by Amy Sumida
The soft smile on her face makes me relax, knowing I haven’t pissed her off, and she didn’t catch me staring at her boobs like a teenage boy. “I’m sorry, that’s really fuckin’ rude of me to snoop around without permission.”
She straightens and her bright smile quickly turns into a smirk as she shrugs her shoulder. “It’s cool. Wanna join the others in the kitchen, or do you want to poke around some more?”
Gobsmacked, and a little in awe of her spunk, I fight a sudden urge to kiss her just so I can wipe the grin off her face. For a brief moment, her eyes drift down to my lips, and I suddenly realise she knows what I’m considering. Shaking my head to break whatever moment that was between us, I notice her gulp before she turns on her heel and leads the way to the kitchen.
Fuck, I’m an asshole! I’m supposed to be a friend to her, and already I’m trying to kiss her.
Slamming my palm against my forehead, I shake my head in shame before stalking after her. In the kitchen, Shayne and Morgan shoot glares into the side of my head. A quick glance up and I see both of them cutting me daggers. I give my head a slight shake without Arlia noticing to convey we’ll talk about it later.
We sit around the kitchen table, watching Arlia bustle around getting stuff together and bringing it over to set it on the table.
“Can one of us help?” Shayne speaks up while shifting in his seat.
“I’m good. Only a few more things to grab.” Arlia replies and grabs another plate off the counter.
“Are you sure?” Morgan speaks up this time while placing his hands on the table, ready to jump up if she agrees to the help being offered.
Putting the plate on the table, she stands with her hands on her hips and huffs. “Honestly, guys, I’m good. I can’t exactly say thank you by having all of you help, now can I?”
All three of us open our mouths to argue the point, but quickly stop any disagreement from bursting free when she gives us a look. The type of look that says if we push any further on the matter we’ll likely be wearing our dinner instead of eating it.
A satisfied smirk crosses her face before she continues with her tasks. I choose to spend the next few minutes watching Shayne and Morgan as they openly gawk at Arlia. Their eyes drift over her from head to toe without even realising I’m glaring at them. A burst of jealousy runs through me, and I physically force myself not to kick them under the table.
God, I hate this! Why did all three of us have to be attracted to the same girl? It’s never happened before and suddenly bam! A really nice girl comes along, one I’d rather grow to know on an intellectual level and not just what’s inside her knickers, and now my best friends like her, too! The fuckin’ irony of that bullshit definitely isn’t lost on me!
I break out of my thoughts when Arlia sits to my left, with Shayne on the other side of her. Being too distracted, I missed even more of their conversation, and the moment when Arlia dished up food onto our plates. Inspecting mine for the first time, I realise we have a full plate of curry with rice and naan bread on the side.
“Thanks, Arlia,” Shayne mumbles in between shovelling food into his mouth. With the speed he eats, anyone would query if he’d been fed in months.
Fuckin’ pig!
“Do you have siblings?” Morgan asks, making small talk in between bites of his food.
At least one of them has table manners.
Arlia places her naan on the side of her plate, and gently brushes the dusting off her fingers before answering. “There’s just me. You?”
Morgan smiles and places his fork down. “Two baby brothers, Andrew and David. They’re four and six. Shayne has a brother called Simon, who’s twenty. And Benji, here, is an only child, like you.”
“So… You’re all close?” Arlia frowns while glancing between us.
“As close as best friends can be. We’ve grown up together since we were four.” Shayne openly smiles at the three of us and I can clearly see the appreciation he has for our close bond. “We live together now, and help each other out with whatever shit needs doing. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes they drive me fuckin’ bonkers, but I couldn’t do without them.”
They’re both the closest thing I’ll ever have to brothers. Because of that, I resolve myself to the fact that whatever moment I had with Arlia earlier, I can’t allow anything more to happen other than being friends with her. I won’t jeopardise my relationship with Morgan and Shayne for a girl.
No matter how much I like her.
