by Amy Sumida
Confused, I explain, “I said I’d pay the extra if there was any.”
“I know, but if she’s going to be dating all of us, then we need to split it. I’ve put ten in, and Shayne’s already given me his. That way, it’s fair.” He grabs his wallet out and places the single note inside.
Huffing, I close my eyes to block out the fact he said, ‘All dating her’. I need to get my shit together. I can’t show her how jealous this makes me. I need to get used to the idea of all of us dating her. Just… Fuck. I didn’t ever plan on sharing a girlfriend with my friends. It seems… I don’t know. Like we’re using her. Like one of us will fuck her and immediately pass her off to the next. I don’t know how I’ll to react or feel if and when we all get that far. We agreed we’d keep the details to ourselves, but fuck. I know when my best friends have gotten laid. They get up the next morning, beating on their chests like fuckin’ gorillas. And if they don’t do it here, I’ll be up wondering if they’re at her house instead.
Standing, I ignore the blatant concern on Morgan’s face, and head for the stairs. I almost crash into Shayne in the hallway, ignore the drink in his hand that he made for me, and go up the stairs to get ready for the club. Hopefully, the shower will wash these fuckin’ thoughts out of my head. There’s nothing I can do anyway, other than cross any bridges when the time comes and pray I don’t manage to burn them down before I get to the other side. Deep down, I know if I don’t pull my head out my ass and deal with this, it’s only going to fuck things up for everyone else, and honestly, I know what Shayne and Morgan are like. They’ll sink with me.
Thirty minutes later, all cleaned up and dressed for the night, we head in the familiar direction for Jason’s club. I pray those guys from last week won’t return tonight. The last thing we need is a repeat performance. I’ve not seen Arlia since she invited us over to her place for a thank you meal, so I’ve no clue if her face healed and is back to normal. Anger goes through me when I remember those bruises. All three of us are going to watch her like hawks until she finishes her shift.
I just pray she doesn’t mind.
We spot the queue outside, but we’re earlier than normal so the line to get in isn’t halfway down the street like it would normally be if we’d come an hour later. As soon as we step into the line, the bouncer whistles to grab our attention. All three of us glance up and he gives a nod, calling us over while he opens the black rope. It’s not until we come level with him that I realise it’s the same dude who came up to us last week during the fight and placed a hand on my shoulder. Morgan and Shayne walk through the door, but I hold back slightly.
Taking two twenties out my wallet, I check to make sure Shayne and Morgan haven’t turned back before I lean into the bouncer and push the money against his chest. His beefy hand comes up and swipes the cash as I quietly command, “Those guys from last week turn up, I expect you to not let them in. Got it?”
“Sure thing, Boss,” he answers with a knowing smirk.
I pat his shoulder as I walk past and call, “Good man,” before I disappear farther into the club to find my best friends and my girl. Fuck, it feels good calling her that, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
I catch up with the guys just as they make it to three empty seats at the bar. Score! Morgan orders three bottles of beer, and I pray they’re not warm like last week. I’m not a huge lover of the stuff already, but to drink it warm, too… Yuck!
After the beers land in front of us, Shayne grabs one and swivels on the stool to inspect the dance floor. I quickly realise he’s not observing the barely dressed girls but searching for Arlia. When the smile breaks over his face, I know he’s found her.
“Two o’clock.” He nods before taking a swig of his beer.
When I take a swig of my own, my face scrunches up at how warm it is. Fuck! Don’t they have fuckin’ fridges or something to store this shit in properly? I take my seat, mirroring Shayne, and watch as Arlia makes her way around the club. Again, she wears the white shirt and short as fuck skirt, and carries the damn tray of drinks above her head.
When she approaches a table with a group of guys sat around it, I tense up, praying we don’t need to do a repeat performance. I really don’t know how we’d react if she ended up hurt again. Especially now we know her a little more. There’s feelings involved this time. It spells bad for the people who might hurt her.
