These Things About Us

by Laura Beege

“I did. The shirt I sleep in is just really big, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Thank God, finally Alex chimed in again after clearing his throat, “What happened to your face?”

  Or not ‘thank God’.

  “Shagged a girl, she had a boyfriend, he wasn’t happy. Whatever. I’m off.”

  I wished my hair was open. It was easy to hide behind a curtain of curls and pretend you didn’t just witness a big fat lie being told to a parent. I busied myself with cleaning a glass that had a bright pink lipstick stain, avoiding Alex’s eyes. I felt his heavy gaze.

  “Listen, Darling, I don’t mind helping you. I actually prefer to know a young woman safe under my roof instead of on the streets, but I’m always a father first.”

  “I’m sorry.” Alex knew that Wesley’s bruises were no angry boyfriend’s doing. Of course he knew I was responsible. “I don’t know why your son hates me. Trace that is, not Wes. Wes is really nice. But Trace took his hatred for me out on Wesley, sorry.”

  “Trace did that?”

  “Oh. You didn’t-”

  “I was about to ask you not to shag either of them.”

  “Oh. Oh, no. You don’t have to, I mean, uhm, I wouldn’t ever. No. Just…” I shook my head rapidly.

  “Okay.” Alex chuckled. “Now that that’s sorted, how about I open the door and you pick the first CD?”

  Anything to steer away from a conversation about my sex life. I rushed over to the black stereo system. All of the CDs were very classic rock mixes, so old even I knew the bands simply because everyone knew the bands. I pulled a CD with a blank cover from low in the stack. The CD itself was blank, too. It might hold no songs at all but I was willing to try my luck with that instead of choosing a particular band and then be judged by my taste in music. Or the lack of it.

  I pushed the disc in and listened to the spinning before the bass and the violins kicked in. My head was a moment away from bobbing frantically with the unknown beats, when a hand reached around me and the music was stopped.

  “Not that one,” Trace murmured.

  I jumped. He was closer to my ear than I’d even noticed. Not that I’d noticed him creeping up on me in the first place. It was stupid, really, because he smelled strongly like soap and a darkly deep, male smell, that could make you forget that this chest heaving against my shoulder was that of a lunatic. I couldn’t help brushing against him, when I staggered to the side.

  “Sorry,” I choked and watched amazed as he carefully handled the disc in his fingertips and firmly closed its casing, putting in another CD with as much attention. It was hard to imagine those same hands bashing in Wes’s face, but I’d witnessed it. “Wesley lied for you, to your Dad. He looks terrible.”

  Trace cocked his eyebrow at me and hid the blank CD in the drawer beneath the stereo. “Am I supposed to feel bad?”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t believe I had to explain basic humanity to this guy. “He’s your brother. You don’t just go around and punch people who love you. You don’t go around punching people period. Unless they’re really big, giant douchebags who did some very bad stuff.”

  He smirked. “Very bad stuff, huh?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He keeps you around. It can’t get worse.”

  I swallowed and counted to three – silently, obviously, but it barely helped to keep down the anger – before I opened my mouth again. “I work here and live here now. You should deal with that, because I’m probably stuck for a while.”

  Speaking those words sent a dagger through my chest. I wouldn’t find Mom today and the rest of my search depended on the contents of a tiny shoe box and a last telephone number that belonged to a very unavailable person.

  “You’ll be gone in a week. That’s a promise.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine.”

  Three

  Wes had taken over for me around midnight. I’d never been more grateful. Not a cell in my body was not exhausted. I was actually pretty sure most of them had already fainted, because they’d barely rested in days. The second I flopped down on the mattress my eyelids dropped shut. Something nagged in the back of my mind. Something about a box that needed to be opened, but I couldn’t even open my eyes anymore. They were sealed.

  That was until I heard them again, or rather heard her, because I didn’t hear Trace. And the ‘her’ was a different ‘her’ from last night. Last night had been all ‘Oh, God, oh, God’ and tonight he had a girl over that cursed worse than a sailor. By the third “motherfucking hell” I was out of bed, by the fourth out in the hallway and pounding at Trace’s door.

