Erotic Refugees

by Paddy Kelly

  They slipped in and out of traffic, making good progress. The atmosphere in the car was charged, and Eoin could feel that he was definitely the spare. The sexual tension crackling between the other two could have easily charged the car's battery.

  Eoin stared out the window as the Toyota drifted towards an exit ramp, and wondered what he'd end up doing tonight. A glass of wine in the kitchen? A book in the bath? Maybe a three-hour film and a Mars Bar? The choices were endless, but all fairly rubbish.

  Suddenly Rob swung the wheel to the left in a move that wasn't exactly dangerous but still caused the plant to slide into Eoin and poke its waxy leaves into his face. Rob, ignoring an irritated beep or two from the cars behind, moved them back onto the motorway.

  “Ye know what,” Rob said carefully. “I'll take ye back first Emilie. I'll need some help from Eoin to, um, put some things together. Alright?”

  Emilie turned her head and gazed out of the window. “Yeah, sure Rob,” she said, with no particular feeling. “That's fine. Thanks for the help.”

  It clearly wasn't fine, and even Eoin could see they'd both been expecting something to happen. But now it was all off, because Rob had simply decided not to, and Eoin realised something huge had happened.

  Rob has skipped an opportunity for casual sex in order to keep a promise. He had actually put somebody else before his own momentary pleasure. And Rob, driving along with a slightly dazed look, seemed to understood that too.

  Eoin would never mention it, of course, and Rob wouldn't either. That was just the way it worked. And while it wasn't much of a selfless gesture Eoin guessed, from what he knew of Rob, that for him it was the equivalent of donating a Statue of Liberty, or cutting off an ear.

  They dropped Emilie at her place in Bandhagen and helped her to get her things upstairs. She was quick to say goodbye and this time Rob clearly wasn't expecting, and didn't receive, a hug. She closed the door a little too hard, leaving both men standing in the hall, in the flickering light of an old bulb, while the echo of the boom died away.

  Rob however seemed impervious to Emilie's opinion of him. He hummed as they descended the stairs and, as they drove back to his place with a night of work before them, Eoin found himself humming along.

  Rob threw together an omelette with peas, onions, and sliced sausage. They worked as they ate, balancing the plates on their knees. Then they worked after they ate and kept right on working until the birds outside had clocked out and the sky was dark.

  They stood around the kitchen table with their eyes red and dry, like parents admiring a newborn baby. Before them lay an A3 pad crammed with boxes and arrows and tiny bullet lists. They knew what they'd need in the database, how the icons might look, how the login and menus would work, and what would keep users coming back for more. In fact, they had before them the workings of the whole site.

  “You know,” said Eoin, checking his watch. “It's getting on, maybe I should—”

  “Hey, no problem, ye can stay here. I've got an extra bed now! And we'll get some more work in. Come on Eoin, it's closer to yer job and everything!”

  Eoin was doubtful. He thought about socks and underwear, about the deodorant he'd need to borrow, and the room that had different noises and the breakfast that would be all wrong. He had no toothbrush either and he wondered what his colleagues would say when he showed up with the same clothes two days running, and what Jenny would say, and what…

  “Alright,” he said suddenly. “Sure. That sounds good.”

  Rob grinned. He thrust a can of medium-strength beer into Eoin's hands, and flipped the opener on one for himself. He held his beer up and they banged them together.

  “Damn fine work tonight! So here's to gettin' bloody rich eventually!”

  Eoin nodded and swallowed a few foamy mouthfuls.

  “And why not. Bloody rich, eventually!”

  Chapter 15

  “Eoin, it's nothing. Well, not much.” Alice paused and looked at Eoin as if she were about to say something more. Then she shook her head and went on chopping.

  Eoin was watching her from his perch on a high stool by her breakfast table. He was nervously rotating a cup of weak Swedish tea between his fingers. This didn't feel very good at all. In fact, it may well have been Bad Idea of the Week, an accolade Eoin found himself handing out far too often these days.

