by A. E. Murphy
“What business?” Max asks as Elijah turns away from us, giving us both a glimpse of that amazing back tattoo. I want to run my hands all over it.
“It's complicated and too early.” He says over his shoulder. “I'll be ready shortly. Help yourself to Penelope's closet, Olivia. She won't be needing any of it any time soon.” The bitterness in his tone at the end of that makes me even more eager to figure out what on earth is going on.
Dare I pry?
No. I daren’t.
“If Penelope isn't going, then shouldn't I stay?” I know it's a reach but it's worth a shot. I know Max, though. He doesn't let me out of his sight if he can help it. “It will be a fun boys’ day for you both.”
He fixes me with a blank stare, without even bothering to answer. I let out a huff and shove my hands into the pockets of my borrowed robe.
Men.
“Fine, but if I get sick or if I fall asleep at work, I’m blaming you.” I am kind of looking forward to it. I enjoy fishing and Max and I go once every few months, though this weather doesn’t suit me; it’s too cold and wet.
After raiding Penelope’s closet of untouched clothes, I manage to find a pair of jeans that do fit but are a little bit too snug. It was mostly full of skirts and dresses. Nobody fishes in skirts and dresses. I opt for a dress shirt on top. They just don’t make clothes for all shapes anymore. Basically you either have no tits, or you walk around uncomfortable all day. It is that simple.
Fuck you clothes designers.
I sit in the kitchen, waiting for Max to do whatever it is he’s doing in the garden with Elijah. My hand digs deep into a box of cereal. It’s a thing of mine. I don’t like crisps, chocolate or even sweets, but I love cereal. Especially golden squares and cinnamon squares. With milk or without, but mostly without.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I say once they finish and finally come back inside. “I got hungry.”
Elijah just watches as I place more of the cereal into my mouth. Max looks at me as though I’m crazy. I probably am. Part of me wants to show Elijah just how weird I am. He wouldn’t find me very interesting. I’d probably irritate him like I do Max.
I bet me not using a spoon is driving him crazy.
If it drives Max crazy then it has to drive Mr Prim and Proper crazy too.
He only glances at me curiously as I crunch away at my box of dry cereal, which in reality is his box of dry cereal.
I continue eating as Max motions for me to follow him to the waiting car. Elijah goes on ahead, climbing into the driver’s seat.
Max lets me have the passenger seat as per usual. I get motion sickness in the back. It’s why I can rarely take buses and I’ve never even been on a train or a plane.
Elijah glances at me out of the corner of his eye as I climb into the car. I hate and love that icy grey gaze all at once. It has the ability to heat me up and make me freeze all at once.
He reaches over and stuffs his hand into the cereal box as Max finishes adding something to the boot. As Max opens the car door, rear passenger side, Elijah tips his head back and drops the handful of squares into his mouth.
“You’re both gross,” Max comments, slightly winded from exertion. The door closes with a loud bang and he grins, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s go, go, go!”
The garage door opens and we pull out onto a backstreet that leads behind his home.
“Where are we going anyway?” I ask, trying to come to terms with the fact that the Duke seems like such an ordinary guy right now in a black turtleneck and dark jeans. It suits him but it’s odd. It helps me to compartmentalise he and ‘the Duke’.
“My friend owns a beautiful property by the river Ouse, just on the other side of Acaster.”
“Are we allowed to fish there?”
“If you have a license, yes.” He nods, his eyes on the road.
“Stop worrying.” Max reaches over the shoulder of my seat and flicks my cheek. “It’s all sorted.”
I clamp my mouth shut and stare out of the side window, smiling as the people and cars blur by. It’s not often that I actually get to ride in a car besides my nightly trips to work. I just have to focus on the quiet lull of music and the passing countryside.
“How’s work, Max?” Elijah asks, helping himself to more of the cereal that I took from his cupboards.
“It’s good, except I never get to see Liv anymore.”
