Painted Faces

by L.H. Cosway

  Sean gets up and sets some music playing over the sound system. He's one of those drummers who's always tapping out a beat on whatever surface he can find. Earlier I watched in fascination as he created an intricate rhythm, using his knees as percussion instruments.

  I turn to Nicholas drunkenly. He looks like his mind is elsewhere, like he's sad about something. “Viv, the next time some guy gets up on the stage and grabs you like that I'm going to punch his lights out.”

  He smiles and leans in close to me, pulling himself out of his own thoughts “Very gallant of you to offer Fred. I'll hold you to that.”

  I take a long swig of my drink, and ramble on, the alcohol making me far too honest. “I could tell you didn't like it. I didn't either.” I break out into furious laughter. “Seriously Viv, I will cut a bitch the next time.”

  By the way Nicholas is paying perfect attention to me, I don't think he's as plastered as I am. In fact, I think he's been nursing the same drink all night. That can't be good. He's going to remember all of my ridiculous comments. The problem is, I'm too drunk right now to care.

  I twist my chair around so that I can look at him properly. I put both of my hands on his cheeks, holding onto his face. “You're so pretty Viv, it's not fair. How can you be pretty and handsome? Did you sell your soul to the devil or something?”

  He puts his hands on top of mine. “Nope, and being pretty isn't the cake walk you think it is Fred,” he answers, somehow managing to sound miserable while he's smiling.

  I frown. “Why? Because arseholes think they can come up on stage and grab your crotch without asking your permission?”

  He laughs and his eyes go all sparkly and crinkly the way that I like them. “Something like that. Mostly it attracts people whose attention you don't want.”

  I grab a hold of his bicep, for no real reason other than it looks nice and I want to feel it. “I'll be your bodyguard, if you want me to be.”

  “I want you...” he trails off with a hot expression, and doesn't finish his sentence.

  I suddenly notice that Phil, Linda and Sean are up and dancing. Linda totters her way over to me and pulls me up by the hand. I follow her over to the others, bopping along to the music. Nicholas remains seated, watching the show.

  I don't think I've ever felt more drunkenly happy, as I allow a six foot tall drag queen in rainbow high heels to twirl me around the empty night club to the beats of “Rock DJ” by Robbie Williams. I laugh so hard when Phil tries to do the splits that I almost cry. When he's standing again Sean jumps up onto his shoulders and Phil gives him a dancing piggy back ride around the room.

  Some time later I find myself not dancing merrily with Linda anymore, but slow dancing with Nicholas, while the others return to the table to continue drinking. I can't even remember him approaching me. All I know is that it feels good to have his arms wrapped around my waist, while mine are wrapped around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair.

  He looks down at me and whispers, “If you weren't so drunk, I'd ask you to stay with me tonight.”

  I lay my head on his chest, tired. “It's nearly five o'clock. The night's almost over anyway.”

  “That's true. I should get you home, you look sleepy.”

  “Can't I just sleep here?” I ask. “Here is good,” I snuggle in closer to him.

  “Here is good,” he agrees, stroking a hand down my hair, “but you need your bed. Come on, we'll see if we can catch a taxi outside.”

  Nicholas tells the others that we're leaving, but Phil asks us to wait so that we can all go out together. It only takes him a couple of minutes to lock the place up. Linda and Sean are singing the lyrics to “Sweet Caroline” as we stand by the front door, waiting for Phil. I lean into Nicholas, because I'm too wasted to hold myself up.

  “Done and dusted,” Phil declares, as he saunters into the front lobby and unlocks the door for us.

  Nicholas and I are the first to step out, and my entire body seems to instantly sober when a brick comes hurtling towards us, along with somebody shouting the word “QUEERS!” at the top of their lungs. Nicholas pulls me out of the way just in time for the brick to go smashing through a window instead of hitting us.

  I look frantically from left to right to see who threw the brick. Then I spot the suped-up Ford Fiesta with go faster stripes on the other side of the street. Three scumbags are standing by it, while another sits in the driver's seat. Nicholas stands up straight and pushes me behind him, just as Phil, Linda and Sean all spill out the door.

