“What do you see in me?” he asked in the end, swallowing hard as he glanced at Mark, so nervous he clenched his hands in the pockets of his coat.
Mark straightened up and took some more photos from up close. “You’ll know when I get you prints. But I see much more of you when you dance, and that’s what I’d really like to photograph one day. When you’re in motion, there’s no facade. It’s so raw and intimate. I rarely get to see someone be this uninhibited. That’s what’s really worth capturing.”
On film, or…?
Griffith gasped, imagining Mark’s hands—strong and warm—sliding up his chest, caressing his neck and face. His lashes fluttered when the image in his head became more real than the city around him. “Yes. I would love that.”
The shutter clicked again.
“It’s a date then.”
Chapter 9 - Mark
The drumming beat of club music rang in Mark’s ears until they were numb to the noise. It tapped against the soles of his feet, teeth, and when he sat down in a lone chair behind a huge artificial palm that reached all the way to the ceiling, the beat sent tremors over his backside, too. He’d ordered a virgin cocktail to stay sharp, but even that came in an elaborate glass, with three colorful straws and so much fruit it could have been considered a fruit salad.
At midnight, the venue was already bursting at the seams, and the constant flow of people pushing at bar counters or dancing on the light-up floor surrounded by huge tiki masks was overwhelming Mark’s senses. Hidden in his corner and barely touched by the indigo spotlights, he was positive that he hadn’t been in a space quite as crowded since before El Encanto. And while this kind of setting wasn’t unfamiliar to him, his expectations in terms of noise and crowds were much lower.
The club was clean, bright, full of glammed-up people, and so unlike the seedy bars he’d frequented before even turning sixteen. Above the packed dance floor was a mezzanine that held the VIP area, and that was where all the ‘cool kids’ hung out, which of course included Griffith, and his birthday crew.
Now officially of drinking age, Griff could enjoy a night out like this. Around midnight, a hostess brought a massive bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice up the stairs. Everyone cheered when the cork popped, and in that moment, the VIP lounge felt light years away from Mark, even though it was just on the second floor.
He stayed in the shadows to avoid being spotted, because while he had come here to attend Griffith’s party, he had another goal that was his priority for the night. He didn’t want to accost Charlotte at her home or on the way to university, but among people she would feel safe, and maybe she wouldn’t outright reject him for once. But for that to happen, he couldn’t let her see him first.
This wasn’t even about getting her back anymore. He’d come across the ocean, guided by the mirage of a happy life with the woman he’d once loved, but the reality was that she’d moved on. She loved someone else now and had a bright future ahead of her. A future that didn’t include a shadow from the past. But as much as he wanted to give her the peace she wanted, he needed something from her first. And he would only get closure if he could explain himself and talk about the things that had happened in the tense weeks of their relationship.
His tongue, sweet from the juice drink, stuck to his palate when he spotted Charlotte’s fiancé’s face in the streaming crowd. Close to a carved wooden pillar on the edge of the dance floor, Chris’s tall form stuck out from the sea of jumping heads and shoulders bathed in the pink glow.
He was averagely handsome, averagely dressed, and his height was about the only non-average thing about him, but he still had what Mark didn’t—Charlotte’s love. Mark briefly saw her face behind a group of people who were trying to recreate a dance from a popular music video, but then she was gone.
Mark stood up and climbed on his wooden seat to find her again, and from this vantage point he saw Chris gathering her to his chest as groups of people constantly passed through, with no regard for anyone in their way.
What a caring guy. Of course he’d do that. Because he was just great. Normal, no convictions, good grades at school, good grades at university. Nice parents who lived in a nice cul-de-sac somewhere in a nice town out in Cotswolds.
Everything Mark wasn’t. The sweet cocktail suddenly tasted bitter.
What was he even doing here around all these happy people when he was such a party wrecker? Should he even stay at the party once he finished talking to Charlotte? What was the point? Griff was having lots of fun with his friends and didn’t seem to miss Mark’s presence at all. Even motherfucking Leon was a welcome presence tonight. Whatever it was Leon said over the champagne he handed Griff—it made him grin as if he’d just been told all his dreams would come true this very night.
