under here. She’ll stand there and wait for me to crawl out from my little hiding place. The toe of her high heel tapping. I’ll have to come out for her. She has the cards in this one. I could be stubborn and stay here all night but frankly, I don’t care for sleeping beneath a table. I’ll knock my head when I wake in the morning. I’ll already have the hangover to deal with, I don’t need an actual lump on my head.

I’m surprised when she gets down on her hands and knees. Turning my head, she’s smiling at me and I can’t help but return it. I’m struck with the memory of sitting under the kitchen table when I was a wee bit and mum kneeling down to fetch me. She smiled at me just like this.

“Mind if I join you?” she asks. She begins sliding under before I can say anything. As if I even have a choice in the matter.

She maneuvers her way underneath without hitting her head. I don’t know what to say to her. I’m too bloody sullen and there’s really no reason for it. I didn’t do anything that I wouldn’ normally do. Nothing she would be too enraged over. She fucks with me. I’m a mockery of a sane man.

She suddenly leans back out and says, “Vincent, you may want to know that the rugby guys and Billy Idol are in a pretty bad fight downstairs.”

“Which Billy?” Vince asks.

“How many are there?”

“Is he a big fucker?”

“Sort of,” she says with a shrug.

“George!” Deck says. I can hear the pleasure in his voice. “He’s gonna kill them.”

“Bloody hell, fuckin’ gits. I swear ta fuck,” Vince mutters, his voice growing fainter the farther he gets from me.

“Hold up, I wanna watch,” Deck shouts, running after him. A few other footfalls and I think the others trailed out after them. Everyone wants to see a fight and I even have to resist the urge to follow. Marin smiles and turns back to me.

“Was that absolute bollocks?”

“No, there really is a fight,” she says, rolling onto her stomach and resting her head on her hands. She looks at me and I feel the need to apologize. I don’t because I can’t think of a reason why I should other than false sentiments.

“Do you know how to sail?” she asks. I shake my head slightly and watch her. She frowns a bit and than it disappears. “I wonder if it’s very tough to learn.”

I don’t say anything and just look at her. She bites at her lower lip casually while staring straight ahead. Finally she looks at me and says, “You’re not curious why I ask.”

I shake my head again and almost smile. I’ve withheld long enough that now when I actually volunteer to converse, it has to be something stellar. I wrack my mind for something I can say that will surprise her. I absently tap my chest with my fingers and when I tap my nipple I know what I’ll say.

I wait for a few minutes, counting the taps of my fingers on my nipple. When I hit one hundred, I say, “I used ta have my nipples pierced.”

Her eyes shoot immediately to my chest and I grin. She looks at me, her face disbelieving and a smile on her face. “Really?” she asks, doubt in her voice.

“When I was eighteen…maybe nineteen.”

“What happened to them then?” she asks.

“I was…datin’ this girl who liked ta pull on them. Fuckin’ hurt. So I had ‘em out for a bit. It was winter, I was in Oregon, Silverton, and thought it would be a good idea ta have a dip in the ocean. Nips shrank and I couldn’ get them back in.” I remember that fuckin’ water. Bad god damned idea. I’m shocked my testicles ever recovered. I wasn’t exactly sad about losing the holes. I only did them out of boredom. I forget that girls’ name. She was fucking rough. I like a bit of pain just as much as anyone but havin’ some crazy bint tugging like fuck on rings in my nipples is not fun. The more I yelled at her to quit, the wetter she got. She thrived off men screamin’ at her. I don’t mind some playing about but she wasn’t worth the effort.

I look over at Marin and she’s shaking her head, laughing softly. Her back rising and falling from the action.

“Did it hurt?” she asks.

“The piercing, pulling, water or tryin’ ta shove the things back in?”

“Well I was meaning the piercing but all of them now,” she grins.

“No, yes, beyond all reason, didn’ try hard enough.”

“You have a high pain threshold don’t you?” she asks, shifting to her side, her hand holding her head up. She sets her other hand on my hip, over where my tattoos are and it’s so tender and territorial.