  He had popped in at very short notice as he'd an hour to kill before his date with Anja. He saw the excuse of an imminent date as a good opportunity to request some “help” from Alice, and to see how she was and, more specifically, how they were. Not knowing what was going on between them put him on edge, and the edge was not a place with which Eoin was comfortable. This forced and weird conversation, however, was starting to make him regret the whole thing.

  “Andy is just something that happened around the time my marriage broke up.” Chop-chop as the carrots slid into neat coins. “He wasn't the reason but—”

  “You were seeing Andy back then?” Eoin blurted out.

  “I said he wasn't the reason.”

  “But,” Eoin started and then found nothing to follow it with. Alice was flustered, and he wasn't used to that. He slid a sideways glance at her, looking for a clue about how to deal with her. She had her hair tied back with a band and was wearing an old baggy t-shirt and training pants. Only Alice could manage to look great in that outfit. Eoin felt it wasn’t quite the time to mention that, but couldn’t decide on what else to mention either.

  The silence dragged on. Eoin raised his tea and sipped at it, feeling more and more like an idiot for popping in unannounced like this. The Swedes didn't really do popping in very well. All popping, whether in or out, had to be arranged and confirmed at least a week in advance and then pencilled into a diary. Eoin knew this. This spontaneity had surely added to Alice's level of fluster, and maybe that was too many different kinds of fluster for anybody to bear.

  Alice put her knife down. She rinsed her hands and rubbed them dry on her clothes. Then, with great relief to both of them, she deftly changed the subject.

  “Right, let's see what you've got in store for this lady tonight!”

  Alice took him by the arm and manoeuvred him carefully into position in the hall. She switched on the lights, took a step back and studied him critically.

  “Your jeans are too high, pull them down a bit. And don't tuck that shirt in, even with the jacket on, it's just too short. The brown belt matches the shoes, bonus points on that. And open the shirt a few buttons. What about smells?”

  She stepped up to Eoin, sniffed him, then gave an accusing look. “What, you've got nothing on? No man-perfume at all? Seriously, how are you going to impress a lady like that? With just your natural manly odour?”

  Eoin shrugged and Alice tssked. “Stand. I've got samples somewhere.”

  She made for her bedroom. When she returned with two tiny bottles, Eoin couldn't hold it in any more. “Look, this trip to Gotland,” he blurted out. “We've started to plan it, and I just want to know what to tell people. Like Andy.”

  She sighed. “Can't let it slide, can you? I knew there was something biting you. I could smell it. Look.” She put the sample bottles down and took a deep breath. “This whole thing with Andy, it's just brought up old ghosts—”

  “Well tell me about it then! I always tell you everything and I just want the same in return. Is that too hard? I mean, we are friends, but if you're just going to—”

  “Oh fuck it Eoin!” She spun around, took a few steps and managed to bang her shin on the open door of the dishwasher. “Helvetes jälva skit!” she roared and slammed the washer shut. Eoin heard something break inside it. She stood there, frozen, with a hand pressed to her leg.

  “Okay, fine,” he said more calmly. “If you don't want Andy on Gotland, okay, I'll just tell him. I'll just un-invite him—”

  “Is that still all you're thinking about?” Alice's laughed sarcastically. “Jävla Gotland? Well I'm sorry that my, my irrational mood is going to spoil yo
ur fucking holiday! Forgive me for not thinking more of you!”

  “Fine then,” he said, louder than he really meant to. “I guess I will just ask Andy since I won't be getting any sense from you.”

  Her look was icy. “You know, maybe I don't want any of you in Gotland! Did you think about that? If Andy is so fucking important then you can go somewhere else, just the two of you—”

  “Fine, I will! Jesus, I didn't expect you to turn into a fucking drama Queen and freak out as soon as things stopped going your way—”

  Eoin paused in mid rant, because Alice's eyes had grown narrow and the muscles of her jaw were twitching. He took a step back, with his hands held up. “Um, I'll probably just go. It's getting late and I, well—”

  “Yes, go. And tell your friends to fix their own fucking holiday.”

