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Blue Jay

Page 11

by A Zukowski


  not a small woman, as Chris’s height testifies, but

  against Alex, she seems to have shrunk since her

  last rare visit.

  “See? One room. And I ain’t sleeping with my

  mother.” Chris points to the direction of their room.

  “So, knock it off now.”

  Annette starts to cry; her tears ruin her make-up

  further. Her long red nails dig into Alex’s side.

  “Ah, I…she can have my bed, Chris,” Alex offers.

  Chris has already sussed that Alex is a big softie.

  They knew from the first time they had a proper

  conversation that underneath the scary appearance,

  Alex Whale is a compassionate man. But they can’t

  let Alex do that for a woman—an intoxicated

  mistress of misery—he hardly knows.

  “Don’t be daft. She’s so going home.” Chris urges

  her mother. “Come on, Annette. Where’s your other

  shoe?”

  “It’s no problem, honestly. I’ll stay here on the

  sofa.” Alex gazes at Chris.

  You’ve got to be kidding. The couch is not long or

  wide enough for him.

  “Oh, Alex darling. That’s so kinda you,” Annette

  slurs and flashes a big smile while letting the

  eyeliner run down with the tears. If she was not

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  their mother, Chris might think this was a poorly

  scripted TV sitcom that had gone on for far too long.

  “Fucking hell.” Frustrated, Chris throws their

  arms up. “Annette. Alex doesn’t know you. You can’t

  have his room. Now, come with me. I’ll get a taxi for

  you.”

  Chris rips out their phone to call a cab.

  Alex puts his hand on Chris’s. “Hey. It’s okay.

  She’s pissed. We should let her rest.”

  Chris is surprised at how soothing Alex’s big hand

  and words are. “But…”

  Alex is already pushing Annette along gently to

  his room, her one stiletto dangling from his

  forefinger. They’ll have to locate the other one later.

  Annette slurs. “Darling. You’re not like my Chris,

  are you? I can’t believe how nice you are! You were

  fierce when you boxed.”

  Chris follows them. “Oh, shut up, Mother.”

  They have always called her Annette because,

  growing up, she didn’t want people to know she had

  a kid. So the name had stuck. When Chris gets mad

  at her, though, they call her ‘Mother’ just to piss her

  off.

  Together, Alex and Chris manoeuvre Annette into

  Alex’s room. Chris wants to take the make-up off to

  save her complexion, but the woman’s too far gone.

  She stumbles and falls over the short distance, even

  with Chris’s support. Alex’s pillow’s going to look

  like a Picasso painting tomorrow. Chris silently

  laughs about that.

  Annette falls onto the bed. Chris picks up their

  mum’s heavy legs and deposits them on the

  mattress, then they pull up the duvet. Annette

  110

  mumbles something about Chris being a good kid.

  Chris rolls their eyes. As if they had a fucking

  choice.

  Annette thrashes about to get comfortable, while

  Alex and Chris stare down at her like two white-coat

  scientists examining an experiment gone wrong.

  Annette slurs. “You’re so sweet…wouldn’t know

  you killed your wife looking at you…”

  Chris’s eyes snap wide open as they stare at Alex.

  Alex turns his head to avoid their gaze, and

  wrings his hands.

  Annette tries to get up. For what? Fuck if I know.

  “Come on, now. Get under the cover and shut up

  already.”

  Chris has always spoken to Annette like that

  because they have that kind of relationship with

  their mum in their fucked-up family. All their life,

  they’ve been Annette’s nurturer, partner-in-crime,

  cash cow, but never their child.

  Maybe it all started that one time. When she

  stood in front of Annette to protect her. Whack. She

  had to stay at home so the school wouldn’t question

  her mum over the bruise. They would have sent

  Chris away, Annette had told her. Yes, it was a bout

  of very bad flu. Chris lied, just as Annette had told

  her, and she’s been lying about a lot of things ever

  since until she never knows what’s real and what’s

  not, and her heart has gone cold.

  Chris sighs in relief after Annette finally lapses

  into oblivion. She and Alex head back to the sitting

  room.

  Alex scratches his head. “Well, I’ll rest here. I

  don’t sleep much anyway.”

  111

  Alex approaches the couch, but Chris places her

  hand on Alex’s arm. “Hey, come here.”

  She holds Alex’s right hand and leads him to her

  room.

  Once inside Chris’s room, she puts her hand on

  Alex’s chest and touches the fabric of his T-shirt

  against the solidity it sheaths.

  “Thanks. She’s…she’s always this over-the-top.”

  “Don’t apologise. Should I have turned her

  away?” Alex asks, scratching his five o’clock shadow

  at the same time.

  “Well, that’s almost impossible. You’ve seen how

  she is.” Chris smiles apologetically, angling her head

  and squinting in the low light.

  Alex sighs. “About what she said—”

  “You don’t have to tell me anything,” Chris

  insists. “Or, you can tell me in your own time. I’m

  good with secrets. Anyway, I won’t judge. Okay?”