Bellies full of the delicious food, Arlia jumps up to begin cleaning. I don’t know what comes over me, but I grab her hand before she can pick her plate up.
“We’ll help you. It’s the least we can do since you cooked for us.” Not wanting to make her feel uncomfortable, I release her hand and quickly stand.
“I’m fine guys, honestly. I have a dishwasher, so it won’t take long to clear everything.” Arlia explains while making another grab for her plate.
Shayne doesn’t give her chance to argue further. He stands and begins collecting the plates. When Arlia tries to take the load from him, he snorts and explains. “My mother would kick all our asses if we left you to this mess while we sat here. All three of us have been brought up to chip in. My good conscious won’t let me sit here while you do all the work.”
“But how am I supposed to say thank you if you’re all chipping in?” Arlia huffs.
Not wanting the situation to escalate into an argument, I reassure her. “You’ve already said thank you by cooking, Arlia. Now let us help. Otherwise the dishes will still be sat here hours from now if we continue to argue over it. We’re stubborn asses, too.”
Finally, she nods and the four of us make quick work of the mess. It’s not long before we all sit around the table once more with hot drinks in front of us.
“Dinner was really nice, Arlia. Thank you for having us over.” Morgan smiles over the brim of his cup. “Do you cook often?”
“Any chance I have I’m cooking. It’s hard when my shifts are all over the place, but any spare time I have, I’m making something.” Arlia explains while barely managing to cover a yawn.
“Well, if you ever feel like having us over again, or have any leftovers, then I’m happy to be of assistance.” Morgan smirks while rubbing his belly. “Although, now you’ve cooked for us, it’s only fair we return the favour sometime and cook for you. I’m not as pretty as you in the kitchen, but I make a decent curry.”
Wanting to change the subject, I quickly ask, “Do you live here alone?”
I find it really hard to hide the disgust from my voice. Not over her house, but the area. It fucking blows for her to be here on her own. From the scowl on Shayne’s face, I guess I’m being as subtle as a brick to the face.
Arlia frowns at Shayne briefly before turning her attention to me. “I do, but my dad visits daily, so I’m not completely alone.”
“And your mum?” Morgan mutters.
Arlia sits up straighter, shoulders drawn up, and I immediately know Morgan hit a nerve without meaning to. “My parents are divorced, so she’s normally busy with other stuff.” Arlia explains, but the way her voice turns bitter has us all wondering what other stuff could be more important than her own daughter.
“I can’t say I’ve seen you at the club before. How long have you worked for Jason?” Shayne asks, and I breathe a sigh of relief when her shoulders release the tension brought on by the last question.
Arlia covers another yawn before answering. “Only a short time. A few months. I worked at another club farther down, but the pay and the hours didn’t really suit me. This one, although it can get a little rowdy, is a lot better.” I watch in fascination as Arlia stretches her arms above her head, then picks up her cup. She barely takes a sip before another yawn forces her to put the cup down.
“We’ll get out your hair. Thank you for cooking for us.” Shayne smiles. “We’ll have to arrange a time for you to come over to our house so we can return the gesture.”
“I�
��m sorry, guys. I guess the last few days are finally catching up to me. And I’d like that.” Arlia responds while standing from the table.
I immediately stop her from following us down the hallway with my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about us, we can see ourselves out. Get some sleep, and we’ll figure a day out over text when you’re well rested.” I smile shyly and remove my hand before I give into temptation and pull her into a hug. “Thanks for having us. I’ve enjoyed tonight.”
I turn and head towards the front door while Shayne and Morgan say their goodbyes. Guilt rises inside me over how I almost kissed her.
There’s no way I can act on these stupid feelings when it’s clear the guys like her, too.
Chapter Five
Crumbling Faces & Phone Calls
The next morning, we all surface and I leave the house without waiting for breakfast. I can’t face the guys. While I’m torn about what to do, I know if they see me this morning, they’ll only need to take one look at my face and know what I’m feeling: Guilt. I don’t want to ruin what I have with them. They’re my brothers.