My shoulders relax when the guys she serves are respectful. No one is being handsy with her, no one drags her into their laps. They offer a head nod in thanks before she saunters away.
From the way Shayne’s shoulders droop, my guess is he was waiting for someone to make a play for her, too.
My breath catches as she sways her hips and gets closer to us. I know the minute she spots us because her whole face lights up. I feel a small pinch of jealousy to know her smile isn’t for me alone. I force the unwanted possessiveness down by taking another drink of my beer only to regret it. God that’s gross. Arlia must spot the expression on my face without me realising because she takes the beer out of my hand. I frown after her as she ambles off.
It’s not long before she returns with three bottles of beer on her tray, condensation forming around the bottoms. She takes one bottle off the tray and holds it out to me.
I take it, but not before leaning forward and pressing a quick kiss to her cheek and murmuring, “Thank you.”
When I pull back, I take a mouthful of my nice, cold beer and smirk when I can just make out the blush to her cheeks through the strobe lights. Shayne and Morgan both do the same, and I blatantly ignore my thoughts and feelings about that.
“Hey, doll, we’re going paintballing tomorrow and a friend of ours dropped out.” Shayne speaks loudly over the music and the noise of the bar so she can hear him better. “You wouldn’t let us be uneven teams, would you? I know I’d be left on my own to defend myself against these two fuckers. Say you’ll come along and save me from them.”
Her face scrunches up in an adorable way and for the second time that night, my breath catches. She does the simplest of things and she’s got me reacting to her. And if I’m reacting to her, I’ve no doubt Shayne and Morgan have the same response toward her. In any other situation, I’d feel sorry for the fuckers, but I’m right there along for the ride with them. There’s no way the three of us can’t be attracted to her. She’s gorgeous, even when she scrunches her face up.
“I’ll come with you, so long as I pay,” she answers confidently. “I want to be able to cover for myself.”
“It’s all paid for. There’s no need,” Morgan explains.
“Yes, there is. You can give your friend back the money I pay or something. That’s my condition,” she commands firmly.
An idea forms in my mind and before the other two can argue, I quickly speak, “Okay, we’ll let you pay for your share. If it will make you feel better.”
They both cut me a filthy scowl, and I’m half tempted to give them a bash upside the head. Do they really think I’d make her pay? I smirk at them and take a sip of my nice, cold beer.
Arlia, happy with us giving in easily to her demands, smiles brightly. “Great! I’ll be back in a while with more cold beers. I have to get back to work.”
As soon as she walks away, Shayne snaps, “What the fuck was that? We agreed. She shouldn’t be paying!”
“And she’s not. But she’s stubborn and there’s no way she was going to give in on not paying her way. So, I came up with a better plan. One of us will go to Jason’s office and have him slip the thirty into Arlia’s pay-packet. I’m sure we can convince the twat to pass it off as tips if she gets suspicious.”
That fucker owes us for last week, so he can do this favour for me.
“Well you can be the one to go into the office then. I spotted him taking a girl in there earlier, so who knows what you’ll walk into.” Morgan thumps me on the arm and turns his attention to the dance floor.
Great! Just fuckin’ great.
It’s not new
for Jason to have another girl on the go. April and him partake in an open relationship, so it’s not unusual for Jason to be knocking off someone else, and it wouldn’t be the first time I walked into the office to find April in there with another dude. To each their own. Not like I can judge them for their decisions, now can I? I’m now, unofficially, sharing a girl with my best friends.
Knocking back the rest of my drink, I slam the bottle down and stand from the stool. As I walk away from my so called best friends, I overhear them both laughing. Why the fuck should it be me who has to go into the office of doom? I mean, fuck! I came up with the crackin’ idea, surely one of the other two should be the one to go in there, instead.
Huffing, I walk around the bar and go through the Staff Only door. Not steaming angry or carrying a hurt Arlia down the hallway like last time, I take in my surroundings properly. The carpet gives way under my shoes, but when I lift each foot to take my next step, my shoe sticks to the carpet. God knows what would cause the floor to be sticky. In fact, I don’t even want to know. The light at the end of the hallway flickers, reminding me of some fucked up horror film. The farther I step away from the door that leads back into the club, the less I’m able to make out the thumping music from the dance floor.
