by Amy Sumida
How did he get here so fast?
His words finally sink in, and I attempt to snatch my glass back. “Who made you the boss man?” I snap when he doesn’t release my glass.
“I did,” is his only response.
“Arlia’s at the house with Shayne. Let’s get you sobered up on the walk home so she doesn’t see what a mess you are.” Morgan fails to pull me off the stool.
Hearing her name makes the guilt come back full force. “I’m staying here. I can’t go home with her there! I’m s-s-s-sorry Morgan, I was going to kiss her, and I know I shouldn’t because you and Shayne like her, but her lips are so kissable, and biteable, and imagining them around my coc—”
A hand shoves over my mouth and Morgan brings himself down to my level to stare directly into my eyes. “Fuckin’ shit! I told you we needed to talk this shit over! And I’m not doing it while you’re drunk.” He drags me off the stool, barely managing to keep me upright as both of us lean to the side.
Holy hell, my legs feel like jelly.
Morgan grabs the back of my jeans and hoists me up to stop my legs from crumbling. My jeans and boxers creep up my ass from Morgan’s tugging, and I know the tosser did it on purpose. I wiggle, hoping to stop them from cutting me in two. How the shit do girls wear thongs? It can’t be fucking comfortable, but fuck, does it make their asses look awesome!
“Do you reckon Arlia is a thong girl?” I ask, brain to mouth filter truly broken from the alcohol. “She has a nice ass for it.”
“Benji, now’s not the time to be talking about Arlia’s ass, especially not in front of her boss.” My jeans get tugged and we turn until we face Jason again. Morgan explains, “I’ll pay the tab next time we’re in, I need to get this fucker home. And you should’ve called me sooner, Jase.”
Morgan doesn’t give Jason a chance to respond before he drags me out the entrance of the club. The sky is dark and the chill of the night instantly hits my face and bare arms, and the carpark begins to sway in front of us. “I don’t think I should’ve drunk so much, Morgan.”
“Well, let’s hope you sober up enough that you don’t make a fool out of yourself. Especially with Arlia being at the house. Fuck Ben, what the fuck went on for you to come here and get so fuckin’ wasted? I told you to phone one of us. We could’ve at least sat in the bar with you.”
“I just… He pissed me off. Once a year, Morg, that’s all I’ve ever asked for, and he couldn’t even do that without wanting to be with a whore instead. What the fuck did my mother ever see in him?”
Morgan huffs and adjusts his grip until I lean more heavily against him. “Come on, it might be better to sleep this shit off and we’ll talk about it tomorrow, as well as fuckin’ everything else. Now’s really not the time to get into this.”
“Can you take me to Shayne’s parents? I really don’t want to go back to the house with Arlia there. I just, fuck, I don’t trust myself around her, Morg, and I know you and Shayne like her, too. I love you both so much, dude. I can’t let a girl get between us. You’re my brother.” Fuck! “Why did this happen now?”
He blatantly ignores the shit about Arlia and chuckles before responding. “No can do. Shayne’s parents are away for a couple of nights, having a break away from his brother. You’re just gonna have to suck it up and act like a decent human being in front of Arlia. If not, I can take you into the ring and bash some sense into you.”
Groaning, I resign myself to the fact I’ll get caught being completely smashed. I hope Arlia’s not in the kitchen. With a little luck, she’ll be at the back of the house, in the living room instead. I don’t want her to witness me drunk off my ass before I can make it up the stairs. The last thing I need is for her to see me in such a mess, rambling about asses, and thongs, and her ass in thongs…
Fuck, I think I’m gonna puke!
Chapter Seven
Bass Drums & Shit Storms
I wake, feeling like my head’s been smashed between two house bricks. My eyes are crusted over and my mouth is furry. I rub my eyes, hoping to get the sleep out so I can open them. I’m busting for a piss and desperate for a drink of water to get rid of my furry tongue.
Rolling over, I rub my face on the pillow, stopping when I hear loud banging on the landing outside my door. Burying my head under the pillow, sharp pains shoot all over my body.
What the hell did I do last night?