  Alex rubs his temple. “Okay.”

  She looks up and sees a moment of naked

  vulnerability in Alex’s dark eyes. “Come with me,

  Alex.”

  Chris climbs up the bed and sits cross-legged,

  then pats the empty space on the mattress.

  Her eyes meet Alex’s. It’s that simple. It.

  Something they don’t quite know, and yet it is

  drawing them together more and more.

  Alex joins Chris, sits on the edge of the bed and

  twists around to face her. He takes a deep breath,

  and speaks with a husky voice. “I crashed our car

  one night, killing Sam, my wife. I was drunk and

  high on crack.”

  Alex squeezes his eyes shut.

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  More quietly, he confesses, “And I killed the

  driver of the other car.”

  “Fuck,” Chris mutters.

  “I went to jail for causing death by dangerous

  driving. Two counts. Five years. I served four years

  and three months, and I just got my parole, as you

  might have guessed.”

  Chris has already gathered that Alex is an ex-con,

  like so many other people who have passed through

  the flat.

  Alex sighs. “Now you know. I’ll go for a walk and

  you go to sleep.” He turns to leave, but Chris holds

  him back once more.

  “Alex.”

  He still won’t face Chris. “Don’t. It’s okay. You’d

  have found out sooner or later. The whole world

  knew except you. Now you do. Why do you think I

 
can’t face the public?”

  Chris pulls Alex back and reaches over to lay her

  hand on his warm back, resting her face against his

  shoulder as she whispers, her voice gentle and

  calming, “It’s okay. You made a bad mistake. You’ve

  served time. You torture yourself, don’t you,

  Alexander?”

  Chris can see it all in Alex’s face, can feel what’s

  unspoken and the pain in Alex’s disturbed sleep.

  “I should go.” Alex moves away a few inches, but

  Chris pulls him back again.

  “Alex, sweetheart, stay with me. Let me hold you

  tonight. Please. Come and lie down with me.” Chris

  takes off her top.

  Alex steals glances at her. “Are you sure?”

  “Lie the fuck down with me. I’m not going to

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  bite.” Chris strips down to her underwear and gets

  under the cover. Alex gawps at the tiny piece of

  garment on Chris. He peels off his shirt and jeans,

  revealing a pair of boxers, and gets in. They face

  each other.

  “So, now you’ve met my mother and see what a

  hot

  mess

  she

  is…my

  middle

  name

  is

  embarrassment.” Chris grimaces.

  “Come on. You haven’t met my family.” Alex

  shudders.

  “It’s hard to be worse than Annette.”

  “She mentioned a job earlier?”

  Chris tuts. “What job? She was a porn actress.

  Who wants to see her looking like this now? She’s a

  fucking joke.” The bitterness cuts through her

  words.

  “So, she encouraged you to be a child actor?”

  “Encouraged is not the right word. How about

  pushed? Forced? Cajoled?” Chris stalls for a

  moment. “You’re giving me that ‘screwed-up freak’

  look.”

  “Sorry.”

  Chris shrugs. “It’s fine. When you have a mum

  like her, the only way is up!” Setting the bar low has

  been Chris’s modus operandi. “Mum was a pretty

  woman when she was young, y’know. The industry

  fucked her up. Aren’t we stereotypes?” She exhales

  and squeezes her eyelids to soothe the onset of a

  headache.

  Turning to her side, she pulls Alex’s arm across

  her chest. “I’m cold. Hold me.”

  Alex wraps himself around Chris and plants

  feather-like kisses on her hairline, earlobe and neck.

  114

  “Is this okay?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” Chris has forgotten all about her troubles

  and focuses on the sensation of Alex’s soft lips on

  her skin.

  They lie spooning each other.

  “You’re the one who looks after her now, right?”

  “A little. She always has a husband or boyfriend,

  but they have all been spineless cunts.”

  “My parents are alcoholics. My brother too. I can

  feel your pain.” Alex treks down Chris’s soft,

  hairless arm, his finger pads rough. Chris shivers

  inside with the gentle touch and Alex’s light breaths

  on her neck, dragging her fingers along Alex’s arm

  in return, trying to make out the colours of the

  tattoos in the dusk and caressing the skin and

  muscles underneath, wondering what Alex’s

  strength is capable of.

  “Were you fierce when you boxed?”

  “I had to be. I was pretty aggressive when I was in

  the ring. I couldn’t show my emotions.”

  “You’re the gentlest person I’ve met.” Chris

  chuckles. “Granted, I have come across a lot of

  scumbags.”

  “Are you tired? It’s half past three. I can leave you

  to it.”

  “Don’t go. Let’s get some sleep.” Chris can feel

  Alex’s erection, and she would have offered herself

  to Alex out of habit. It’s expected of her, so like a

  robot she usually has sex as a means of connecting

  with people who ultimately all reject her. But she

  doesn’t want to fuck Alex right now, as though to do

  so will break a special bond between them. A

  connection, a friendship.

