by L Neil
I excuse myself and take the glass with me as I head for the men’s room.
When I open the door, I see a couple of men washing their hands at the basin.
Sam and Eddie are leaning against the wall, deep in conversations and looking like models posing against a gritty backdrop.
Sam’s black jeans look painted on his body and his black meshed shirt leaves nothing to the imagination. Until now, I wouldn’t have known that he worked out. But that rippled six pack is evidence that he hits the gym.
I also hadn’t realised that his ears were pierced. But there they are, covered in silver earrings. So too, are his nipples; the small, silver hoops sparkle brightly behind the black mesh.
His dark hair is spiked, and he has added a faint smudge of eye liner around his pale green eyes.
Eddie is the good guy to Sam’s bad boy. His hair has been cut shorter so that it no longer brushes on his face. It makes him appear a little closer to his age now. Probably can’t call him “kid” anymore – not with his chiselled face and tall, athletic body.
His dark jeans aren’t tight like Sam’s and his shirt is plain, white and not see-through. His knee is bent as one of his converse sneakers rests against the wall.
When they spot me, I salute them with my glass.
They strut over to me and take turns hugging me. Sam adds a kiss to my cheek and then looks me up and down, much like the first time we met. But there is no arrogance, in fact, he seems in awe. “You look so fucking hot.” He lifts his hand to touch my braids. “You should keep your hair down, though. What a waste.”
The two strangers finish washing their hands and leave without batting an eye at the female intruder.
Eddie chuckles and says, “Is it safe to get out of here? This place stinks.”
I tell them that Dominic has left but I lead the way just to be sure. When I’m certain that we can proceed, I find a small table near the dancefloor for us to drink at.
“Choke” by The Soft Moon is playing and I sway my body slightly to the entrancing beat.
Eddie is watching the people on the dancefloor. He seems so intrigued, so unused to the scene and his naivety is charming. It’s hard to believe he is the same age as me.
I can feel Sam’s watchful eyes on me. When I look back at him, I shout over the music, “What?”
He grins and his straight, white teeth are still perfect, no matter how grunge he tries to appear tonight. He replies just loudly enough, “Goth suits you.”
“It’s not goth,” I quickly reply.
He leans back to inspect me from head to toe again. “Whatever you say.” Smug asshole.
I smile anyway.
He shouts, “I’ll fetch us some drinks,” and then disappears before I could put in my request.
Eddie’s head snaps back around, no longer interested in the dancers. He comes in close and asks urgently, “Is everything okay? Why are we here?”
I guess I should have known this was coming.
“Everything is fine,” I reassure him, “I was just…bored.” I can’t tell him about the question I need to ask Sam.
He doesn’t seem completely convinced, so I reassure him again. “Really.”
He asks about the apartment and I tell him that it’s all done. I thank him again for his help and he brushes it off. “That’s my job,” he says.
“Oh yeah! That reminds me...” he continues excitedly, “I passed my Journeyman exam!”
I laugh and hug him. “Congratulations! That’s awesome.” He holds on to me that little bit longer.
Clearing his throat, he lets go of me.
“What’s awesome?” Sam has returned with a waitress who holds a large tray in her hand with several drinks and shots on it. That was incredibly quick.
Also, it turns out that I didn’t need to choose a drink – he had ordered one of everything by the looks of it. Must have pre-ordered them, then.
“Just here, sweetheart,” he tells her, and she sets it all down on our table.
“Uh…Eddie passed his Journeyman exam,” I answer.
Sam smiles at that but it’s obvious he doesn’t think it’s a big a deal. I suppose to someone like him, it wouldn’t be that impressive.
I, on the other hand, am genuinely happy for my friend.
“Oh!” Eddie shouts again, “Are you still looking for a job?”
“Yes,” I say carefully, not wanting to get my hopes up.
“I’ve got one for you. But I don’t know if you’ll want it. It’s not what you were doing before.”
“What is it?” Okay, now my hopes are up.
“Well, my mother’s friend owns a music shop and her husband has had to stop working – he has mobility issues now – but there’s a position available and I asked if you could have it and she said yes. If you want it…”
I hug him again but this time I squeeze him. I’m so happy, I feel that I could lift him up. But alas, I cannot. He chuckles at my attempt.
A job! At a music store!
Sam is aghast, naturally. “Why the fuck would you want to work? You won’t have to lift a finger for the rest of your life.” He downs his second shot and passes one to me and another to Eddie.
I look back at Sam and I cannot wipe the grin from my face. I poke my tongue in answer and he smiles back at me.
I take the shot – the warmth trickling down my throat and to my belly. Eddie grimaces as he takes his and Sam’s eyes sparkle as he watches on, genuinely intrigued by our innocent friend.