The bedroom door crashes open, and someone plops heavily onto the bed. I press my face farther into the mattress, hoping for one of two outcomes; they’ll either go away, or I can suffocate myself with the mattress and put myself out of my misery.
Morgan grouses, “Wake up, dickhead. You have laundry to do. You puked up all over yourself and me. Disgusting by the way.”
Yuck! That explains the furry mouth.
I roll over and press both hands to my head, to stop the bass drums pounding on my skull. “What time is it?”
Immediately, the loudness of my own voice makes me regret speaking.
“A little after 10,” Morgan announces. “I called your boss and explained to him you’re ill from eating a dodgy burger from the diner yesterday. I didn’t think he’d appreciate you turning up stinking of whiskey and sick, still half pissed at seven this morning. You’re welcome.”
Heavy steps sound against the floor. It can’t be Morgan, I can still feel the fat shit sitting on the bed, nearly squashing my feet. Someone else entered my room.
Shayne’s loud voice echoes against the walls, causing my head to feel like it will split open. “I need to get going. I’ve got to take Rick over to get Arlia’s car so she can have it to visit her dad.”
I groan loudly as I remember she came over last night, but I don’t remember if I embarrassed myself in front of her or not. “Please tell me she didn’t get to witness the mess I was in last night.”
“She didn’t. I sent Shayne a message to keep her out of sight while I helped you into the house. Although, I almost needed to gag you because you wouldn’t shut up about asses and thongs and how she’d be sexy in one. That was all in between puking on my fuckin’ shoes.” Morgan punches me in the ass.
“Once you’ve sobered up and I’ve got back, we’re gonna talk about Arlia and the shit that went down yesterday with your dad. I’m pissed you didn’t phone either of us!” Shayne stomps back out the bedroom and slams the door roughly behind him.
“I really fucked up, didn’t I?” With a pitiful whimper, I pull the pillow over my head and hope oblivion will take me far away from the shit storm sure to come.
~
When I finally drag my ass out of bed, it takes more energy than I want to admit. I’m silently thankful Morgan rang in sick for me. There’s no way I’m even capable of standing upright, never mind laying a patio. My eyes barely open as I make my way into the bathroom to take a leak, then wash my hands before going in search for meds to kill this headache.
I stumble into the kitchen and plonk my ass down at the table. Morgan bangs a glass of water in front of me before throwing a box of pills at me. They hit me in the chest.
“Thanks, asshole.” My fingers barely work enough to push the pills through the foil.
The doorbell rings, and I glance up at Morgan with a frown. “Who’s that?”
I scratch at my bare chest and examine the kitchen countertops in the hope coffee might magically appear.
“Shayne’s father,” Morgan answers before he disappears down the hallway to open the front door.
My head hits the table and I groan. I could really do without a lecture from Kenneth. Shayne and Morgan are the reason he’s here, they grassed me up. Fuckin’ tattle tails.
“Morning, Son.” I wince as Kenneth voice booms around the kitchen. He then commands, “Go and change into some clothes, we’re going out.”
I bite my tongue to stop myself from whining like a baby. I really don’t want to leave the house. Instead, I want to go back to bed and sleep the rest of the day off in a desperate attempt to block out wha
t happened yesterday and last night.
Kenneth slaps a heavy hand down onto my bare shoulder, the noise loud in the kitchen and my brain. “Come on, chop-chop. Places to go, people to see.”
I shrug him off and stand to do what he says. It’s better sometimes to bite the bullet and get it over with. If I ignore him, he’ll only follow me around the house, annoying the shit outta me until I finally give in. My only hope is that whatever he has planned will be over quickly.
I make it as far as the bottom step when Kenneth calls out, “And brush your teeth. You smell like you’ve been licking a bear’s ass!”
~
Half an hour later, I stretch out in the back of Kenneth’s car, my head pressed against the cold glass and my eyes closed. Morgan sits in the front next to Shayne’s dad. My stomach rumbles, telling me it’s hungry, but the idea of food makes me want to puke. I catch Kenneth’s chuckle from the front and silently call him an asshole. I have too much respect for him to say it out loud. Besides, he might be an old man, but with the way I feel, I’ve no doubt he’d be able to kick my ass, and he’d likely enjoy it.