I snort and roll my eyes. “You never got to see me anyway. I’ve worked nights now for about three months.”
“How are you liking that? Wouldn’t you prefer a job in the day?” Elijah glances at me again, his silver eyes curious.
“I hate waking up early, so no. My hours benefit me and my internal body clock.”
He nods thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s good that you both work the same hours then.”
“Yeah, there is that. Though if I get this pay rise in a few months, Liv won’t have to work at all. Will you?” Max says and I’m taken aback. We’ve never discussed him getting a raise, nor have we discussed me becoming a kept woman. “Then she can be at my every beck and call.”
“You two seem very close,” Elijah comments and twists his hands on the steering wheel. He’s nervous, I can tell. He’s worried he’s going to offend. “You don’t like to be apart from her, do you, Max?”
“Nope.” Is my husband’s easy answer.
“It’s…” His perfect teeth pinch his bottom lip so tightly the skin turns white. I watch as he releases that plump lip that I’ve dreamed of suckling on, and the colour returns slowly, enticingly. I want to bite it again and again and watch it pink with colour. “Different in comparison to my marriage. We’ve never felt the need to be around each other like that, even back when we…” He clears his throat and frowns a little. Whatever he was about to say, he clearly didn’t mean to begin to confess it. “So do you two go fishing often?”
“She does more than me. I go because she likes it.”
“Huh.” Elijah’s brow quirks. “Interesting.”
“What?” Max’s tone has changed; it’s guarded. I continue to stare out of the window, my stomach rolling now that we’re nearing the edge of the city.
“It’s just usually the other way around. What do you like about fishing, Olivia?”
“The calm,” I respond automatically.
“My girl is a dreamer. She doesn’t talk much, forever in her own head.” Max’s fingers tickle my neck and my lips curve upwards at his warm words.
“Do you like to read?”
I shrug. “Not as much as I like to listen to music.”
“She does,” Max puts in again, leaning his head over my shoulder. I’m annoyed that his seatbelt isn’t on. “She’ll plug her earphones in and be gone for a while.”
“I like music,” I say and turn to give my husband a look. He rolls his eyes but immediately knows what I’m silently ordering him to do. Unfortunately, turning to look backwards really unsettles me and I have to whip back around and close my eyes.
I hate feeling nauseous, that slight suspension in time where you’re on the verge of vomiting though not quite. Your stomach roils and your mouth salivates but you convince yourself you can hold out for a few more minutes.
I remain like this, eyes closed, hands clutching the seat belts as we drive through the countryside, over roads that are smooth and then roads that bounce.
“Is she okay?” I hear Elijah ask twice. It sounds distant. I’m effectively separating myself from the situation.
I know how stupid it must sound, a professional pole dancer getting motion sickness. I can’t explain it; it’s just one of those things.
“She’ll be fine.” Max responded twice, sounding disinterested. God forbid he should actually make an effort when I’m ill.
We seem to have been driving for hours when we finally pull over, the journey unknown to me as I kept my eyes closed for the entirety of it. We’re on a gravel driveway leading to a cute house.
It looks like it hasn’t be
en lived in for a while. It’s not unkempt from the outside; I just get this empty vibe from it.
Suddenly I’m a psychic, I think to myself sardonically.
“I can hear the river,” I say, smiling. It does little to help my nausea as I climb from the car. My legs wobble. I don’t feel great at all.
Max moves straight to the boot and opens it as I stare at the side of the house. The trees around us stretch on forever but I know the river is nearby. I can smell it, hear it, basically feel its energy.
A hand touches my elbow. I look away from the trees and up into the warm silver eyes of the man who I’m being a whore for. I wonder if he would still look at me with such tenderness if he knew what kind of a person I am.
“Are you okay?” He asks quietly, dipping his head. “You look… pasty.”