“Physical at least,” I mutter.

“Not emotionally?”

“I block that one out, pretend it doesn’t exist.”

“How’s that working for you?” she asks, her hand slowly tracing stars on my pants.

“Used ta work pretty fuckin’ well.” I roll my head towards her and inhale deeply. “You smell lovely.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, leaning towards me a bit more. “What are you doing under here?”

“Plotting world domination.”

“Can I help?”

“Possibly. What assets would you bring under the table?”

“I smell nice,” she says, leaning in closer, stretching her neck out to me. I move my hand behind her head and pull her in to my mouth. I kiss just behind her ear.

“You’re hired.”

She sighs and uses my arm as a pillow, “I wasn’t very happy with you, you weren’t nice to Morgan.”

How amazingly obvious of her. The fact that she says this in past tense is not escaped on me. “What changed?” I ask.

“I talked to Felix.”

“If ya try and tell me that he’s been singing my praises, you’ll be hard pressed ta get me to believe a word of it.”

“No, he just reminded me that there’s no sense being angry over something like that.”

I’m not sure how to take that so I let it rest and don’t take it at all. “You alright? After talkin’ with him?” I feel slight relief that she told me she spoke with Felix. She could have never mentioned it. Sure, I would have asked her but she said it all on her own. It’s like she’s tryin’ to do everything she can to make us work. It’s stunning. A little confusing but stunning. A part of me wishes that she hadn’t said a word. Everything would make much more sense.

“I love you,” she whispers instead of answering my question. It’s the second time she’s said this. It doesn’t make any more sense to me than it did before.

“You’re not cross with me at all anymore?” I’m wary of this instant forgiveness. She’s going to use it against me later or something else as equally female and evil.

“Not really. Annoyed maybe but not angry.” She pauses and says, “It’s okay that you don’t say it. I don’t expect you to.”

I know she means to be comforting but that cuts more than she could ever understand.

After The Party
Callum

The flat smells of peppermint and chocolate. It’s not a bad scent to fall asleep to. If only she’d get out of the bathroom so I can brush my teeth. She’s dominated the sink. We escaped during the fight. Vincent had gotten involved in the way that those boys never would have wanted. That man can be the sweetest but fuck if you set him off. He’s a god damn nutter. I’m a little curious as to how it all played out. I wish I could’ve stuck around but Marin thought we should leave while we were speaking. She didn’t say those exact words but that’s why I think it was a good idea.

It’s late, I don’t know how late, just late. Marin burned her finger on the stove while making hot cocoa. How she managed it, I have no fucking clue. It should be a pretty nice scar though, right across the top of her pointer finger. Right hand. She pouted about it for about five minutes before she was distracted by my procuring peppermints to plunk in her beverage.

“Hey, I have a question,” she says, finally opening the bathroom door and walking out in one of my shirts, a bright Little Mermaid band-aid wrapped around her burn.

“Ask me. I won’t say no. How could I?” I draw out dramatically from the couch before brushing past her to brush my teeth.

“What’s your middle name?” she asks with a smile.

“Why the hell do you wanna know that?”

“Cause I don’t know it and I should. Don’t you think it’s strange?” She follows me and stands beside me, her hip leaning against the sink.

“Not in the slightest.” I don’t have a problem with her knowing my middle name; I just like making her work for what she so desperately wants to know. I think Deck may be the only one, outside of my existing family of course, who knows it. Thankfully, he wasn’t witty enough to make a nick name out of it when he was little. I’m sure he could twist Wroughton around into something absolutely horrifying.

“If I tell you my middle name will you tell me yours?” she asks.

“I know your middle name,” I say around my tooth brush. I remember her commenting on roses Felix had gotten her early in their relationship, she mentioned that it was her middle name. He was so fucking proud of himself. If I’m to bring a girl flowers, they won’t be roses. Besides, they aren’t her favorite flower. She’s always happier with the seemingly simpler flowers. She buys sunflowers for the store all the time. Fine by me. As far as flowers go, they’re good ones. They’re so awkward looking, the most mocked by the rose line. Or so I hear. Fucking roses.