The car comes to a stop, and I open my eyes. Squinting through the brightness, I realise we’ve pulled up to an unfamiliar house. Before I get a chance to voice any questions, both Kenneth and Morgan exit the car. My friend opens the back door and none too gently grabs my arm to yank me out.
“Pull my arm out of the fuckin’ socket, why don’t you!” I snap sarcastically while rubbing my shoulder.
“Will you two ever grow up?” Kenneth sighs and rounds the front of the car, heading for the front door. He uses the brass knocker to announce our arrival and turns back towards me with his arms folded against his chest. “Promise me, Benji. Keep your shit together, while having an open mind. You speak out of turn just once, and I’ll take great pleasure in having Shayne sit on you while Morgan and I take turns beating your ass.”
Again, I don’t have a chance to ask questions because the front door opens behind Kenneth. He immediately turns around to greet whoever stands inside the house. I don’t catch what they say because they talk in hushed tones, which only serves to annoy me more.
Straightening my ratty t-shirt, I head for the front door to get a glimpse at who it is. I’m shocked when I step up to Kenneth’s side. An older lady stands cheerfully at the door. I frown, trying to work out why Kenneth would bring me here.
What the fuck is going on?
“Oh my, aren’t you a big boy now. Christ, the last time I laid eyes on you, you stood only knee high.” The old lady looks me over in wonder, then to Kenneth. “Has to be, what, twelve years since I last laid eyes on this one?”
I faintly recognise her voice, but I don’t remember her face.
Kenneth taps his chin in thought before he responds. “It can’t be too far off that, Angela.”
What’s going on here? I cross my arms and stare at Morgan, but he ignores me. Instead, he steps forward, bends down to the old lady’s height, and offers a kiss to her wrinkled cheek. “Hello, Mrs. T, any chance those amazing cookies of yours are done baking yet?”
She slaps his arm and laughs. “I swear, you’ve got bloodhound DNA in you somewhere with that nose of yours. I made them up especially.” She steps out of the doorway, allowing us to enter, and we follow her to the dining room.
We sit at a huge table. Counting the chairs. Why would an old lady own a table that easily sits twenty? Mrs. T steps over to the dresser and opens one of the bottom cupboards. She removes a tatty looking shoebox, shuts the cupboard, and places the box on the table in front of Kenneth. His eyes drop to the box, and he gulps before his attention turns back to Morgan.
Instead of telling us what’s going on, he asks, “So what are your plans for the week?”
“Just training.” Morgan shrugs and leans his elbows on the table, happy to chitchat for a bit.
I ignore them, and my frown deepens as I focus on the box. I don’t know why we’re here or what’s going on, but whatever it is, it’s inside that box.
The touch of a gentle hand against my forearm causes me to jump out my skin. I look up in shock to find Mrs. T standing next to me, a guilty smile on her face. When did she get there?
She smiles fondly at me. “Didn’t mean to make you jump, dear. Would you like some coffee?”
“Oh, um… If you’re making some, please,” I respond, but my eyes immediately turn back to the box. Plucking up the courage, I finally ask, “What’s in the box?”
The conversation breaks off, and Kenneth pales slightly, staring down at the box for a few short moments. His shoulders visibly relax as he comes to some silent decision and slides the box over to me.
Morbid fascination wins out over cautiousness. I lift the lid and place it next to the box. At first, I’m confused when I find it full of letters. When I lift up some of the top ones, I find what I can only guess are pictures. Even more curious as to what this box means, I gently slide a picture out from under the letters. As my eyes rake over the image of three people, I instantly recognise a younger Kenneth and Tina, Shayne’s mum. But another guy stands next to Tina, which causes my frown to deepen. Both young men are pressing a kiss to each of Tina’s cheeks while she grins at the camera.
I know I’m staring at something important, but my hangover won’t allow me to put all the pieces together. “Who’s the guy next to Tina?”
Kenneth doesn’t bother to answer my question and instead says, “There’s more pictures in there.”