  She spun around and stormed out of sight. Her bedroom door slammed a moment later, making vases shudder on shelves. Eoin took that as a definite sign that he was expected to leave.

  He hurried into the hall, scooped up his jacket, shoved his feet into his shoes and opened the front door. He paused there for a second, thinking and listening, wondering if he should go back and say something else. But no, Alice had made it clear. She wanted him out.

  He pulled the door closed and hurried down the steps, hoping there was something on the way to his date that he could deliver a good, hard, solid kick to. And preferably several.

  Eoin lay in the bed, wondering where it had all gone wrong. He knew there'd been some kind of plan for the evening, something about being so rude and arrogant to Anja that she'd exit the date and never contact him again, thus leaving him morally free to pursue her friend. Usually he wasn't a rude person but he'd been so mad at Alice that extending those feeling over Anja hadn't been difficult. At the time it had seemed like a great idea but, for some unaccountable reason, it hadn't worked.

  It completely and totally hadn't worked.

  Anja was asleep. She was facing him with a sheet draped casually (and badly) across her thin body. Eoin stared at the single small nipple on display and swallowed before rolling over. He thought back on the evening, and allowed himself a smile. Actually, some parts had been great. Many parts. He hadn't been aware that a person could physically do those things, especially the one with the…

  But no! This was all wrong, and not at all The Plan. He was in bed with a woman he had no intention of getting together with. And now her friend, the one he actually wanted, would find about the things they'd been up to. She'd find out because Anja would tell her, and predicting what happened next would require either Alice or some kind of supercomputer.

  He listened to the gentle buzz of her breathing, thinking of the hundred kinds of trouble he had so expertly gotten himself into. One thing, though, was certain—the prize for Bad Idea of the Week had just been claimed. And in a fucking landslide.

  Chapter 16

  Rob made it through the first morning of his start-your-own-business course by focusing with Zen-like concentration on one thing—soon, it would be time for coffee.

  When the lunch break finally rolled around he staggered out the door and into the little common room, in desperate need of some caffeine. After slotting some coins into a machine he watched expectantly as coffee-flavoured dishwater dribbled into a plastic cup. He grabbed it, sipped it and at last felt his brain begin to stir.

  With a warm something in his hand he stepped to one side to allow the line to move forward, and allow himself a proper look at his classmates. He was primarily interested in two things: if he could fuck any of them, and if one had a room to rent to his sister. They were all probably unemployed so the chances of both things were, he estimated, fairly good.

  Criteria one folded quickly as there wasn't a decent looking woman among the lot. Well actually the one standing at the coffee machine wasn't so bad, a red-haired thirty-something wearing loose casual clothes. She was too old for Rob but she was the only normal-looking female out of his dozen classmates. Rob watched her fumble in her bag for change, swearing under her breath, and he saw his chance for an introduction. He dug into his jeans, produced a handful of coins, stepped forward and held it out to her.

  “There ye go, I've got loads, just take a few.”

  She looked up at him in surprise. With a nod she plucked a few crowns from his hand to feed into the slot. She positioned the plastic cup, pressed a button, and watched suspiciously as the thing began to grind and hum and shudder.

  “Thanks,” she said. “So who did you kill to end up here?”

  “No-one that'll be missed,” Rob said. “And it was either this or five years smashin' rocks. Although now I think I should have gone with the rocks.”

  She plucked her cup from the machine, sipped at the coffee and made a “bleagh” face. She nodded in the general direction of outside. “Well, school's out for now, so do you want to join me for lunch?”

  Rob did, and he was happy to escape his other classmates, as they looked like a very dry bunch. His new friend led the way down the stairs and he followed after.

  “You've got good English, where'd ye learn it?”