  He could hit me, for all I cared. At least then I might be out and able to sleep soundly. The girl didn’t stop the string of cursing, so I assumed they were still going at it. My fist collided harder with the wood. I was going to kill this son of a-

  “Tony!” Wes whisper-shouted from his doorway. Apparently I’d gotten a few hours rest if he was already back up here, but I still wanted to sleep through the night without disturbances. And that was only going to happen if Trace kept his bedfriend in check.

  I ignored him and kept knocking.

  “Tony, bloody hell, get away from there.”

  Wes grabbed a fistful of my shirt and yanked me back. I gagged at the sudden pull on the collar, but my legs caved in and I stumbled back into his room with him. He slammed the door shut and flipped the lights off. His arms caged me by the door.

  “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “I was trying to get some sleep. Trace has a very loud girl in there.”

  The knocking picked up again, across the hallway and since I was not the one hammering my hand into other people’s doors that left only one option: Trace was punching away at my door.

  “Get into my bed. Cover up.” Wes pushed me deeper into his room.

  “What?”

  “Trust me. Let me handle this, okay?”

  The other option was facing his brother, so I tried not to think too hard about what Wesley probably did in his bed, as I crouched and felt my way over the mattress until I found his blanket and slid in under it. I pulled it up to my chin.

  I heard him sigh from across the room, then he pulled the door open and light poured in. Wes was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers.

  “Man, what are you doing out there?”

  Trace raised his voice, probably for me to hear through my room’s door, but I heard him just as clearly in here. “That bitch just interrupted us. She wants a fight? She can have one.”

  “I’m sure she didn’t.”

  “Stop that shit, Wes.”

  “I’m not shitting you. I’m saying I am sure she wasn’t interrupting you.”

  “Is she hiding in there?”

  “Trace, don’t-mph”

  Trace shoved Wes into the door and stalked into the room, he was as naked as Wesley. His eyes were wild as they scanned the room and finally found me cowering under his brother’s blanket. The way his gaze travelled over me and the crumpled sheets, I knew what Wesley had done. He’d given me an alibi. The worst possible one in my opinion, but I could see Trace putting it together.

  “You knocked on my door,” he said, but his voice was falling apart.

  “No, I didn’t.” I had to sound firm where he was second-guessing things. Because I was suddenly very keen on not being knocked out by his fist.

  “Man, you probably heard your own bed. Stop staring at Tony already.”

  “We weren’t in bed.”

  “Well, maybe you heard my bloody bed knocking against the wall. Stop staring at my woman, before I kick your ass.”

  “I’m naked under here,” I spluttered.

  A muscle in Trace’s jaw flipped and he reluctantly turned to face his brother. They were having another argument, this one completely fought through stares that I couldn’t decipher. Maybe I didn’t want to. In the end Trace shot me a last sad look before he stalked off. Surely I’d imagined the di
sappointment in that look. It must have been anger about his defeat. But he looked let down not beat down as he left with slack shoulders.

  Once Trace had audibly made his way back to his room Wes flipped on the lights and crawled onto the foot of the bed.

  “Tony, he’s very easily triggered. You have to keep out of his way.”

  “Yes, well, he pulled my trigger, too. He should keep his girlfriends quiet if he has to bang someone every night, because I need to sleep some time. I can’t do that if he makes them scream.”

  His mouth quirked up. “Next time, you just scream back.”

  “Oh yes, because I am your woman now. You would obviously make me scream. Especially when we’re not even in the same room while we’re supposedly having sex.”

  “We’re in the same room now. You can give it a go.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you.”

  “Scream. He can hear you. Believe me, I hear his girls all the time.”

  I smirked. Despite the fact that I was kind of disgusted by the fact that Trace had girls over all the time, I actually liked the idea of giving him a dose of his own medicine. „You want me to scream your name, or…”

  “Hell no. We’re doing this right. It’s payback time for that asshole. Get up.”