“Wroughton,” I say after I spit in the sink. I glance over at her and she’s smiling broadly. I have no idea why.

“Rotten? As in Johnny Rotten?” she asks.

I shake my head and spell it out for her. I say it again more clearly after I swish some mouth wash. She says it slowly, as if she can taste it. Her tongue forming the distinct sounds, her voice unknowingly mimicking my accent and it’s never sounded so bloody sexy.

I watch her put away her hair pins from tonight and she looks gorgeous. She pulls her hair back in a high pony tail and there is nothing sexier than hair pulled back so simply. Shows off the neck and I adore those short hairs in the front that can’t make it to the tie. I lean towards her and kiss her cheek before I leave her side.

“Hey,” she says, drawing me back halfway, her hands wrapped around my tie still loosened in its place. “I know you feel uncomfortable with the idea of being an artist, but rethink that business card, okay? It could be a really great thing. It wouldn’t mean that you’re selling out, if that’s what you’re worried about. There’s nothing wrong with getting paid for what you do. You’re already amazing.”

She’s smiling gently and she looks a little apprehensive. She must have been thinking about that statement for a while. I nod my head a few times and give her a smile so she knows I’m not upset and than leave the doorway, her hands sliding from the material. If I hadn’t lost the bloody card, I just may rethink it.

Next Morning

Today is an upbeat music day. I’ve been going through a lot of Blues, Motown, Soul, R&B, and some early rock. I relish in giving my customers a little history of rock lesson without their knowledge. Johnny Cash is singing The Streets Of Laredo and it reminds me of Orbach’s Try To Remember. The music isn’t exactly on par with my mood but I needed the morning boost.

Marin went out with Emma and as a result, I actually opened the store at nine. It’s forty minutes in and I practically yell out in joy when my day is brightened by the only little girl I would contemplate kidnapping and keeping for my own.

“Hi Callum!” Gloria shouts, running at me full speed. She darts around the corner and I lift her up before she rams into my legs.

“Hello my darling.” I kiss her forehead and nod at Joyce when she finally comes through the door. She looks tired; the bags under her eyes can almost rival the one on her shoulder. She could fit Gloria in there and carry her about like a yappy Pomeranian.

“Hey, Callum. Gloria let him be and go look for a book,” she says.

“What’s she need?” I ask, lowering Gloria to the floor.

Gloria answers for her mother, looking up at me, “Dracula!”

“Dracula? Really?” I ask. I look over at her mother who shakes her head resolutely.

“Is there anything you can recommend that would be more for her age group?” Joyce asks me before telling her daughter that she’s too young.

“I am not! Jake read it and he’s smaller,” Gloria insists, a pout on her lips.

“Know what’s better?” I ask, kneeling down in front of Gloria. There is no way a little friend of hers read Dracula.

“I doubt Jake has read Bunnicula,” I say definitively. “Let’s find it and you can decide if you still want to read that other one. If you do, I’ll get you a copy and not tell your mom,” I whisper. Gloria seems pleased with the secrecy and the pout disappears.

“Thanks, Cal. I have to call her dad, I’ll be just outside,” Joyce says, pointing towards the door.

“Sure. I’ll get you when she’s decided.” I lead Gloria to the appropriate section and we find the book together.

“Does it have vampires?” she asks, taking the book from my hands and studying the cover.

“Better. Vampire rabbit. It’s much better than that other one.” We sit down on the floor beside the correct book shelf and I tell her why the book is worth her time. It doesn’t take long to sell her on the story. Once I told her that the family found the rabbit in a theater that they saw Dracula in, she agreed to get it. She begins reading it on her own and I head to the front counter when I hear someone open the door. The bell is annoying but useful.

Expecting it to be Joyce, I’m thrown off when it’s Felix. He looks a bit hung over and perhaps he drank more than I did last night. I didn’t have too much of a problem this morning. I drank so much water last night I had to wake up ten times to piss but I didn’t wake wanting to drill a hole in my head. Nothing some Advil and morning head couldn’t take care of.