I stalk down the hallway until I stop outside Jason’s office. I could save myself any hassle I’m about to receive by phoning the fucker, but if I’m not there physically watching him place the money into Arlia’s pay-packet, then I’ll keep wondering whether or not he did it.
Not wanting to barge in unannounced, I give the door a few short, sharp knocks. I learnt my lesson the last time from waltzing in without a warning. It makes me even more thankful he didn’t have some random girl in there last week when I barged in with Arlia.
“Come in,” comes from the other side of the door, followed immediately by giggling.
Sighing in frustration, I open the door, hoping the latest squeeze is dressed and isn’t still bouncing on his dick. Open relationship I can deal with. Straight up exhibitionism… Absolutely not.
Chapter Ten
Acid & Concerns
Stretching my arms above my head and my toes to the end of the bed, I grumble. God I’m sore from the last week of work. Late last night, I received a text from Melvin, my co-worker, saying we finally had a break through with Mr. Stuart. He’d finally agreed we could go ahead and carry on with the plans of his new patio, and he didn’t want to make any more adjustments. Thank the fuckin’ lord we won’t be stalling anymore and can finally get the job done. We should have it finished within the next couple of weeks.
Finally!
Kicking the duvet off, I climb out of bed and scratch my chest before heading for the bathroom. When I open my bedroom door, the smell of bacon instantly hits my nose. After a deep breath, a grin breaks out over my face. There’s no burnt smell, which means Morgan made it to the kitchen before Shayne this morning. Shayne’s usually a great cook. He can make anything he puts his mind to, but he always manages to cook the bacon to a point it needs a warning label to go with it. Warning, may break your teeth.
I hurry to the bathroom to take a leak and wash my hands before I head down for breakfast. My empty stomach feels like it’s eating itself with hunger.
When I step into the kitchen, I spot Morgan at the cooker, shirt off and only wearing a pair of shorts. I chuckle. It’s not the first time he’s done it, but you’d think with the fat spitting, he’d maybe learn not to.
Shayne sits at the table, applying cream to his forearm. He’d caught it on some brickwork a couple of weeks ago. After forcing him to go to the doctors, he’d needed antibiotic cream because it’d gotten infected. I’d grabbed the prescription for him at the start of the week, but I guess the stupid ass hadn’t been applying it until now.
“Morning.” Both say in unison.
God knows how Morgan knew I came into the kitchen. He never once checked over his shoulder to know I’m there.
“Morning,” I reply and take my usual seat at the table. Shayne caps the cream, and then stands to wash his hands in the sink. “When was the last time you put that shit on?”
“Beginning of the week… I guess.” He dries his hands on the towel currently flung over Morgan’s shoulder.
Shaking my head, Morgan huffs, too. It’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation with Shayne in the past about medication, and I doubt it’ll be the last. Maybe one day he’ll finally grasp it.
Morgan elbows him away from the cooker. “The label says twice a day. Once a week isn’t going to make the infection clear up.”
Shayne whines as he flops back down at the table, “I know, but I’ve been busy and without sounding like a pussy, that shit feels like they’ve shoved acid in it.”
Morgan drops a bacon sandwich in front of Shayne with a thud, then smacks him upside the head before he grabs another two plates and puts one in front of me, and keeps one for himself.
Taking a bite, Morgan speaks around the mouthful, “It feels like fuckin’ acid because you’ve let it get worse. Try using it every day. You won’t feel like you’ve been acid dipped then.”
Mouth full, Shayne answers him, “Been super busy all week, I forget.”
I sigh in frustration. Fuck me! Can’t these guys chew their food before they speak? It’s like living in a house with fuckin’ pigs. “Guys! Mouth closed.”
Both reward me by opening their gobs to show half chewed up bread and bacon. Gross!
