by Max Henry
She settled for a bowl of stale cocoa pops, and took the snack over to the couch. Only two days and he would be home. If it meant equally as many nights sitting in front of mind-numbing television while she ate crappy snacks, then so be it.
Whatever it took to get through.
***
“Hey, Dad. Sorry I didn’t end up coming over in the weekend. I’ll give you a call later, or I’ll see you after work—whichever comes first.”
Steph hung up her desk-phone, and refreshed her computer screen. She’d been so caught up in her head these past few days that she’d become a stranger to her family. Tuesday mornings were golfing for her dad, so she hadn’t been surprised that she had to leave a message.
Next on the list was Ben, but making call, after personal call at work still left her with guilt tingling through her body at being that employee, so she’d wait a while.
Marcus stuck his head over the partition, and smiled. “You had morning smoko yet?”
She shook her head.
“Want to go to the place over the road, and grab a takeaway?”
“Do you ever work? I feel bad leaving the building.”
He chuckled. “It’s IT. As long as everyone’s gear is working, nobody asks a single question about what I do.”
“Maybe I should have done a course in computers instead,” she groaned. “I feel like I get asked every half hour if I’ve done this, or that yet.”
“Take a load off for ten minutes—Barbara won’t care.”
“Ten minutes.” She sighed. “I’ve got a truck load of crap to do today, and it’s bad enough my brains not with it.”
He clapped his hands together. “Even more reason why you need a break.”
Steph smiled at his enthusiasm, and grabbed her bag from under her desk. She put the computer to sleep, and rounded the cubicle wall to find Marcus waiting for her.
“When are you going to tell me what it is that has you so jumbled in there?” he tapped the side of her head.
“Play nice, and I might share with you at lunch time.”
Marcus held the door open for her to pass through. “You know, I saw those flowers in the skip out the back. Who were they from?”
“Nosey, aren’t you?” she jested.
“Concerned.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’d rather the title of concerned, thank you.”
“They were from a jerk who doesn’t know the meaning of the word no.”
“That guy who upset you on the phone last week?”
“Yeah. Same one.”
“Do I need to mess a brother up?” He gave a goony flex of his arm.
Steph cracked up at the sight of him. He totally didn’t fit the image of a ‘strongman’, or anything remotelysimilar. Sure, Marcus had a pretty good shape under his get-up, but when the guy got around in a Slipknot T-shirt, and a pair of grey jeans with a black studded belt, she couldn’t exactly picture him in a gym.
“What?” he asked with a smile as they waited to cross the road.
“I’m trying to picture you lifting something.”
“Is that so far-fetched?”
“Looking like that—” She swept her hand the length of him. “—It is.”
He chuckled, and led them across the road. “I’ll have to take a selfie for you tonight so you believe me.”
“Oh, God. Are you one of those gym selfie nuts?”
“Only when I’m killing it.” He flashed a cunning grin. “Which is like all the time.”
“And you’re still single.” She rolled her eyes. “I can’t imagine why.”
He laughed, and pulled the door to the coffee house open. “Come on, a few days ago you said you thought I was a catch.”
“Yeah, until you admitted to being a gym-selfie junkie.”
“Reels them in.”
“The ladies? God, this conversation keeps getting better.”
Marcus held up a finger, and ordered their drinks at the counter. Steph slipped him a five to cover hers, and headed for an empty seat to wait on their order.
Marcus dropped onto the seat beside her a few minutes later. “I’ll let you in on a little secret.”
“Girls flock to your Instagram feed for the half-nude shots of your six-pack?” Steph laughed.
He held her gaze with a devilish grin. “Not the girls.” His smile broadened as her eyes drew wider.
“I didn’t pick it. Damn. What a shame.”
He laughed. “See. I said you thought I was hot.”
“Well, at least now I can admit it without sounding like I’m coming on to you.”
Marcus chuckled, and put his arm around her shoulders. They sat in reflective silence while the barista zipped around behind the machine.
A tingling started in her nose, and the tell-tale pressure welled behind her eyes. Shit, the moment was such a relief she was going to bloody well cry. Steph swallowed hard, forcing the emotions down. Having such a carefree conversation with Marcus, and now, sitting like a pair of lifetime besties made her pine for the loss of a close friend after the betrayal Ivan had shown.
Back when she knew no better, it had been great. So what if the guy had been a complete fake? Ivan had been that friend she could talk to no matter what. Only now did she realize how much she’d missed that.
Sure things with Cass were on the mend, but at a time when she needed one most, she didn’t have a singular real friend.
Steph leant her head against Marcus, and sighed. “Thanks for this.”
“What?” he asked, his breath warm on her head.
“Just listening.”
“As long as your super-intense man doesn’t try to take me out for it.”
“Don’t worry about him.” She smiled.
“Can I ask a personal question?”
Steph chuckled. “Dude, you’ve got me in a clinch. I think you’ve crossed that line in our friendship.”
He laughed. “Point well made. I saw you drove his car to work instead of taking the train. Is he living with you?”
Steph smiled. Wasn’t that a nice image to be given. “No. He’s out of the country for a week, so I’m looking after it.”