My patience wearing thin, I lift a chunk of letters and grab the wad of pictures underneath. Spreading them across the table, my eyes don’t register what they’re seeing, so I make a grab for a random picture and bring it closer to my face. “Tina was… What exactly? I don’t understand what this all means.”
Morgan reaches across the table, and his eyebrows almost hit his hairline with the surprise that crosses his face. His eyes quickly move from Kenneth back to the picture before he places it on the table, but he doesn’t offer me any explanation, either.
“Tina was seeing me and another guy, together, at the same time.” Kenneth explains.
I let go of the picture as if it burnt me. Luckily, Mrs. T manages to slap a hand on the table, stopping the picture from sliding off and onto the floor. If I wasn’t so shocked, I might have suspicions about this woman. She’d been ready for me to react exactly like that. I scowl up at her, confused, then to the picture under her hand.
“Did you just say Tina was dating two men?” I ask stupidly, double checking I absolutely understood him right, and my hung-over brain didn’t somehow decide to play a wicked trick on me.
“That’s right, dear. Two.” Mrs. T’s smile slips, and she grabs my arm when I begin to sway slightly on the chair. “Are you alright, dear? You’ve gone ever so pale.”
“I, no… Actually, yes… I think the effects of last night’s events are still with me. Too many drinks,” I lamely explain, hoping she’ll buy it and not question me further.
Patting my arm in reassurance, she excuses herself. “I’ll grab you something sugary. You’ve likely overdone it. I’ll be right back.”
While she’s not within hearing distance, I hiss at Kenneth and Morgan, “What the fuck is going on? Why are you showing me all this? I don’t understand.”
Morgan looks at everything else in the room but me.
I turn my glare to Kenneth who shifts in his seat and rubs a hand over his bald head. Finally sighing, he leans forward. “You need an open mind, Benji. Just listen to what’s being said before you judge, please.”
Huffing, I drop my arms on the table. “I don’t even know what I need an open mind for. You’re making no sense.”
I catch motion out of the corner of my eye and watch Morgan’s expression turn guilty. What’s he guilt-ridden for? My confusion builds as the minutes go by, and no one’s giving me the answers I need, or want. Frustrated, and sensing a whole new headache building, I finally snap, “Will someone just tell me what the fuck’
s going on, please?”
“I see that foul mouth of yours hasn’t changed one bit,” Mrs. T speaks up from the doorway.
She carries in a silver tray with coffee, cookies, and a jug of orange juice all balancing precariously on top. It instantly takes me back to the first night I witnessed Arlia carrying a tray full of drinks over her head. Shaking my head to break the memory, I warily regard Mrs. T as she walks farther into the room and places the full tray on the table.
Carefully setting the tray on the table in front of me, she cuts Morgan and Kenneth a filthy scowl before turning to look at me. Her face becomes serious. “Kenneth has some things to explain. But being a typical man, he thought dumping this box on you would be the right thing to do. While I could give him a knock on the head for doing it this way, I’m happy that he’s finally telling you boys the truth and no longer hiding it.”
She grabs two cups and places them in front of her, pours the coffee into both, and pushes one towards me before nodding at the tray for Morgan and Kenneth to help themselves. She gives Kenneth a pointed stare as he takes a quick sip of his coffee.
With a resigned sigh, he places it on the table and looks me over. “Shayne and Morgan mentioned you’ve all met a girl named Arlia.”
I shoot Morgan a disgusted scowl for talking about this behind my back.
Turning my attention back to Kenneth, I merely nod for him to continue. “With the three of you being so close, I know things must be hard for you to come to terms with. You like the girl, but you know your friends do, too. Most importantly, you don’t want to lose your friends because of this. I need you to have an open mind, though, Benji. I don’t want you throwing a fit. It’s hard enough to talk about this shi—stuff, and Angela has kindly opened her home to us. So, no more swearing, either.”
Taking a drink of my coffee, I ignore the way it burns my tongue and throat, and contemplate his words. I still don’t understand what he’s going on about, but he caught my interest by mentioning Arlia, especially my feelings toward her. With a sigh, I place my cup down and nod. “Okay, I’ll listen.”