Ignoring them, we finish eating before I stand and collect the empty plates off the table, dumping them in the bowl of soapy water. I give the coffee maker switch a flick to make sure it’s got everything I need, start it, and turn my attention back to the guys. “So, what time are we heading out to get Arlia? And are we taking her for lunch before we go, or are we inviting her back here after for dinner or something?”
Shayne, absentmindedly rubbing his arm with the palm of his hand, glances up. “Paintballing’s not until 3pm. We’ll grab lunch here before we collect her. Once we’ve finished there, it’ll likely be about five or six. We can come back here, order some pizza, and watch a couple of movies if she’s up for it.”
I catch the worried expression on Morgan’s face, so I ask before he can talk himself out of whatever he’s mulling over. “What is it, Morgan?”
Ignoring the coffee pot, I sit back at the table and give him my full attention. Shayne perks up, too, sitting up in his chair and no longer rubbing his arm raw.
Morgan scratches his head, his face conflicted. Both Shayne and I sit quietly, waiting for him to spill. If there’s one thing we’ve learnt over the years, it’s to sit and wait for the other to get their thoughts together. Pressuring each other to talk won’t work.
Morgan drops his head on the table with a thud, bumps it once more, and sits back up. “I-I-I fuck… I’ve decided we should tell Arlia about us wanting to date her. I don’t want to blindside her with all of this at once. Honestly, I really don’t want to give her my heart if she’s not at all interested. I doubt any of us could take that happening. So, I think we should invite her back here, have pizza like Shayne suggested, then broach the subject of the three of us dating her.”
“Okay, so you propose we do what? Land it on her and expect an answer once we’ve spilled our guts?” Shayne asks with a frown.
I hold my tongue. Unsure how I feel about the idea, I stay quiet and wait to watch how it plays out.
Morgan shifts in his seat and sighs. “No, we should be up front with her. I don’t want to develop something with her and run the risk of her freaking out and ditching all three of us. Plus, I don’t want to jump right into whatever this is with her under some sort of pretence or lie. I say we be upfront with her, let her know what we’re wanting, and leave the ball in her court.”
I understand where Morgan’s coming from, but I’m not sure I’m ready to spill this to her. I’ve—we’ve—rapidly become attached to her. It makes me hesitant to run the risk of losing her after only a
short time. On the other hand, I kind of want to get it over with. For my—our—hearts’ sake, we need to have this conversation with her, sooner rather than later.
Groaning, I mutter. “I guess we should do this… today.”
I just pray we don’t end up regretting it.
Chapter Eleven
Douche Canoe & Shootings
Two in the afternoon comes around quick and we all jump in Black Betty to head over to Arlia’s. We’re a little early, paintballing doesn’t start until three fifteen, but we want to make sure we get there with plenty of time to spare, in case there’s any traffic on the way.
I pull my beaut into a parking space behind a car that displays a disabled badge on the bumper and a ‘leave 2 metre distance’ sticker on the back window. Mindful of the car in front and not wanting to cause them unnecessary trouble, I make sure they have plenty of room. I’d like to say I’m being thoughtful, and I am, but I don’t want my baby being knocked because I was an inconsiderate ass.
Not bothering to wait for me, Morgan and Shayne jump out as soon as I turn the engine off and hurry their way up to Arlia’s front door. Sighing, I climb out, lock the car, and head up, eyes on the walkway for ice. I hear the front door open and glance up, but stop short when I realise it’s not Arlia who answered Shayne and Morgan’s knock.
A man in a wheelchair blocks the entrance into Arlia’s house. His hands rest on the metal rim of his wheels, and he scowls at the three of us. I recognise him from the photo in Arlia’s house, but my friends don’t know who he is and they both glare down at him.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Carter, we’re here to pick up Arlia.” I over pronounce his name, hoping the guys catch on. Both of them cut me a confused scowl. I guess Arlia didn’t tell them her name then. Sighing, I step up to my friends and elbow them in the ribs. “Shayne, Morgan, this is Arlia’s father.”