  I followed his request, because he was making his way around the bed. He grabbed the footboard and started shoving the bed into his wall. Granted, it wasn’t a very big bed and couldn’t be very heavy, but Wes didn’t look like he was trying very hard either. I was so captured by his rhythm that I jumped when he moaned, “God.”

  Oh. Oh, we were doing this. We were having fake sex. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I responded with a way too giddy “Wesley!”

  Wes cracked and bit his lip in a failing attempt not to laugh, but he kept the thumps coming. I could do this. I’d had like an orgasm or two in my life. I’d watched When Harry Met Sally. Trace’s face popped into my head, the image of the punch and the sound of his stupid ass female friends. So this time I let my breath come from deep in my throat and moaned loudly. It wasn’t even a word I moaned. I just kept up making some loud sex noises.

  They did earn me an approving grin from Wesley. After a couple of minutes he nodded frantically and made some very loud sounds himself. He pushed the bed quicker. This was our peak. I jumped up on the bed. I didn’t look at Wesley, I stared at the door, as I jumped up and down on the mattress and screamed Wesley’s name and basically all the variations of ‘Yes’ I could think of. To serve the chick in Trace’s bed, too, I let out a last shrieked curse word and collapsed on the mattress mid-jump.

  Wesley shoved his bed one last time, before falling back on the floor and holding a hand in front of his mouth to silent his laughter. His chest vibrated. I let my head fall back onto his pillows and let out a loud sigh.

  I hoped Trace had heard. I hoped he’d be wide awake not getting the image of his brother in action out of his head. It would serve him just right.

  There was just one more thing. “I promised your Dad that I wouldn’t hook up with you.”

  “He won’t know. He moved in with his girlfriend last year.” His breathing was still shaky.

  “Then I just had the best fake orgasm ever.”

  “See, even faking it is fun with me.” He winked at me and propelled himself up, clawing his way back into bed. The mattress dipped to the side and I just so managed not to roll into him. “I like you, Tony.”

  “Uhm… Wesley, I like you, too, but in a completely platonic way. I mean, the fake sex was great, but I’m not... I’m only in London to find my mother.”

  “Of course only platonic, Jesus, but Tony...” He furrowed his brows and plucked at the blanket. There was something on the tip of his tongue that wouldn’t come off just yet.

  “Wesley.”

  “Trace won’t like this.” That was obviously not what he’d meant to say, but I couldn’t push him. We’d barely known each other for 36 hours. It felt more like days, with Wes being this easy-going, nice and kind of strange guy who adopted me as a friend.

  “It’s none of his business who we sleep with. We’re both adults. You are eighteen, right?”

  “Yes,” he laughed, “I’m twenty.”

  “As adults we can have as much fake sex as we want to.”

  “Are you asking for a round two?”

  “Not tonight. I’m going to rock a stride of pride now. Thanks, Wesley.”

  I quickly slipped out the door and then enjoyed every single one of the three steps it took me to get to my room. This was better than knocking Trace’s door down and screaming at him. Everyone should have some of Wesley’s free fake orgasms sometime. It was a lot more fun and a lot more satisfying than a fight in my PJs.

  Four

  My stride of pride had turned into a walk of shame the next day. My tired brain had thought of the bogus affair as a good idea, but now I felt Trace observing my every move as I hurried past him from the bathroom back to my room. The extra attention made my ears turn into flames.

  I worked my wet hair into a tight braid and slipped on the most decent clothes I’d brought. The skirt and the collared shirt were fit for Sunday services. It was the perfect outfit.

  I had to remember that I was different now. I was skirts and cardigans and breathing exercises, not fake sex and rock’n’rolling in torn jeans.

  The box sat in the center of my bed, waiting to be opened, waiting to reveal its secrets, but all I did was stand in front of the bed and rub the back of my hand. Maybe the birthmark, a tattered photograph and this box were all I’d ever see of my Mom.

  I filled my lungs with air and stretched for the lid. My fingertips brushed the edges, when my door swung open and Wes widely smiled at me. “Time for breakfast. What’s that?”