“That’s cool. Didn’t matter if you were. I was just curious.”
“Why? You jealous?” The possibilities were endless now she knew Marcus’s preference.
The barista called their order, and he let her go to collect the cups. “I’d be a lair if I said I didn’t find your man hot. He’s my type, to a T.”
“Taken, sorry.” She smiled.
Marcus handed her cup over. “Doesn’t mean you couldn’t share.” He burst out laughing at her reaction. “You should see your face.”
“Don’t scare me like that. I totally thought you were serious.”
“Babe, if I thought he would be up for it, I’d be deadly serious.”
Steph stood in shock as he walked from the shop in front of her. Well, hadn’t this been a hell of a smoko break? Not only had she found out her new friend preferred Pete over her, but he was impartial to a bit of team play.
What next?
Pistol sat with his back to the wall, arms draped over his bent knees, watching his mother try to itch her arm on the rope around her legs. She was tied back-to-back with Murray, who stared out the window in front of him, lost in another world.
Pretty much the exact same thing he’d be doing if he were strapped to that bitch.
Trevor lay on the floor, arms at ninety degrees to his body, legs straight, doing what he could to alleviate the ache in his back.
The four of them were quite the comical sight. Time to up the game.
Pistol ratted around in the pocket of his jacket for the goods he’d snared last night. The small folded parcel sat easily in his fingers, and he stood to walk across to where his mother fidgeted.
“How’s the cravin’s, Ma?”
“Just one hit, Pete. Just one for ya ma?”
He crinkled his nose, and stared down at her. She begged him with wide eyes. The damn woman look
ed fit to burst into tears.
“I don’t think ya need it yet.” He stooped, and dropped the parcel on the floor two foot in front of her.
She wrestled with the constraints, doing everything in her weak capabilities to get to the package of smack on the floor. Never mind the fact she was bound, and therefore physically unable to do a thing with it. Only went to show the depth of her addition.
“Come on, Pete,” she begged. “Don’t be a shite. Hand it over.”
Murray snapped from his daze with all the movement going on behind him. “Jesus, Carol. Quit ya wrigglin’.”
“It’s right there, Murray. I just need a bit. Just a little to ease the itch.”
“Pathetic. That’s all ya are, woman. You were pathetic when I met ya, and you’re ten times worse now.”
Pistol laughed. His plan was working out nicely. He resumed his position against the wall. Trevor rolled over to watch the spectacle unfolding across the room.
“Tell me, Da. Why did ya hook up with me ma there to start with? Weren’t you some well-to-do toff when ya met her?”
Murray dropped his head, and slowly shook it side-to-side. “Aye. I wasn’t a toff, but I should have known better than to think she’d be a short-term fix.”
“I don’t get it,” Pistol continued. “Alex did well with his life. I’ve never met my grandparents, but you didn’t ever talk about them, so I’m guessin’ you weren’t their favourite son. Why throw that kind of upbringing away for her?” He gestured toward where Carol still wriggled her feet, trying to snare the parcel.
Murray huffed, and threw his head back, collecting Carol in the process. “Hey!” she cried out.
“Would ya believe me if I told you I wasn’t always the asshole ya know?”
“Not particularly.”
Trevor propped his chin on his hands, clearly engrossed in the conversation.
“Well, believe it or not boy, I had a heart once. And like you, the biggest part of it belonged to me brother.”
“And yet you let her take Colin from us?”
“I didn’t fuckin’ let it happen,” he hollered. “How could I stop her when I wasn’t fuckin’ there?”
“By not leavin’ us in that position to start with,” Pistol countered.
“I didn’t have much choice.” He hung his head again, his voice softened.
“That so?”
“Aye. That’s so.” Murray pinned him with a stare. “I did what I could to ensure the lot of ya didn’t end up a pawn in someone’s game.”
Pistol simply stared back. He didn’t buy the assholes sob story for a second. Did Murray honestly think he was going to believe the guy had changed overnight after a couple of bad experiences? Apples as sour as him were bad from the get-go. They didn’t spoil in the blink of an eye.
“I made a bad choice when I wasn’t much younger than you. What happened after that is simply me tryin’ to right the wrongs, but makin’ everything worse the harder I tried.
“Ya mother here, had her hooks into Alex after he got her knocked up. The two of them would never ‘ave bumped uglies if it weren’t for me. I invited him to a party at my house, and he met her there. Needless to say, it was the first and last time he’d ever get involved in my circles.”
“You married ma, so he didn’t?”
Carol snorted, and shook her head. “Whatever.”
“Alex would have married ya mother the minute he knew she was knocked up. That’s the kind of gentleman he was. I knew he had a chance at makin’ it for himself, so I did all I could. I took her first.”
“All for ya brother?”
“Not just him.” Murray shook his head. “For our parents, too. They’d lost a son in me—they didn’t need to lose both.”
“Why marry her? Why not tell the bitch to take a hike?”
“You lot know I’m still sittin’ here, right?” Carol looked around the room at everyone. Trevor smiled at her.