  “Which one of you threw that?” Phil shouts.

  The three jog across the road, with one of them walking right up to Phil and punching him in the face. Another has a baseball bat, which he swings at Nicholas. Nicholas ducks and kicks the guy in the knee cap. Sean and Linda are huddled around Phil, who's clutching his bleeding nose, while the other two thugs spit a range of threats and homophobic slurs at them.

  I get a good look at all of their faces, trying to commit them to memory. The one who attacked Nicholas swings for him again, but this time Nicholas feints to the side and brings his elbow down on the guy's jaw. He drops the baseball bat and lets out a yelp of pain, while Nicholas grabs the bat.

  “Now!” he shouts angrily, wielding the bat. “All three of you are going to get into your piece of shit car and drive far the fuck away from here.”

  The one whose jaw Nicholas just bashed raises his hands in the air. “Okay pal, calm down,” as if Nicholas were the one to initiate the attack and not simply defending himself.

  Nicholas takes a step towards him. For a second it looks like he's considering hitting him with the bat. “I'm not your fucking pal, you scumbag. Now go before I do something I regret.”

  The three of them scurry off to their ridiculous car, while mumbling things like, “Fuckin' psycho” and “Bleedin' lunatic”. Typical. We all step back inside the club. Nicholas pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight.

  “Jesus, that brick was an inch away from hitting you Freda,” he breathes.

  Linda is already on the phone to the police, and Sean is pulling some tissue paper from his bag to give to Phil for his bleeding nose.

  “That was fucking scary random,” I say to Phil, as Nicholas continues to hold me. “Has anything like that ever happened before?”

  “Not since I've been managing the place,” he answers in a shaky voice. “But we haven't been open very long.”

  “This is weird. It's like they were waiting for us, like they knew there were still people inside even though it's well past closing time,” says Sean.

  “Little bastards,” Linda hisses, just as she hangs up the phone and goes over to give Phil a hug. “Look what they did to that gorgeous face of yours. The Garda are on their way now.”

  We all go to sit by the bar and wait for the police, which could take a while, since they're not exactly known for their speedy response times. Forty-five minutes later they mosey on into the club and ask what happened. We all give our statements and I describe what the three guys looked like in as much detail as I can. Thankfully they don't make us go to the station to be interviewed further.

  Nicholas calls for a cab to bring us home. I don't think he's released me from his hold since the attack.

  “You were so brave, taking them on like that,” I whisper to him, as we sit in the back of the taxi wrapped around one another.

  “I've been working in gay clubs all my life Fred. This wasn't my first encounter of queer bashing, you know. One time over in London four guys jumped me, broke my arm and my nose. I gave as good as I got though.”

  “God, I forget how hard it must be. It's awful that you've had to go through that.”

  “I survive. I always do,” he says softly, just as the taxi pulls up to our block.

  When we get inside we go to our separate apartments. I hop straight into the shower, needing to wash away the night's events. When I get out I really don't feel like going to bed alone, so I get into some PJs, take my key to Nicholas' place
and sneak next door. I find him just getting out of his own shower, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

  Our eyes lock.

  “I didn't want to sleep alone,” I tell him.

  He nods to his bedroom. “Go on, make yourself comfortable. I'll be there in a minute.”

  I crawl beneath his soft blankets and am immediately ten times more calm. A few minutes later Nicholas comes in, wearing boxer shorts and a t-shirt. He slips in behind me, switches off the lamp and pulls me into his arms. I fall asleep to the relaxing touch of his fingers trailing across my stomach.

  When I wake up I'm alone in the bed. I glance at Nicholas' alarm clock on his dresser and the time reads 14.13. I've slept half the day. I stretch out under the duvet like a lazy cat. A few minutes later Nicholas comes through the door, carrying a tray with tea and toast.

  “This is about as far as my culinary skills go, I'm afraid,” he announces with an exaggerated grimace as he sets the tray down in front of me.