  I crinkled my nose at the box. “Remember how I told you I came here to find my Mom? This used to be hers. I went by her old place yesterday and the girl living there gave it to me. I don’t really want to open it, though. What if it holds nothing important at all?”

  He kicked the door closed and examined the box without opening it. “What exactly do you need to be in it?”

  “An address. A phone number. An email address. A library card? Anything to help me find her.”

  “Do you want me to check?” He shook the box and I immediately latched onto it. Even if it was just Christmas tree decoration, it was still my mom’s Christmas tree decoration. I’d like to have something of hers.

  “No. Just leave it. You said something about breakfast.” The rest of my sandwich was gone by now and I had last night’s tips to buy me a proper breakfast. And coffee. I desperately needed coffee.

  “Yes. Time to eat!” He snatched my wrist and pulled me up, hardly giving me the chance to grab my bag on our way. Down in the bar he let go off my wrist, instead guided me past Alex and a guy checking out and past Trace by my shoulders. Wes’s hands were heavy on them, but not as heavy as his brother’s glare.

  He couldn’t still be angry that we interrupted him or kept him up. He could stop throwing firey daggers at me through his eyes. For god’s sake, I already knew he hated me.

  I let out a sigh of relief once we stepped out of the gloomy pub and into the bright morning sun. “I need coffee.”

  “And coffee you will have.”

  “Hey!” The door swung open again, making us jump to the side, unless we’d wanted to be crushed by it. Trace shielded his eyes against the light. “Breakfast?”

  I nodded and Wesley shrugged.

  “I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a question for permission that I could decline.

  Wesley nudged me and turned to go.

  “Where are you going?” Trace sounded irritated at Wesley’s choice of direction. It really wasn’t that important where we got breakfast. I just needed something to eat and I didn’t care if it was down this or that road.

  “We’re not getting bagels. Tony wants coffee.” I did. No need to pronounce my name like I was the one at fault for choosing the
directions.

  “We can get bagels, if you want bagels. I bet I can get a cup of coffee to go anywhere.” I shrugged.

  Trace’s confusion didn’t wear off. He just stared at me again like I was a zoo animal. This time the gagging sound didn’t come until he reached my skirt. We were definitely not getting bagels, especially not if he needed them to survive.

  I grabbed Wes’s elbow and turned him back to the way he originally wanted to go. He snatched my hand up and wrapped it around his arm. Being linked to him made it a little harder to not fall down, because he was walking fast and his long legs allowed him to make giant strides that I had to match with twice the amount of steps. I was basically jogging next to him.

  Trace, unfortunately, didn’t have a problem to keep up. I heard him right behind us the entire walk to some place called Coffee Donna. It was a cozy little coffee shop in a run down building. There were only three pink tables with plush green chairs, all of them empty.

  The barista took our orders, we paid and then she asked us to get comfortable. Of course Wesley obeyed and I couldn’t dodge a bullet called Trace by taking my breakfast back to my room. I took the seat opposite from Wes, and Trace twirled a chair around and sat with his arms up on the backrest.

  “Why leech off us?” he demanded. “Didn’t anyone else take you in, poor little girl?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Seriously, Trace, that’s why you came? To interrogate?”

  “Shut up. I asked her a question.”

  Against my better judgment, I didn’t just tell him that I didn’t answer to rudeness, instead I knotted my arms over my chest and squinted at him. “I’m not leeching, I work for your Dad. And I didn’t specifically choose your Dad’s bar. I just looked for a place with a phone and a phone book, so I could call my mother whose number I don’t know by heart. As it happens, your father needed a waitress that you would not jump into bed with, and since I disgust you so very much, I’m the perfect choice. You brought this on yourself, buddy.”

  The waitress called out our order, so before I could work myself up any more, I shoved back my chair and hurried over to curl my hands around my coffee. Smelling the steam made it easy to hide my practiced breathing from Wesley. He shot me a light smile and relaxation came easier than normally. Not that I usually had a pierced idiot poking around in my life. Even without Trace’s comments, I knew I’d have to thank Alex big time once I figured out… everything.