“Rough night?” I ask with a smirk. The smirk isn’t from his state, it’s from the knowledge that not too long ago, Marin’s lips were wrapped around my cock. My fingers twitch at the memory of this morning. She was nervous and bashful at first but now, she knows how much power she has over me in that situation and she feeds off it. She’s no pro and because of that, she’s fucking perfect. She’s not arrogant in thinking that she knows all there is to know. She’s fine with direction and experimenting on her own. One thing she does know how to do explicitly, how to use her teeth. In my mind, her mouth has never been around anyone else. I refuse to acknowledge the possibility.

“Huh? Oh, not really. It was weird,” he says, interrupting my thoughts, walking up and leaning his arms on the counter between us. He looks like a man on a sodding mission. Wonderful.

“So…what’s up, Felix?” I ask after a few minutes of nothing.

“I talked to Mare last night, she said you were dating.”

Nodding my head, I wait for his point.

“What are you really doing?” he asks, staring at me intently.

“Meaning?” I keep my voice as neutral as possible.

“Why didn’t you tell me when I saw you last night?”

“Felt no need.” I don’t like the accusatory tone he’s picking up and I’m very aware of Gloria reading her book. She’s not right next to us but if we get into a row, she’ll be able to hear.

“Is she here?” he asks, motioning upstairs. I shake my head and he seems relieved.

“Look, say whatever ya came here to say.”

Eyes trained like a cow’s, he asks, “What have you been doing? What are you doing to her?”

Brows raised, I take on a look of complete confused astonishment. He’s demanding and I’m insulted. Although, kudos cause I’ve never known him to look so fucking focused.

“A slow, very slow, bout of brainwashing. I’m damned well determined ta turn her into a crime fightin’ ninja. We take Bush out first.”

“Come on, Cal. I’m serious.”

“Oh, well if you’re serious. We’re not actually going to kill him, we’re just going to force him to read Naked Lunch.”

He blows over my mutterings, “What do you think? That all of a sudden you’re a great boyfriend? You’ve never been in a relationship. You know you’re going to fuck her over. Probably cheat on her, just like I did, and knowing you, you’ll be heartless about it.”

“How ‘bout you not curse? There’s a little girl within hearing distance,” I say, my voice flat.

“Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry though. I don’t know what to say or do. It makes me think of when Marin said that she didn’t expect me to say that I loved her back.

I don’t argue with Felix cause he knows me well enough to have a basis for his opinion. He’s seen me with countless women and he’s probably completely right in his observation. It still hurts to hear it spit out at me. But fuck, he’s right. Maybe I’m faithful now, when it’s all golden. What happens when things take a turn? I’ll go out, drink and get fucked. I know it. Afterwards, I’ll come home with complete paranoia that she cheated. It’s what we do.

Rod Stewart is singing Windy Town and I feel like smacking him for it. It’s too fucking catchy. This is not the time.

“Do you even love her?” he asks. I don’t say anything and it seems to be exactly what he wanted.

“Right, cause you’re too messed up to even fathom what that’s like,” Felix says, crossing his arms with a shit eating grin. Was he always such a bloody wanker? “Just leave her be.”

“Where’s my mom?” Gloria asks, coming around the corner from the other room. I’m grateful to her for interrupting. I’m starting to feel like a roach. I feel like I’ve corrupted something pristine. I’ve tainted someone.

“She’s outside talkin’ to your pop,” I say, plastering a pleasant smile on my face. I don’t want her to think something is wrong. I don’t want her to suspect that I’m about to smash this guys head in with a stapler. Swingline…red.

“Okie. This is way better than Dracula! I love Harold,” she smiles. I rest my hand on the back of her head and lead her towards the door.

“Let’s get your mum.”

I ignore Felix and interrupt Joyce’s phone call. She doesn’t seem too upset that the talk is cut short. Her face is flushed in anger and she quickly reels in the emotion from some sort of fight. Great, everyone’s fucked up this morning. Felix is a curse.

