Painted Faces

by L.H. Cosway

  “I'm already looking forward to the wedding night,” Nicholas jokes, his arms still wrapped around me.

  I smile up at him gratefully and let out a long sigh. “Thanks for coming and helping me with that. I'm sorry you had to interrupt your set for it.”

  He stoops down so that we're at each other's eye level. He runs a finger over my bottom lip and stares at me with something like longing in his gaze. He shakes it off then, and I kind of wish he'd do whatever it was he was going to do a second ago. I wouldn't even care about how I'd look snogging the face off a drag queen.

  “What's a best friend good for if they can't help you fend off a crazy ex every now and again, eh?” he asks fondly.

  “Very true, Viv.” I shrug out of his hold and swipe him on the behind. “Now go get your pretty self back out there. You've still got another thirty minutes left in your set.”

  He salutes me and saunters off onto the stage, apologising to the crowd and telling them that he had to take care of some urgent matters of the feminine hygiene variety. I laugh and go to the bar to get myself a drink. After my close encounter with Aaron, I think I deserve one.

  On Saturday morning I sit and have breakfast with Nora and she tells me all about how her date with Richard went on Wednesday night. I've been spending so much time with Nicholas that we haven't had the chance to chat until now.

  “Yeah, he's nice,” she says, while buttering a slice of toast. “I definitely want to see him again, but I'm going to wait for him to call me. I really hate this part.”

  “I'm sure he'll call,” I tell her. “Just don't let your twitchy dialling fingers get the better of you. I bet you've been fretting over whether or not to call him every night since the date.”

  She sighs. “Sometimes it's a little scary how well you know me, Fred.”

  “I know you better than anyone,” I joke, putting on a creepy voice. “Perhaps some day you'll open your eyes and see that I'm the one you really want.”

  She laughs and threatens to fling the butter knife at me. “Shut up. By the way, how have things been on the Nicholas front?”

  I shrug. “So, so. Nothing new to report really.” Except for how he can reduce me to a quivering mess with a simple look.

  She takes a bite out of her toast and I can tell she's not really listening to me anymore. She's too wrapped up in her thoughts of Richard. She hops up from the table and goes to grab her laptop from the living area. She comes back and sets it down, before opening it up.

  “Let me show you Richard's Facebook page,” she says. “His profile picture is hot.”

  She does some speedy typing and is then turning the screen around to show me a picture of Richard in some kind of forested area with a harness on, the ones you wear when you're about to abseil down a cliff.

  “He's definitely rocking the gun show,” I comment with a grin as I note his skin tight, short sleeved t-shirt. “I don't know Nora, I might have to rethink my evaluation of him. This picture is halfway to poser town. Are you sure he's not a dickhead in disguise?”

  “No need to be so jealous,” she smirks and sips on her coffee.

  “I'm not jealous,” I lean forward and click on the picture to try and enlarge it, but I end up hitting the wrong button, which brings me back to Nora's page. Her profile picture shows her just before a night out with me and Harry, standing in her bedroom doorway, looking annoyingly well-groomed. I hate this picture of her because it makes her look like a vacuous tramp, and despite how she sometimes comes across, Nora's got a brain inside that head of hers. She just thinks it's cooler to pretend to be shallow.

  She's enjoying her breakfast at the moment, so I take the opportunity to sneakily scan down her page and see what's been going on in the virtual world of Nora. Most of the comments are from people she works with, but then I see one that isn't, and I almost shove the laptop off the table in fright. About three days ago, one Aaron O'Toole writes:

  Hey Nora! Long time no chat, how are things?

  To which she replies:

  Hi Aaron, oh same old, same old. Any news with you?

  This is followed by a bland discussion about Aaron's job at some engineering company and how he's up for a promotion soon. If I had a Facebook page I would be cutting in on this chit chat with a big, huge, fucking explosive WTF!? I fall back into my chair and stare at Nora, gob-smacked.

  She chews and swallows before glancing up at me. “Jesus Fred, you've gone pale. Are you okay?”