The two of them kept chatting away by the railing of the mezzanine, constantly bursting into laughter as the alcohol kicked in and made every little joke that bit funnier. Champagne snorted out of Griffith’s nose when Leon whispered something into his ear, and he turned his face away, wiping it on his forearm.
He was a young guy who could have anyone he wanted, so why would he settle for a one-eyed stranger who always aggravated any situation by not following the unspoken rules? They did enjoy one another’s company and had been out to brunch a few times, but that was the extent of their relationship.
In contrast, Leon studied at the same university and surely had more in common with Griffith than Mark. So he was a bit of a dick, so what? Maybe Griff liked that, or wasn’t bothered by it? Who was Mark to police Griff’s dating choices? Not everyone wanted a Chris after all. And regardless of Mark’s growing loathing for Leon, there was no denying the guy was handsome with his sleek designer clothes and buzz cut. He might even be the one who’d bought champagne for the birthday boy.
Mark squeezed his fingers on the small flat box in which he’d carefully packaged his present—photos he’d taken of Griff that day they met at College Green. They now seemed so trivial and inappropriate. Why would Griff care for a pathetic, sentimental gift like that when he had champagne and could afford pretty much anything he wanted? He’d smile when presented with them, but on the inside he’d surely laugh at Mark for thinking he needed his amateur portraits.
On the mezzanine, Nisha pulled Griffith away from Leon, and both of them twisted into a wild-looking dance that would have exhausted any regular person. While the movements themselves were not all that different from what all the average Joes and Janes were doing on the dancefloor below, the tempo and control Griffith and Nisha executed over their bodies made them stand out from the crowd. Once they were done and high-fived each other, exhaustion was present in their gestures, and they both had more of the champagne, emptying a flute each.
In the dark corner below, Mark bitterly realized just how alienated he was from the world around him, so he moved along the wall, focusing on Charlotte instead. He’d only need to catch her on her own. Surely Chris didn’t follow her to the restrooms. At one point or another, Mark could simply pretend to bump into her.
“Cool style, mate. Can I take a snap with you?” someone shouted into his ear.
It took Mark half a second to be brought back to earth and he looked into the eyes of a tall girl with funky dreadlocks and a bondage dress that emphasized her figure.
“I—Sorry, no.”
“Ooh! You’re incognito, I get it.” She laughed and touched his arm as she did so. She had a beautiful smile and green lipstick to match her dress.
Mark wasn’t born yesterday, so it was obvious to him she was flirting, but he had spent too much of his life chasing meaningless flings to fall back into that. No matter how pretty the girl in front of him was, nothing good could come out of them hitting it off and ending up at his place.
“Undercover celebrity. Have good night,” he said with a smile to not seem rude, but then passed her quickly, following Charlotte and Chris through the crowd.
He was left disappointed when the couple walked up the stai
rs to the mezzanine, because if there was one thing he didn’t want to do, it was spoiling Griffith’s big night by agitating Charlotte in his presence.
Resigned to his fate, he passed the time discreetly watching the brother and sister talk. After a quarter of an hour or so, Chris and Charlotte were back downstairs, inseparable in a way that reminded Mark of Domenico and Seth, even though this was where similarities both began and ended.
Something in the back of his mind told him he would have had a better time if he’d stayed home and read a book in the peace of his own apartment instead of being a solitary figure in a crowd he shared no connection with. In fact, knowing several of the people present only made Mark feel more isolated, as if there was an invisible yet non-penetrable wall between him and the several hundreds of drunk young people.
If he didn’t belong here, then where did he fit in?
Sucked into the black hole of his brain, he pushed his way through to the exit. His night wasn’t over yet, but he needed air as much as he needed a smoke. He’d try to catch Charlotte again in half an hour, but a doomed feeling was settling on his shoulders and he had to shrug it off. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t some gloomy, tormented boy who sulked in the corner, so why was it exactly what he was doing tonight?