“Motion sickness,” I explain, pulling my elbow free sharply. He looks at his empty hand with a frown marring his handsome features before his eyes come back to mine, all warmth gone. I shouldn’t be so harsh but I can’t be bothered with the fallout from Max if he thinks his brother is attracted to me. Max is that kind of paranoid. “I’ll be fine.”
“What are you two whispering about?” Speak of the devil… Max peeks around the car.
“Olivia is unwell,” Elijah tells him and I smirk to myself, knowing that Max won’t give a hoot.
“She’ll be fine, won’t you, Liv?” He winks at me and looks at his brother for a moment before disappearing from our line of sight. “Are you going to help me with this shit or what?”
“I’ll be there in a second,” Elijah says, frowning deeper but for different reasons this time. I’m good at reading people but I’m not psychic. I don’t know what his frown is for but I’m guessing it’s about the fact that Max can be a bit of a prick.
He gives me one more sweep over with his eyes before moving to the back of the car.
They emerge with three cases and a cooler box. I’m not the greatest fisher in the world. I don’t understand most things. All I know is how to load the bait onto the hook and how to reel a fish in, not that I’ve caught many.
I just like being outdoors. I love the smell of the water and the air. I love the quiet, the calming tranquillity of it all.
“It’s beautiful here,” I comment mostly to myself. Max and Elijah are lost in their own hushed conversation.
It’s nice to see them bonding, though something just doesn’t feel right. My instincts are usually spot on too. Not about today, just about this situation as a whole. I don’t feel as though Elijah’s reasons for bonding with Max are pure. I’m not even entirely sure that he likes him, but I don’t understand why he’d come forward otherwise. It must be some kind of brotherly love or obligation. Elijah has money and power, money that could very well be Max’s too now that we know who his father is for certain.
I sigh outwardly and shake my head to relieve the pressure building in my skull. I overthink things too much sometimes.
“So she jumped, just like that. It was amazing.” Max is telling him the story of when we did a bungee jump for charity two years ago to raise money for people with mental illnesses. Or for research.
I forget.
“I didn’t jump.” I roll my eyes to Elijah and raise my chin a little. My lips curve into a smile and my eyes narrow with pride. “I flew, arms out to the sides.”
“She didn’t even scream.”
“I wanted to hear the wind as I plummeted to my death.”
Elijah grins and shakes his head. “You sound wild.”
“Perhaps,” Enna responds for me and I have to stop myself from clasping my hand over my mouth.
Elijah noticed it too because yet again his head tilts slightly and his eyes narrow with remembrance.
“So,” I clear my throat and point to the gap between the house and the trees. “Are we going fishing or not?”
Penelope: I sincerely apologise for my abrupt exit this morning. I hope you’ll forgive me and allow me to make it up to you.
I stare at the message.
“How you type on that thing, I have no idea.” Elijah comments. I look at him relaxing on a sun lounger. He’s wearing a cap that is pulled down at the front, hiding his eyes from view. I thought he was asleep.
Max is asleep beside me on his sun lounger and I’m sitting on the grass by the end of it making daisy chains. It’s childish, I know, but I love it. It makes me nostalgic for my youth. Our fishing rods are all propped up not too far away, though we’ve been sat here three hours and have yet to catch even a nibble.
“I don’t know how you type on one of those.” I point to his flat, shiny phone resting in the cup holder in the arm of his lounger.
He pulls his cap off and runs his hands through his hair. Sitting up, he spreads his legs to either side of the long seat and looks over the lake. “Have you never had a smart phone?”
“The only piece of technology I own besides a microwave is my crappy ten quid MP3 player. I love it though. It stores so much music.” I pull the tiny rectangular device from my pocket. “But up until a year ago I only owned a portable CD player.”
“Christ, it’s like being back in two thousand and four.” He grins and holds out his hand for my beloved device. I hesitate, scared he might break it and lose me all of my precious music. “I like that. Too many people are so ignorant to things because of technology.”
“I must be simple.”