Recalling the way that Frank treated Sam at our wedding reception and the fact that he ended his relationship with Josh in such a horrible way, I begin to feel guilty for having doubted him myself.
“Have you spoken with Josh?” I enquire, hoping that he has and that it was a good outcome.
Cradling his glass, he sobers up. Not meeting my eyes, he replies, “Nah. It’s over for us.” He finishes the drink swiftly and smacks his lips together.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. And I am. Seeing him wounded like this is very disheartening – it just doesn’t seem right.
He looks at me then, in a way that makes me think he was unprepared for my sympathy. And then I think about what Frank told me about his relationship with Sam’s mother.
He had told me that the was no love. The pregnancy was an accident, much like the conception of his eldest son.
Cristian’s mother stuck around for a few years before abandoning them. Frank had placed him into a boarding school and rarely saw him after that. He was six years old.
Sam's mother died during childbirth, like my own, and Frank hired a fulltime nanny to take care of him. Apparently, Frank had not loved Sam’s mother much either, if at all, and when Sam was old enough for school, he was sent to the same boarding school.
I realise that Sam is probably not surrounded by many people who care about him – if any. He attached himself to us so quickly, as if he needed the company. Even after I was rude to him, he hung on.
When he asks us to dance, we join him on the dance floor. As morally questionable as I may be – and he may be – I love to make people happy.
A trap beat plays and Sam dances between us. It’s innocent and loads of fun. The smile on his face is worth it.
Women and men watch him with obvious interest, but he is only here for us. He twirls us around, which is awkward because Eddie is taller than him. As we chuckle, his eyes sparkle in delight and he reminds me once again of a younger Frank.
The bass pulses through my body and it feels like gravity lifts just that tiny bit, allowing us to let go of all our troubles and just…be.
It’s better than therapy, if you ask me.
One look at my friends’ smiling faces makes me absolutely happy. I decide that we should do this more often.
On my way home, I realise that I forgot to ask Sam about the Taxidermist. Shit.
CHAPTER 15
The Basement
✽✽✽
Helena spent the night with her friends and all I could do was wai
t for her to return. Well, not all I could do.
I visited the basement, needing somewhere to vent my anger, my exasperation at losing control over the one thing that I needed to be perfect.
For each visit, I wore a raincoat to protect my clothing underneath. Last time, I had forgotten to cover myself before setting upon our prisoner and I had ruined the outfit that she had bought for me. This only added to my guilt when she saw me emerging from the basement. Ridiculous, I know. Talk about turning my world upside down.
When she returned to me last night, in high spirits and smelling of alcohol, she seemed to have forgiven me just that little bit. She told me that she has a new job awaiting her – at Evans’ Music Store. Coincidentally, it’s where I had purchased the Fazioli grand piano from, for our apartment.
It was delivered this morning and when I called Dominic earlier, I could hear her playing in the background. I desperately wanted to be there, watching her. My talented little Gattina.
She will flourish in the music store. And it will be a fine distraction. Because this evening, she will finally discover what I have been hiding from her.
I know I cannot keep my “secret” from her forever. And I never planned to.
I only pray that she survives it – that we survive it.
✽✽✽
When I return home, Dominic informs me that Frank is waiting in the living room. He shuts the French doors behind me, closing me in with my sombre husband.
Frank stands from the pale sofa and strides across the room to me. The sleeves of his white, button-up shirt are folded up and the top button is undone. His gait is tired and the circles under his eyes deeper than usual.
He picks up both of my hands and I can’t help but to feel cautious. Usually when he asks for privacy, it is to cover me with wandering hands and scorching kisses. The uncertainty in him now is rather unsettling, not at all like the Frank Mariano I know.
He seemed to think he was off the hook last night when I told him that I got the job. Even before I told him the good news, he appeared confident that I wouldn’t remain upset at him.
In his deep, gravelly voice, he begins, “I want to tell you about the basement.”
Before I can react, he pulls me into a hug. One of his hands slide into the back pocket of my black skinny jeans and the other creeps up my back, underneath my grey slouch shirt.
“But I want you to be honest with me about something first…” my heart beats faster – does he know about me hanging out with Sam and Eddie? Surely Dominic would have been smug just now, delivering me to him. But then he finishes “…about a phone call you made a few weeks ago.”
Trying not to look too relieved, I quip, “Quid pro quo?”
His face softens when he looks down at me, “Yes, darling.”
His eyes examine me closely, scrutinising every breath, every syllable as I respond with my carefully thought out response.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me,” I say, and I mean it.