On his way out, he stole an abandoned shot and filled his veins with a bit of liquor.
The cool November air floated through his hair as he leaned against the facade of the club, separated from other smokers, and watched groups of partygoers stream down the street. Despite the low temperature, most had no coats on, and many of the girls even sported bare legs, exposed by short dresses, as if the alcohol in their blood meant they were invincible.
He was about to finish his second cigarette and go back into the booming club when the sight of a familiar face stopped him where he was. Hidden behind a group of lively people in identical T-shirts, he saw Griffith stumble and stare into the road, as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. The lamplight revealed blots of red on his pale cheeks, even more visible when Griffith gracelessly pushed his sweaty hair back before inching closer to the asphalt. There weren’t many vehicles driving through at this time of night, but when Griffith got dangerously close to the edge of the sidewalk, Mark was about to spirit him away somewhere safe.
Leon emerged out of nowhere and pulled on Griff’s arm. It wasn’t a hard tug, but the loss of balance seemed to have cut the ground from under Griff and sent him into Leon’s arms.
He looked back at his friend with unfocused eyes before weakly gesturing at the street again and moving his lips. Mark’s whole body went rigid as he watched them talk. This wasn’t like Griffith at all. Even at his own house party he hadn’t drank much, but there he was, so unstable on his feet Leon had to hold him up.
Mark expected Leon to lead Griffith back to their friends, but instead he guided him down the street and then into the same cobbled alleyway where Mark had parked his car. The logical explanation was that Charlotte had asked Leon to drive her obviously intoxicated brother home, but it hadn’t been more than twenty minutes since Mark last saw Griffith, and back then he’d seemed slightly tipsy. Unless he’d chugged a glass of hard liquor, there was no way the champagne he’d had would have made him this buzzed.
Mark followed Leon and Griffith without thinking.
The moment he stepped out of the steep street with many clubs and bars, everything became engulfed by shadow dispersed only by a handful of lamps spread out all the way to a park at the end of the alley. Keeping to the shadows and walking over grass to make as little noise as possible, Mark passed a large church and followed Leon along the lawn opposite a row of beautifully restored buildings.
Away from the loud music and passing cars, the air became deathly quiet, with the background buzz of the city serving as an amplifier for the odd atmosphere. Mark’s body hair was bristling, and his throat clenched, as if he could physically sense the distressing nature of this situation.
Griffith, who’d already stumbled several times, seemingly too drunk to notice uneven paving, suddenly dropped. If it weren’t for Leon catching him, his knees would have smashed against the stones of the sidewalk. He gave a nasal moan and clutched at Leon’s jacket, but Leon didn’t stop to help him out or let him briefly sit and rest, instead just dragging him along the line of trees.
“Easy, we’re almost there.”
To this moment, Mark still assumed he’d soon turn back and seek out Charlotte, but it was Griffith who needed him so much more.
Mark sped up and stepped out of the shadow with his fingers clenched on the switchblade in his pocket. “The fuck you doing?” he said as he approached. Only now his mind adjusted to the reality of what was happening and it was as if a sudden onslaught of freezing air trapped his head in ice.
Leon spun around, pulling Griffith to his chest. His face was tense when he looked back, but instead of relaxing at the sight of familiar features, his scowl only deepened. “What does it look like to you? He’s so drunk he can’t stand on his own. What’s it to you anyway?”
Griffith’s eyes fluttered, and he glanced at Mark with a spark of recognition, weakly swinging his arm toward him, as if he wanted to reach out but was too weak to lift his limb.
Mark stepped closer, with fury pumping through his rigid arms. “Where are you taking him then?” He thought back to the champagne Leon had been handing to a just-tipsy Griff, and he couldn’t get over the suspicion that there could have been more than just alcohol in there. Leon was a sleaze, and Mark was a bit paranoid, but it couldn’t have been just that.