Felix doesn’t leave when I ring them up. He just stands off to the side and glares at me. It’s getting pretty fucking aggravating. I’m distracted when Gloria and Joyce say their goodbyes. I still managed to ask Joyce if everything was alright with the call. She lied and said yes.

The second they leave I turn to Felix and ask him what the hell more he has to say. “If you’re done berating me, feel free to make your leave.”

“Don’t act like a victim. I’m just trying to protect her.”

“For fuck’s sake, you cheated on her, Felix! Why are you acting like a bloody saint?”

“I know. I made a mistake and I know that. I’m not acting like I didn’t. I know what I did and I know you’ll do it worse. I’m just trying to save her from that and I also know that you aren’t completely heartless. Why don’t you just end things before you shut her out? You never even used to talk to her. Now you’re having sex with her?”

“That’s it then? The sex?” I smirk.

“You never even gave her the time of day before. You’re just using her for a live-in whore.”

“Fuck you. I was enamored from the damned start and you knew that. You were too god damn arrogant to let a girl get past you.” I feel like I should be adding an immature “I saw her first!” to the end of my miniature angry scolding. “And if ya even slightly refer ta her as a whore again, in any context, I’m going ta have to hit you.”

He ignores my threat. “Are you kidding? You act like I stole her from you or something.”

“No. It’s my fault for not going after her, not yours. But recognize that if I hadn’t noticed her walkin’ across that street, you wouldn’t have looked at her twice.”

Felix is about to answer when laughter comes through the front door. I look past Felix at Marin and Emma. I’ve never been so relieved and horrified to see two people in my entire life. They both pause when they see us.

“Hi Felix,” Em says first, breaking the silence. He returns her greeting and has enough sense to look a little sheepish.

“What are you guys doing?” Marin asks. She looks to me for some sort of explanation and I don’t plan on giving her one. She doesn’t need to know anything about this.

“He wanted to commiserate about hangovers.”

“God! I drank way too much last night too!” Em laughs, holding her hand against her head for dramatic effect. I force a smile out and Felix laughs along with her. I hate that I’m the one uncomfortable and he’s laughing easily. I want him out of here.

“You didn’t find me last night, before you left,” Felix says, nudging Marin with his elbow. I grip the counter so tightly that the pain gives me some relief. Marin’s fiddling with the zipper on my old sweatshirt, the one she’s taken for her own. She’s running the zipper up and down the track, moving it an inch or so. Her fingernails are pink and chipped. Not long but they’ve made their mark on my back.

She apologizes for not seeking him out and their conversation is a buzz in my ears. I wish I hadn’t put in this damn compilation. The music is not fitting with the mood. If this were a damned movie, The Way You Do The Things You Do would not be playing.

“I should get going. I have to get to work,” Felix says, breaking through my thoughts.

“Think about what I said, will you?” he says, looking at me. An old proverb creeps up in my mind. Coimhéad fearg fhear na foighde. I think I’ve been plenty fuckin’ patient. I envision leaping across the counter and taking him down to the ground. The girls will jump back in surprise. I’ll straddle his waist and just hit whatever I can. Pull the register down on him. Drag him out the doors and give him a few kicks before I throw out a nice, “And never come back!”

Sadly, I do none of it. I do nothing at all. He leaves and I resist the urge to follow after and smash his windshield with the bat that I do not have.

“Em and I are going to watch some movies upstairs,” Marin says, walking around the counter to stand close to me. “Em, wanna go pick something out? The movies are by the box of records,” she says. Emma nods her head and glances at me pityingly.

“Are you gonna watch with us?” Em asks, pausing at the stairs. I shake my head but thank her for the offer. She nods and smiles before her shoes click up the steps.

“So, why was he really here?” Marin asks, her hands on my chest.

“I believe I told you,” I say, taking her hands in mine and moving them off my chest. Her touch is too grounding. When I make the move to step away from her, she pulls her hands from my grasp and grabs my face. She makes me look at her.