“I married her,” Murray sighed. “Because at the time she was a fuckin’ good lay, and I was young enough that my dick did the talkin’ for me. I honestly thought I could get the bitch to drop her habit. But as ya can see, that didn’t work out too well now, did it?”
Trevor shuddered beside him. My thoughts entirely. Pistol toyed with his lip-ring and watched Murray sit lifeless, lost in his mind.
“It all sounds mighty valiant of ya, Murray. Thing is, I can’t see how it could be true given what I’ve seen of ya.”
“All true, boy. But I tell ya this—I’m not that man any more. This life … it does things to yer head. You should understand. It’s why ya left isn’t it?”
“He fuckin’ left to get at me,” Carol whined.
“Get over yerself, Ma. I couldn’t give two shits what you thought about my decision to go.”
“People change, Pete. Just make sure yours is for the better. Make this the last you’ll ever do of this work.”
Knock him down, but the old guy was becoming majorly sentimental in his final hours. The knowledge that death stood around the corner, waiting for his cue to clip the ticket did strange things to people.
“Agh, I’ve had enough of listenin’ to ya bleed on about how sorry you are. Too little, too late, old man.” He got to his feet, and nodded to the door. “Should we go grab a pint, Trevor?”
“You’ll have to help me get off the floor first.”
He chuckled. “Jesus, you’re ready for yer retirement, ain’t ya?”
“Shut your trap, and help me up.”
He held out his hand, and sunk his boots into the floor to keep from being pulled flat on his face as Trevor put his weight into the hold. The big guy must have stuffed something up good and proper.
“Before we go—” Pistol held up a hand.
He looked around the room, and settled on a cushion that sat propped against the couch. He made a quick job of shedding it of the blue cover, and tearing the fabric along the seams so he had two rags. His mother was still fixated on the parcel at her feet, and didn’t flinch until he jammed his thumb in the side of her mouth to stop her clamping shut before he could get the rag in.
Trevor passed over a roll of tape, and he wound a couple of lines around her head to keep the cushion cover in place. The woman snarled, and cursed behind the gag as he moved across to repeat the task with Murray.
The old guy again didn’t bother to put up a fight, instead opening his mouth, and graciously leaning his head forward for Pistol to tape.
“I have to say, old man, I honestly thought I’d get more of a fight out of ya.”
Truth be told, it made him nervous as hell. Did the guy know something he didn’t? The birds flapping in his gut signalled the worst, but he refused to believe it could be true.
Two more days.
Two more days, and he could board a plane to his home. To the woman who loved him, and the future that was bright, and free of this shit.
Trevor’s laugh filled the car as Pete negotiated the streets to their new motel. Since the incident with Murray they’d changed every night, and given Trevor now had a girl with him, they’d be changing again before dawn if he could manage it.
Call him paranoid, but he didn’t trust anyone—even a drunk young thing like the blonde that sat on Trevor’s lap.
An ominous quiet fell over the lot of them as they sat idling at an intersection. He hazarded a glance sideways. The girls face was locked to Trevor’s. He groaned, shifted his focus back to the road, and drove on toward the street their stay was located on.
The building came into sight, and he scoured the landscape for where he was supposed to park the car. He pulled into the last space he could find, and got out to the sound of lips sucking, and smacking.
Eh, whatever takes his mind off his back.
The reception office sat shrouded in the dark as he approached. The hairs on his neck prickled, and he tuned his senses to everything but the building he walked toward. Something felt … off.
The sign on the door said the office di
dn’t close for another hour, and the handle shifted under his hand. A bell sat illuminated on the counter, and his paranoia eased a little at the obvious late-night set-up. He pressed the bell, and stood back to wait for service.
A door opened behind the desk, and the reason for his unease walked out.
Fuck me dead.
There before him, looking like an extra from Geordie Shore, stood his ex. His first true love. The first woman who ripped his heart out, and spat on it before she kicked it into the gutter.
“Fuck me dead,” she exclaimed, slapping her hands on her hips.
“My sentiments exactly.”
“Pete O’Malley. Who would have thought?”
He couldn’t decide what disturbed him more. The fact she looked pleased to see him, or that she was a familiar face, and would most definitely remember if anyone happened to be asking around.
“So what brings ya home?” she asked as she leant over to flick a desk lamp on. Her voluptuous cleavage barely hung into her excuse for a T-shirt by the grace of God.
“Business, and pleasure.”
She looked out the window of the office, and arched a manicured eyebrow. “I see.”
He turned to follow her line of sight, and groaned at the image of Trevor leaning the blonde up against the side of the car. By the way he was pawing at her it was a small miracle the girl was still clothed. “Fuck’s sake.”
“One room, or two?” the grin on her face said it all.
“One room, two beds.”
“Good luck gettin’ any sleep.”
“Aye. It may be a while.”
She pushed papers around, and looked as though she had trouble locating what she needed. “How have ya been, then? I think about you often, ya know.”
Oh, goodie. “That so.”
“Aye. I’d say we’ve both grown up a lot since what happened.”
“Since ya fucked me best friend in front of me, and half the party we were at?”
“I’d been drinkin’, Pete. You couldn’t blame me,” she scowled.