Leon snarled and pulled Griff so hard it didn’t give him enough time to readjust his feet. The slim body passed through Leon’s hands, who managed to grasp the front of Griffith’s shirt in the last moment. The garment was the sole thread keeping Griffith’s head from smashing against the stone blocks of the sidewalk when he became a dead weight and dropped with a heavy thud.
A hiss left Leon’s lips when he scooted down, pushing his arms under Griffith’s armpits in an attempt to haul his limp form back up. “This is all your bloody fault. Now get lost.”
Mark's heart beat faster and faster as he saw how completely helpless Griffith was. In this state, he was at the mercy of whoever was with him, and it wouldn’t be Leon, if Mark had anything to say about it. He pushed Leon back so abruptly the guy lost hold of Griffith, completely surprised by the aggression.
Mark was there to ease Griffith’s fall and quickly lay him down in the cool grass, because there was still some bullshit to be dealt with.
“Does anyone know you dragged him out of there? What did you give him?” Mark barked, following Leon with a growing tension in his neck. Heat pulsed inside him so fast he was just about ready to rip the fucker apart.
When Leon spread his arms and opened his mouth with that stupid expression on his face that meant he was ready to come up with some bullshit, Mark punched him without holding anything back. The impact sent Leon at the tree behind him.
Rolling to his knees, he shook his head, eyes wide when he looked up at Mark, his body rigid like a cornered dog’s.
“You piece of trash,” Leon growled, showing his red-stained teeth when he charged with his right hand curled into a fist.
He was strong and tall, but also slow. Inexperienced. Mark grabbed his wrist and kicked Leon back to the ground, making the twist to the arm especially painful. Leon gave a sharp cry, but the dirt under his face absorbed most of the volume when Mark pushed him down, climbing on top.
Mark looked back at the beautiful old houses, most of them long converted into residential homes. At this time of night, only a single window in the row glowed with light. No shadows of people checking what went on in the street.
“Fuck you. This is assault,” hissed Leon, jerking his body like a bull trying to toss off the cowboy.
Mark pulled on the arm even harder, considering whether he should take a page out of Domenico’s playbook and dislocate Leon’s shoulder. “You know
what else is fucking assault? Drugging a guy on his birthday. You will tell me what you gave him, and then you’ll fuck off from here, and out of Griff’s life.” Mark could barely keep his voice down with the need to maim flowing in his veins.
Leon twisted back his head. “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about! I was just taking him home!” he snarled, but Mark’s instincts were still buzzing as he took in the anger in Leon’s body language and his complete lack of concern for Griffith, who was moaning softly just a few feet away from them.
Enough was enough. Pressing Leon down with his knee, Mark fished out the zip tie cuffs out of the inner pocket of his jacket, and pulled on Leon’s other arm to trap his wrists together. Without paying much care to how tightly he strapped the plastic handcuffs, he took advantage of Leon’s shock and searched his pockets.
Mark didn’t even have to try hard and he found a small ziplock bag containing a couple of white pills. “What is this, you fucking cunt? You think I’m playing? If what you gave him fucks him up, you’re over. Done. Do you understand?”
Leon looked back, for once scared rather than angry. Swallowing through the rapid breaths he took, he kept his eyes trained on Mark. “I... it’s nothing serious. He likes me but can’t make up his mind. I just wanted him to loosen up.”
“Loosen up for you,” Mark hissed and pulled out the switchblade. “I don’t have time for your bullshit. What did you give him? If you scream, I will inform the police of what you’ve done. And I’m getting a feeling that when I do, there will be more victims lining up to testify against you. All boys? All of age? Does your daddy know?” Inside, Mark was shaking with fury, and yet, his fingers couldn’t have been more steady. This he knew. This he could handle.
For the first time, Leon stopped fighting. His gaze went wild, as if he were looking for help but knew there would be none coming. “I’ll tell you, but this stays between you and me,” Leon said in the end, as if he were in a position to negotiate.
A Breath of Innocence Page 12