“I highly doubt that.” His mutter is so low I almost don’t hear him. His icy grey eyes come to mine, piercing me with a look so curious I almost want to shrink away. I feel as though he’s assessing every part of me, soul included. “May I listen?”
I’m so focused on the way he’s looking at me that it takes me a second to register his question. I almost say no, purely because I feel as though sharing my music with him truly will give him an intimate look into my soul and darkest desires. Will my playlist reflect how badly I want him? Will it show him my dreams? My visions?
I know I’m insane but I can’t help it. The thrill of just how wrong this all is calls to Enna. She’s my dominant side and she rarely loses to Olivia, my sweeter side.
“Sure,” I agree, though my teeth sink into my lip.
He unravels the earphones and hooks them over his ears before pressing the buttons on the front and relaxing back on his lounger.
I want to talk to him some more. I don’t want him to close his eyes as he listens. I don’t want to see his fingers tap against his leg to whatever beat is playing.
I want to sit beside him and listen with him.
I want to pull up his t-shirt and trace his chest and abs with the tips of my fingers as Chase Holfelder’s ‘Major to Minor’ album plays song after song. His haunting melodies can really set the tone for a powerful yet grievous, taboo fuck or something far more sinister. I’m voting for the former. My mind is plagued by nothing but the former. I ache so badly.
“It’s cold,” Max complains, startling me. His frown is evident. Did he catch me staring at his brother?
There’s a sentence I never thought I’d think or say.
What is wrong with me?
“Put your coat on then.” I point to it crumpled on the ground just behind me. As I do, I hear a reel begin to spin. Max and I both jump up and grab my rod. When he sees that I have it, he leaves me to it and frowns at his unmoving line. “You’re going to get wrinkles.” I pull the fish in and then release, letting the line slip a bit. I repeat this movement whenever the fish begins to tug. At least I hope it’s a fish and not a piece of rotting wood or an old umbrella, two things I’ve hooked in the past.
“Sorry.” Elijah appears beside me as I reel in my catch. I finally see it break the surface of the water and no small amount of excitement floods through me when I see shiny grey scales and a flash of white. “I lost myself. You have some interesting music on your MP3.”
I keep my eyes on my prize but my smile is for my brother in law. “That’s a polite way of saying I listen to weird shit.”
He chokes on a laugh. “I don’t think that at all. You seem very eclectic. I like that. I was raised on classical and the occasional jazz band. Punk rock and all of these minor key music tones are so new to me.”
“You don’t listen to music much?” The fish splashes at the surface.
“I don’t have time to browse for newer bands and I don’t have friends outside of my circle of classical and jazz. Except one, but he’s into the top forty and I just don’t have time for that.” We share a smile over that comment.
“It’s not very big,” Max comments when I finally pull the fish out of the water and plop it onto the grass.
“Are you always so… negative?” Elijah snaps, his tone harsh. It reminds me of how he is at night, when paying for my services.
Max looks at him over his shoulder as he crouches and begins to remove the hook from the inside of the fish’s mouth. “Negative?”
Icy eyes glare at my husband for a long moment. “You can be quite dismissive of your wife and derogatory.”
Oh dear.
“Seriously?” My husband scoffs angrily and stands, forgetting about the fish. “How? In what way? She knows I love her.”
“You always put her down.” I’m surprised that he’s defending me but also annoyed, mostly because I know that Max will probably be sour with me today because of this. “Today she made you tea and you immediately said that it didn’t have enough sugar. You also didn’t thank her at all. In fact… whenever she does anything for you, your first sentence is a complaint.”
I crouch and tend to the fish, making sure to unhook it carefully before picking it up, admiring it for a moment and slipping it back into the water. I don’t even care if they wanted to get pictures of it. The atmosphere of the moment is now ruined.
“Guys,” I snap over their heated debate and they both look my way. “Enough arguing.”
“Where’d the fish go?” Max whines, looking around his feet as if hoping to find it flapping in a different location than where he left it.
“I set it free.”
“Why would you do that? I wanted a picture.”