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  “Okay.” She drifts off to a restful sleep as she feels

  Alex’s breaths on her cheek.

  ~~~

  Chris kisses and gently massages Jeff’s back after

  a hand job. He treats the older man like a pliant

  dough and cleans him up with care.

  “How has your week been, dear? Anything more

  about the man you’ve been dating?” Jeff asks about

  Chris’s love life every week but never keeps up.

  Chris chuckles. “Well, the guy I’ve hooked up with

  a couple of times has gone a bit creepy. So I don’t

  think I’ll see him again.”

  Chris rubs in divine-smelling geranium massage

  oil. He has bought a whole set of these super-

  expensive aromatherapy oils for Jeff because he

  knows the older man loves these moments.

  “How’s he a creep? I worry about you with the

  weirdos out there”

  Chris has had a fair share of bad dates and has

  known Jeff long enough to have told him some of

  the stuff he doesn’t talk about.

  Chris shrugs. “He texted me way too often, as if

  he’s my boyfriend or something.”

  “Uh-huh. It was a long time ago when someone

  stalked me! Are these stories real or do you make

  them up to amuse me?”

  Chris only laughs.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine.” Chris sobers for a second. “Mum

  turned up at my flat and embarrassed me,” he adds.

  He has already told Jeff an abridged and sanitised

  version of Annette and his childhood, which is more

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  than he’s revealed to anyone else.

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “The strange thing is…” Chris stalls for a few

  seconds. “I slept with my new flatmate. You know,

  the one who’s moved into Liam’s room?”

  “Huh?” Jeff half turns his face but his voice is

  muffled. “The big guy? What’s so strange about

  that?”

  Finishing off the massage, Chris wraps a big fluffy

  towel around Jeff, helps him up and gives him a full

  glass of water to drink. That’s the extent of ‘erotic

  massage’ Chris can manage.

  “I mean we slept, not fucked. We talked and

  cuddled. He kissed me everywhere but my lips. Alex

  is all muscles, but that night he was so gentle, so

  tender.”

  Jeff’s eyes widen, before he breaks into laughter.

  “That is unusual, dearie. I didn’t think you’d ever

  refrain from fucking the person you slept with.”

  Chris giggles. “You’re implying I’m some kind of

  nymphomaniac, aren’t you? I know I have a bad rep

  for a high turnover of sexual partners, on and off

  the clock. Just as well I don’t give a fuck.”

  “You are who you are, Chris. Anyway, tell me

  about this guy. He must be pretty special.”

  “Oh, yes, Alex. This huge beast of a man. I drool

  eve
ry time I see him. He was a famous boxer, but

  something happened and he went to prison. He’s

  just been released.” Chris shivers with the arousal,

  remembering the strong arms and the tattoos and

  how safe he’d felt in Alex’s embrace all night.

  Jeff drinks some water and frowns. “Alex? Do you

  know his second name?”

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  “Whale. His nickname was Blue.”

  “Oh my God! It was a huge story. I feel sorry for

  him, killing his wife like that—”

  “Stop!” Chris puts his hand up to interrupt the

  older man.

  Jeff gazes at him with a scowl. “You didn’t know?”

  “I know the bare facts, but I told Alex I wouldn’t

  try to find out about him, like from the internet or

  something. I want to hear it from him.”

  “Ah.” Jeff shifts a little in the seat. “I only

  remember the media stories anyway. What do you

  know?”

  Chris tells him.

  Jeff sighs. “Yeah, if my memory serves me right,

  the other driver’s wife and two kids were injured.

  The only person who came away with only a few

  scratches was—”

  “Alex.”

  Jeff nods. Everything about Alex makes sense to

  Chris now. Chris spaces out.

  “You all right, dear?” Jeff lightly pats his hand.

  “I…yeah, I’m fine.”

  Jeff gazes intently at him. “You shared a bed with

  him, you say. I assumed he was straight. I mean, he

  had a wife. He was a boxing champion, after all. If

  he wasn’t, everyone would know about it. What’s he

  like?”

  Chris shakes his head, trying to shake out the

  confusing thoughts. “He is… I felt comfortable with

  him. He’s so sweet. Annette said he was a tough

  boxer, but I couldn’t see him like that. I don’t know.

  Maybe he’s bi. I have no clue what we are exactly,

  and I haven’t talked to him about it.”

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  Jeff winds his arm around Chris. “Well,

  something is going on in that pretty head of yours.

  That’s for sure. Are you falling for this guy, hmm?

  Just a little bit?”

  Chris stares at Jeff wide-eyed. “I hardly know

  him. He only moved in a few weeks ago.”

  “Sometimes it takes no time for us to find

  ourselves falling for someone. It’s called love at first

  sight, dear.” Jeff squeezes Chris. “Someone who’s

  lived through something like that is likely to be very

  complicated, no? You need to take care of yourself.”

  The older man considers Chris again.

  A little spark of rare and precious emotion grows

 

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