  I sit up and the duvet pools around my waist. Nicholas' gaze immediately falls to my chest since I don't wear a bra to bed. “Hey, eyes on the prize Viv,” I tease as I pick up a piece of toast and take a bite.

  A slow grin forms on his lips. “Sorry, but I'm only human Fred, and those are the prettiest breasts I have ever seen.”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” I tell him happily.

  “Will it really?” he asks. “I should try getting somewhere then, shouldn't I?”

  “Maybe you should,” I answer boldly.

  He shakes his head at my over the top flirting. “I have a proposition for you,” he begins hesitantly and I nod my head for him to continue. “I had a phone call from a friend of mine in Edinburgh this morning. She runs a venue during the Fringe all this month and one of her acts pulled out at the last minute. She wanted to know if I'd fly over and fill in for a few nights.”

  “Cool, when does she want you to go?” I ask, though I'm kind of disappointed that he's going to be away for a while.

  “Tomorrow morning preferably,” he comes and sits down beside me at the head of the bed. “Come with me?” he asks suddenly.

  “To Scotland?”

  “Yes, we've had a shitty week, with Aaron and last night's attack. A couple of days away will do us both good I think.”

  “But I have to work,” I say to him. Disappointment fills my gut with the realisation. If I didn't have to bake every morning this week I'd be hopping right on a plane with him.

  “Have someone fill in for you. Come on Fred, we both need this. Besides, I'm not going if you don't come too. I need my assistant with me after all, I'd be lost without her.”

  “Oh, you're a sly one,” I grin, knowing he's trying to guilt me into this. “I'll make no promises, but I'll see what I can do. I might be able to get an old college friend to make my cupcakes while I'm away.”

  Nicholas wraps his arm around my shoulders with a triumphant smile, and I finish eating the food he made for me.

  Later on I call up Aoife, a girl who was in my class in college, to see if she's available to fill in for me this week. She had a baby and got married as soon as she finished her degree, so she's been a stay at home mother ever since. I had her do my cupcakes for me once before when I was sick with the flu. Over the phone she tells me she'd be happy to take on the work and I do a little dance of excitement as I'm reminding her of the recipes and what not.

  She takes notes and we hang up about twenty minutes later. Then I call up the charity shop and see if anyone would be willing to take my shifts. With that all sorted I send Nicholas a quick text to let him know that all systems are go. He writes back saying that he's going to book the flights and hotel online.

  I've never been to Edinburgh before, but I've heard the Fringe Festival is supposed to be amazing. Needless to say, I'm as excited as a ten year old on Christmas Eve.

  Nora rolls her eyes at me as I hurry around the apartment, putting on a shit Scottish accent a la Mrs Doubtfire and trying to get my clothes packed for our flight in the morning. She tells me that she's invited Richard over for dinner tomorrow evening and quite casually asks if I could possibly leave her a foolproof recipe for something to cook.

  After I've had a good laugh at her ineptness for food preparation, and she is at the end of her tether with my jibes, I write down the ingredients needed for lemon chicken with mushrooms, as well as instructions on how to make it. It's simple, so there's less of a chance of her screwing it up. For dessert I tell her to make Eton Mess, since it's one of the easiest desserts on the planet.

  She gives me a long suffering look and tells me that she'll be the judge of how easy it is. I tell her to send me pictures so that I can have a laugh at the mess she makes of Eton Mess. See what I did there? I should quit baking cupcakes and take up writing jokes professionally.

  I call up my mum and let her know that I'm going away for the week with Nicholas, because I am a good little daughter like that. I haven't told her much about him so far, other than the fact that he's my neighbour and a new friend of mine. I can tell that she wants me to elaborate, as she keeps asking me roundabout questions, such as: So is he a friend like Harry is your friend, or is he another kind of a friend? Oh mother, do you really think it's going to be that easy to get me to talk? I laugh cynically to myself.