  I flip her laptop around to her and point a finger at the conversation between her and Aaron. “Explain this.” I do my best not to grit my teeth.

  “Hey, you were looking at my page, you nosy cow!” she says and immediately signs out, shutting her laptop down.

  “How the fuck do you know him?” I ask, my voice scary calm.

  “What, that guy Aaron? He's a regular at the bar. I talk to him when business is slow. He added me a couple weeks ago. Sometimes we chat online. He seems nice enough, not much of a sense of humour though.”

  As she says this it all falls into place. That little scheming rat. Not only does he know where I work, he must also know where I live, and more importantly, who I live with. I clench my fists in anger. How dare he drag Nora into his obsessive quest to get me back.

  “Do you know him or something?” she asks warily.

  “You need to delete him. Block him. Whatever it is you do online.” I tell it to her straight. “He's not just some random regular at your bar Nora. That is my old boyfriend from college, and he is 100% nuts. He's been following me for weeks now. He used to do it years ago too after I broke up with him. I never told you about it because it was a shit time for me and I just wanted to move on from it.” I pause to take a breath. Then another realisation hits me. “Have you ever told him anything about me during your chats?”

  Nora still seems to be in shock from what I've just told her. It takes her a minute to answer. “Um, only in passing really. He did ask me who I lived with and what they do. Harmless stuff.”

  “No information is harmless when it comes to Aaron, he uses it all.” I slam my hands down on the table in exasperation. “I can't fucking believe this Nora. Do you just go around telling every random stranger you meet all about your life? Have you no common sense at all?”

  She looks at me with watery eyes, and I instantly feel terrible for shouting at her. But she needs a reality check, a big one. Half the reason Aaron has been so successful in sussing out the workings of my life has probably been down to Nora brainlessly feeding it to him over the internet.

  She stands up from the table. “Look I'm sorry, I didn't know. You don't need to shout at me.” Her watery eyes turn to full on crying, and she dashes into her bedroom. I slump down in my chair and fold my arms across my chest.

  I need something to calm me down, so I stand up and begin furiously cleaning the kitchen from top to bottom. By the time I'm done I'm not so consumed with anger anymore. I just can't believe how trusting Nora is of people sometimes, and I can't believe the depths Aaron will sink to for information on me. I need to do something about him, I'm just not sure what that something should be.

  I knock next door and Nicholas lets me in. We sit in his bed under the covers, and I tell him all about the morning's débâcle. I'm using a lot of hand gestures, which means my anger hasn't quite abated. Nicholas listens quietly, his eyes serious.

  “I think you might need to go to the police about this,” he says, while stroking soothingly up and down my arm.

  “They won't take me seriously. You don't know what the Garda are like in this country. They'll file a few pieces of paperwork, give me a pat on the back and tell me they'll see what they can do. In other words: sweet fuck all. That or I'll get a wanker who'll insinuate I'm overreacting and laugh me out of the place.”

  “Where does Aaron live? I could go and have a word with him,” says Nicholas, and there is no humour in his voice right now.

  Woah. I'd like to see what Nicholas looks like when he's having words
. Probably scary and sexy as hell. He might wear a dress every now and again, but beneath that his body is rock hard strength. He goes to the gym every second day at around lunch time. Sometimes he asks me to join him, to which I usually give him a wry shaking of my head before I turn back to dig into whatever tasty lunch I've whipped up for myself.

  “He lives about a half an hour's drive outside of the city, but I'm not telling you where. He's got a screw loose, who knows what he might try and do to you alone in his house.”

  “Exactly, he'll try. Freda, my darling, do you think I couldn't take him?”

  I give him an appraising look. “Brawn to brawn you'd win hands down, Viv. But Aaron is unpredictable. He might sit you down in his kitchen and politely offer you a cup of tea, just before he picks up the toaster and throws it at your head.”

  Nicholas' brow furrows. “I thought you said he was never violent with you.”

  “Oh not with me, but he'd do a number on the plates in his kitchen cupboard whenever he lost his temper. By now he could have progressed to full on grievous bodily harm.”