But fuck! I can’t get her out of my head! And I’m even more fucked if I act on the things going through my head with what I really want to do with her. There’s no winning. Honestly, with the other shit going on today, I could really do with not dealing with this right now.
“Hey! Benji! What the fuck, dude? Where are you going?” Morgan shouts from the front door.
Not today, please.
Groaning, I stop and turn around, hoping he’ll drop whatever he wants to say. I’m not in the mood for this bullshit.
At first, I stare at his shoulder, but his words have my eyes instantly snapping to his. “We need to talk, Benji. Not now, but tomorrow maybe. We can’t… Look, if today gets to be too much, give me a call and I’ll come rescue you…” his voice trails off, pain clear in his gaze.
I really can’t face the pity I know will come next, so I do the only thing I can. Nodding my head, I hike my bag up and make a beeline for my car, hoping today will be over quickly and I can put it behind me for another year.
Work drags by slowly. God knows how with me only working the morning shift. The boss understands once a year, on this day, I only work a half-day because I take the time to meet my dad at Maggie’s Burger Joint. It’s a yearly ritual and the only time we’ll sit in the same place and openly talk about the black cloud hovering over us.
Rushing home, I take a quick shower and change into clean clothes before bolting back out of the house to meet Dad. The last thing I need is for him to leave because I’m late getting there. It’s hard enough these days to pin him down for a regular catch up. I drive as quickly, but as carefully, as I can. Fuckin’ roads don’t seem to be letting up on the ice any time soon and the gritters failed to sort the roads yet again.
My mood’s at an all-time low by the time I pull into the car park and find a spot. Making sure to take my wallet and phone with me. Not wanting any distractions, I double check to make sure my phone is on silent and head inside.
The familiar smell of grease hits my nose, making me feel even more nostalgic. When I spot Dad at the same booth we always sit in, I slowly make my way over. A large pot of coffee waits on the table, along with an empty cup, and I sit and slowly pour myself a cup.
“Hey, Son.” Dad’s gravelly - forty cigarettes a day - voice washes over me. In the next moment, an overwhelming stench of stale beer engulfs me, and I fight the urge to wrinkle my nose.
I frown and glance up, my eyes rapidly moving over him to take in his familiar features. He looks like he’s aged ten years in the past month since I last met up with him. His clothes remain creased, and I realise he rolled out of whatever pit he fell in last night and came straight here.
We’ve a weird relationship. He’s my dad, but since mum’s death, we’ve become strangers. Dad whores himself out to whatever female will take him. And me, well… I’m kind of forgotten unless he needs money, booze, or someone to help tidy the fuckin’ pigsty that used to be our family home back when Mum was still alive.
This is why the situation with Arlia is even more fucked up. After losing Mum, the only people around to pick up the pieces of my nine-year-old heart were Shayne and Morgan. Tina and Kenneth, Shayne’s parents, practically brought me up as their own. Morgan’s mum helped when she could, but that was before she decided to hit the bottle. Now it’s us taking care of her and Morgan’s brothers.
“Hi, Dad.” I mumble, hating the fact he takes me back to being vulnerable again.
We both sit there in silence and let the memories wash over us. The reason we come here is because it used to be a weekly night out for the three of us as a family. After dad had a hard week at work and mum had been busy playing house, Dad used to bring us here for a night off. It was nice. Gave me the impression we were like a proper family.
Then, Mum became ill.
It was sudden and out of the blue, my little mind couldn’t comprehend losing the one person who stood as my whole world. Even now, sometimes an unjustifiable jealousy rears its head towards Shayne and Morgan for still having their mums. Then the guilt immediately kicks in because both of them - especially when they were younger - didn’t once tease me for not having a mum. They continuously shared their mums with me without backlash.
A throat clearing pulls me out of my head long enough to spot a waitress who stands at the side of the table. She taps the toe of her black shoe impatiently on the floor and bashes her pen on the small notepad in her hand. Her face, thick with makeup, gives me the urge to test a theory on whether the makeup will crumble off if she moves her face too much.