“Baby, I could never be mad at you,” he assures me. Still, he remains highly perceptive and I hope my answer is believable. If so, he should have no reason to think that Sam told me about his visit to Luke nor that Luke confirmed it.
I let out a long sigh. “After you showed me those files above the fireplace, it reminded me of someone back in the UK.” I swallow and then continue. “My ex. But I didn’t call him…” I quickly clarify, “I called his mother, just to check on him. You see, he-”
“I know.” He cups my face with his hands, sparing me from lying further. “Luke was an addict.” He clicks his tongue and then adds, softly, “Baby, there’s something that I must tell you about him.”
The surprise on my face is good – I need to keep it up because I’m not supposed to know what he is about to confess.
He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out. His face droops as he considers how badly my reaction may be.
Sighing, he rubs his thumbs along my cheeks. “Please know that what I did was not out of selfishness but because I needed to protect you. And please remember that I love you…so, very much.”
I nod, eyes wide. Strangely, I feel bad for him – agonising over telling me something that I already know. And he will tell me - he is too brave to hide the truth now. Once the cat is out of the bag with him, he doesn’t lie to me. It’s just a matter of getting the critter out in the first place.
He drops his hands and confesses to confronting Luke and blackmailing him to leave me. He explains that when he went to his apartment, Luke was so high that he could barely keep up with the conversation and had even confused him with the postman at one stage – after he had already been chatting with him for quite some time.
He admits that it was wrong but maintains that it was also necessary. Through Josh’s reports, Frank was able to see that I had become a recluse again. I barely turned up to work and I stopped performing too, because I had to take care of Luke, to nurse him through his addictions.
When he explains how painful it was to know what was happening to me, I find myself wishing I knew back then that there was someone out there who I could have turned to, that I wasn’t alone. Luke had made me hide everything from his family, so I had no support and no clue what to do.
I tell Frank that I’m not upset, that I’m actually glad. It was a toxic relationship and for some reason, I kept hanging on to it, even though it was clearly destroying me. I tell him that by being there to pick up the pieces, I was probably enabling his addiction, if anything.
He looks at me strangely and I worry that I haven’t been convincing enough. But then he hugs me tightly again and breathes me in deeply.
I relax, letting my body meld into his warm and comforting hold. I feel that it’s time to ask him something that I’ve thought about frequently since we became properly “acquainted" over a month ago.
“Frank?”
His voice rumbles at my ear against his chest, “Yes, sweetheart?”
“Why didn’t you approach me sooner? Years ago? After you saw me in London?”
Lowering his head, he rests his chin on the top of my hair and replies whimsically, “Two reasons. Firstly, I... enjoyed watching you learn, grow. If I were to intrude, would that have stopped you from being who you are, who you were meant to become?” I can feel him shrug. “I was too afraid to take that risk.
“And secondly...” he sighs, “You were away from all of this...ugliness. I had no desire to expose you to any of it again. Yes, things are not quite as dangerous and violent as they were when I was a younger man, but it is still a perilous business.
“Now that you’re with me, I constantly worry about both of these things.”
I pull back and say, “Well, you don’t need to. I’m not afraid of who you are or what you do.” I grin, playfully. “You know that I’m not so easily scared, Mister.”
The crow’s feet by his glittering eyes deepen as he smiles back, proud of my statement.
“And being with you hasn’t changed me. So long as I have my music, I’m happy. You’re letting me-
“I’m not letting you do anything,” he urges. He grips my arms and his face is suddenly close to mine, vexed. “You need to know that I’m not here to stop you from being who you are...I know that you must think that with all of this security, I am trying to control you but I have no desire to do that - no desire. It would destroy me if you were to change because of me.
“I would never want you to quit your band or not see you friends. I would be miserable if you chose not to go back to work because of me-
“But-
“I know,” he cuts me off, “I know that I said I’d prefer it if you didn’t work. I just wanted to give you the opportunity to do the things you love. Most people would jump at the chance, but I should have known that you are too independent for that.
“You don’t need me, or anyone...” he trails off, looking away.
On tiptoes, I kiss his cheek to pull him back from his thoughts. “If anything, you’
re the one who doesn’t need me,” I say.
Voice thick, he tells me, “That is simply untrue.” His throat bobs as he swallows. It’s obvious that he has something else to say.
“There’s a third reason I didn’t get to you sooner,” he admits, hesitantly.
The way his jaw clenches and his gaze bores into my own tells me that he is about to say something I might not want to know.
“What’s that?” I ask, softly. There is no doubt that curiosity will one day kill this cat.
The grip on my arms tighten. He holds my gaze with an unsettling intensity, and I know that he is giving me the chance to change my mind.