  “Okay, I won't pay him a visit then, but if he shows up at the club again I can't promise you I won't break something, his nose most likely. With some people you need to use more than words to get through to them.”

  “Look at you, Viv, getting all macho to defend my honour.” I poke him in the side. “But if anyone's going to have the pleasure of breaking Aaron's nose, it's going to be me.”

  “Now that's something I wouldn't mind witnessing.” Nicholas pulls me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “Poor little Fred has had a terribly taxing week. What can we do to make it better for her?” he ponders. His thumb grazes my stomach where my t-shirt has hitched up a bit. I suck in a breath and push away the tingles.

  “You listened to me rant when you could have been getting a few extra hours beauty sleep. You've done enough, Nicholas. And thanks, by the way, for listening.”

  “I'd listen to you read the telephone book, Fred.”

  I glance at him, amused. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I like to listen to you. More importantly, I like to watch those pretty lips move. It's kind of seductive.”

  Out of instinct I bite my bottom lip, drawing his gaze there. He lowers one hand down over my hip and rests it on my backside, which he grips and uses to pull me in closer to him. Drawing my face to his own, he runs the tip of his nose down my cheek to my neck. I swallow. He smells like soap and laundry detergent, with just a hint of aftershave. I reach up and gently tangle my fingers through his hair.

  I notice immediately when his breathing quickens and he continues his descent down my body. From my neck his nose travels to my collarbone, then quite surprisingly he just rests his head on my chest. He doesn't even try to feel me up.

  “I love how warm and soft you are. All I ever want to do is touch you, but sometimes it feels like not touching you is even more of a turn on.” He pauses and looks up at me. “I want to ruin you Freda, in the best way possible.”

  I don't breathe a word, but I'm practically panting.

  He kisses me softly on the fabric of my t-shirt. “I'm sort of enjoying this game we're playing, but we're going to destroy each other one of these days, you do know that right?”

  Does he mean destroy in a good way or a bad way?

  He doesn't get the chance to elaborate because there's a hesitant knock at his apartment door. He kisses me again on the t-shirt and gets up to go and answer it. I climb out of his bed and straighten my clothes. When I enter the living area I find Nora standing beside Nicholas, looking like shit. Her nose and eyes are all red, like she hasn't stopped crying since she stormed into her bedroom earlier this morning.

  “Fred, I'm so sorry. I was such a bloody idiot.”

  I walk straight over to her and take her into a semi-awkward hug. Nora and I don't really show each other affection, but since she's so upset I suppose I can make an exception. I pet at her hair. “Listen, it's okay. Aaron would have found some way to worm his way into my life with or without you. It's not your fault. You can't be suspicious of every new person you meet.” I pull away to look at her and try to make a joke. “You know, I'm probably the one who should be apologising. You had to suffer through Aaron's god awfully dull conversation. You deserve a medal for that.”

  The joke does the trick and she let's out a sad little giggle. I see Nicholas watching me over Nora's shoulder. He comes over and wraps his arms around the both of us, creating a group hug.

  “How's about we forget all about boring, psychotic Aaron for the time being and I take you two gorgeous ladies out for lunch?” he asks.

  We both smile at him and nod our heads.

  Chapter Twelve

  A Brick Through a Window

  “Yooohooo,” comes Phil's sing song voice as I sit in the dressing room and help Nicholas out of his costume.

  It was a wild gig tonight. At one point a member of the audience was so drunk and riled up that he climbed onto the stage and tried to grab Nicholas by the crotch. Nicholas was a good sport about it and gracious as ever, but I think he's a little bit upset. He's trying to hide it.

  I do wonder why he's upset though, since he often invites people up onto the stage and can be very touchy and flirty with them. Perhaps it was because the guy tonight was really aggressive and got up onto the stage without Nicholas' permission.

  “We're having a lock in after closing time,” Phil announces. “Do you two want to join us?”

  A little thrill of excitement goes through me. I've never been to a lock in before. “I'm definitely up for it,” I turn to Nicholas. “What about you, Viv?”