How can anyone reason it being attractive?
“Oh I’m, uh… I’ll just go with the breakfast, please,” I rush out, hoping it’ll stop her damn foot from tapping. Fuck, that’s annoying.
“Same for me, too. Thanks, darling.” Dad flirts and it immediately puts my back up.
He turns his attention back to me and raises an eyebrow, but I refuse to bring myself down to his level and give him a response. Why did I think he’d be able to tone it down for the hour we remained here?
He must interpret the expression on my face because he tries to explain, “Look, Son. Let an old man have his fun while he’s still breath—”
Slamming my hand down on the table to cut off the rest of his words, I angrily hiss out, “While you’re still breathing is what you were going to say, right? While you’re breathing, and whoring yourself out, and Mum is…” My voice trails off, and I slam my head back against the booth. “Fuck!” I catch a few glares from the other customers, but a quick, dirty look shot in their direction quickly turns them back to their meals.
When our order arrives, I barely touch it, my appetite lost. Dad wolfs his down like it’s the first meal he’s consumed in a week. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is his first. He tends to stick to a liquid diet lately. When a phone rings, I pause with a piece of sausage on my fork, halfway to my mouth. I frown as Dad grabs his phone from his dirty jeans pocket. His face lights up when he glances at the caller, then answers, and I instantly know a woman called.
Placing my fork on the plate, I rest my back against the booth seat and take note of him trying to be quiet while talking to the person on the other end of the phone. Now I know for sure it’s a woman, and it pisses me off he accepted the call while we’re supposed to be here to remember Mum. I’m even more pissed at myself for assuming he’d be decent enough to take a day without his whores interfering, especially when it’s Mum’s anniversary.
I catch the back end of the call before he hangs up, and my mood darkens.
“…I’ll see you soon… Yeah, I’m leaving now.” He puts the phone back into his pocket, pushes his plate away, and wipes his mouth on the serviette before throwing it on top of the dirty plate. “You’ll be alright to cover the bill, won’t you? I’ve some things to take care of.”
He stands, ready to make his exit.
I don�
�t know what comes over me, but I grab his wrist and quietly snap, “You couldn’t even give your son an hour without having some whore phonin’ you! Actually, you know what, go on, I hope this new one can make you happy.”
I release him and refuse to acknowledge him as he stands there for a minute before finally huffing and stalking away.
Checking my watch, I realise it’s a little after one in the afternoon and decide to go to Jason’s club. Grabbing my wallet, I place the money inside the bill folder and leave it on the table for the server to collect.
I leave the burger joint, ignoring the looks the other customers cut toward me. I guess I didn’t remain as quiet as I first believed. Getting in my car, I try to stop the anger from bubbling up. I know driving while seriously pissed off can cause an accident. So, not wanting to contemplate it all, I turn the stereo up full blast, hoping to drown out my morbid thoughts.
Chapter Six
Drunken Confessions
When someone taps on my back, I drunkenly turn around to squint over my shoulder. Two identical figures stand there waiting. Rubbing my eyes, I blink before opening them wider, hoping to clear my vision… Nope! Definitely two. “Hey Morg! There’s two of you, dude! Why didn’t you tell me there was two of you?”
A hand touches my shoulder, and I try to shrug it off. “Come on, let’s get you home. You can sleep it off.”
“Nooo. I’ve got my drink to drink and then more drink to drink and did you know my dad’s a fuck head? He decided to ditch me for a whore. Can you believe he did that, Morg? He ditched me on Mum’s anniversary!” I grab the bar to stop myself from swaying. “Waiter! Another drink, please.”
“You’ve had enough, Ben. Let Morgan take you home.”
I attempt to turn on the stool and start to fall forwards. Hands press against my chest, pushing me back upright. I tap them to let me go and blink a few times to clear my vision. I recognise two Jason’s behind the bar, both with their hands on my glass.