  “The usual. Text adventure games in the eighties. Plus English-speaking friends.” She held the outside door open and allowed him to step through. “But mostly the games, I mean you can't beat text adventures for building your vocabulary, especially for things like go north, smack beast, open chest.” They came to a halt on the pavement and she stuck out a hand.

  “I'm Milly. Well Malin actually, but after a few months of trying to teach my old workmates to say Malin, it just turned into Milly and then it kind of stayed there.”

  Rob shook her hand, giving a sharp nod. “Rob. Nice to meet ye.”

  “I used to work here,” she said, shading her eyes with a hand as she looked around. “So I should know a million lunch places. Can't think of a single one right now though.”

  Rob seized the opportunity to look her over while she was looking around. She had thick red hair, coming down just below the shoulder, and well on its way to becoming dreadlocks. This framed her dark green eyes and a face that, while a little round and wrinkled at the edges, was still strong and full of humour. She looked to be at least thirty-five and that was far too old to be of any interest to Rob. There was a chance she might have been of some interest to Drunk Rob, who had a different agenda, his own flag and a very handy immunity from prosecution. The next time Drunk Rob appeared on the scene, he would have to ask him.

  “Ah!” she said. “This way, I'm almost entirely sure of it.” She moved off and Rob fell into step beside her.

  “That's an Australian twang in yer voice if I'm not mistaken.”

  “Sure is,” Milly said. “I came back from Melbourne five months ago. Figured I'd better start making some pension in the land of my birth. Not the best plan given the state of things right now. What are you doing, when you're doing things?”

  “Well,” Rob said, unsure of how low to pitch it. “Usually I'm making stuff for web sites. Ads, games, whatever, just getting all the pieces to work. Internet engineering, I suppose.”

  “Internet engineering?” Milly grinned. “So you work in the nineteenth century, do you? It must be a tough commute. What is it, Dot Net, HTML?”

  “Flash mostly. Bit of the other stuff too when called upon. So how do ye know all this? Project leader maybe?”

  “Um, no,” she said with a twinge of annoyance. “I do what you do, although mostly HTML and JavaScript. Plus some server-side, when I'm forced to.”

  Rob’s attention was tweaked. He stopped checking out the girls on the grassy slope across the street and fixed his gaze on Milly. “What, so you've handled databases? Log-ins, user tracking, stuff like that?”

  “Some. I know the basics anyway.”

  Rob grinned. Now this was interesting! She wasn't a proper systems developer like he and Eoin had planned to find, but it was at least something. In fact, as Rob saw it, she had a definite edge over any proper systems developer in
that she was right here and he wouldn't have to do any work to find her. This, to Rob, was a big plus and made up for any number of inadequacies.

  “I'm working on a project of my own—”

  “Is it one where I'll get paid?” she said brightly.

  “Well … no, not right away. Not until we find an investor, or someone who wants to buy us out. It's a great idea though, just need some systems work on it to get things rolling.”

  “Mmm,” Milly said, looking suspicious. “So what do you need?”

  “Just basic user handling,” Rob said casually. He was careful not to mention they also needed an interactions designer, tester, graphic designer, project leader, marketing genius and somebody with their own car who could also make good tea. First things first though, and somebody who could rig a database and set up a login sequence was a start.

  “Well the café's just over there,” Milly said. “Or it used to be anyway. If you buy me lunch you can tell me all about this idea of yours.”

  Rob nodded. “Fair enough. But ye do promise not to nick our idea? I've only know ye for like twenty minutes.”

  “Don't worry, I don't get any more trustworthy over time, I promise. There's the place, looks like lots of sitting room. I'll guard the seats and you'll fix me a turkey and cottage cheese sandwich and a big latte.”

  Rob headed inside and ordered two lunches, amused that he was paying for this woman after having just met her. And if she could do that, he reasoned, she was probably a good person to have on board.

  He took the tray outside, offloaded the lunches and lit a cigarette before launching directly into the sales pitch for their site. Milly listened politely and, when he was done, she nodded.

  “Well my first impression is it seems so obvious and easy to do that somebody is bound to steal it.”