  He looks a bit tired, but he musters a grin. “I wouldn't miss it. Count me in.”

  “Good stuff,” says Phil with a clap of his hands. “We're clearing the punters away now. Come out when you're ready.”

  Phil leaves and I glance up at the clock. It's almost three in the morning. Normally Nicholas' gigs don't run this late, but Phil had another drag queen called Linda Lovely from Brighton doing a once off performance tonight, so Nicholas' slot got pushed back.

  Once I have all of his make-up off he stands and shimmies out of the skirt and corset he wore for his show. He's wearing the frilly burlesque knickers again, and I can't help myself but to take a peek. He catches me looking and eyes the bra strap on my bare shoulder, since I'm wearing an oversized blue top that hangs off to one side. I glance away.

  By the time I look back he's slipped out of the knickers and into his boxer shorts; the Calvin Klein ones that I wore on my head like a hat. The memory makes me slightly giddy.

  Nicholas puts on a nice pair of black trousers and a light grey shirt. His hair is a mess from being squished up under the wig, and I know that he won't fix it himself, so I grab the hairbrush from the dressing table and stand up.

  Pulling him down into a chair I say, “Let me brush your hair Viv, it's a disaster.”

  He sits silently and I comb his hair until it's sufficiently neat. It's cut tight to his neckline, but a lot longer on top. I run my fingers through it after I'm done, because I kind of can't help myself.

  He glances at me through the mirror as I stand behind him, a wry expression on his face.

  “All done,” I say, pulling my hands away.

  “Thanks,” he grins and then pats me on the bottom.

  We head out to the now empty club and make our way over to a table where Phil, Sean and Linda Lovely are sitting doing shots of tequila. Unlike Nicholas, Linda Lovely is still in her full drag get up, which consists of a huge pink wig, a silver dress and rainbow coloured heels. She looks like a fairy godmother from a dream you'd have while tripping on acid. I think I remember Nicholas mentioning that her real name is Dave.

  A few members of staff potter about, doing the final clean up of the night.

  “Nicholas Turner,” announces Linda Lovely as Nicholas sits down at the table and I take the chair beside him. “I'd forgotten how good you look in a pair
of trousers. Two eggs in a hanky.” She smacks her lips.

  Phil, Sean and I burst out laughing, while Nicholas stands up to twirl around and give Linda a proper look at his goods. She arches her sculpted eyebrow and nods approvingly.

  Sean pushes a glass in front of me and pours some kind of fruity cocktail into it from the big jug sitting beside the bottle of tequila. I take a sip and it tastes like lemon and orange heaven.

  “What is this?” I ask him, gulping it back.

  Sean shrugs. “It doesn't have a name yet. I rustled it up at the bar and put a bit of everything in.”

  I laugh. “Should I be worried?”

  He gives me a nervous look. “Prob...ably not.”

  “Prob...ably not is good enough for me,” I tell him, nudging him in the side with my elbow.

  Phil speaks up, “Linda my lovely, tell Nicholas and Fred your juicy gossip.”

  Linda coughs to clear her throat and proceeds to detail an encounter she had last weekend, with a celebrity she refuses to name, who came into her club in Brighton and had a quicky with her in the toilets. The unnamed celebrity apparently has a wife and two kids. I spend the next half an hour trying to goad her into telling us the name of the celeb, but her lips are sealed as tight as a chastity belt.

  At some point Nicholas rests his arm across the back of my chair and begins rhythmically tracing his fingers in circles over my bare shoulder. Every time he does this I pull my top back up to cover my skin, but he just waits for it to fall back down again. It's a weird little game we're playing.

  I think I hear Linda Lovely make a comment to Phil, something like, “What's the story between those two anyway?”

  I'm tipsy enough not to think too much about the answer to that question or about how transparent we both are.

  I'm currently on my fourth glass of Sean's mystery cocktail, which has gone from tasting like lemon and orange heaven to the elixir of the Gods. Every touch Nicholas gives me is so subtle and barely there, yet I'm hyper aware of all of them.