  I avoid her questions as best I can. It's difficult to classify my relationship with Nicholas for her when I can't even classify it for myself. I can hardly tell my mum that I work for him because he's a drag queen and that we say we're best friends, but really we want to get inside each other's pants. She'd probably have a heart attack by the time I got as far as the drag queen bit.

  Speak of the devil and watch him appear. Just as I hang up with Mum I get a text from Nicholas informing me that our flight is at a quarter to eight the following morning, and that he's going to drive us to the airport at six. I set my alarm for five and send him a quick message back, which reads:

  Noted. C u in the morning sugar tits <3

  To which he responds:

  Sugar tits? Really Fred? U r giving me naughty ideas.

  To which I encourage:

  Oh. Feel free 2 elaborate :-0

  To which he answers:

  I wouldn't want 2 scandalize u like I did b4 ;-)

  To which I venture:

  If I recall correctly, I quite enjoyed being scandalized :-D

  To which he scolds:

  U r killing me, Fred.

  And then orders:

  Come 2 my place. Now.

  To which I decline:

  I'm afraid that would b inappropriate.

  To which he declares:

  Being inappropriate with u is my favourite thing Fred. x

  I sigh and throw my phone to the end of my bed. I really don't know what to say to that. And as usual, it's my own fault for starting it in the first place. A minute later my phone beeps with a new message. I scramble for it and open the text. It reads:

  U r so fucking beautiful.

  Oh wow. I bravely type back:

  So r u.

  He repeats his earlier request:

  Come 2 my place. Plz. I have 2 kiss u.

  His message makes me breathe heavier. I reply:

  I can't. Need my beauty sleep. C u 2moro. x

  I half expect him to ask me again, but he doesn't, he simply says:

  OK darling. Sleep well. <3

  My heart is going ninety. I'm never going to be able to get an early night now; his texts will just keep on repeating in my head. I go into Nora's room and ask her for one of the sleeping pills I know she keeps hidden at the back of her bedside dresser. She hands me the happy little pill and I grab a glass of water from the kitchen before swallowing it down. I make sure all of my stuff is ready for the morning and then I hit the hay once I feel the drowsiness of the pill kicking in.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ukuleles and The Polka Dot Twins

  I throw my bag in the boot of Nicholas' powder blue Nissan Figaro and
then hop into the front seat beside him. It's six o'clock in the morning, but since it's the summer it's already bright out. I got a great night of sleep thanks to Nora's magic snooze pill, so I'm raring to go.

  I'm wearing a peach coloured pencil skirt, a cream short sleeved t-shirt and cream flats. Yeah okay, I put in the effort, but it's not every day that I find myself travelling to Scotland with a drag queen.

  It takes us just under twenty minutes to get to the airport. Nicholas leaves his car in the long stay parking lot and we head inside. Once we've checked our bags and gone through security we have a little fun in the duty free looking at all of the designer handbags.

  Nicholas throws a dark red leather one over his shoulder and struts over to the mirror, doing his Vivica Blue walk. I've noticed they have different strides. Nicholas' is smooth, masculine grace, while Vivica's is lighter on the toes and contains more movement in the hips

  Then we stop by a café where we have croissants and coffee for breakfast. When we board the plane I'm pleasantly surprised to find that Nicholas has booked us in business class. I flop down into the massive seat with relish.

  “I thought you said you were going to try to be more frugal with your money Viv,” I comment, even though I'm glad that he splashed out. I've never flown anything other than economy before, so it's a thrill despite the fact that the flight is going to take less than an hour.

  “I said I should try. I never said I was going to,” he corrects. “Anyway, I wanted to treat you.”

  “Aw, you're the best boss ever,” I tell him happily.

  I order a vodka and orange juice from the air hostess as she passes by our seats. When in Rome, as they say.

  “Isn't it a little early to be drinking?” Nicholas asks with a wry grin.

  “I'm on holiday Viv. Morning alcohol is allowed when you're on holiday.”

  “This isn't a holiday, it's a work trip.” He reprimands, and seems to be enjoying doing so.

  I scowl at him. “Semantics.” I pause to sip on my drink. “Are you getting firm with me, boss?”