“Callum, what happened?”

Smiling, I lean forward and kiss her. “Love, I’m fine. Honestly. He got on my nerves a bit. It wasn’ anything he did. I don’ like being confronting by guys who’ve been up your skirt.”

I give her a bit of truth so it’s not too glaringly obvious that I’m full of shit. She scrutinizes me for a few more seconds before she decides that my answer is sufficient enough.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” she asks.

“Of course.”

Even I am amazed at how believable that was. I almost buy it.

Marina

“He okay?” Em asks when I shut the door to the flat behind me.

“I guess so. He says he is. Felix did something though,” I say, walking into the kitchen to get us something to drink.

“Is My Big Fat Greek Wedding okay? I’ve never seen it,” Em says, turning on the couch with remote in had.

“Yeah, of course.”

After getting us some Cokes I sit down besides Em and kick my shoes off. The sock on my right foot has a hole in it. I refuse to throw it away though. I love these socks. They have little egg roles, bowls of rice, and fortune cookies all over them. The best socks ever. They tend to make me a little hungry.

The movie begins but I can’t keep my mind on the characters. Callum’s not alright. I’m pretty sure that he was pretending for my sake. But I can’t force him to tell me anything. All I can do is be here so I guess that’s what I’ll do. A part of me wants to hunt Felix down and drill him for information. I doubt anything good will come of that and I don’t really want to have a conversation with Felix about Callum.

It was a shock walking in the store and seeing Felix. I thought last night was going to be the last I’d see of him for a while. Apparently he had other plans. I’m almost positive that whatever he came to speak with Callum about was considering me. And what was his comment about having Callum think about what he said? What was that all about? Think about what exactly? Felix doesn’t have a say in my life.

“Why do you think he was here?” I ask Em.

“Maybe he’s insanely jealous and wants to compete for you.”

“Funny.”

“I have no idea. It’s not good though.” Em scoots closer and wraps her arm around me. No, it’s not good. I agree with her completely. This makes me sick in my stomach. I feel like everything is unraveling but I just can’t see it happening.

That Night

It’s nearly eight and Callum hasn’t come up from the store. I don’t even know if he’s actually closed up. I went down with Emma when she left and I tried to get Callum to laugh with me. I offered to stay and help but he sent me upstairs. Short of forcing my presence on him, there was no way I would get him to be pleasant. He wasn’t necessarily being cruel, at least he wouldn’t see it that way, but he had shut himself off from me. I would rather him say mean and horrible things than be closed off.

I’m nervous to go down there again and I feel stupid for feeling that way. I suck it up and go down anyway. He’s leaning over the counter, drawing something that I can’t see from behind him. He’s taken his shirt off and his back is gleaming in the soft light. His jeans are very low, low enough to make me think the buttons are undone, showing the paler skin beneath his slight tan line. I stay on the bottom step and shuffle my feet a little. The sound screams through the building.

“Are you coming up?”

“Later,” he says quietly. He doesn’t turn to look at me.

“I don’t want to sleep alone. How late is later?” I ask.

He pauses before he answers and I hope he’s deciding to just come up now. I step down and walk to stand beside him, looking over his shoulder at what he is drawing. Charcoal powder is all over and it’s not just his hands that have been blackened, his arms and chest are heavily smudged as well. I rest my chin on his shoulder and study what’s he’s done. How can he draw in such poor light? I can’t make any one thing out but it makes me uneasy. It makes me think of The Inferno and Paradise Lost.

“You okay?” I ask softly. I feel like that’s all I ever say. His body is stiff and I don’t know what more to say. I could ask about earlier but I don’t think he will tell me anything. He sets the chunk of charcoal down and turns to me without meeting my eyes. He ducks his head and kisses me.

I’m hesitant but I return it. I didn’t come down here for this. I want him to talk to me. Say something. He doesn’t seem to want that. Before I know what’s going on, he’s turned us and pressed me against the counter. His movements are anything but gentle. His mouth is getting more demanding by the second, by each stroke of his tongue against mine.

I lean back and lift my hands to his face to stop him from following. I try to get him to look at me but he pulls my hands down and holds them to my sides. His fingers are tight around my wrists. As good as he tastes, I don’t like this. He’s been like this in the past but he’s never refused to look at me like this. His body has never been this unyielding before. It’s making me nervous and scared for what is going on in his head. He’s completely shut off in a completely intimate moment. I feel like I’m with someone I don’t know.

His hands are too tight for me to pull free, especially when I have no where to pull to, so I wait. He soon releases my wrists to move his hands to my neck. I move my face to the side and push at his chest hard enough to startle him.

“Callum, stop,” I say, breathless, staring at him.

He looks at me and in one second, it’s as if his entire body deflates. He steps back until he hits the wall behind. He takes on the look of utter revulsion and I panic. I don’t want him to think I’m rejecting him. I could never do that. I love him.

Bridging the gap, I hold his face in my hands and kiss him desperately. “What’s wrong? Please, talk to me.”

This time when he moves my hands, he’s gentle. He kisses my forehead before pushing me away from him slowly but firmly. He moves around me and resumes his stance at the counter.

“I’ll be in later,” he says, his voice guttural. Sad.

“Callum…”

“I promise.”

Later

I’m impatient and worried. It’s ten and he’s still not up. Without any nerves this time, I push the blanket to the floor and stand up from the couch, intending to drag his ass to bed whether he likes it or not. I refuse to let him stay all night down there. I don’t care if he wants to sulk over whatever is upsetting him. I don’t bother being quiet on my way down the stairs.

After calling his name and looking around the dark store, I realize that there was no sense in making all that noise. He’s not even here. The disappointment and utter sadness I feel can’t be blown over. I feel rejected. He didn’t choose to tell me he was leaving. When is he going to get that he can’t do that? He can’t just take off. It’s not right. I’ll worry until he comes back. I won’t be able to help it.

Things just keep getting worse. I feel like I have no control over anything that happens. He’s drawing farther and farther away from me. The party yesterday had some rocky bits but I thought that the night ended fairly well. This morning was great. He gets a visit from Felix and he’s right back to going at life alone. Does he not trust me enough to tell me what’s going on? I’m beginning to feel like I’m in love with a drug addict. Addicts always hold the drug above the people they love. There’s something that Callum has that he won’t let me get above. He won’t even let me get even with it.


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Author's Note I’m not sure about this one. I like some parts, dislike others, but I needed to continue with the story. I’m fairly certain that once I am done with this, I will be redoing it in a more effective manner. Because of that, at this point, I’m more concerned with getting everything written out than perfection. Regardless, I still hope that everyone loved the chapter, or at least enjoyed it.

I’ve been very busy with school and family/travel plans so I hope to get the next chapter out soon. I’ve been very stressed with a record review for one class. Like an idiot, I chose Morrissey’s Your Arsenal and now I have that added pressure of doing the man justice. I have, literally, over twenty pages written and that’s four times more than I need and I haven’t even finished the Bio portion, tacked in the charts or written the final section. I have to read Neuromancer for my other class on Tuesday, as well as a portion from Long Emergency. I’m not digging Neuromancer. It’s just not hitting the spot. If any of you have read it, feel free to drop me a note. Maybe you can put a more interesting spin on it for me. I’m complaining now. On to the last of the AN.

As for references, I’m just going to list the directly mentioned. There are a few subtle references to songs and movies so if you catch them, hopefully they make you smile.

The poem Callum recites is Woman’s Constancy by John Donne

I had a grand reason for this being the poem in particular but I wrote it in this chapter so long ago, I don’t recall what precisely was going through my mind. No matter, it is still a lovely poem and I trust my previous thought process.

Bunnicula by Deborah and James Howe

Naked Lunch by William S. Burroughs

The Inferno by Dante Alighieri

Paradise Lost by John Milton

“The Way You Do The Things You Do” song by The Temptations

As always, leave me your thoughts and thanks oodles for reading!